Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  She squints at me. “Well, licking my face isn’t the way to do it.”

  Choking on my laughter, I release her wrists and grab her by her ankles, lifting her up enough to swat each butt cheek. “Smartass.”

  “You’re getting warmer,” she teases.

  I lean in and bite her thigh. “Get those feet on my shoulders, sassy girl.”

  Ah, fuck. I sit back and for a second can’t even breathe she’s so beautiful. “You’re so fucking wet and pretty. This is better than breakfast.”

  I scoop my hands under her thighs, spreading her wider and shove my face between her legs.

  “Fuck, Chaser,” she gasps as I trace her wetness with my tongue. She slides one hand through my hair, lightly tugging.

  I spend a few minutes licking and teasing her before getting down to business. Her little clit’s hard and waiting for me. Her body jerks and shudders as I suck on it.

  “Again. More.” She moans, arches her back, and yanks my hair.

  I drag my tongue down, savoring all her sweetness. Over and over until she’s rocking against me and comes moaning, thrashing, and panting on the table. Her wild breathing and heaving chest works me up to an unbearable degree.

  She hasn’t even come down from the high before I stand, shove my shorts down, yank her to the edge of the table and thrust inside her. “Time to come on my cock, little dove. And I’m not going to last long, so I’d hurry if I were you.”

  She slowly opens her eyes only to narrow them. “So ambitious this morning.”

  “You calling me a slacker?” I drive into her again.

  She laughs softly and reaches up to trace her fingers over my chest. “That’s one thing I’d never call you.” Her eyes roll back. “Oh, God. Right there, Chaser.”

  “That’s better.” I slide out, inch by inch, then rock back inside. “Fuck.”

  I rub circles over her clit and her body trembles.

  “Oh,” she chants over and over, chasing her bliss.

  I’m right there with her. White-hot satisfaction practically blinds me. The orgasm seizes my body. How can every time be better than the last?

  I’m still groaning in pleasure when she pulls me down for soft, sweet kisses.

  “I love making you come,” I murmur against her lips.

  “I love when you make me come,” she whispers. “And I love watching you.” She slides one finger between my eyebrows and down my nose. “You concentrate so hard. It’s sexy. Just like when you’re on stage, except this performance is all mine.”

  I frown down at her. “I make my orgasm face on stage?”

  She jiggles with laughter. “No.”

  I groan as I stand and pull her up with me. “Come on. Let’s clean up. I’ll reheat breakfast, then we’re going back to bed to do this again.”

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Mallory

  Our ten-day rule hasn’t been easy to stick to. Not with Chaser on tour. Between Shallow End and a few other projects, most of the time, I’m working six days a week. So I can’t hold up my end of the bargain as easily.

  I’m sitting in my car, flipping through my calendar, searching for a free day this month or even the next, when pain spears my lower back, stealing my breath.

  I scoot forward, resting my head on the steering wheel and clutch the spot, rubbing as if it will help slow down the intensity.

  I’m going to be late if I don’t get moving.

  Finally, the spasm ebbs but only for a second. My jaw locks as a vicious cramp ripples through my front. I don’t need this today.

  I frantically flip through my little calendar. My period isn’t due for a week.

  I flip back to the previous month. Huh.

  Another cramp brings on a wave of nausea and I close the book.

  Please go away. This isn’t something I relish discussing with the wardrobe department. I dig through my purse and pop a few tablets of Advil, hoping they’ll do the trick.

  The pain finally subsides enough that I step out of the car. My legs wobble and I rest my butt against the door, closing my eyes and soaking in the sunshine.

  “You look like shit, Mallory. What’s wrong?” Pamela says as soon as she sees me.

  “Good morning to you too.”

  “Sorry. Seriously, though. Are you okay?”

