“What if there were breakables in there? Are you going to be as careless with my tarnished reputation?” he breathed, her hair tickling the stubble lining his chin.
She twisted to face him, their lips only inches apart, fingers still entwined. A deep flush stained her cheeks. “I can’t possibly do any more damage to it.”
“You deserve more credit than that. Don’t sell yourself short.”
“Just so we’re clear on roles, Daxton. I’m not the instigator here.” She yanked her hand away and brushed past him, grasping the doorknob. “I’m the fixer.”
Chapter Ten
“…SHE JUST TOOK OFF…SOMETHING about a ghost…trying to hide…crazy shit.”
“…never arrested…just disappeared…no trace?”
Merrick’s voice floated into the hallway, but the other one was unfamiliar. He definitely wasn’t shooting the breeze with one of the guys. Daxton inched closer to the door. It was cracked open, but he could only grab snippets of the conversation.
“She doesn’t talk about it at all. Just wants to forget, I guess.”
Who was the she they were talking about? Daxton’s spine stiffened. What the hell about a ghost? Rage bubbled beneath the surface when Merrick’s gruff voice grew louder. Just the sound made him want to pound the guy into next year.
“Take care, man. Let me know if you have any questions. I’m always around.” Merrick appeared in the doorway, his eyes widening when they landed on Daxton. “Why the hell aren’t you on the bus, man? We’re about to take off.”
Eli followed Merrick out the door. “Hey, Dax! Thanks again, Merrick. See you tomorrow.”
Daxton nodded at Eli. If you can’t say anything nice…just think it. Fucking tool and his stupid hoodies. Converse. What a dick. He glared at Merrick, waiting for Eli to be out of earshot. “Since when do you order my publicist to pack bags?”
Merrick pushed past him. “Come on, she was just wandering around looking useless and clueless. Isn’t she here to learn the ropes? I was just trying to help.”
“Really. And your brand of grunt work is teaching her how to be a more effective publicist?”
“Let’s face it, she’s not going to be much use to you with the press. May as well have her fill in the gaps.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“The girl comes from some Podunk town in the middle of nowhere. What the hell does she know about damage control and negotiating with the tabloids?”
“We both agreed she’d be an asset on the tour. Remember? Or has your brain half-melted away from all the shit you’ve been snorting?” Daxton’s blood simmered as it coursed through his veins. “What the hell is your problem with her? You have a list of PAs that’ll fuck you six ways to Sunday if you so much as blink in their direction. Why don’t you leave Sara alone to do her job?”
Merrick’s eyes glazed over. They were guarded and unreadable, almost menacing. ”Since when are you her protector? Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Leave her alone.”
“What makes her so special, Dax? Huh? The fact that you haven’t banged her yet?”
Daxton gritted his teeth. The blood rushing to his extremities was near boiling and ready to explode out of his ears like he was Old goddamned Faithful. “Stay the fuck away from her.”
“You worry about your job, rock star, and let me do mine.”
Approaching footsteps served as a warning to stand down. Keep your fists locked before your ass gets thrown in jail for pummeling your best friend.
“Something going on here?” Finn looked at Dax, then at Merrick.
“Nothing worth any more of my time.” Jaw set, Daxton raked a hand through his hair. “I’ll see you on the bus,” he grunted before stalking down the hallway.
This girl. Dammit, she wrecked him, to the point where he was ready to flatten Merrick over a sweaty t-shirt. Defending her integrity seemed to be his new cause. How ironic he didn’t give a crap about his own.
* * *
Talk about being blinded by lust. The sole image swimming in front of Sara’s eyes was the one she’d just barely escaped…tanned, muscular chest, dark, penetrating gaze, and a rod that could act as a third leg. Beads of perspiration popped up along the back of her neck, her body temperature climbing with each passing second. Arousal pooled between her legs from the fantasy alone. Jesus, what else could he do with that mouth besides croon into a microphone?
