Play Dirty: Brooklyn Dawn Book 1

by Quinn, Cari

  My people screamed back at me.

  “Sounds like you’re here for a good fucking time.” I held up my hand to my ear. “I’m not sure I could hear you. I said are you here for a good time?” I grinned brilliantly at their uproarious response. “Damn right.”

  The show exploded from there. Jamie and I must have run miles by the time we got to the midpoint of the show. Maybe it was because it was home, maybe it was because I knew Alex was there on the sidelines.

  Whatever it was, I was wild on stage.

  Even Oz laughed at me and he was a crazy motherfucker.

  I sang to the side stage fans who paid a premium for three songs right up there with us. I let them sing with me. The smiling faces, the excited screams, the absolute love fueled me through the set.

  This was exactly what I’d been born to do.

  I looped an arm around Jamie’s neck just before we got to the last song of the night. “I think I need a little jukebox action.” I turned to the crowd. “Jukebox moment?”

  They screamed and shouted songs. I couldn’t catch them all, but then there was one. In the front row. A woman about my age held up a sign.

  “Oh, shit.” I dragged Jamie with me and we both crouched down, like we were in the middle of a damn comedy skit. “Does that say what I think it says?”

  “I didn’t wear my contacts,” she faux-whispered into my microphone.

  “You have 20/20 vision.”

  “Yeah, with my contacts.”

  “She lies, folks. So much.” The general admission pit surged forward, hanging on our every word. Phones and cameras flashing like mad. “What does that say?”

  “It totally says Vixen.” She leaned a little more and slapped three different hands. “The song ‘How Much Love’ to be exact.”

  I stood and hauled Jamie up with me. “That’s right. Dude, we haven’t done a Vixen song since the first tour.” I pointed at the girl. “You have taste, my friend.”

  She shrieked and I laughed, shrieking back at her. I turned around. “Coop, give me the beat.”

  Everyone came forward and we all got our headbang on. I loosened the pins that kept my hair up and off my shoulders for the whole show. I needed my Lita Ford hair right now. Me and Jamie fell into step as always. I slung my arm around her shoulder as she played the shit out of her guitar.

  She sang with me, adding her raspier tones to my higher register as I sang the long, eighties style notes from our favorite girl band from the hair metal years. I laughed at Zane as he tried to steal some of Oz’s long hair to use since his hair was short.

  Teagan came forward with a strapped-on synthesizer.

  The laughter took over some of the song, but in the end, it was exactly what everyone needed. Finally, everyone got back to their places and I held my arms out to the crowd. “Thank you so much, New York. We love coming home and we love that you always take us back with open fucking arms. This is ‘Ruin’.”

  I’d written the song after my first time with Alex. Instead of the heartbreak, I channeled the hope I felt with how we were now. The love I never thought would be possible.

  There was no running away, only to.

  For both of us.

  I backed up to the platform which would take me down under the stage. I looked over my shoulder to wave to the side stage and caught a man with dark hair and a thermal Henley.

  Alex.

  He’d come on stage after all.

  For me.

  I smiled brilliantly just as the confetti cannon went off.

  Suddenly, Coopers cymbals fell forward and the crew came sprinting. Our people were the best when it came to weird mishaps with instruments. In the chaos, I spun around to look for Alex again, but the hydraulics were already starting their descent.

  And the air cannons were spraying thick steam into the air.

  There. He tipped his head, staring at me.

  Wait.

  The shoulders were wrong. I tried to crane my neck, but then he was gone. I tripped over my words, then righted myself. I’d sung this song a million damn times. The words came out of their own volition at this point.

  I looked again, but there was no one there.

  Maybe I had just wished him on stage.

  The under stage was empty. Everyone was up top trying to fix Cooper’s drums.

  I felt a prick on the back of my thigh and the world went topsy-turvy. The dim lights of the understage shimmered. I stumbled.

  “I’ve got you.” The Irish accent soothed me.

