Felony Romance Series: Complete Box Set (Books 1-5)

by Jeana E. Mann

  “Both. Either.” Did he take her for a fool? Guys like him must have girls falling all over them.

  The bartender returned with two more shots of tequila and lemon wedges. She blushed as Eli raised an eyebrow. Great. Not only was she desperate enough to agree to a blind date, now she looked like an alcoholic. A lonely, desperate alcoholic.

  “Uh, for you,” she said, and slid one of the shots to him, eager for an accomplice to her demise.

  “Thanks, but none for me. I’m trying to stay sober.” He spoke casually, but tension underscored the statement. She stared at him, mouth agape, horrified by her gaffe and his nonchalant confession. “Better shut that,” he quipped, “or flies might get in there.” He extended a hand and nudged her mouth closed.

  “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” How embarrassing. Damn Tasha. She slid the tequila away from her. And that was when she saw it—or them. The curling lines of a tattoo around his throat. His eyes met hers again, startling in their contrast with his inky black lashes. It was hard to look him in the eye, like gazing into the sun on a bright day.

  “No, please, go ahead. I’ve never been one to stand in the way of someone else’s buzz.” As he spoke, he undid the buttons of his cuffs and rolled them back over sinewy forearms to reveal the vibrant tattoos. “You’re not what I was expecting.” Those startling eyes flickered up to meet hers then did a slow perusal over her figure and back up to her face.

  “Neither are you,” she said, feeling as if his hands, not his eyes, had just slid over her. “But then, Tasha didn’t tell me anything about you.”

  The corners of his mouth curled up in a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I asked her not to say anything. People tend to judge me without knowing me.”

  Another odd statement. She stared at him, harder this time, at the clean lines of his profile, the elegant hands, and the magnetic but impersonal smile. Hadn’t she been judging him since he’d walked in the door? She knew all about judgment. With her father being a high-profile attorney and her mother an actress, people were constantly judging her, making assumptions—usually incorrect—and coloring their opinions based on gossip and misinformation.

  “So you know about me and I know nothing about you. That hardly seems fair.”

  One corner of his mouth twitched up before he bit his lower lip. His even white teeth dented the fullness. “Well, I know you’re a nurse, you’re Tasha’s cousin, and you hate it when people are late.”

  Her eyes flew to meet his. He was teasing her. She smiled back at him. “Yes. The road to hell is paved with tardiness.”

  “Can I ask you a question?” He cleared his throat, and the space between his brows puckered. “You seem like an attractive, intelligent girl. Why would you agree to a blind date with someone like me?” The way he asked the question made it sound like she was doing him a favor, as if he was the one desperate for a date and not her.

  “Well, like I said, I work a lot. I’m on call two nights a week. And up until a few months ago, I was going to school and working. It didn’t leave much time for a social life.” She frowned down to her lap. There was so much more to it than that, but nothing she cared to divulge to a total stranger.

  “Tell me about it.” His throaty laughter put her at ease. “I’ve been in a half-dozen countries over the past couple of months.”

  “Seriously? No wonder you’re jetlagged. Anywhere interesting?”

  “Afghanistan, Syria, Iraq, and a few others in between.” His nonchalant shrug gave nothing away.

  She studied him with renewed interest. Most people avoided the war-torn Middle East, especially the high-maintenance ones. “It sounds dangerous. What did you do over there?”

  “Non-profit work. Visited with the troops. Drifted.” He ran a finger inside his shirt collar as if easing a constriction and looked away. When his eyes returned to meet hers, they were filled with a sadness she didn’t understand.

  “What do you do anyway?” she asked, stealing a sideways glance at his profile. His reticence had her intrigued. Tasha hadn’t been kidding. This guy was sexy and mysterious and fascinating, even if he couldn’t tell time.

  “Really?” His laughter sent the heat of embarrassment rushing into her cheeks. What was so funny? “I’m in the music business.”

  “What kind of music?” She ran her finger around the rim of the shot glass.

  “Rock music.” A glance up showed him studying her, his expression a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

  “I’m into country,” she said. One of his eyebrows arched. “Although I don’t really follow along with the current trends.”

