Jet: An Enemies-to-Lovers Rockstar Romance (The Sinful Seven Series Book 2)

by Connie Lafortune

  I grab both my bags and Quinn’s bags in the overhead. I’m an asshole but I’m still a gentleman. To some degree. “I got the bags, let’s go.”

  “Thanks,” she says. “Did you sleep well?” I bristle because it’s just a slap in the face of what happened last night.

  “I guess. I blame it on the boring movie they were playing.” She laughs and my chest tightens. I love her laugh. Fuck!

  “Well, I promise I’ll let you sleep tonight since we have a rough week ahead of us.” Great, the window of opportunity just slammed shut. Now what do I do?

  All of us pile into the limo and Lucas says, “Party tonight in our room, so make sure to be there. All of you. It’s our last night off for a week. We all need to unwind and drink. Within moderation, of course.”

  QUINN

  I get the feeling that Jet would be happy if I passed on the party. He didn’t look too happy when I mentioned I’d let him sleep. Dammit, I put my foot in my mouth, again! After last night, I promised myself I wouldn’t discuss what I’d seen, or anything that pertained to sleeping, and there I went. I’m an outsider. The boss, and I get that I don’t fit in. I never will. I’m supposed to be in control, keep them in check, and make sure everything runs smoothly. I’m just like a parent who is trying to be best friends with their kids—it doesn’t work. From now on I need to be the Quinn I was when I first met them. In charge, guiding them to make the best decisions, and keeping it professional rather than personal. So tell me, how the hell I can do that when I’m sleeping with the sexy bassist for The Sinful Seven? Impossible!

  We all agree to get together in Lucas’s suite at seven tonight after checking in at the desk. Then we go our separate ways. Normally, we’d all be on the same floor, but since Abby had to switch things up at the last minute because Jet insisted, we’re not. He doesn’t look too happy about it. Too bad since it’s all his fault.

  After walking into the room, he throws everything on the bed and stalks into the bathroom. Slamming the door. He hasn’t been the same ever since he saw that picture. If I had to take a guess, the girl in the pic is his sister. Just a hunch, since the first one was his mom, then the both of them together. Would make sense that the last would be of a sibling, and the blue eyes just solidified that fact. I haven’t figured out the reason why he had such an adverse reaction, though. With Jet, I might never know.

  I’m hanging up all of my clothes when he comes strutting out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. He’s glistening and has his hair slicked back. Without a care in the world, he rips off the towel and hunts for a pair of boxers in his duffel bag. Something’s wrong. On inspection, I think I’m witnessing for the first time that he’s not hard. In our short time together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him flaccid. Other than being sated and exhausted after a night of carnal, deviant sex.

  He takes a minute to towel off before slipping into his boxers. It’s a shame, really. And it’s all the proof I need that he’s troubled and in desperate need of an intervention. But I won’t be the mediator. Not this time. The evidence is clear. I’ve done enough damage and he doesn’t want anything to do with me. Period.

  It’s too hurtful to wait, so I grab my clean clothes and stride into the bathroom. My turn, and then I’ll go to Lucas’s room with everyone else. If I can get Willow alone, I’ll ask if I can bunk with her again. I should have run for the hills the night he came to my house. Nothing good ever comes out of falling for a rockstar. I know that first-hand and yet I did it again. Thank Christ this time around I had enough common sense to end it before it truly began. Or worse, tie the knot along with my heart.

  After showering, I spend some time blow drying my hair. Lately, I’ve just been too busy to fuss, so I throw it up in a bun or a quick French braid. I don’t remember the last time I’ve worn it down. I even take the time to put on a touch of makeup to hide the dark lines and creases in my forehead. Mom calls them worry lines, and she might be right. I don’t remember having them before Jet Turner came along.

  The steam follows me as I open the door and step into the room. I half expected Jet to be gone, but he’s sitting in a chair, texting. Must be intrigued since he doesn’t even look my way. It’s all good. I’m rocking it tonight and I must admit I’m feeling pretty damn good about myself and my decision.