  I’m surprised she cares. We haven’t spoken much since the weekend she tried to cause trouble. I didn’t want to let her know how much pain and chaos her phone call caused. And hell will freeze over before I tell her about Andrew’s ‘let’s fuck’ offer. Still, with the way we’ve avoided each other, even though we work so closely together, she must have an inkling something happened between the three of us.

  “Why do you care?”

  Her full lips twitch into a pout. “I’m sorry, okay?” She blows out a frustrated breath. “When things ended so badly with Andrew, it really hurt.” She spears me with a pointed look. “I know you know I called Chaser and told him you were running around with Andrew.”

  “Which I wasn’t, by the way.”

  She sighs. “I don’t care who Andrew dates but for some reason the thought of you and him…bugged me. And that he would ask you to model his stupid shirts after I helped him with those designs really pisses me off.”

  “But I’m engaged to Chaser. I have no interest in Andrew. Never have.”

  “I know that now.” She clasps her hands together. “Forgive me. Please?”

  It will sure make life on set easier if we get along. “I’m sorry I ever agreed to model anything for him.” I regret it for lots of reasons but if I really want to be friends with Pamela, favors for her ex isn’t the way.

  “Pshh.” She waves off my apology. “I know you’re still going to hang out with him because of Chaser.”

  I highly doubt that. Chaser still hasn’t spoken to Andrew as far as I know. “Not likely.”

  “How’s Kickstart’s tour?”

  Another cramp seizes my insides and I double over, squeezing my eyes shut.

  “Shucks, Mallory.” She touches my shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  “It’s just cramps,” I breathe out. “I haven’t had them this bad since high school.”

  “Jesus.” She squats down on the ground and digs through her massive purse. “Let me find some Midol for you.”

  “I already took some. It hasn’t done a damn thing.”

  “Maybe you should see a doctor?”

  I glance over at the studio. We’re going to be late if we don’t haul ass inside soon. “I don’t have time. It’s not like they give us sick days.”

  “You can’t film if you’re in this much pain.”

  “It’ll go away.” My cheeks heat up from the mere thought of asking the director for the day off because of cramps. No way.

  “Here.” She hands me a pink box. “I’ll call my doctor and try to get you in.” She stares up at me. “You don’t think you’re pregnant, do you?”

  “I’m on the pill.” Growing up without a mother or any female relatives I felt comfortable talking to makes it hard for me to engage in such personal conversations. “Although, I forgot it a few times when I went to visit Chaser.”

  “Oh, shit, Mallory.” She bites her lip.

  “I can’t be pregnant.” I snatch a tampon out of my purse and wave it at her. “I’ve gone through like five of these this morning.”

  “That can’t be good.”

  “Maybe my womb misses Chaser.” My attempt at a joke sounds ridiculous.

  She wrinkles her nose. “Womb? Really, Mallory,” she teases. “Come on.” She links her arm through mine and drags me across the parking lot.

  I suffer through wardrobe more than usual. The suits don’t exactly leave room for the imagination as it is.

  “Mallory, you should let us know when it’s your time of the month,” Donna hisses at me.

  Heat blasts my cheeks. I just want to go home and crawl into bed.

  I pop two more Midol and waddle out to the set. They’re not ready for
me, so I pretend to study my script, waiting for the painkillers to kick in so I can function.

  “Mallory! You’re up!” the assistant director shouts. From his tone, I gather he’s called me more than once.

  I take a step.

  An angry fist from the depths of hell hammers into me and I double over in agony.

  Pamela was right.

  This can’t be normal.

  Chapter Fifty

  Chaser

  Tucson.

  Phoenix.

  El Paso.

  Mobile

  Thousands of screaming faces show up for Kickstart. Dozens of backstage interviews. Lines of fans waiting to meet us after every show.

  We rock them all.

  Huntsville—Jacob shows up late. We barely make it to the stage on time.

  Lafayette.

  Jackson.

  Somewhere around Birmingham it all starts to fall apart.

  I should’ve gone home to see Mallory on the band’s one day off. Even if she’s working and I only get to see her for a couple hours. It would’ve been better than this.

