Play Dirty: Brooklyn Dawn Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  There had already been far too many cameras on me for a day that wasn’t supposed to be about anyone other than the bride. Today was for Lauren.

  The reception held far more people than the actual wedding. Some faces I knew—other musicians and extended family of the outrageously large band—but couldn’t attach to names.

  I drifted to the sidelines with my colorful drink. The girls hopped forward as the familiar anthem, “500 Miles” blared from every speaker. I dropped into a chair with a grin at their antics. More hijinks, more catcalls, and finally, the sweetly choreographed dance between the bride and groom brought the house down with laughter and whoops.

  Oz and Teagan hopped right into the melee of dancing as typical wedding songs started off the night. It was a buffet-style dinner so there were no formalities after the ceremony and I, for one, was glad to be able to just chill out.

  I danced to a few songs with Molly, Elle, and the troupe of girls they’d collected. Then I took Oz for a twirl through a rockabilly song. He was big enough to swing a girl my size around.

  There’d never been a lick of chemistry between me and the male members of Brooklyn Dawn. No wild Fleetwood Mac moments for us, thank you very much.

  Sometimes I wished there were. It would have been so much easier to be attracted to someone safe like Oz. He had an intense scowl and growls for days, but he was as sweet as a kitten underneath his gruff exterior. At least he was with me. Like the brother I wished I’d been born with instead of the Wall Street shark whom I barely knew.

  Why I’d made Brooklyn Dawn my family.

  Why I’d do anything for them.

  Oz twirled me out with a flourish, but I slipped away and passed another guest his way. One he’d been eyeing most of the night.

  At least I could play matchmaker.

  I swiped a glass off one of the tables and downed a goblet of water. A flash of dark hair and an arched eyebrow halted me mid-gulp. I choked as the water went down the wrong way.

  No.

  I teared up with each cough.

  No way should he be at this shindig. He didn’t socialize with mere mortals. Unless he had no choice. And I had heard through the grapevine that he’d done some work with Warning Sign…

  The urge to slip out of the tent and escape to the beach was almost impossible to resist.

  No.

  Goddammit, I was tired of running whenever I saw him.

  To hell with it.

  I lifted my chin and set the glass down before tearing my way through the crowd of people. I weaved around and spotted the dark hair again, then got stopped by Jules and Molly.

  “We’re headed back on the dance floor, you ready?” Molly hooked her arm through mine. When I didn’t answer right away, she frowned. “Lindz?”

  I inched up on my tiptoes to look around. “Dammit.”

  “You good?” Jules asked as she craned her neck to follow the direction of my gaze. “Is some guy hassling you?”

  “No.” I almost pushed by them until finally, I got a good look at the man. He smiled at me, puffing up his chest when we locked eyes. Not him.

  Thank God, it wasn’t him.

  I relaxed and took Molly’s drink. “Nope, not hassling me at all.”

  What the hell was wrong with me?

  I took a sip, then frowned and looked down at the glass. “What is this?”

  Molly snickered. “Pineapple juice.”

  I handed it back. “God, why?”

  “Because I’m in Hawaii with both of my guys. I plan on being very sober for the post wedding festivities.”

  “Fair.”

  It was hard not to be jealous of Molly. She had not one man who loved her unconditionally, but two. And Jules had also been in that club for a short time. However, tragedy seemed to follow the members of Warning Sign. But they seemed stronger than ever now, with all the bandmates paired off and ever expanding families.

  Jules included. I didn’t have that driving need for motherhood, and from what I knew about Juliet, her baby had been a surprise—a joyful one, but definitely not of the planned variety. But the way she kept her eye on the man and the little boy in matching Hawaiian shirts at the back table told me everything I needed to know. Planned or not, there was absolute love in her heart.

  And here I was, the idiot looking for a ghost who had never been good for me in the first place.

  I was a hot mess.