  Before I head out the door, I grab my phone and keycard. It’s not quite seven so I think I’ll stop at the bar and grab myself a drink first. I deserve it for all the hard work I’ve been doing. It just sucks that I need to walk by Jet before leaving. When I do, he reaches out and grabs my wrist.

  “You’re gorgeous, Quinn. Not just tonight but always. I’m sorry that I’m so fucked up that I’ve screwed things up between us. I really wanted this to work out, but I think we both know it won’t.” His thumb’s sliding back and forth over my wrist and I’m desperately trying to hold it together. There’s so much I want to say to him.

  Here goes. “The only one who doesn’t think it will work out is you. Look, I can’t force you to be with me if you don’t want to, but I can’t do this again. I won’t. I made myself a promise a long time ago that I’d never get involved with another musician again, and then you came along and, well, you know what happened. We started off as enemies and then we became lovers. Maybe it’s better if you just go on hating me. It was easier that way.”

  “I never hated you, baby. Just the opposite. I wanted you from the very first day I laid eyes on you. Then I realized it wouldn’t be fair if I dragged you into my world, and I was right. My past is coming back to haunt me and it’s just a matter of time before the truth comes out. After that you won’t want anything to do with me, so it’s best if we end it now before it’s too late.” At this time, I wish I was a literary genius so I knew what to say. Instead I’m going to speak from my heart. Something I haven’t done since my divorce. It’s hard tearing down walls that you’ve spent years trying to build.

  Sitting down next to him, I grab his hand and link our fingers together. My heart is thrumming in my chest, but I’m determined to get this out. It’s now or never.

  “Whatever happened in your past doesn’t determine the man you are today. That’s why it’s called the past. It no longer exists, it’s how you live your life today that matters. And, from what I’ve observed over the last few months, is you are caring, loyal, and compassionate. You’re a survivor. I’m in awe of you because you had a dream, and with your determination it came true. It’s happening right now. If you don’t want us to work out, it’s your choice. But I think you’re worth fighting for.” I gently kiss his cheek and stand up. I was hoping he wouldn’t let me go, but he does. Once again my words had no meaning. I just need to get it through my head that when someone is so broken, maybe I can’t fix them.

  25

  JET

  I watched her walk out the door and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it! Letting her go was the right thing to do. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I watch her laughing and having a good time. Our music is playing in the background and she’s dancing with Willow and Abby. They’re acting like a bunch of college girls and my heart squeezes at the thought that I didn’t get to do that. Every now and again I get angry that I missed out on so damn much in my life. Quinn’s words come back to bite me when she said the past is in the past. True, and I should be concentrating on the future. Hard to do when I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  Joseph has something up his sleeve, I can feel it.

  At eleven, I make up some lame excuse to leave. I’m just bringing the band down by sulking in the corner, and now they can party till the sun comes up if that’s what they want.

  There’s something that Quinn mentioned earlier that’s been bothering me. “I made myself a promise a long time ago that I’d never get involved with another musician again, and then you came along—” I’m assuming by that remark that she dated someone else in the Biz.

  Swiping my phone, I punch in her name and sc
roll through until something catches my eye. “Rebel Riot takes on a pro in the PR department, Quinn Taylor. Zander Stone and Ms. Taylor were seen out and about and it looked more personal than professional. Tons of PDA as they were caught kissing and holding hands.”

  Fuck me! I don’t read the tabloids for my own nefarious reasons, so I had no idea those two dated. I continue reading several articles and the gossip cools down after a messy break up is mentioned a year later. Well, I’m a saint compared to that asshole. Doesn’t mean I want to pick up things again. She’s had her share of idiots. Quinn deserves someone who’s going to treat her right and be open and honest with her. And that sure as hell isn’t me.

  I’m not sure if I’m trying to stay awake until Quinn gets back or if I’m afraid to close my eyes. It really doesn’t matter because the next time I open them, the sun’s shining through the balcony doors and Quinn’s nowhere to be found. She never came back last night. Isn’t that what I wanted? Maybe, but it still sucks because, once again, I’m alone. I’m beginning to think she was on to something when she brought that up yesterday. Doesn’t matter, she’s still better off without me.

