Play Dirty: Brooklyn Dawn Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  Logan didn’t reply, but his face said it all.

  Just saying you’re being a dick. As usual.

  Of course, Lo didn’t get the dynamic between Kyle and I. He knew about the accident. Knew we’d dealt with some understandable strain after. But it had been a decade, and Lo didn’t realize just how deep those roots went.

  I wasn’t even sure I did.

  “Yeah, as fun as it’s been to catch up with you, Lo, I’d like to have some of my vacation for myself.” Lindsey didn’t toss her hair in my face, but the effect was clear.

  Not that I would’ve classified our time together as fun exactly. I didn’t know how to have fun anymore. I’d killed that part of my life around the same time I’d ended my dependence on anything bad for me I could drink, shoot, or swallow.

  “We’ll record tomorrow and if we need it, the day after. Assuming you two play well together,” Logan arched an eyebrow as he looked between us, “then you’ll be on your way. But I figured you’d be happy to have Kyle hang out here for a couple of days. It’s cool to see the magic happen.”

  It was my turn to arch a brow at Logan. Yeah, right. He was a decent guy and would’ve extended an invite to Kyle once he showed up at his door anyway, but my buddy’s presence would influence me not to be in full asshole mode. Or so Logan believed.

  Kyle had seen the worst of me, and he’d stuck around. Unlike Kyle’s family.

  “Sure. The more the merrier, right?” I narrowed my eyes at Kyle. “You mentioned work shit. You managed to get away for a few days?”

  “I must’ve, since I’m here.” Kyle laughed and leaned against the Baby Grand piano, as relaxed as could be.

  Maybe he was. I was the one strung tight.

  “Kyle told me he has a way with the audio/visual side himself.” Logan looked at me pointedly.

  Apparently, my not sharing that with Lo was yet another personal failure. I was piling them up.

  I rolled my shoulders. “Kyle helps me in the studio when he isn’t working in artist development at Trident Media.”

  “Oh, you’re in the business too?” Lindsey offered Kyle a wide smile. “You must have some stories to tell.”

  “Probably none quite as interesting as yours. Mostly, I deal with smaller artists at the start of their careers. You’re on top of the world right now. Are you sure we’re even fit to breathe your lofty air up there?”

  Her smile dimmed, but only slightly. “Pretty sure I’m standing right beside you.”

  Kyle lifted his hands. “Didn’t mean to offend. Just saying you earned your place. Your voice is amazing. Were you classically trained?”

  “I had some lessons, but I’m mostly self-taught.” She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “And thanks. Let’s just say I’m passionate about my subject.”

  “What subject is that? Holiday cheer? Or my good buddy here.” Kyle laughed.

  No one laughed with him.

  Especially not me. I didn’t feel at ease most of the time. I still struggled with sober life even after all these years, and awkward social situations were hell. But this might as well have been a root canal without Novocain.

  At least that particular awkwardness ended soon afterward.

  I expected the itchy feeling between my shoulder blades to dissipate when we all went back to Lo’s house to unwind before bed.

  It didn’t.

  Kyle had been given a room far too close to Lindsey’s. Why that made me grind my teeth together, I didn’t want to analyze. It wasn’t the same kind of jealousy that had ridden me when it came to Logan and Lindsey. It was darker. Different. Laced with so many emotions I couldn’t begin to untangle them all.

  So, I went to work.

  I closed myself into Logan’s studio and lost myself in a writing session fueled by cup after cup of coffee rather than a bottle at my elbow. Definitely not the same, but I made do.

  That was my life now. Making do. Getting by. Figuring out how to survive, not live.

  I was still tossing back the rich, heady brew that Izzy stocked—bless her—when dawn began to rise in the east, the soft pink and gold light burning my sore, gritty eyes.

  I’d filled pages with scrawled writing and the rubbish bin was overflowing with even more discarded pages. I was buzzing on too much caffeine, too little sleep, and the words trying to escape my brain.

