Play Dirty: Brooklyn Dawn Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  Was still going through if what happened a little while ago was any indication.

  If I had to guess, he was fighting a war every day. Of course, there would be injuries. Casualties. I’d known he had a difficult background, and I’d still toyed with his darkness.

  This was simply the price I’d agreed to pay by not walking away.

  He could hear my thoughts. I didn’t know how, but something in my voice must’ve given them away. He turned his head and met me note for note, singing the words with me though he hadn’t even read them through. All he had were the notes I’d given him and my first run through, but it was enough. His effortless knowledge of my song, paired with his gravelly voice, spurred me to open up my cords and spill out even more.

  Hell, why not give him everything? I’d already offered him my body.

  This time, at least. The first time, he’d taken it. I’d given him permission, but I’d had no clue what he would do with the privilege.

  Or how I’d crave more.

  A burn in the blood I couldn’t sate.

  He’d been addicted to drugs and drink. And me? I was addicted to him.

  His gaze dropped from my face to my hands, clasped in my lap. I couldn’t keep that part of myself separate either.

  Touching my fingertips to the keys was an almost physical jolt. I didn’t think about playing with him so much as I let my fingers show the bravery my heart couldn’t. Muscle memory simply took over. That side of me never faltered. Never looked for an invitation.

  I took my seat at the table because I belonged.

  I’d slept with Nash because we had a connection. Twice now. If he couldn’t handle that, if he was so caught up in the past that he couldn’t see his future, then I just had to accept it. I didn’t have all the answers. Maybe not even all the questions. But I had this moment, this song.

  This duet.

  He didn’t change my words. Didn’t stop to notate things in the margins. Just kept playing, fumbling here and there as we did a crossover or when we reached the bridge, but always figuring the way up and through together. Our voices by turns battling and harmonizing, sometimes somehow both at once.

  When we finished the song, we started over again. And again. My fingertips sizzled and my heart raced and my skin hummed as if I’d plugged directly into a current.

  And I had. He was right beside me, lighting me up the same way I was doing for him.

  After half a dozen repeats, I stopped to guzzle water. I finished that bottle and went back for more, returning with one for Nash as well. He uncapped the bottle and held my gaze as he tipped back the water and drank. Somehow even the movement of his throat was sensuous.

  Between the marathon singing and the ever-present tension between us, if I’d had any panties left, they would’ve been soaked. But they were shredded on the floor with my reservations.

  He wasn’t an open book. I’d once thought I was. Now it seemed as if parts of me were changing. I didn’t know him.

  Just like he didn’t know me.

  “I apologize.”

  I blinked. “Huh?”

  He rubbed the back of his neck. “I made insinuations about you and Lo. For that, I apologize.”

  The shock ebbed enough for me to speak. “Oh, you did more than insinuate, buddy. You flat out accused. I’ve never been so insulted—”

  “Yeah, yeah, okay, I get it. Aye, I’m sorry, all right? I saw that tabloid picture all those years ago and how easy you two are together, and I assumed.”

  “Picture?” It took me a moment to remember the photo of the brief as hell kiss between Logan and I at the festival. One I’d instigated. And had promptly forgotten, because our chemistry when it came to locking lips was less than zero.

  That was what Nash had made into such a big deal?

  Nash glared at me as I started to laugh. “Must you?”

  “Yes, I must, Alexander, because you’re a giant fucking idiot if you think I ever shared even one tenth of the chemistry with him as I do with you.”

  We stared at each other for a long moment, words unsaid vibrating between us. It was as if this stage was alive with remembered music. Ours. Logan’s. All the voices that had soared and tangled and broken in this very space.

  I licked a stray droplet of water off my lower lip. “Guessing we don’t have much time left.”

  “Probably not.”

  “The button on your fly is undone.” I’d only caught my focus drifting there fifty times or so.

  “Bothering you, duchess?”

  “Only part bothering me is that you have them on at all.”