  After I call room service, I hop into the shower and take a quick one. I want to be dressed and ready when they come to deliver my breakfast. I’m slipping on my shirt when there’s a knock on the door. Right on time.

  I’m assaulted by the aroma of eggs, bacon, and coffee when I open the door. “You can leave the cart if you don’t mind. I’ll take it from here.”

  “Of course. Just leave it out in the hall when you’re done and someone will grab it.” I mumble a “Will do” as I shut the door and wheel the whole damn thing out on the balcony. It’s a beautiful day and I want to enjoy it.

  I curse Quinn as I take a sip of the strong coffee. It’s all her fault that I look forward to a cup in the morning. It gives me that little kick and much better for me than an energy drink.

  I’m just finishing up when something distracts me. A creepy-crawly feeling sends chills down my spine. I slowly slide the napkin to the side and an envelope falls to the floor. Hitting the deck with a thud and this time around, it’s not addressed to anyone. What the hell?

  Clearly there’s more than one picture in this one since it’s bulging at the seams. In fact, I’m surprised it didn’t split wide open when it fell. This time around, I’m calling Brett. He’ll need to question the wait-staff before the next shift change.

  I’m walking into the room when Quinn walks through the door. Grabbing my phone on the nightstand, I hit his number and he answers instantly. “You’d only call if you received another envelope. Am I right?”

  “This time it was on my fucking breakfast cart from room service! It was hidden underneath the napkin. I haven’t touched it. I’m waiting for you.”

  “I’m in the elevator right now. You did the right thing.” He hangs up and when I turn around, Quinn’s standing there. Glad she decided to come back.

  “Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear. You did the right thing.” She sounds like a broken record.

  “Yeah, that seems to be the consensus of the day.” I don’t bother asking where she’s been because it’s none of my damn business. Quinn walks off when there’s a knock on the door. Brett rushes in and looks around for the cart. “Out on the balcony. I was all alone so I thought it would be a great time to enjoy the day.” Yeah, it was a dig. Ask me if I care.

  “Jet, I—” Quinn begins.

  “No need for an explanation, Quinn. In case you didn’t notice, we have more important things to worry about than whether or not we’re fucking.” Yep, it stung.

  Suddenly, I need air. Best to be outside and face the music than stifling in this room with someone I hurt time and time again.

  With gloved hands, Brett rips open the envelope and pulls out several pics. I stumble back when all of them are of Quinn. Brett meets my troubled gaze and shakes his head. It’s not just about me anymore. Now, it involves the both of us. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” I ask him. “Like now you have two investigations, because this isn’t connected to mine?”

  “Yeah, it could be but we won’t rule it out. It’s throwing me off since the first pictures that were sent are of your family. Now it’s just Quinn. I need to go question the kitchen staff. Both of you stay put until I have some answers. No leaving.” He scoops up the pictures and leaves.

  She’s sitting on the bed with her overnight bag by her side. Okay, was it something I said? If it were any other time, I’d let her walk out the door. She’s better off without me. But now, she needs to stay and I don’t know how the hell I’m supposed to convince her after I’ve treated her so badly.

  QUINN

  I stayed with Willow last night. I had to because I knew if I came back, I’d regret it. I probably would have told Jet how I really feel about him, and that would ruin not only our working relationship but our friendship as well. Willow was sympathetic, but she also scolded me for being so stubborn. Everyone in the band knows how much I care about Jet… except Jet! And if he does, he ignores it by pushing me away. I know what he’s doing. He’s pushing my buttons and being nasty so I’ll hate him, which will never happen. Am I angry? Yeah, I don’t like being his doormat, but I understand why he’s doing it. Doesn’t make it hurt any less.

  “You’re not leaving, baby. You’re stuck with me so you might as well unpack.” Who the hell does he think he is?

  “I’m sick and tired of you running hot and cold! One minute you want me gone and the next I can’t leave. Well, this time around, I’ll make the decision, not you.” With one hand wrapped around my bag, I stand to get the hell out. Of course, he stands between me and the door.