  “That’s my song!” Molly shouted out as a popular Beyoncé song blasted from the speakers.

  “It fucking better not be, bluebird.” Came a rumbling voice behind me.

  I twisted and craned my neck. Molly’s tree-sized man stood behind me. Well, one of them. Ethan, the third spoke of their triad, was sitting at a table with his arm draped over the back of the chair, a faint smile on his face.

  Molly reached around me and dragged Luc to her. “I mean, it’s my jam, not my call to action.” She inched upward to get closer to Luc, which was necessary even with her height and the heels she was sporting. She’d found hers after the ceremony, unlike me.

  “That so?” Luc buried his fingers in her hair and tugged just hard enough to get a wide smile out of Molly.

  She licked her lips. “I like when you get all possessive.”

  “I don’t mind when you dance for me.”

  “I dance for myself, buddy.” She twisted away and grabbed Juliet’s arm. “Ready?”

  Juliet lifted her glass over her head and did some wiggling of her own. “Lead the way, girl.” She shot a look at me. “You coming?”

  I shook my head. Although “Single Ladies” was more my jam by definition, I needed some air. “You two have fun.”

  Luc crossed his massive arms over his chest with a grunt as Molly gave him a cheeky grin and threw an extra bit of sway in her hips. “She tests me. Daily.”

  “You love it.”

  He lifted one eyebrow. “Indeed.”

  I patted his arm with a laugh. “She was just telling us how ready she is for the afterparty.”

  He grunted again, but his beard twitched a bit. Just enough for me to see a smile flirting with his lips. Yeah, my new favorite color was green.

  Puffed-up chest dude—who didn’t look at all like Nash—was headed my way. “Think you can head him off for me?” I asked.

  Luc spotted the douchehat. “On it.”

  I ducked through a slit in the canvas flap along the back of the tent. “Thanks.”

  He nodded and guarded my escape route.

  The fact that I’d actually headed for the guy showed just how much this wedding was messing with me. Nash might have given me a thigh-quaking orgasm and the best fuck of my life—ugh, also pathetic—but he was not what I needed in my life.

  Chasing after him—even if it hadn’t really been him—was beyond stupid. He’d been a beautiful disaster of a mistake. And I didn’t do shit like that.

  The tabloids gave me far more credit than I deserved as far as getting action. The one and only time I’d truly gone off book, I’d been spared the attention. I preferred to keep it that way. As it was, the minute I stood next to a man, the internet exploded with news about my next new love affair.

  If only they knew just how much of a drought I was in.

  I stepped off the curb bordering the tented off area and headed back to the beach. The night sky was even more amazing than the sunset had been. The stars seemed close enough to touch. I headed for the little egg-like swings hung around the grounds of the hotel. There were enough twinkle lights wrapped around the heavy-duty iron arms bolted into the palm trees for me to feel safe alone.

  Revelry was all good in theory, but we’d been touring hard for months. A week away from the stage and the fans was just what I needed to get my head on straight. I gave the swing a little extra push and tucked my feet under my dress.

  I wasn’t sure how long I’d been swinging when my hip buzzed.

  Having a seamstress at my beck and call meant I could add pockets to nearly any dress. Even a brides
maid dress I wouldn’t be wearing again.

  I was tempted to ignore the buzz. Very few people had my true phone number, the one I carried for emergencies. When my cell stopped and started up again, I sighed and pulled it out.

  Logan King.

  Well, hell. It was the wrong time of year for him to be calling me. I was used to the annual call for his end of summer shindig for charity. I hadn’t been able to swing that this year with the tour.

  I was tempted to let it go to voicemail. I was worn down to the bone. Obviously, since I was seeing phantom versions of Alexander Nash at a wedding reception he’d never attend. Then again, he had shown up at Mal and Elle’s engagement party.

  Another time I’d been sure I was seeing ghosts. Another time I’d had a few drinks to try to chase them away.