  Slowly, so slowly, he stood from the bench. He loomed over me, and I wasn’t small. Looking up at him didn’t feel like submission, but acknowledgement.

  “You don’t know what’s good for you.”

  “Oh, that’s where you’re wrong.” Deliberately, I acted as if I’d misunderstood him as I ran my fingertips over the soft cotton of his shirt. That buzz was back again, zinging up my arm. Pulling my nipples tight against my tops in a reaction I was helpless to control. “It was very good for me. And I have this bad habit of liking to feel good.” I leaned up on my tiptoes, glad I’d put my boots back on. “You should try it sometime.”

  He grabbed my hip and dragged me against him, allowing me to feel the hard column of his erection. “Oh, I have. I could try it every fucking day for the rest of my life and not get enough.”

  I was still processing that when a sound near the doorway caught my attention. His too.

  Rather than moving back, I dug my fingers into Nash’s shirt and held on when he turned to see who was joining us.

  Gee, Lindz, trying on that ‘needy chick’ nametag for size?

  “Nice to see you again, Lo.” Nash’s tone did not register joy. Nor did he give me a look to drop my hand. He probably liked Logan seeing me pawing him.

  I moved back and pulled my hair into a twist, using the band on my wrist. I was not going to be part of any drama. At least while Logan was watching.

  But Nash might want to button his fly with that hard-on he was sporting. Then again, with him, who knew? It was probably a badge of pride.

  “So, how’s it going in here?” Logan strolled up onto the stage and crossed his arms. “Don’t see any broken chairs and the piano’s intact, although you wouldn’t harm this old girl.” He patted the piano as if she were a fondly remembered lover.

  “We’re fine. As we would’ve been fine if you hadn’t treated us like children who needed a timeout.” I rolled my eyes at Logan.

  The gesture was lost on him, however, since he’d chosen that moment to kick at the piano cover still on the stage. Nicely revealing the lacy bra on the floor.

  Oops.

  Logan leaned over to pick it up. Without saying anything, he held it out to me. I grabbed it and tucked it into the back pocket of my pants.

  “We have songs.” I crossed my arms. “Good songs. Hell, great songs.”

  “Glad to hear it. Breaking the tension helps.”

  I said nothing. Nash definitely said nothing. He didn’t even have the grace to seem embarrassed as he casually did up the button above his fly. Instead, he stood there with his chest puffed out and a smirk on his kissable lips.

  Was it too late to throttle him?

  When no one spoke, Logan cracked his knuckles and let out a long breath. “All righty then. I’ve got someone coming in soon, so how about you show me what you’ve got? Metaphorically speaking,” he added, his lips twitching at the corners.

  Smug bastard. He’d probably guessed we would fuck if we were left alone.

  Lo as a matchmaker? Or as a problem solver. I didn’t know which label I preferred when I was half of the problem he’d figured out how to handle.

  Not half. Barely a quarter. The rest belonged to Nash and his mile-long…attitude.

  Time to demonstrate that at least one of us could be a professional at all times. Even if she wasn’t wearing her bra.

  Without sparing either o
f them a glance, I sat at the piano. I didn’t need the notebook. We’d run through both songs so much that I would probably be dreaming about them tonight.

  I started with the holiday one. It didn’t sound as good without Nash’s deep, raspy baritone to complement my soprano. Even the music itself seemed less rich. As if just his fingers on the keys added a quality I couldn’t produce solely on my own.

  I was capable. More than. But together, we were more.

  Pity that I was probably the only one who realized that.

  When I finished the Christmas song, I played the other. And I sang like I did in the shower, without a thought for breath control or pitch or anything but the pleasure of the process.

  If they didn’t like it? Didn’t matter. I was doing it for me. And it was far less awkward than standing around watching Logan trying not to laugh and Nash preening while my bra strap hung out of my back pocket.

