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This book is for sale to ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It contains substantial sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which may be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Design: Vivian Vincent

Lost and Found © 2009 Vivian Vincent

eXcessica publishing

All rights reserved

Lost and Found

By Vivian Vincent

Chapter 1

TAYLOR STONE and LETHAL WEAPON the poster on the wall read with the words SOLD OUT printed diagonally across a picture of the band. Oh how long ago that was. She continued to look around the room which held memories of her fast track career.

The poster was in the center of the wall, surrounded by memorabilia from her whirlwind days as the lead singer of one of the hottest rock bands of the Eighties. The one and only Grammy the band received sat in a dusty glass case on a desk in the corner of the room. Her signature bright red leather vest was housed in a glass case on the opposite wall from the poster, the gleaming red and white Fender Stratocaster with her name emblazoned across it laid on the bottom of the case under her vest.

"No one's ever gonna go for another hard rock band with a female lead singer," Taylor's manager told her. She proved him wrong. Sure, almost twenty years had passed since the heyday of the band, but her memories of those days never faded.

The band Lethal Weapon formed in late 1987 and had only released two albums, both going platinum within weeks of release. Their first hit catapulted them into instant stardom and won them a Grammy for Best New Artist in 1988. Never looking back, their manager immediately booked tour dates around the country, their first tour only being smaller cities and smaller venues to get the exposure and experience for the band.

Critics were harsh with the band, especially Taylor. They'd always said the band would end up as a one-hit-wonder group because of their petite "front man." Taylor Stone only stood about five foot three, but the sounds projected from the woman would make one think she was twice her size. She dressed the part of her job. Her now collar length brown hair was much longer and heavily teased in those days, giving her the typical "big hair" look common for hard rock bands of the eighties. Her bright red leather vest quickly became her signature attire onstage, usually covering a black or white t-shirt with black jeans or black leather pants and ankle high boots.

The band was only together a little over two years, having broken up after the tragic death of her brother, but it was the best two years of Taylor's life. She was young then, barely nineteen, when her younger brother talked her into singing in his garage band. She gave the band its name, being a huge fan of Mel Gibson and the newly released movie, Lethal Weapon.

Their father was their manager for a short time, booking them at any event he could. A record producer caught a performance the band did at a local bar and the rest as they say was history.

Turning off the light in the room, she pulled the door closed, smiling contently before she headed out for another performance at a local night club. She did mostly solo gigs now, not really needing the money, but still loving the feeling of getting up on stage to perform. She couldn't bring herself to continue with the band after her brother Bobby died in a car accident. The other band members; Bobby's best friend Mark and his cousin Ricky, had tried to continue without her.

Their effort without her at vocals was a flop, selling less than 100,000 copies nationwide. They went on to other things, mostly behind-the-scenes as sound mixers or roadies for other up and coming bands. Taylor moved back to Michigan shortly after Bobby's death. Her manager had put her in touch with someone who could help her launch a solo career if she decided that's what she wanted.

At the same time Taylor's brother died, she'd lost the one man who she thought would be at her side forever. She lost her Tommy. They'd fallen in love as soon as they laid eyes on each other and as quickly as their romance started, it was over.

For a long time, she stayed out of the limelight, holding down a job in a small assembly plant. She didn't need the money, she'd saved what she made as the lead singer of Lethal Weapon and built on it over the years. She didn't flaunt her money either. She lived in a small two bedroom house on the outskirts of Detroit.

A few years ago, she'd gotten the itch to be on stage again and contacted the manager who still kept in touch with her on a monthly basis. She told him to book her in small bars and clubs around Southeastern Michigan.

She put the finishing touches on her make up before she headed out the door to her one and only performance at a small bar about thirty minutes northwest of Detroit called Hennessey's.

Taylor crooned a few of the tunes which made her famous and even threw in a brand new song she'd been working on. The house band played her music well, making her sound better than she had in years. As she looked out over the bar, she saw a man watching her every move. He was sitting close to the stage, off to the right of her and his gray eyes gave her chills.

When she was finished for the night, she gave the usual thank-yous to the patrons then headed off-stage, immediately getting handed a beer by one of the waitresses passing by her.

"Great show, Taylor. I was such a big fan of yours when you were with Lethal Weapon. Would it be possible to get an autograph?"

Placing the beer on the tray the waitress held, Taylor smiled softly. "Sure. What's your name?"

"Sandy," the waitress said excitedly, handing her order pad to Taylor, never breaking eye contact. Taylor scribbled out a message on the pad and signed her name, smiling as she handed the pad back to the waitress.

"Thanks!" The waitress scurried past Taylor then headed behind the bar.

After most of the people had cleared out of the bar, Taylor finished up the soft drink she was nursing for most of the evening, then headed out back to her car. One of the members of the house band followed her.

"Great show, Taylor. You shouldn't be walkin' out alone. Where's your car?"

"Over there, Jimmy. I'll be fine." She pointed to her car as he followed her.

"Okay. Later," Jimmy turned and headed in the opposite direction.

Taylor walked quickly toward her car, keeping alert to anything and everything around her, but not noticing the figure of a man hiding in the shadows of the building. As she approached the driver's side of her car, she reached in her purse for the keys. Just as her hand wrapped around her them, she felt a sharp pain on the back of her head. Turning to see what caused the pain, she became dizzy and fell against her car then slid down to the ground. She opened her eyes briefly to see the man with the creepy gray eyes standing over her. Her vision blurred again, but not before seeing his face only inches away from her.

* * * *

When Taylor opened her eyes a few hours later, she had trouble focusing. She felt something warm running down her cheek from her mouth and brought her hand up to wipe it away. Looking at her hand in shock, she saw blood. She laid there dazed for a moment, wondering what the hell had happened.

Reaching up for the mirror of her car, she hoisted herself up to a sitting position and felt her body ache with every move. Leaning back against her car, she glanced down to see her shirt had several long slashes through it and her skin beneath it was bleeding. Focusing her eyes out in front of her, she saw her boots a few feet away. Glancing down at her body again, she saw her jeans were slashed also, the blood from her skin soaked through the thick denim covering her legs and the snaps of them had been cut, leaving them open and her skin partially exposed.

Slowly and painfully pulling herself to her feet, she glanced around on the ground for her purse, holding her jeans up with one hand. She saw it resting not too far from her boots. She carefully walked over to it and bent to pick everything up. Feeling light headed after she stood upright again, she walked back to her car, leaned against it and slid down to sit on cool cement.