  “Well, as long as it isn’t jazz,” he said, the corners of his mouth curling in a smile. “I suppose we’ll get along okay.”

  She opened her mouth to ask for more details, but he didn’t pause long enough to give her a chance. “Are you hungry?” He tapped a hand on the bar counter. “Because I’m starved. Would you mind if we ate?”

  The tequila gnawed at her empty stomach. Even though her appetite had disappeared, she should probably eat something to absorb all the liquor. Hangovers wasted precious time. She nodded, and he smiled at her. This time there was genuine warmth behind it, and her heart did a little flip.

  “The maître d’ said they were booked up tonight,” she said.

  Elijah stopped her with a wave of the hand. “Don’t worry. I got it covered.”

  CHAPTER 4

  WITHIN MINUTES, they were seated at an intimate table for two by the wall of windows overlooking the water, a premium location. The maître d’ and two waiters stumbled over themselves in their efforts. Lauren would have found it comical if it wasn’t so puzzling.

  One of the waiters hovered as Elijah pulled out a chair for her. The guy stood expectantly next to their table until Elijah took his seat. “Excuse me, but are you Elijah Crowe?”

  Lauren’s jaw dropped open for a second time. Elijah Crowe? Rock god and sex symbol? She wasn’t a rock music fan, but she knew the name. Everyone knew his name. The blood rushed from her head and into her feet. She put a hand to her forehead to steady her thoughts. Glancing up at him through her lashes, she saw the familiar square jaw and straight nose. In the few pictures she’d seen of him, he’d been with his band, had shaggy colorful hair, and multiple piercings. Narrowing her eyes, she spied the telltale empty holes in his eyebrow. A diamond stud winked in his left earlobe.

  “Uh, yeah,” Elijah said. He kept his gaze on the menu. “What’s good here, man? Any recommendations?”

  “Well, I like the stuffed tilapia,” the waiter replied. Without missing a beat, he continued. “Can I get your autograph?”

  Elijah’s body tensed. She felt it all the way across the table and glanced up in alarm. He sat back in his chair. His eyes, which had been clear blue and relaxed for the majority of their time together, became shuttered. He set the menu on the table and drew in a deep breath before turning to the young man.

  “Sure,” Elijah said, his tone pleasant. The waiter, who couldn’t have been more than eighteen, thrust a pen and paper napkin at Elijah. “What’s your name, dude?”

  “Sean. Thanks, man. My friends aren’t going to believe this.” The kid vibrated with excitement.

  “I’m going to visit the powder room,” Lauren said, fighting the urge to run out the door, hail the first cab, and disappear into the night.

  She closed the stall door behind her, leaned against the wall, and waited for Tasha to answer the phone. Once again, Tasha sounded breathless and full of laughter. Luke’s deep voice rumbled in the background. She gripped her forehead with one hand and cursed. They were trying to enjoy their first vacation together, and here she was, intruding on their interlude with her neediness.

  “You are the biggest cockblocker I’ve ever met,” Tasha said by way of greeting. If she was exasperated, she didn’t sound like it, and a little of Lauren’s guilt eased.

  “Uh, too much information,” Lauren replied, her words slurred from too much tequila
and no food. She rubbed a small circle between her eyebrows with her fingers, desperate to ease the tension there.

  “Lauren, are you drunk?”

  “Not yet, but I’m working on it.”

  “Why are you calling again?” Always forthright, Tasha cut straight to the heart of the matter.

  “You hate me, don’t you?”

  “I love you, goofball. You know that.”

  “Then why in the world would you set me up with Elijah Crowe? What the hell were you thinking?”

  “You said you wanted a fun date, no strings, with the possibility of hot sex. No one is hotter than this guy, and he’s got no interest in anything long term,” Tasha said. Lauren heard Luke’s grumbled protest in the background. “You know I love you best, baby,” Tasha amended quickly. “So what’s the problem? There are a million girls in the world dying to trade places with you right now.”

  “Have you seen him? Have you seen me? He’s Elijah fucking Crowe. That’s the problem,” Lauren hissed. “He’s been on the cover of Rolling Stone. He was married to a porn star. He’s got a sex tape, for crying out loud. Seriously, Tasha. How do you even know him a guy like that anyway?”