  As much as I wished I could just get in my Jeep and leave, I couldn’t. I owed Logan. Beyond that, I owed myself. And I might have apologized to Lindsey for the insulting comments borne from jealousy I’d made to her and Logan, but I hadn’t completely boxed up the green.

  Not regarding her and Logan. If I’d been thinking straight, I would’ve known my buddy never would’ve stepped out on his wife like that. They were insanely in love.

  And I was just insane. With grief, with regret, with longing.

  Now my focus was on Kyle. That he’d looked at Lindsey too long. That he’d made the trip out here for reasons other than what he’d said.

  That he might take out his residual anger at me on her.

  Hell of a thing to paint myself as a savior, when I’d been the one carrying the scythe all along.

  I shoved to my feet and swapped what I was wearing for sweats and traded my now empty coffee mug for a bottle of water. On second thought, I slipped two into the front pocket of my hoodie. I didn’t know why. Maybe I’d be extra thirsty on this crisp cool morning.

  Then I tucked a small pad and that blasted floppy-haired pen from the barn in my pocket. Just in case.

  After pushing open the door, I stepped outside and stretched. Cool was accurate, although it was miles warmer than last night’s chill. That had warned of oncoming winter. This was the last wheezy gasp of summer, with enough of a cool breeze to remind a body it wouldn’t last.

  Nothing good ever did.

  I put on my mirrored glasses and took off walking, my destination unclear. Logan’s property was vast, with miles of trees and little pockets of interest with fairy gardens and benches and burbling fountains. Bella’s work, no doubt. She’d done the same with her bookstore, adding quirky little touches that made it not only unique, but welcoming.

  Before I headed back to the city, I would have to stop in and pick up a paperback or two. Reading on an electronic device just wasn’t the same. The crinkle of the paper, the solid weight in the hand, the smell of the ink and words trapped and bound—there was nothing like it.

  Besides, I hadn’t been to Bella’s store since…

  Just since. Yet another thing I’d avoided. Sometimes it felt as if I’d cordoned off my whole life in an attempt to keep some part of myself intact.

  If anything could survive when all was lost.

  A smile quirked on my lips as I tugged out the small pad and pen I’d tucked in with the now sweating waters. Clearly, I was spending too much time alone. I was beginning to think my meanderings were worthy of writing down.

  Still, I sat down on the grass and jotted down a few lines. Lindsey sneaked in of course, as she always did. This morning, I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable, but not due to any fault of hers. I was mad at myself. She was the brass ring, and I was the asshole in a perpetual state of yearning.

  Worse than a teenage boy when it came to her.

  I crossed them out and wrote a few more.

  Bad for me is what you are

  Dragging me back to my dark

  Don’t need a new drug

  To crave

  Truer words had never been spoken. That die had been cast years ago.

  But the truth was somewhat murkier. She wasn’t bad for me because of who she was. Lindsey was a fucking light. The only reason she was bad for me was because I wanted her and I couldn’t keep her for longer than stolen moments in the night.

  I scribbled some more. The rising sun beat down on the back of my head and neck and sweat popped out on my brow.

  The sweatshirt had been unnecessary.

  I set down my pad and pen and took out the water bott
les before hauling off the hoodie. I did the same with the undershirt I had on beneath, tossing them on the dewy grass. The sun felt good on my bare skin, although if I hadn’t been so certain I was alone I never would’ve stripped down. I didn’t think I had more vanity than the average man, but my scars were significant. I hadn’t been one to wander around shirtless before the accident and I definitely wasn’t now either.

  But other than the scatter of birds swooping down for some unseen delicacy between the bright green blades of grass, dotted here and there with a few crisp red and gold leaves blown off the trees, I was isolated. On a property this large, who would venture out this far this early?

  No one. Just the way I liked it.

  It was some time later the leaves crunched underfoot. I fought the buzz along my spine and flattened my hands against the cool earth. Probably an animal in the underbrush. Trying its best not to be noticed. I could relate.

  The crackle of leaves came again, along with the light hum of a woman singing. I nearly groaned. So much for peace and quiet.