  “Alex…” I swallowed as my tongue felt like I’d wrapped it in cotton. His face wavered, and I blinked to clear my vision. Not right. Too smooth. I pulled my inner ear monitor out and the roar of the drums and guitars above made my stomach pitch and my ears ring. “Alex, I don’t feel right.”

  “Just rest. I’ve got you, duchess.”

  That wasn’t how he said my name.

  Not at all.

  The crowd was screaming and stomping for more. For the encore. I still had the encore to do.

  Then everything went silent and black.

  Thirty-Nine

  Wet pavement.

  Gasoline.

  Oil.

  The hot, acrid air of a heater.

  All of it dented my brain first. I needed to slice my fucking head off my fucking shoulders. Jesus.

  My mouth tasted of death.

  Not of alcohol, though my shirt stunk of whiskey.

  I pushed myself off the abused pavement. Ashes from discarded cigarettes and the stale stench of beer broke through the haze I couldn’t quite shake.

  Why the hell was I outside?

  And on the ground.

  I rolled up onto my hip. The pervasive tang of Jim Beam wafted up, making my stomach roil. I almost lost the craft lunch I’d eaten with Lindsey before she got ready for…

  Lindsey.

  I shook my head.

  Lindsey.

  I lurched to my feet, stumbling down on my knees almost immediately. The pain of it drove white light and little black dots along my periphery. But the quick shot of adrenaline pushed the fuzziness aside. I hauled myself up and tried to get my bearings.

  A shaft of light sliced through the darkness.

  “You there. You’re trespassing.”

  “Thank fuck.” I listed to the side a little as the world righted itself. “Where’s Lindsey? Miss York.”

  He opened the door wider. “Mr. Nash?” He lifted a walkie-talkie of some sort. “Noah?”

  The static of a reply echoed into the alley. I staggered forward. “I need to find Lindsey. Is she safe? Tell me she’s safe.” Nausea and terror fought for dominance in my gut.

  I propped myself against the brick wall. The uniformed guy wrinkled his nose, but didn’t say a word. Evidently, he was well-trained because I smelled like a bar rag. “Let me inside.”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No.”

  “I went to take a piss—”

  “Out here?”

  “No.” I ground my molars together. “I used the one a few doors down from the green room. That’s the last thing I remember.” I took a breath. “Now where the hell is Lindsey?”

  Another crackle came over his walkie-talkie. “Bring him to the dressing rooms.”

  Noah’s voice. Clipped and authoritative sharpened through tinny static.

  I jumped at it. “Yes. Bring me there.”

  The guy opened the door wider to let me pass. The hallway was teeming with suits, officers, and security. We were down by the side access door where the crew usually sneaked out for a smoke.

  Noah stalked down the hall, pointing at me. “You. What the hell did you do with her?”

  “What do you mean? I just woke up in the damn alley.”

  Noah turned his head. “You reek.”

  “No shit.” At Noah’s disgusted look, I rushed on to explain. “I’m not drunk. I don’t fucking drink.”

  Noah’s gray eyes met mine. He stared for a beat then nodded. “G
et in here. Christ, what a fucking cluster.” He lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth and barked orders.

  “Will someone tell me what the fuck is going on?” I asked as I walked into the green room behind him.

  Oz stood, his hands fisted at his sides, rage cutting grooves into his face.

  “What did you do with her?” Jamie came flying at me, her blue-tipped black hair blowing forward like a cape as she plowed her fist into my face.

  I staggered back into Noah and would have gone down if he hadn’t been there. His walkie-talkie clattered to the floor as he hauled me back from kissing the dingy carpet. “Fucking hell, DuCaine. Give me a goddamn minute to figure out shit before you go Mike Tyson on his ass.”

  Jamie crowded into me. “Where is she?”

  “I don’t know,” I bellowed at her. My tone was loud enough to make her step back.

  Terror-stricken tears filled her eyes. “If you did something to her, I will kill you.”

  “I just woke up in the goddamn alley. I don’t know anything. What is going on?”