  Somewhere near the middle of the second song, the door creaked open, but I didn’t check out who’d joined us. I was too caught up. Even when my emotions were chaotic, music smoothed them out. It was my escape and my haven.

  Probably why I didn’t realize what was changing around me. I was too involved. My hands pounding the keys, my head thrown back.

  At the end, I came back to myself to the sound of a slow clap. I opened my eyes again and frowned at the bearded, bespectacled man standing on the other side of my piano. At the same time, I was aware of Nash stepping closer behind me. Crowding me on the bench.

  I gave the newcomer a tentative smile, my shoulders hunching as I noticed the mottled skin on his forehead that stretched down one side of his face. The scars disappeared under his short beard before curving around his neck.

  “Lindsey York, is it? This is an honor.” His voice was stronger than I expected. Not powerful in the same way as Nash’s. Almost threatening.

  Except that didn’t make sense.

  “Thank you. And you are…?”

  Nash’s hands came down on my shoulders. In support or to hold on to me, I wasn’t sure. “Lindsey, meet Kyle Brady.”

  Sixteen

  This couldn’t be happening.

  It was a bloody miracle I didn’t fall to my knees clutching my head like some cartoon super villain. Kyle, my former best friend—current, goddammit, even if it didn’t always feel that way—here in the same space as Lindsey. Smiling at her, although it was hard to tell.

  His smiles weren’t the same. Just like his eyes weren’t.

  My fault.

  All of it was my fault.

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Kyle came around the piano to shake Lindsey’s hand, and she gave me a strange look as she rose to oblige him.

  I still hadn’t let her go. I was a dog with a chew toy, selfishly drawing her back against me. No reason for it except I didn’t like the way he was checking her out. He was gauging the situation, assessing her.

  And I didn’t appreciate it one fucking bit.

  It wasn’t as if I didn’t get it. Lindsey was a beautiful woman. How many men lusted after her on a daily basis? Far more than I cared to consider. Women too. For good reason. She was the total package—supremely talented, smart, and beautiful. She wore class like a perfume. Light, subtle, but always there. You had to earn the right to be with a woman like her. And I hadn’t.

  She wasn’t for me, but she wasn’t for him either.

  “Oh, I thought maybe you’d met before. Same circles and all.” Logan glanced between them before arching a brow at me.

  No, I hadn’t introduced Lindsey and Kyle at some other time in some other place. Lindsey and I weren’t dating. Far from it. And Kyle was my best friend, but in name only.

  It had been a decade, give or take some hours, since that had been different.

  Once upon a time, Kyle and I had lived in each other’s pockets. We’d grown up together in Dún Laoghaire, running wild, causing trouble, and in the early days, making music together. For a while, we’d even had a band with some of our mates from school.

  But it hadn’t taken long to see that Kyle enjoyed the perks that came with a musical career more than putting in the effort. Some said I’d been blessed in the genetic department, and when that wasn’t enough, I’d wielded charm like a weapon. But I also had a work ethic.

  Born and bred from my father, though he would’ve laughed had I said so.

  “My circle is small,” I said into the silence. They’d all been waiting for me to speak. “I keep to myself most of the time.”

  Except when she draws you out.

  I fought to relax my hold on Lindsey. Any moment now, she’d break away and shoot me a look that reminded me I was tap-dancing on a line.

  Far too many of them.

  Logan nodded. He’d forgotten for a second how much things had changed for me.

  I’d known Logan a long time too. Just not nearly as long as Kyle.

  We’d had fun back then, but even at the beginning, I was more concerned with writing and singing than fame. Or women. I’d never minded being popular with the ladies, but it hadn’t driven me. The urge to create was my fuel. I wanted to leave some kind of legacy behind, at least more than my father had running his fishing boat.

  But Joseph Alexander Nash didn’t care about any of that. He hadn’t tried to make a mark. His goal was to get the daily catch, make his money, go out with his mates, and roll on home to do it again the next day.