  “I know you, don’t I?” Tasha asked. “And I’d say you guys are on the same level of fame.”

  “Not any more. I’m a nobody now, and I’d like to keep it that way. You know I don’t like the limelight.”

  There was a slight hesitation before Tasha answered. “He’s been friends with Luke since they were kids. He might be little unconventional, but he’s got a great heart. And two sex tapes, by the way.”

  Lauren groaned and covered her eyes with her free hand. “This has to be the worst date ever.”

  “He’s been through a really rough time. You of all people should understand. Just give him a chance, would you?” Tasha’s voice held a softness Lauren didn’t understand. “Besides, you said you wanted a hook-up, not marriage. Bang the guy and get on with your life. You’ll both feel better afterward.”

  “I swear, you could sell ice to an Eskimo.”

  If it had been anyone but Tasha, Lauren would’ve had no problem saying no. But Tasha was a different matter. She adored Tasha. They’d been close since childhood, and Tasha was the only relative who treated Lauren like a person instead of an embarrassment or a burden.

  Lauren blew out a huge sigh. “We’ve got absolutely nothing in common.”

  “Oh, loosen up. Live a little. Put on your big girl panties—or not—and get back out there.” Tasha laughed again, followed by a frantic rustling sound. “Stop it, Luke.”

  “Are you guys doing it while I’m on the phone? That’s gross.”

  “We are not doing it,” Tasha replied indignantly then giggled. “He keeps tickling me.”

  “Oh, my God. You are doing it, aren’t you?”

  “Not yet,” Tasha said with an audible smirk. “But we will be in a minute if you quit calling.”

  “Fine. I’m out. You kiddies have a good time,” Lauren said, unable to hold back her own smile at their happiness. “I promise no more phone calls tonight.”

  “Love you bunches,” Tasha said and disconnected.

  Before she returned to her date, she smoothed her dress over her full breasts and hips. Still a few pounds overweight, despite nonstop dieting and exercise. Nothing extraordinary. Nothing worthy of a rock star. Her knees went weak. She rested a hand on the cold, hard edge of the sink to steady herself.

  Rock star. Those two words brought forth the flutter of a herd of butterflies in her stomach. She sucked in a deep, steadying breath and made a last-ditch effort to pull it together. Elijah Crowe was waiting for her.

  A trio of girls stood next to their table while Elijah scrawled his name over and over. A young married couple approached next, followed by another busboy. Elijah draped an arm around the kid while Lauren snapped a photo with his phone. Within a matter of seconds, the rest of the wait staff swarmed their table, asking for autographs and pictures. Patrons from the bar began filing in and joined the melee. Elijah disappeared in a sea of reaching hands and questions. Lauren sat alone at the table while he greeted each fan, shook their hands, and signed autographs. No one looked at her. They were too absorbed in him. He was gracious, flashing charismatic smiles and cracking jokes, but the set of his shoulders radiated tension. When forty-five minutes passed and the crowd continued to grow, Elijah edged his way back to the table.

  “Shit. This is getting out of control,” he said to her. The color had drained from his face. “I apologize. I really had no idea.”

  Curious onlookers gawked from the street and blocked the sidewalk in front of the restaurant. Elijah frowned and tapped out a quick text on his cell with trembling hands. The manager locked the front door and did his best to usher people away from their table.

  “I’m sorry. That’s all I have time for,” Elijah told the crowd with an apologetic smile. “I’d appreciate it if you’d respect our privacy and let us finish our dinner.”

  Groans of disappointment rippled through the fans. “What a prick,” someone muttered. The words stung Lauren on behalf of Elijah, who’d been polite and accommodating despite the pallor of his complexion.

  “Do you have a back exit?” Elijah asked the manager. His voice shook.

  “Yes. I can show you.”

  Elijah’s phone vibrated with an answering message. By the expression on his face, he wasn’t pleased with whatever it said. He grabbed Lauren’s hand and tugged her from her seat to follow the manager. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  An Escalade with blackout windows parked next to the rear exit. A frightened young man stepped from behind the wheel of the vehicle and opened the passenger side. A crowd of people jammed the narrow alley. Photographers waited with eager expressions, cameras at the ready. Lauren’s stomach clenched while a dozen unpleasant memories raced through her mind. It was too familiar. Too disturbing.

