Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “He’s a smart man. He’ll do his time and come out the other side fine.”

  “Well, that’s great for him.” She stares at me for several beats. “I need you.”

  “I’ll always make sure you’re taken care of. My father and the club will take care of you. No matter what.”

  “That’s nice but it’s not the same.” Her voice catches. “I need you with me.”

  This was the wrong time and place to initiate this particular conversation. It needs to happen in the future, for sure. But not now. “It doesn’t matter. Right now, I’m just a rock star getting into regular rock star trouble.”

  “Hmm.” She yanks a towel off the rack behind us and wraps it around her. “Go call your dad.”

  I run my gaze over her damp legs. “I wasn’t finished with you.”

  She whips another towel of the rack and whaps me with it. “Call your dad.”

  Mallory

  While Chaser’s on the phone with his father, I dry off and slip into a clean T-shirt.

  The phone in the other living room seems to be a separate line, so I call my agent.

  “Mallory! What have you gotten yourself into?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There are a bunch of reports about your boyfriend shooting someone over a fight about you. What the hell is going on?”

  “That’s so stupid. Chaser was cleared. None of it had anything to do with me.”

  She’s quiet but I can hear her fidgety nails tapping away at something on the other end of the line. “All right. I’ll get someone on it. Squash those stories. We don’t want your role on Shallow End jeopardized. You know they fancy themselves a family show.”

  “With the amount of cleavage and bouncing boobs showcased every week, how can anyone say that with a straight face?”

  She ignores my critique of the show. “When are you back in town?”

  “Tomorrow. I need to be on set for the table read Tuesday.”

  “Hmmm.” I can clearly picture her beating one of her many green and yellow pencils against her scarred desk. “I have an opportunity I want to discuss with you.”

  “What kind of opportunity?”

  “It’ll be easier to explain in person. It’s lucrative though.”

  “As long as it’s not porn.”

  “Not porn.”

  “I’ll call you when I get in, Marilyn.

  “Just stop by.”

  “Okay.” I hang up without another word and suffer no guilt. She’s not usually big on goodbyes anyway.

  From the other room, I make out Chaser’s deep voice. Still on the phone with his father.

  Chaser’s on the edge of the bed, murmuring noises of agreement every few seconds. Deep into his conversation with his father, he only nods at me as I crawl into bed behind him. I rest my hands on his shoulders and knead my fingers into his muscles for a few seconds.

  Without turning around, he reaches up and pats my hand. I’m probably being more annoying than helpful and I don’t want him to cut his call short.

  Exhaustion hits me and I stretch out on the bed, keeping my back to his. His rough hand skates up and down my leg. It’s a soothing gesture. Between his touch and his low, rumbling voice, I end up falling asleep.

  Chaser

  “You feel like spending time in jail, I got plenty of stuff you can do for the club.” My father’s gruff voice can’t hide his concern.

  “Trust me, it wasn’t how I planned to spend my night.”

  “Mallory okay? She was pretty freaked out when she called but she handled it well.”

  “She’s fine. I’m so fucking pissed. She has to fly back to L.A. tomorrow. Not how I wanted our visit to go.”

  “I’m sure,” he answers in a dry tone. “Jesus Christ, the story was all over MTV. Half the girls were in the clubhouse crying their eyes out.”

  “For fuck’s sake. The band needs the publicity but not like that.”

  “Who is this stupid son of a bitch?”

  “Jacob’s our singer.”

  “No, the other one.”

  “Andrew’s the drummer for the headlining band.”

  “Does he have something going on with Mallory?” he asks in a sharp tone I don’t care for.

  “No. Fuck no.” Guess the love triangle theory my lawyer warned me about reached my father’s insulated bubble of indifference to pop culture.

  “Just what the news guy said.”

  “It’s bullshit.” Is it though? Andrew’s always been way too interested in Mallory for my taste. Then again, I pretty much want to murder any man who looks at her for more than two seconds. Still, I can’t deny his interest in her is more than his usual disgusting admiration of the general female population. None of that matters since I’m not the one who shot Andrew. And we haven’t fought over Mallory. Not yet, anyway.