  Who are all these people hanging out in Jacob’s room? How’d they find their way here? Two of the guys from Iron Kiss, a few groupies, roadies, and then a whole bunch of seedier folks I’ve never seen before.

  My gaze drops to the lines of coke Jacob’s busy laying out on the table, then back to his new buddies.

  Which one is responsible for the party favors?

  As I watch Jacob chop up those pristine white lines, the ghost memory of a burning rush haunts my nasal passages.

  I haven’t touched coke or even thought about it much since I kicked my habit in New York. Yet, here I am again, thinking I’m different from other addicts who struggle every day. What an arrogant miscalculation.

  Jacob peers up and catches me watching him. He gives me a slow, sly smile. “Come on, golden boy. You’ve been so good. You deserve a reward.”

  The fact that I’m craving it so intensely, and actually considering leaning over and inhaling the contents of the entire table jolts me out of my trance.

  Ignoring him, I jump up and pace a few feet away.

  Across the room, the phone rings.

  “Chaser, it’s for you!” Brian bellows across the room.

  “Who is it?” I shout back.

  He shrugs and mouths something I can’t quite catch.

  “Take a message!”

  He leans over and scribbles something down on a pad. I glance over, watching Jacob hoover up a line as long as the table.

  I swear I can taste it on my tongue.

  One time. I gave it up before easily enough.

  Forget those sweaty coke demon nightmares so soon, asshole?

  The angel and devil taking up residence on my shoulders this afternoon are clearly in a bickering mood.

  I close my eyes for a second, picturing Mallory. How disappointed she’d be if she knew where I was right now and what I was contemplating.

  She never has to know.

  Sure, after all the stuff we’ve been through, doing some blow behind her back seems totally reasonable.

  Fuck this.

  I turn away and slide open the door to the balcony. The cool air brushes over my skin and I finally take a breath.

  “Chaser?”

  “What?” I snap, turning around to face an about-to-piss-himself Brian.

  “Here.” He hands me a folded piece of paper. “It was some chick named Pamela? Sounded important.”

  Fuck that. I’m not letting that crazy bitch suck me into her drama vortex again. I fell for it once and it blew up in my face.

  I crumple the paper in my hand, then pause. Pamela and Mallory were working together today. What if something happened to Mallory?

  The paper crinkles as I unfold it. Cedar Hospital.

  “What the fuck is this?”

  Brian shrugs. “I couldn’t understand her over all the noise. She said she was headed to Cedar Hospital? Or see the hospital? I don’t know.”

  “Did she say why? Or leave a fucking phone number?”

  “No, man.” He holds up his hands and slowly backs away.

  “Motherfucker.” I stare at the note, then jam it in my pocket.

  High or not, people move the fuck out of my way when I storm back into the room.

  “Chaser, where are you—”

  Jacob doesn’t even finish his question before I slam open the door and jog down to my own room—where I should’ve been in the first place.

  Sure enough, the red message light on my phone is lit up like the devil’s own beacon of misery.

  I swear to fuck if this is some stunt by Pamela to get between Mallory and me again, I’m gonna ring her skinny little neck.

  I snatch up the receiver and jab the button to get my messages played back.

  “Chaser, shit, where are you?” Pamela’s anxious voice rips me in two. “Something happened with Mallory on the set. She…passed out. They took her to Cedar Hill Hospital. I know you’re on tour but if you—”

  I slam the phone down before the message finishes.

  Bag. Throw in some clothes. Wallet. Got some cash. Good, I’ll need it. Credit card. Need that too.

  I’ll try calling the hospital from the airport.

  In the hallway, I run into Alvin and a tall, leggy redhead I vaguely remember from last night’s show.

  He stops and stares at my bag. “Where are you going?”

  “Home. Something happened. Mallory’s in the hospital? I don’t know.”