  “I can’t go out there,” she said, frozen in place by fear.

  “It’ll be fine,” he said, his voice thin and flat. The muscle ticking in his jaw did little to reassure her. “We have to go now. It’ll only get worse.”

  Camera flashes popped like strobe lights, blinding Lauren and illuminating the darkness like daylight. A wave of panic stole her breath. She bowed her head and shielded her face from the photographers with her purse. Spots of color swam in front of her eyes.

  “Elijah, who’s the girl?”

  “Elijah, over here!”

  “Can you look this way?”

  “Where’ve you been for the last two months?”

  The voices continued. Some begged, others demanded, while a few hurled insults. Everyone seemed entitled to a piece of him. Elijah put his arm around her shoulders, blocking the cameras with his body. Even though the Escalade was only a few feet from the back door, it might as well have been a mile for all the time it took to get there. It seemed like an eternity to Lauren. The eternity stretched into infinity when Elijah’s arm slipped from her shoulders. She turned just in time to see him clutch his chest and fall to his knees on the pavement.

  CHAPTER 5

  ELIJAH AWOKE to the sound of a million bees buzzing in his brain. He waved a hand over his face to shoo them away. The buzzing lessened but didn’t disappear altogether. It reminded him of his grandmother and the honeybees she’d raised at the south end of the apple orchard on her farm. For a few blissful seconds, he was back at the farm as a child, with the scent of apple blossoms and honey carried on a southern Indiana breeze. The idyllic dream ended abruptly when someone shook his shoulder and called his name.

  “Elijah? Mr. Crowe? Can you hear me?”

  The unfamiliar voice pulled him into the present. He opened his eyes and blinked to clear away the blurred lines of ceiling tiles above him.

  “Mr. Crowe, I’m Dr. Elliott. Do you know where you are or what day it is?” The doctor’s face loomed into Elijah’s line of sight.

  “I have no fucking idea,” Elijah muttered.
The events and hours of the previous weeks rolled around his brain, colliding and tumbling in a mishmash of memories. Concerts. Planes. War zones. Soldiers. The effort to think caused his head to ache.

  “You’re in the hospital. You collapsed outside Gabriel’s Landing. Any of that sound familiar?”

  He gripped his head with both hands. “Yeah. Sort of. What the hell happened to me?”

  “Well, it seems you’ve suffered a panic attack. We’ll need to keep you overnight and run a few more tests, but I think you’re going to be fine with some rest.”

  “Fuck that,” Elijah said. He sat up, pulled the heart monitor from his finger, and tossed it to the floor. “I’m outta here.” The only thing he hated worse than a doctor was a hospital. “Where are my clothes?”

  The doctor frowned and placed a hand on Elijah’s shoulder to press him back to the bed. Elijah lifted an eyebrow and gave his best throw-down stare. Dr. Elliott removed his hand and cleared his throat. Elijah stood, wobbling precariously until he retrieved his equilibrium, and searched the room for his clothes. Cold air circulated through the gap in the hospital gown. He found his shoes and slid his feet into them.

  “I can’t release you quite yet. You really need to stay with us for a little while.”

  “No way, doc. You can’t keep me against my will. So bring my clothes and get those discharge papers rolling.” He twirled a finger in the air to emphasize the message.

  Dr. Elliott was a young man, but the strain of working the emergency room showed in the faint lines around his eyes as he regarded Lauren. She’d been parked in the chair outside Elijah’s room for the better part of five hours while a flurry of nurses and doctors fawned over him. The unforgiving plastic chair bit into her backside. She shifted, looking for a more comfortable position, while the doctor slipped into the chair next to her and ran a hand through his hair before speaking.

  “He’s refusing any more treatment,” he said. “And I can’t in good conscience release him unless he’ll be watched closely over the next few hours. You’re a nurse. If you can keep an eye on him, I’ll go ahead and discharge him. I don’t think he’s in any real danger. He’s obviously under a lot of pressure, or he wouldn’t have collapsed like that.”