  By the time we end our call, Mallory’s softly snoring behind me. I toss my towel on the chair in the corner and shift Mallory into the center of the big king bed, then crawl in next to her.

  “How’s your dad?” she murmurs.

  I pull her into my arms and kiss her temple. “He’s fine.”

  “Are you—”

  “Shh, go back to sleep. I wanna cuddle with you.”

  Sleepy laughter. “Cuddle, huh?”

  The last twenty-four hours punch me in the face as soon as I settle down next to her and close my eyes.

  Mallory

  The air conditioning clicks on and a cool breeze tickles over my shoulder.

  I blink my eyes open and stare into the shadowy room. Hotel room.

  Everything rushes back and I flip over, seeking Chaser. Scared getting him out of jail was just a dream.

  But he’s safe. Sound asleep. On his back. One arm flung to the side, the other resting on his chest.

  My gaze travels lower.

  No wonder I was cold.

  The sheet’s functioning as a tent instead of a cover.

  Reaching over, I wrap my fingers around Chaser’s erection, quickly glancing up to see if he’s awake. His chest continues to rise and fall.

  Two different impulses strike me. To softly stroke and run my tongue along his length. Or to straddle his hips and lower myself onto his waiting cock.

  Taste wins. I drag my tongue down his shaft, from crown to base and back before closing my mouth over the tip.

  He awakens with a gasp and groan. The rough pad of his thumb strokes my cheek, encouraging me to run my hand up and down before taking him as deep as possible.

  “Ohhh, fuck. This is the best way to wake up.” He lifts his hips and his head falls back against the pillow.

  His cock hits the back of my throat and he groans. “Fuck, yeah. Like that.”

  I run my hands over his thighs, lightly scratching my nails against his skin and he shivers.

  “Baby, come here,” he urges. “I want to come in your snug little pussy.”

  I release him with a pop of my lips but continue stroking my hand up and down his length. “I know for a fact you’re capable of doing both.”

  “I need to be buried inside you.” He curls his fingers around mine and urges me up.

  I lift my hips, positioning him and sink down, taking him inch by inch. He gives me a few seconds to adjust before curling his big hands around my waist. I wrap my fingers around his arms, leaning in and working him in and out. Hitting the perfect spot. My legs tremble. Tension builds inside me, ready to snap.

  “That’s it,” he encourages.

  “Oh,” I gasp. “I’m—”

  He lifts his hips. “Yeah, you are.”

  Pleasure fires through me and I dig my fingers into his arms.

  He takes over, rocking my hips back and forth, helping me ride it out. “That’s my girl,” he whispers, dragging me down for a kiss.

  When I finally open my eyes, he flashes a wicked grin. “My turn.”

  Holding me tight, he rolls us, raising himself on one arm. “Can you take more?”

  “A
nything you want to give me.”

  “Careful, little dove. What if it’s everything?”

  I wiggle my hips in desperation. “All of you. Please.”

  “What’s your hurry? Got somewhere to be?”

  Even as he teases me with playful words, he slides his hand under my ass, tilting me for a better angle to meet each slow, tortuous thrust.

  Stroke after stroke, he steals my breath and words. Sweet pressure builds inside me again. Long and slow until I’m afraid I’ll burst into flames.

  Another thrust and pleasure rushes through every nerve ending.

  “That’s it,” he whispers, watching but never slowing his hips. Panting and slick with sweat, he curses and empties himself inside me.

  In awe of how I have the power to leave this strong, beautiful man weak and trembling, I can’t stop touching him everywhere. Running my hands up and down his back, through his hair, down his arms.

  Finally, he rolls to the side, pulling me with him. “Thank you for such an amazing wakeup.”

  I press kisses to his sweaty chest and nuzzle against his chin. One thought keeps repeating in my mind. I don’t want to leave him.