  “Quinn, stop! Did Brett mention anything to you about the pictures before he left?” Seriously, why would he?

  “No, as you so eloquently put it, it’s none of my business.” He tucks his chin against his chest and pinches the bridge of his nose. Yeah, I’m right there with you, buddy, because you’re giving me a headache.

  “All the pictures we got today are of you.” Come again?

  “Are you serious? Why me?” Shivers capture my arms, making the hair on the nape of my neck stand out.

  “I know, it doesn’t make sense. I’m thinking this isn’t related to the pictures that I received. Brett’s going to question the kitchen staff, check the cameras. All that shit. He doesn’t want us leaving until he does. Sorry you’re stuck with me a while longer.”

  “Could it be a copycat? I mean, there’s only a handful of people who know about what’s going on with you, but there could be a leak. Right?” I fluff up the pillows and prop myself up against the headboard. Getting comfortable for the long haul, but I’m not going to lie. I’m scared.

  “It’s possible, I suppose. I guess we just need to wait and see. Hey, can I ask where you were heading? You don’t need to answer if you—”

  “Nah, it’s all good. I was going to bunk with Willow again. Have some girl time, no big deal. Give you some space since you’re no good for me.” Now that got his attention. So much so that he climbs on the bed next to me.

  “You’ll thank me later, Quinn. Years down the road when your grandchildren come to visit and your rocking them in that damn chair, you’ll thank me.” My word, he breaks my heart.

  “You deserve to be happy, too, Jet. Contrary to what you might think, you do. And I don’t want to sound like a broken record, but nothing you could ever tell me would make me hate you.” I reach out to grab his hand, and I’m stunned when he lets me. “Even if you were to tell me that you killed someone I wouldn’t hate you, because I’d know it would have been in self-defense.”

  “Good to know, ‘cause I killed a hundred of them.” He nudges my shoulder with his when I gasp. “Only in my nightmares, baby. No worries.”

  He gets quiet and pensive in that moment. He’s a million miles away and I wish with all my heart that he’d open up to me. “Don’t hate on me but I did some detective work on my own after someth
ing you said. About never wanting to date a rockstar again. Found some interesting pictures on the net. You and some hotshot lead man locking lips.”

  I can’t believe he spied on me! Well, I suppose I can. It’s only fair since I did the same to him and the rest of the band. So, do I rip off the damn Band-Aid and tell him the truth? And, if I do, will he reciprocate? Might be worth a try. I know if I told him something in confidence he’d never repeat it.

  “It was the first time I got involved with one of my clients, and it was disastrous. The biggest mistake of my life. I thought I was in love and I couldn’t have been more wrong in my life. We went at it hot and heavy and it fizzled out almost as fast as it began. Zander is larger than life and didn’t have any room left for me. We parted ways and I haven’t seen him again.” I don’t realize I’m crying until he wipes my tears away.

  “I’m so sorry, baby. I promise when we meet up with Rebel Riot I’ll keep the asshole far away from you. You deserve so much better than Zander Stone and Jet Turner. From here on out, stay far away from rockstars because they’ll only suck the life right out of you.”

  He’s so serious, but I know with all of my heart he’d keep me safe. His lips are so close to mine that all I need to do is sit taller and I would taste what I’ve been missing. So I do. When he moans, I take it to the next level by straddling his lap. Never breaking contact. Love the feel of his cock straining between my thighs. If I wasn’t devouring him, I’d make sure to tell him the only rockstar I want is him.

  “Quinn, fuck, baby. I’m gonna come in my pants if you keep grinding on me like that.” Well, I guess I need to fix that real quick.

  My lips never leave his, but my hands do some roaming of their own. A snap, a zip, and he seizes my wrists in his hands, stopping me from going any further. He searches my face when we break apart. I’m sure I look like a woman possessed, but I don’t care. My feet are constantly telling me to run, but my heart is what’s keeping me here. I’ve never felt like this with anyone before. Not even Zander.