  I turned my head and forgot all about my irritation at being disturbed.

  Some distance away, a woman with long blond twin braids bent over on a mat. Her perfect heart-shaped ass stuck high in the air, and although I couldn’t make out her exact dimensions, I’d recently had my hands on that particular bum so I could identify it readily enough. The voice grew louder, adding one more layer of recognition.

  She was singing a song I couldn’t place. Until she got to the bridge about loving rock and roll, and that same dopey smile returned to my face.

  Lindsey-fucking-York was doing yoga in a tiny top and tinier shorts and singing Joan Jett.

  I slipped a hand in my pocket and pushed aside my phone to get to my wallet. I pried out a few bucks and pushed to my feet, leaving my discarded clothes, pad, and pen behind but taking the water.

  My luck was in. She had on AirPods and didn’t hear me approach. I tossed a few bucks on her mat, twisted off the top of my water and tipped it back into my mouth. Suddenly, my throat was as dry as dust.

  Gee, wonder why?

  She dropped down into another position, eyes closed, still singing along with the music in her headphones. Her eyes blinked open as she came back up.

  Her scream rattled the trees and made me laugh nearly hard enough to crack a rib. I accidentally dribbled water down my chest from squeezing the bottle too tightly. Damn, that sports bra thing she wore should be illegal in all fifty states.

  She shifted from fight-or-flight mode to checking me out. I could feel every individual drop slipping down my chest as if they were made from hot wax.

  It took everything I possessed not to back away into the shadows like some kind of Beauty and the Beast-like creature who didn’t dare to come out during the daytime. Especially not in full sunlight.

  She glanced down at the mat and noticed the money I’d tossed. Then her canny blue eyes narrowed.

  “You’re such a dick.”

  “Isn’t that what buskers require? Some token from their audience?”

  The apples of her cheeks flared even more pink. “You weren’t that impressed with my singing.”

  “I only gave you three dollars.”

  She picked up the money, folding the bills and sticking them in her sports bra. “Thanks. This gives me a few singles for the strip club when I get back home. So hard to have fun when you usually only carry a Platinum card.”

  “I can imagine. I would’ve tipped you even more for your ass, but I only had three.”

  She crossed her arms. “Isn’t it a bit early for you to climb out of your crypt?”

  “Shows how much you know. I still haven’t gotten in my crypt yet.” Testing both of us, I moved across her mat and shoved the extra water in my pocket so I could take one of her AirPods out of her ear. It immediately paused and I frowned. “How the hell am I supposed to listen?”

  “You’re not. They’re mine.” She plucked it out of my hand and eyed the extra bottle of water poking out of my pocket. “Share?”

  Instead, I held out mine. She uncapped it and drank deeply, her long throat rippling. It shouldn’t have been sexy. Except everything she did was. Even breathing. Even looking at me with that look in her eye while she caught her breath and drops of water clung to her lush lower lip.

  I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and licked them away, taking in her shocked inward breath like oxygen straight into my bloodstream.

  Without analyzing, I slipped my hand along the back of her neck, cupping her head as I covered her mouth with my own.

  “Let’s try this again,” I said between kisses, keeping my eyes open and on hers. “Good morning.”

  Distrust entered her gaze even as she kissed me back. She leaned forward and slid her hands up my chest, her pinky nail lightly scraping over scar tissue. I hissed out a breath and her touch gentled, at least above the waist. But her torment hadn’t ended yet.

  When she casually let her hand drift over the growing bulge in my sweats, she said against my lips, “Sure is a good morning.”

  I drew my thumb along one of the sweat-soaked strands of hair clinging to her neck. “So, you’re one of those early birds, huh?”

  “Usually. I’m not the best sleeper. Always keep expecting the phone to ring. Either Oz’s broken his hand or Coop’s harness snapped and he’s laid up somewhere. Or Jamie—” She broke off.

  “Jamie’s your best friend,” I prompted.

  “Yes. How do you know that?”