  Chapter Four

  Mallory

  “I hate that I’m always leaving you.” I curl my fingers into Chaser’s jacket, trying to dislodge the awful feelings tearing me apart as I’m about to board my plane back to L.A.

  He presses his lips to my forehead and inhales deeply. “I do too.”

  I pull away and slowly lift my gaze to his. “Tell me we’ll get through this. I want…I like being on the show. It’s why I came Hollywood.” I wouldn’t be able to admit this next part if he didn’t look as broken as I feel. “But I want you more.”

  “Mallory.” He brushes my hair off my cheek. “I’ve wanted this, where the band’s headed, since I was twelve.”

  I swallow hard, willing my chin not to tremble.

  “But I want you more too.”

  “What do we do?”

  “I don’t know, little dove.”

  “I want this for you too. I’m so proud of you, Chaser. I’m not trying to say I want you back in L.A. just to…I don’t know…”

  His mouth curls into a gentle smile. “Be your bodyguard?”

  “Maybe.”

  “I want your success too, you know. Every week when I see you on television…” he pats his chest, “…I’m so fucking proud of you.”

  Still, I can’t let go.

  “You’re coming to the New York show,” he reminds me. “We’ll have some time off to spend together after that.”

  “I’m worried about you too,” I admit. This latest episode has done nothing to alleviate my existing fears.

  “I’ll be fine. This might have been the wake-up call the guys needed.”

  My mouth twists down but I don’t want to contradict Chaser’s optimism. He knows his band better than I do. Maybe Jacob’s near-death experience will be the cure for his addictions.

  Time ticks down way too fast. I squeeze my eyes shut and kiss Chaser one last time before boarding the plane.

  The flight seems to take forever. I try to sleep but every time I wake we’re still in the air.

  Finally, the pilot announces we’re touching down in Los Angeles.

  My car’s where I left it mere days ago. The thought of going to our empty home hurts too much, so I drive to Marilyn’s office instead.

  “Mallory!” She stands to greet me. “Funny you showed up now. I was just on the phone talking about you.”

  “I hope that’s good news?”

  “Yes, yes. I have a PR lady on the story about you and Chaser. That’s a non-issue. I saw Andrew made a public statement.”

  I nod politely but I hadn’t been that concerned about bad publicity from the incident. “Did you have something else you wanted to tell me about?”

  “Yes!” She slaps her desk and grabs a folder. “How do you feel about Jazzercise?”

  “What?”

  “You as the star of your own celebrity fitness video.”

  Confusion leaves me shaking my head. “Celebrity fitness? Me? Why?”

  “You’re young, pretty, in good shape, and it’s lucrative.”

  “But I don’t know anything about fitness videos.”

  “Then it’ll be like any other acting job.” She waves her hand at me. “With some choreography thrown in.”

  “When?”

  “They’ll work it around your Shallow End schedule. A couple days to get the choreography down and two days max to film the whole thing.”

  “This is legit?”

  She leans over, opens a drawer, and tosses a few VHS tapes on the desk, one-by-one. “Jane Fonda, Raquel Welch, Olivia Newton-John, Alyssa Milano—all legit actresses who have fitness videos. It’s an honor to be asked, Mallory. Another revenue stream.”

  Nightmares of bopping around in bright-colored spandex, striped leggings, layers of colorful socks, and terrycloth headbands assault my brain. “Okay,” I answer slowly. “If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll consider it.”

  By the way she works her jaw from side-to-side, she must have expected me to immediately accept the job with effusive gratitude. But it seems like such a strange job I want to talk to someone else about it before I agree.

  It’s probably not a good sign that I don’t trust my agent’s advice.

  “This could be very lucrative, Mallory. The Jane Fonda Workout alone has sold almost a million copies.”

  “I said I’ll think about it.”

  “We want to do it soon. Capitalize off your Video Vixen win.”

  Ah, the ‘Candy Jar’ video just keeps on giving.