Her calves burned with each step, but nothing could extinguish the tingling sensations swirling deep within her core, not even the agony of her toes being pinched together. She and Daxton had been only inches apart, and he smelled so…mmm. Heady, musky, and delicious. Alluring. Dangerous. Wrong! This whole thing was wrong on so many levels. Forget that the guy was like a Ferris wheel operator loading new passengers, one after another after yet another, never stopping, only slowing down to switch out patrons.
Click, click, click. Her stiletto heels clicked along the concrete in the direction of the buses. It was a feeble attempt to put as much distance between them as possible, when all she really wanted to do was rush back to the green room, fling herself into his damp embrace, and yank off those flimsy basketball shorts.
Get away as fast as you can! She grabbed the itinerary, squinting at it in the darkness. Where the hell was her bus waiting? The one where she’d be surrounded by a bunch of noisy roadies and PAs, far away from Daxton and all the crazy erotic thoughts polluting her mind, like the one where she was on her back, writhing beneath him in a king-sized bed so fluffy and plush it felt like they were literally screwing on cloud nine? Yeah. All of those images needed to be eradicated, and a new memory chip was needed desperately; either that, or a lobotomy before breakfast.
Her buzzing iPhone was the only discernible sound in the now vacant arena corridor. Her fingers closed around it, squeezing, praying…
You can’t hide because I’ll always find you. I will make you pay for what you did.
Tears pooled in her eyes, and the urge to flee grabbed hold, choking her until she was barely able to draw in a single breath. Somehow, he’d found her. But how? Only Eli knew she’d fled Grand Falls, and she never told him the reason for her rapid departure. Running was always the preferred option, although it had proven to be pretty ineffective to date. How foolish of her to think a clear escape would solve her problems and give her what she so craved: a new beginning, safe from harm, away from the demons on a perpetual hunt to track her every movement? And what was she searching for? Freedom? Redemption? A chill zipped through her when she emerged from the tunnel, the cool, crisp air a harsh reminder of that fateful night. How she’d shivered in the moonlight, alone, afraid, and guilty.
So much for protection. Nobody could help her, not Eli, not her parents. Her fate was in the hands of another, yet again. Except this time, she had no idea who she was running from. And when she was caught, would anyone be there to save her?
Chapter Eleven
“OKAY GUYS, LET’S GET started.” Daxton’s pick flew over the guitar strings to start the intro, the others joining in. An early sound check, after a fitful night on the bus, was not an ideal way to start the day. He was grouchy, hung over, and anchored with a massive case of blue balls.
After the first bar, a loud screech reverberated between his ears, making him yank out the earpiece. “Ahh! What the fuck?”
“Uh, Dax, sorry about that.” Jim, the head technician, fiddled with the amplifiers set up on stage. “These cables are all messed up. We‘re gonna have to rework the system before the show tonight.”
Daxton let out a deep sigh, bleary-eyed from a lack of sleep and excess of Jack. Too much time fantasizing with not nearly enough action. Christ, he needed to get off. His eyes darted around the darkened arena, searching, hoping…to no avail. Sara was nowhere to be found. His cock twitched, making him stifle a groan. He was a goddamn rock star and could have as much pussy as he wanted at any given time. Yet, here he was, pining for his junior publicist, who’d
made it pretty damned clear that she was off limits.
Game fucking on.
If only that toolbox of a boyfriend didn’t keep skulking around like she was a raw steak and he was a ravenous lion. What a dickhead.
His head still throbbed from the shriek of the speakers. Or maybe it was from all of the booze. “Finn, where the hell are the PAs? I need Advil. And some fries with mustard.”
Finn pointed to the exit sign with his drumstick. “Probably getting coffee or some shit. Maybe Merrick has them setting up the green rooms.” He tapped his cymbal. “Too much fun last night with your hand?”
“Screw you.” Dax collapsed onto a stool. “The only thing clutched in my hand was a shot glass.”
“So that’s why you’re in such a sparkly mood.” Finn tossed him a bottle of water. “Drink this. Let it flush out the booze.”