  “Fuck.” He drops the redhead’s hand. “You need me to go with you?”

  “No.” I glance back at my room, then hand him the key. “Will you pack up the rest of my shit and throw it on the bus for me, though? I’ll meet you guys at the next—”

  “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of everything.”

  I slap him on the shoulder and he pulls me in for a quick hug. “Call and let me know if she’s okay,” he says, pulling back.

  “Thank you.”

  Should I let Thom or the other guys know I’m leaving the tour? Maybe. But there’s time for that later. Right now, I need to find out what’s going on with my girl.

  Chapter Fifty-One

  Chaser

  I could’ve rented a car and driven to L.A. faster.

  My flight finally lands and I fight my way off the plane. Thankfully, I find a taxi to take me straight to the hospital.

  Outside, I find Pamela. She jumps up off the bench she’d been sitting on and runs over. “I’m so glad you’re finally here!”

  I grab her shoulders and hold her at arm’s length. “What the fuck happened?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t feel well this morning. Said it was her period but she was bleeding heavily and she…passed out.”

  “Jesus. Is she okay?”

  She bites her lip and whispers, “I think she had a miscarriage, Chaser.”

  The word slaps me in the face. “Where is she?”

  “They won’t tell me anything but you’re her emergency contact, so they should talk to you.”

  Panic, frustration, and rage, all follow me inside. Pamela directs me to the front desk where I’m given Mallory’s room number.

  “Thank you.” I don’t even say anything to Pamela before running down the unfamiliar hallways.

  Finally, I spot my girl in a darkened room all by herself.

  “Mallory. Thank fuck,” I mutter. My feet pound so hard over the hospital tiles, they can probably hear me in the basement.

  Her eyes widen and she tries to sit up, then winces.

  “Baby, what happened?”

  “Chaser.” The raw devastation on her face cuts me deep. Tears run down her cheeks as she reaches for me. She opens her mouth but no more words come out.

  One of her hands is a road map of IV needles, hospital tape, and bruises, so I grasp her other hand.

  “What happened? Are you okay?”

  She shakes her head. “No. Chaser, I—”
>
  I don’t think I’m ready to hear this. And I can’t help thinking this is somehow my fault. “I should’ve been here sooner. I’m sorry it took so long.” I slide my hand over hers, twining our fingers together and press my forehead to her knuckles, my subtle ask for forgiveness. “I’m so sorry, little dove,” I whisper.

  “I’m just happy you’re here now.” She squeezes my hand.

  None of this seems real. Inside, I’m coming apart, but I need to hold it together and take care of my girl

  Above me, she sniffles, and the sound shatters me.

  “I was so scared,” she whispers through her tears. “I thought I was dying. It hurt so bad.” She stops and shines sad, watery blue eyes my way. “Chaser, I lost our baby.”

  I stand and gather her in my arms the best I can with the hospital bed in our way.

  All I want to do is take her home and curl up in the dark and let the crushing grief envelop us.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here with you.” I’m sick knowing that while she was suffering through this alone, I was hanging out with a bunch of degenerates, considering blowing my sobriety.

  “I didn’t know,” she whispers. “Why didn’t I know? How can it hurt so much when I didn’t even know?”

  In a way, I’m glad we didn’t know. It would have made this loss so much harder to endure. I don’t dare say that, though. It’s time to shut up and listen to whatever she needs to say.

  “Why?” she sobs.

  “I don’t know.” I kiss her temple and run my hands over her hair and down her back. “I don’t know.”

  I hold her the best I can, promising her we’ll make it through this, and everything will be sunshine again.

  But will it ever be okay?

  Finally, she falls asleep. Slow, so I don’t wake her, I slide my arms from underneath her body and drop into the chair by her bed.

  A doctor who doesn’t look a hell of a lot older than Mallory wanders into the room head down, studying a clipboard. Worried she’ll wake Mallory; I stand and quietly approach her. She picks up her head and jumps back.