  As I leave her office, I consider who the heck to ask for advice. Pamela? No, she’d probably make fun of me, then try to steal the offer behind my back. Vickie? I haven’t spoken to her in weeks, plus, I don’t think she’d have any useful advice. Audrey’s off in Paris and unless there’s some emergency with the house, I don’t want to bother her.

  Really, there’s only one person I want to talk to about this. Unfortunately, he’s halfway across the country.

  Feeling sorry for myself, I stop at the grocery store for a few items. As I’m standing in the check-out line, a copy of Star Reports with a rather unflattering photo of Chaser and me on the cover catches my eye. I flip it open to the “inside scoop” about the torrid “love triangle” I supposedly have going on with Chaser and Andrew. The photo of the three of us from the night of the Small Screen Music Awards, ripped in half with a bloody gun in the middle caps it all off nicely.

  “For God’s sake,” I mutter, reading the completely fabricated bullshit. A lone photo of a forlorn Pamela tucked in the corner has me rolling my eyes.

  “Do you think she forced Andrew to say Chaser didn’t do it?” someone asks.

  I glance up, frowning at the stranger. “Chaser didn’t do it,” I snap, tossing the magazine on top of the rack.

  The woman’s eyes widen with recognition and she slowly backs away.

  As if anyone could force Andrew to do a damn thing.

  Still furious when I finally arrive home, I unpack the groceries quickly. A copy of tomorrow’s script is waiting for me in the mailbox and that gives me some comfort. I sit at the dining room table and flip through it, highlighting a few key lines and jotting down notes in the margins.

  Around nine, the phone rings pulling me out of my reading. My stomach rumbles. I never ate dinner.

  “Hello?”

  “You get home, okay?” Chaser’s voice warms the emptiness that settled in me the second I left him.

  “Yup, I was just going through the script for tomorrow.”

  “This might be the only chance I’ll have to call for a few hours.”

  “What’s going on?”

  “Andrew checked himself out of the hospital. He’s determined not to cancel another show, so we’re rolling out tonight and headed to Lafayette.”

  “Oh my God. Is he okay?”

  He t
akes a few seconds to answer. “He’s settled down since you saw him. Almost subdued. It’s kinda weird, honestly.”

  “Don’t get used to it. I’m sure it won’t last.”

  “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

  “What about Jacob? Was he able to leave?”

  “Paxton said unless they want to charge Jacob with something, it’s on them to come find him. Not like they can’t figure out where we are.”

  I bite my lip. “I don’t want you in any more trouble.”

  “I’m fine. Free to go.” He lowers his voice. “What’s going on with you? Did you meet with Marilyn?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “I need your advice.”

  His rich laughter soothes my inner turmoil. “I’ll do my best, little dove.”

  “She wants me to star in an exercise video.” As the words come out of my mouth, I cringe. It sounds so silly.

  “Like Raquel Welch?” he asks.

  “That’s one of the examples she gave me.” I squint at the wall. “You came up with her name awfully fast. Why do you even know that?”

  He chuckles. “Obviously, you were never a teenage boy.”

  “Gross,” I mutter. “Oh! Eww. What if I end up being spank material for horny teenage boys across the country?”

  He laughs even harder. “I think you’ve already achieved that status, ‘Candy Jar’ girl.”

  “It’s not funny.”

  His laughter cuts off. “Did she say why?”

  “To capitalize off the Video Vixen award. She says it could be another lucrative revenue stream if it does well.”

  “They want you specifically? This isn’t an audition situation?”

  “No, they want me.”

  “That’s interesting.” A soft humming sound comes through the phone and I have a vivid image of Chaser running his hand over his jaw while he thinks through the situation. “It’s not a bad idea to have another asset out there making money for you. Are they offering you a one-time fee or royalties?”

  That’s something I hadn’t thought of asking. “I’m not sure. Chaser, the bigger problem is, I don’t know anything about choreographed sweating in front of a camera. I’ve been to like two step-aerobics classes in my life and all I learned is that I’m painfully uncoordinated.”