  “She’s gone. She went down the stage panel like always at the last song, but then she didn’t come back up for the encore.”

  “No.” Pricks of icy sweat dripped down my back.

  She touched my shirt and smelled her fingers. “Are you fucking serious? You’re out there on a bender while she’s who knows where?”

  “No. No,” I whispered. “I wouldn’t.” My voice strengthened. “Never. Especially not now.”

  Noah pointed at the chair. “You, sit. Until I can get this shit handled.”

  “Hell no.”

  Noah got in my face. “Don’t make me shoot you. I’d enjoy it far too much right at this moment.”

  I shut my mouth until he moved away. More orders were being barked into two different walkie-talkies.

  My pocket vibrated. Since there were so few people who had my number…maybe.

  I took it out and saw a text message picture. Lindsey and I. It was grainy, but I knew her body anywhere. And that light beam of angelic hair shone like a spotlight even in the dimmest light.

  Jamie snatched the phone out of my hand. “What the fuck is this?”

  “I don’t know,” I said as she shoved the phone back at me.

  Another picture came through, this time more slowly. A video? Jamie growled and peered over the top of the screen to watch. Us again. Not today. Lindsey smiling up at me. Last night. At her brownstone. She’d wanted a bubble bath in her own tub.

  How could I say no to anything she wanted?

  We’d been on her balcony. The moon had been a beacon, but the quiet had been the ultimate lure. She was supposed to be safe in her own home, goddammit.

  The plastic case on my phone crackled from my grip.

  It was too loud in the room to hear if there was sound, but I could see her laughing. The way she looked at me.

  Fuck.

  How close had he been?

  “Kyle.”

  “No, you.” Jamie’s words were a snarl. “Every video shows you taking her out of here.”

  “What?” My chest tightened. “I saw her just before she went on stage. She was getting ready to do ‘Judgment’ like always. I watched her rise up on that hydraulic lift with her fucking piano. She was safe on stage.”

  The only place she’d been truly safe.

  For the last week and a half, we’d been locked down in hotels. Even though her stalker had been jailed, he was free again. They couldn’t hold him without proof.

  But I knew it wasn’t him.

  Knew it in my bones. It wasn’t that fanatical bloke who’d burst into the hallway in Richmond. He didn’t have this kind of IQ. Not to take her out of the building out from under all of this security.

  “Mr. Nash?”

  “Just Nash,” I said automatically to the cop who came over. His badge was hanging around his neck on a chain.

  “I’m Detective Adams.”

  “Did you find her?”

  “We’re doing everything we can—”

  “How did he walk her out of here? How did no one see it? There’s a dozen fucking security people around her all the time.”

  “From what I’m being told, everyone thought she was leaving with you.”

  “Before the show ended? That’s ridiculous.”

  His gaze sharpened. “How did you know it was before the end of the concert?”

  “Stop wasting time.” When he continued to give me a bland stare, I growled. “Jamie just told me she went missing at the encore.”

  “All right. Where were you when this was happening?” The detective’s voice was deceptively calm. Almost conversational. I wanted to plow my fist right into his damn face.

  I ran a shaky hand through my hair. “I just woke up in the alley. One of the side entrances—”

  “Have you been drinking?”

  “No.” A few heads turned at the tone of my voice. “No,” I said more gently. “I didn’t do this. I wouldn’t.”

  “So, you needed some air?”

  “No. I don’t remember what fucking happened. I went to take a fucking piss, and then nothing.”

  “When was this?”

  “I didn’t look at my damn watch.” I tried to retrace my steps. “I was watching from the side stage.”

  “Do you remember the song?”

  “It was early in the show. Third song, maybe?”

  Kyle.

  Kyle.

  It had to be Kyle.

  His name was a chant in my head as I tried to concentrate on the cop’s voice.

  He wouldn’t. He might not be exactly the most balanced person on the planet, but he wouldn’t do this.

  Would he?

  “Mr. Nash?”