  He didn’t think about what it all meant. About the goddamn point. He had bills, so he paid them. He liked beer, so he drank it. Never to excess. Besides, if he did, he wasn’t stupid enough to get behind the wheel of a car when he was past his limit.

  Like father, unlike son.

  What Kyle lacked in drive he’d been granted in family support. His parents and sisters had been closer to me than my own blood. They’d welcomed me, giving me a couch to sleep on when I messed up and there was no comfort to be found at home. When my father was out with his friends late at night, I’d found my solace with the Bradys.

  Much like the fictional family on TV, they’d seemed almost too good to be true. And because they were so good, they’d rightfully cast me out once I harmed their son.

  I wasn’t good. In any shape or form.

  “Luckily, I’m still part of the circle.” Kyle’s smile was a touch too bright. “How long have we known each other, Nash?”

  “A long time.” I forced a smile because I didn’t want to reveal the depth of my unease. Much as I hated it, I finally released Lindsey and stepped back. “What brings you here? I didn’t realize you’d be in the area.”

  He lived near me in the city, so it wasn’t that far of a trip. But we didn’t have that kind of relationship anymore. In the old days, Kyle stopping in somewhere without warning wouldn’t have been weird. Once, we were as tight as thieves.

  Then the accident happened.

  Everything had changed that night. Every time I looked at him and saw the scars he bore as a result of my actions, I couldn’t take a full breath. I wasn’t sure I had since the moment we’d been saved.

  He’d almost died, for God’s sake.

  Kyle chuckled. “I called, remember?”

  I frowned. We’d barely spoken for a minute or two. I’d mentioned Logan’s in passing, and that I would see Kyle when I returned.

  Yet he’d read that as an invitation?

  “You mentioned you’d be here. Hell, you practically invited me yourself. I read your cues, brother.” Kyle’s grin made my shoulders tighten.

  What cues had he picked up? Whatever they were, they were wrong. I definitely hadn’t wanted him here. Every time I saw him, I remembered the accident.

  As if it ever fully left me anyway.

  “So, why wouldn’t I come?” he continued. “I know it’s late, but I had stuff to handle first. Work shit. Not like I had anything holding me back on the personal side.” Kyle turned his attention to Lindsey, his dark eyes far too sharp. “Besides, it’s not like I get many opportunities to meet icons like
Lindsey York and Logan King. I have to snag those chances when I can.”

  Lindsey laughed, her natural easy, charming self. Only I could feel the tension emanating from her. She didn’t even know the full story. Unless she’d made assumptions based on Kyle’s scars.

  “We aren’t here long,” I began.

  “I figured you two would be packing it in soon.” When neither of us spoke, Logan shrugged. “So, I offered Kyle a room, figuring he’d enjoy the experience of watching you two work tomorrow.” Logan slid his hands in the back pockets of his jeans. “All the parts fit to print at least.”

  The disappointment that carved through me was followed swiftly by guilt. Always guilt. “You heard it yourself, we have the songs. So, no real reason for us both to stick around much longer. And I have a pair waiting for me at home.”

  I hadn’t allowed myself to think much about Brutus and Sarge. I’d already called twice to make sure Sarge was drinking enough water and that Brutus was sticking to his special diet.

  But I wasn’t going to elaborate. Kyle and Lo knew my situation, and that was good enough.

  Lindsey cut me a look that was pure malice. I could be grateful it wasn’t tinged with hurt, even as I rued that I’d caused it in the first place.

  I couldn’t hang around here forever, pretending I was a man with a future. That was just the way it was. No sense belaboring the point.

  Kyle shook his head. “You planning on absconding in the middle of the night or something?”

  I could only be so lucky.

  “He definitely is not.” Logan pointed at me. “Have you forgotten the actual recording of the holiday song? As good as it was, I might have some input as well. Never mind post-production.”

  “Of course. Just saying.”