The cool water drenched his bone-dry throat. At least he wouldn’t be croaking like a damn frog when the sound system was finally up and running. Running. Maybe that’s what he needed. Endorphins. Another gulp of water landed in his empty stomach. Fuck that. He needed food.
Jim emerged from backstage holding a bunch of wires. “Guys, I need to test all these. The connections are down. Let’s regroup in thirty, okay? I’ll send the crew for you.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, Jim.” Daxton clapped him on the back. “We have faith in you.” He pulled out his phone to text Merrick and shuffled past Cooper, not bothering to lift his head. If he made eye contact, there was a pretty big chance he’d end up pounding the shit out of the guy right there on stage.
“Dax.”
He shrugged off Cooper’s hand, not slowing his gait. “Busy.”
“Come on, man. We need to talk.”
“We definitely should have talked.” He turned, eyes narrowed. “Before you acted. It’s too late now. Too fucking late.”
“It doesn’t have to be.” Cooper inched closer, a pained expression on his face. He looked like shit. Dark circles hung below his eyes, stubble lined his pale face, and his hair was mussed. If he hadn’t known better, he’d have thought Cooper had been screwing some groupie all night.
“Dax!” Merrick called from backstage. “I gotta talk to you.”
“Leave it alone, Coop. Just…fucking leave it alone.” Daxton ran a hand through his thick hair as he walked off stage toward Merrick.
“What’s up, Q?”
“You look like crap, man. Did you sleep at all?”
“I’ve got a lot of shit on my mind these days.”
“I know you’re worried about Luke. Have you heard anything?”
“Nothing new.” He’d called every day since that last visit, and although Luke’s spirits were up, it was only a matter of time before the tides changed. They always did.
“Let me know if you need me to do anything.” Merrick cleared his throat. “Listen Dax, about last night—”
“Forget it. I said what I had to say. Just don’t let it happen again.”
“Okay. It’s done.” Merrick waved a pink Post-It at him. “I hate to pile on, but Gracie called.”
Daxton let out a groan. Gracie, as in his father’s PA. Great, because this day just couldn’t get any better. “Call your father asap.” Short, most definitely not sweet. He crumpled the paper into a tight ball and flung it into a nearby trash can.
“So you’re not calling.”
“Nope.”
“It’s probably about the wedding.”
“Then let me change my answer. Hell fucking no.”
“Want me to take care of it?”
“Nothing to take care of.” Dax guzzled the remaining water. “Except my breakfast, which I hope is waiting in my green room.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I’ll get right on it.”
The message had pissed him off, but seeing Merrick bow with a flourish cracked his asshole veneer. He smirked. “Since you offered, make the bacon well-done this time, or I’m finding a new lackey.”
“Too bad your personality chases them away within the first hour of meeting you.” Merrick grinned.
“I’m going to crash. Let me know when we’re a go for the sound check.” Daxton grabbed his vibrating phone. Unknown number. After all this time, hope never completely deserted him. Only a handful of people had this number, one of which had pulled a disappearing act almost a year ago. And every day since then, he’d held on to the possibility that she might resurface. His fingers couldn’t click Accept fast enough. “Yeah?”
“Daxton, I have your father for you.” Fuck. Gracie. Of course Tyler would resort to the blocked number bullshit.
“Think you can keep your dick in your pants until after the wedding? I don’t want anything overshadowing this for Layla, especially your extracurricular activities.” Tyler’s voice dripped with disdain.
“Hey, Dad. Great to hear from you. Yeah, I’m doing okay, thanks for asking. Just got over a cold, but hey, life goes on, right?”
Greeted with silence. Guess there was a first time for everything.
“Cut the sarcasm. It’s a big day for her.”
“Oh, is it her first wedding? And her parents are okay with it? They signed the marriage certificate for her and everything?”
“I don’t appreciate your attitude. And I’m expecting you at the ceremony. Gracie faxed the details.”
“Yeah, you know, I think I’m busy that day. Besides, aren’t you still weirded out that the tabloids claimed that I fucked your future wife before you did? Those rumors still keeping you up at night?” He drained the last of the water and slammed the bottle on a nearby table.