  On the fourth buzz, I lifted the phone. “Hey, Logan.”

  “Oh, thank God. I was afraid I didn’t have your latest number.” His rumbling voice came through the line crystal clear although he was thousands of miles away in upstate New York.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “What? It could happen.”

  “You know you have the right number.”

  “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

  I wasn’t sure just how much in the know Logan was. Warning Sign wasn’t exactly on his radar, but he was sneaky. He seemed to have his finger in many pies. Especially lately since he’d slowed down on touring to play producer more and more.

  “I’m at a wedding reception for West Reynolds and his new bride.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Look, I know you said you couldn’t fit the Christmas album into your schedule this year.”

  I’d turned down the album along with the charity shindig. They were for beyond worthy causes, but I’d been tapped out when I said no.

  Tapped out then. Tapped out now. An ongoing theme lately.

  “This tour’s a beast. You saw my schedule—” I broke off and sighed. The picture suddenly became a hell of a lot clearer. “Of course, you saw my schedule, and you know I don’t have a show for a week.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re killing me.”

  “Do you have plans?”

  “Yes.”

  “Real plans?”

  I twirled a frizzing curl around my finger. “Yes. Me and a cabana boy are going to have a lost weekend.”

  “Liar.”

  “You don’t know that. I’m in Hawaii right now.”

  “Oh. Huh. Still seems like a lie. Now if it was Jamie...”

  “She went with the bartender instead.”

  Logan chuckled. “Look, I’m going out on a limb here. We are dude heavy on this Christmas album. And my… Well, for lack of a better explanation, my last woman on the album had a complete meltdown.”

  “Who was it?”

  Logan went quiet. I appreciated that he didn’t like to gossip about anyone. With his background and his touchy relationship with the tabloids, he didn’t play around.

  Especially since his last experience with publicity had ended up with way more loss than anyone should ever have to live through.

  He sighed, his disgust and frustration coming across the line. “Angel Martin.”

  I whistled. She was a new up and comer with a voice that even I envied. “That was a good name for the album.”

  “Believe me, I know. And she came in here doing a very good impression of the entirety of Motley Crüe circa 1989.”

  “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Izzy has locked me out in the backyard until I calm the fuck down about it.”

  “This just happened today?” I knew Logan’s wife. Isabella King wouldn’t make him actually sleep on the loungers around the pool.

  Probably.

  “Yeah. And we’re already way overdue to get this thing to press. Most of our sales are digital, but when it comes to Christmas albums, we still need the physical ones to get into the stores, not to mention the records.”

  “Records? Since when?”

  “You’ve seen the resurgence in record sales lately.”

  “I know, but wow, that’s a big expense.” Even though Logan actually was one of the diehards who loved vinyl. My own collection of vinyl had doubled since Logan had come into my life. His love had definitely rubbed off on me and Jamie.

  “Yeah, it’s coming out of my pocket. With Angel and the rest of the people on the album, I knew it would bring in lots of eyes and dollars. Now?” His disgruntled sigh was wearier this time. “Needless to say, I need a big name. It doesn’t get much bigger than you, Lindz.”

  “Low blow.”

  “I’d say more of a high blow.”

  “Save those for Bella.”

  “Maybe. If she lets me back into the house.”

  “I’ve seen the Instagram videos. Nichole can open doors now. You’re golden.”

  “Now that the house is Nichole and Jared-proofed, that’s a no go. I swear, between Izzy and Sarah my house is more secure than the White House.”

  I laughed and set the swing in motion again. Sarah was Logan’s bodyguard and security expert. After everything had gone down with his stalker in Winchester Falls, he didn’t take chances on anything.

  I couldn’t blame him. I’d had my own issues with stalkers over the years. Nearly every female artist in the music industry had a story or eleven. It was a damn scary world we were living in nowadays.

  “Just one song,” I said.

  “I knew you’d come through for me.”