  “I never let my subscription to Music Life lapse and the two of you are its darlings. Everyone’s darlings.” I touched her hair again, winding it around my finger. “Light and dark.”

  “Sounds like you and me.”

  “You chase the darkness. Always thinking you can pull back before it sucks you in.”

  “Yet you live there. Willingly.” She yanked her hand away from my groin and I grabbed it, turning her fingers under so I could kiss her knuckles.

  “I’m not fit for human consumption. You’ve seen that. I say shit that hurts people. I do shit that hurts people. I can’t stop it either. There’s no off button, no hidden sunshine I can call on to make the memories fade. This is who I am.”

  When she didn’t speak, I dropped her hand and turned away.

  She spoke before I’d taken three steps. “Alex, don’t go.”

  Alex. Not Nash. So few people called me by my first name. It was too personal. Too friendly when I was known as a rigid perfectionist. An asshole who wore that badge proudly.

  My favorite shield.

  I shut my eyes, knowing full well my back was even worse than my front. I didn’t need to tell her what I’d lived through because she could see so much of it. Could feel it under her hands when she touched me.

  Yet somehow she wasn’t shying away.

  She moved closer. I expected for her to rub my arm or to offer some other form of support. I would’ve brushed that off. Instead, she pressed her cheek to my bare back, over the place where the ruined flesh was uneven and thick and unattractive.

  I simply didn’t have any defense against it.

  Against her.

  She linked her arms around my waist and gave the scar tissue a light kiss. “By the way, my singing is worth far more than three dollars, you cheapskate.”

  The sound I made wasn’t quite a laugh. Close enough.

  I stroked the back of her hand and clutched my water bottle in a grip that buckled the plastic. She didn’t comment on it or make a big deal out of the fact that I was so fucking flawed.

  I wore all of my sins on the outside. There was no hiding or pretending otherwise.

  And she was so achingly perfect. Whole, sweet, and decent. She had every reason to tell me to go to hell. I didn’t deserve to even breathe her air.

  That same crunch of leaves I’d heard before made me whip my head around, scanning in all directions. If some damn photog had found his way out here to intrude on our private moment, I would snap his camer
a like a branch.

  “Just a squirrel probably.” Her voice was soft. Unconcerned. As if she intrinsically understood that being interrupted here and now was a bigger violation than if we’d been observed during sex.

  As much as those moments with her had meant, the value of this was immeasurable.

  I reached down to take her hand. “Let’s go for a walk.”

  Seventeen

  Alexander Nash was holding my hand.

  It was crazy that this particular gesture rocked me more than even having sex with him. But he was male, and for most of them, dipping their dick meant about as much as changing their underwear. Holding hands was most likely just as insignificant for many people.

  But Alex? I couldn’t imagine him squeezing my fingers unless I was about to bleed out.

  Yet here we were, crossing Logan’s endless property, not speaking, not looking at each other. Headed who knows where.

  Holding hands.

  The yoga mat tucked under my arm was making me itch. Unless that was just nerves. I knew how to banter with him, even when it took on a nasty edge. That was our usual spiel.

  This was foreign territory.

  I’d already finished my water and looked longingly at his, tucked in his sweats pocket. But I was afraid to break the spell of silence.

  Eventually, we came upon a small waterfall. The water tumbled and dipped over rocks before spilling into a basin filled with even more rocks and surrounded by pussy willows and a variety of plants and flowers I couldn’t identify.

  I shielded my eyes with the side of my hand. I should’ve thought to bring sunglasses, but it had still been close to dark when I’d ventured outside. “Did you know this was here?”

  “Logan mentioned it once. I never thought to go looking for it, but now that the mortals are stirring, figured might as well.”

  “You think there was someone watching us?”

  His jaw worked. “Didn’t say that. But if they are, I’m not going to make it easy for them.” He glanced down at me. “No shades?”

  “No.” I felt like an idiot. Who forgot sunglasses on a day predicted to be sunny?

  You, when you’re running from a bad dream and need the fresh air on your skin.