  I clicked back in. “What did you ask me? I’m sorry. I’m trying to get my head around this.”

  “Are you taking any drugs?”

  “What? No.”

  “I see. Stay here. I want to speak with my captain.”

  I clenched my hands. Standing around here wasn’t helping.

  Another officer was speaking to Oz. Another one gently talking to a tearful Teagan, while Cooper hovered behind her helplessly.

  Zane was speaking to one of the security people.

  Everyone was in a panic.

  Noah Jordan’s voice was an icy storm out in the hallway.

  I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t have proof it was Kyle. I just knew it. Knew it as surely as I knew my blood type.

  Was he taunting me? Or did he actually have her?

  He had to, because she wasn’t here. He wouldn’t hire someone to do his dirty work. So, where would he fucking take her?

  The back of my knees hit a chair and I sat before they dissolved. Jamie bent at the waist to stare into my eyes. “Where. Is. She?”

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

  She dug out her phone and pushed it into my face. “This is you taking her out of here.” On her screen was a grainy shot from a video camera. If anyone looked at it quickly, they’d see me. Just like in all the early pictures of me and Kyle. People thought he was me all the time. We dressed alike.

  Or was it that he dressed like me?

  I shut my eyes as guilt hammered at me.

  “Look closer,” I said on a guttural whisper.

  She turned it around. “Your hair, your jacket. Your shirt—minus the fucking booze.” Then she paused. “Your shoulders are bigger.”

  “Yeah. I’ve got twenty pounds on him. And about two inches.”

  I took her phone again. Lindsey was walking with him, but she was acting like she was drunk. Her head listed against his shoulder and he curled his arm around her shoulder. Holding her against him with a smile.

  I shoved the phone back at her and stuck my head between my knees. “Kyle.”

  “What? Who?”

  “I know it’s him.” I sat up straighter, forcing my churning stomach to settle. There wasn’t time for anything now but getting Lindsey back. “Yo
u have to get me out of here. I have to go find her.”

  “You’re not going anywhere without me. And we’ve got a dozen cops looking for her. What the hell are you going to do?”

  “I don’t know, but no one knows him better than me. I can’t sit here while cops and security people tell me they know how to do their jobs. They don’t know him. He’s sick, Jamie.” My voice cracked. I’d made him that way. It was my fault.

  She shook me. “If you’re spinning out into guilt-land, bring it back, asshat. This is about Lindz, not you.”

  I nodded and shook off the cold sweat of fear. “Yes. It’s about her. And I can’t fucking help her here,” I whispered furiously. “Help me get out of here.”

  Her dark eyes were red-rimmed and a little insane.

  If anyone could get me out of this building, it would be her. She was about as crazy as I was right now. And I’d use that against her if I had to. I’d do anything to get to Lindsey.

  She looked me up and down, then hauled me out of my chair. “We need to get you a new shirt.”

  “I don’t fucking care about my shirt,” I said over my shoulder when she pushed me into the hallway.

  “We need to get you another shirt.” She stared me down. “You fucking smell like a distillery’s dirty floor.”

  Noah looked at me, then Jamie. “Do not make me hunt you two down.”

  “Relax, Kojak. He just needs a new shirt.”

  Noah stared her down. “Do you see me sucking on a lollipop?”

  She reached up and ruffled his hair. “No bald spot yet either.”

  He deflected her hand and she gave him a sly smile. “Oh, I like it rough.”

  “Jesus,” Noah turned away from us, his attention on his phone.

  “Really?”

  She turned her gaze at me. “Got rid of him, right?”

  I couldn’t fault her there. She grabbed my arm and steered me into a room next door. “Oz probably has something you can wear. Do you have that stupid beanie thing you wear?”

  I dug it out of my back pocket. “Yeah.”

  “Perfect.” She unzipped the leather bag in the corner. “He’s allergic to shirts but has to have one for leaving the venue.” She tossed a long-sleeved black shirt at me. “Too many scratch marks from his legion of Betties.”