  “Trading in Winchester Falls for Hawaii is not a good time.” I turned my swing so I could see the surf for a little while longer.

  “I know. I’ll add an extra hundred grand to your animal charity as incentive.”

  “Wow, you are in trouble.”

  “You have no idea.” I could hear the stress in his tone. This was one of the few projects he always did without fail. “I’d send my jet, but it’s probably faster to just put you in first class. I even found a direct flight while we were talking.”

  “Convenient.”

  “I’ll have you back in Chicago in time for your show. Even booked that for you.”

  “Yeah, yeah. When do I leave?”

  “I’ll have a car there to pick you up in an hour.”

  “You suck, Logan.”

  “You’re my favorite person in the whole wide world.” The relief in his voice was as bright as the sky full of stars in front of me.

  “I just bet. There better be copious amounts of white wine when I get there.”

  “I’ll have a case of your favorite Sauvignon Blanc.”

  “At least you do things up in style.”

  “See you soon, Lindz.”

  I tucked my phone back in my pocket and gave myself five more minutes with the quiet. I was going to need it.

  Seven

  Christ, I wanted a drink.

  I was freezing my bollocks off. October was in the air, if not quite on the calendar. Leave it to Logan to live in the great white north. Okay, so it was the truest definition of Upstate New York, but it felt like the goddamn arctic.

  New York City, I understood. I could even deal with the cold. In say, November.

  Not this frostbitten tundra in bloody September.

  I stalked through the leaves on the walking path deep in the woods on the fringes of the property belonging to one of my oldest mates.

  His wife had kicked both of us out of the house due to my bellowing. I didn’t tolerate drugs of any kind in the studio. Even a friend’s studio on loan for a single solitary song.

  Everyone knew this about me.

  Everyone.

  No second chances.

  No do overs.

  No excuses.

  I’d been working with Angel Martin for six bleeding months. Six. Long. Fucking. Months.

  She had so much talent. So much soul living in her twenty-year-old chest.

  Then she’d walked in higher than the moon in the sky.


  I should have seen the signs. Once upon a time, I’d tried everything available in pill or liquid form. I’d never been one for nose candy simply because it could affect my voice.

  That was off-limits.

  Until that night.

  Until my stupidity and arrogance had taught me a lesson that could never be unlearned.

  I dug my fingers into the papery bark of a birch tree before pushing off again. No. I was not heading into that particular war zone tonight. One glancing blow from the misery train was all I was capable of dealing with at the moment.

  Bad enough I’d spotted Logan sitting on the far side of the pool. Which meant a conversation. Likely one I wouldn’t like.

  I honed my anger into a blade and stepped into the rage as I crossed the endless length of lawn to the pool. He didn’t even have the good sense to close it up. At least not yet.

  Sweet bloody hell. Was he going to dip his balls in the ice for fun?

  Spotting me, Logan shoved his phone into his wide cargo pocket along his leg.

  “Did you make up with your wife yet?” I called as I made my way toward him.

  He squinted at me and raked his hands through his wheat-colored hair. “You’re the one who needs to apologize, asshole.”

  “If it was just me, you’d be inside warming your nearly blue hands.” Mine were just as blue but hidden in the pockets of my jeans.

  “Yeah, well, Iz doesn’t take kindly to any sort of shit in the house, you know that.”

  “I’m not the one who decided to get all domesticated.”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “Shut up. Nichole and Jared have you as wrapped as any of us.”

  That was true. Then again, Logan’s children were the truest lights in my world. For now. We could all be corrupted. “They take quite well to story time. Next, you’ll be bitching me out about that.”

  Logan shook his head. “If you tell them a scary story tonight, I’ll have your balls in a vise. It doesn’t matter if you pretty it up with Irish flavor or not. I’ll know.”

  I shrugged. “They like my stories.” I fisted my frozen hands in my pockets. “Usually.”

  “Just apologize to my wife, would you? I’m getting hungry.”