“Daxton, I want you there. You should be there. Much as you hate it, I’m still your father.”
“Oh, I don’t hate it, Dad.”
“Don’t disrespect me.”
“You don’t give a shit about getting respect from me. Every move you make is a ploy to hold onto that spotlight. And let’s face it, you don’t take kindly to anyone who steals it away.” He clicked off the phone and shoved it into his back pocket. The heaviness in his heart weighed on him like a cement brick. His father was the only real family he had left, and he couldn’t have felt more alone. Abandoned by his mother, rejected by his father, and survived longer than his only brother, the best friend he could ever hope to have.
“Hey, Dax.”
He raised his eyes to meet bright blue ones staring back. Gia Lourdes, drummer for Smeared Lipstick. Gorgeous, tall, and curves for years.
A long, purple lacquered nail trailed his bicep. “Heard you guys had a few technical issues. Wanna kill some time?”
He scoured the hallway. Still no sign of Sara. His eyes flicked back toward Gia. Long, blonde hair streamed down her scantily clad back. Yeah, why the hell not? Just bang her from behind. She could be anyone.
As long as he could fool his dick into believing that.
Chapter Twelve
“JAKE, I DIDN’T AGREE to come on this tour so I could be a lackey. I really want to establish myself, and I—”
“Listen, Sara. You wanted a chance to grow your career? This is it. When they say jump, your only response should be how high. Period. If you want out, say the word, and we’ll send someone in your place. But if you bail, just know there won’t be another opportunity waiting in the wings for a junior PR rep with a diva complex.”
Argh! She clenched her fists, nails practically drawing blood. “How am I supposed to get experience if I’m packing up their dirty laundry when I should be interacting with the press?”
“It’s all about making the band happy. If they’re happy, I’m happy. If I’m happy, you get more big name clients. See how that works?”
“Fine, but I really don’t see how that’s helping—”
“My next appointment is here. Just focus on making sure they like you and that they’re flying under the radar, especially Daxton Cole. Guy is a loose cannon and any more bad press will bury him, and the rest of Jimmy Sixx will come crumbling down around his corpse.”
She let out a deep sigh. Great, sweaty underwear, here I come.
“Okay, I’ll be—”
Click.
“In touch.”
Jake may have owned one of the biggest PR firms in the country, but what a freaking douchebag.
“Hey, gorgeous.” Strong arms wound around her waist, and for a split second, she let the belief it was Daxton take hold. The wet, soaped up, naked version that had commanded her thoughts for the better part of the last hour. “Let’s get dinner. Better yet, let’s skip dinner and go straight to dessert.” Eli backed her against the wall of the arena, burying his head in her neck. It was probably supposed to be sexy, seductive, alluring, and something remotely resembling hot, at the very least. But while his hungry tongue lapped incessantly at her ear, all she could think of was Daxton’s full, kissable lips and how they’d feel pressed against her skin.
“Eli.” She twisted away, cringing at the moisture gathered on her earlobe and neck. Gross.
“What’s the matter?” His blue eyes narrowed. “We finally get the chance to be alone in my hotel on wheels and you’re not in the mood?”
“I’m sorry. Today has been really frustrating. Jake is pissing me off, Merrick is acting like a tool and…” And Gia is probably screwing Daxton Cole senseless right about now and dammit, I wish it was me! An icy sensation snaked around her heart and squeezed. What the heck was her problem? Eli was a good guy – attentive, affectionate, handsome – and any girl would be excited to be with him. Any girl, it seemed, but her, because her sights were set on the guy who couldn’t manage to keep his pants zipped. The same guy who didn’t give a damn about his own livelihood, or anything more permanent than a few salacious hours.
Was it really that hard of a choice? Or was it a choice at all?
Chapter Thirteen
GIA LOURDES. OF COURSE, DAXTON would pick her for a quick lay. She was exactly his type—huge tits, great ass, one-syllable vocabulary. Fucking skank.
Dirty, Dark, & Dangerous: A Contemporary Romance Boxset Page 7