It was hard not to laugh at the ridiculousness of their exchange, even though she was in the depths of despair at what she’d just lost. “Deal. Thanks.”
Merrick shrugged. “You need thick skin. Didn’t I tell you that way back in the beginning?”
“Yeah.” She forced a smile. “You did. My bad.”
“So, we’re good.” He held up his fist. “Pound it.”
“Really?”
“What? They don’t do it where you come from in Michigan?”
“Minnesota. And, no, they don’t.” She tapped his fist with her own. “But I guess there’s a first time for everything.”
“You’re a good kid. Now do me a solid and tell Dax to get off my ass.”
As if he’d ever speak to her again. “Sure,” she mumbled, the angst lancing her heart.
Merrick saluted her before walking toward the main arena. “Time for sound check. See you there.”
Sara wandered through the maze of corridors, edging past teams of roadies and techs rushing to set up the sound system on stage. It was time to ditch the sweaty clothes and get her head screwed back on before the now dreaded sound check. Bright sunshine assaulted her eyes once she ventured outside. The crowds had dissipated for the moment, but they’d be back, just like cockroaches. Darn it, she still needed to schedule that press conference before Kat had a coronary.
Sara pushed open the door to the bus, shoulders hunched. Her bunk barely qualified as a bedroom; heck, it hardly qualified as a bed. At least it boasted some degree of privacy with a dark curtain, so she could crumble like a display of dominoes in peace, free to lament for at least ten minutes before a quick shower preceded her newest challenge – how the hell to loosen the vise-like grip Daxton had on her heart.
Her hand froze as she pulled back the curtain, a strangled sob catching in her throat. A postcard sat atop the stark white bedspread. How ironic that the representation of something so deadly could sit innocently atop something so pure and innocuous. Her fingers closed around the card, throat tightening as she gazed at the glossy picture of Lake Hiawatha, crown jewel of Grand Falls, Minnesota. Her home. Her past. Her horror.
The lake looked so still, and so serene in the photo. So different than how she remembered it on that ominous night. Those waters were menacing, unforgiving…life-taking. The guilt she’d kept buried bubbled to the surface, threatening to erupt. Her ex-boyfriend Brian never had a chance, all because of her. Trembling fingers turned over the photo. Tears stung her eyes as the postcard fluttered to the floor.
You’ll never escape.
Breaths escaped her mouth in short, painful gasps. A loud crash from deep within the belly of the bus sent her stumbling backward. A shooting pain ripped through her neck muscles. Twisting her head was near impossible, but she had to get away. Somebody was out there; somebody who knew, and somebody who wanted to make her pay. She dug her phone out of her pocket, fingers trembling over the keyboard to call…who? Her parents, not that they’d bothered to return any of the desperate messages she’d already left. Jake? Eli? Daxton? And in all likelihood, nobody could help her. She was drowning with no lifeboat in sight.
Sara inhaled, a biting scent of marijuana permeating her senses. If she stayed on this bus a second longer, she’d be too baked to move. The air was so polluted with weed, her eyes burned with each panicked step toward the door. The bus was still dark, save for a thin stream of light coming from one of the other bunks. A clear escape path led her to fresh air. Roadies milled about, pushing equipment around the expansive lot. Photographers were perched alongside the tour buses, waiting for any glimpse at the headliners. Her eyes darted in every direction, painfully aware of everything around her, yet completely eluded her at the same time. There was no grim reaper lurking with a sickle. There were just…people. But people had put her in her current predicament.
She ran into the arena, pushing past the equipment teams and their huge setups. Heck, for all she knew, she could be running from one of them. Her mind was blank, but her legs propelled her toward the main arena stage. Jimmy Sixx was supposed to be in sound check. What a freaking hypocrite she was, wanting to kick Eli to the curb because she didn’t need anyone protecting her, and yet here she was, running toward the one person who—
Screams drowned out the rest of the acidic thought. Her heart rate rocketed, beads of perspiration popping up on the back of her neck. She ran faster, her sneakers pounding on the concrete floor. Sean from security pushed past her and jumped onto the stage, the rest of the team in tow. She skidded to a stop in front of the stage, clapping a hand to her mouth to silence the gasp. Gia Lourdes lay still in a crumbled heap, trapped under a huge metal lighting fixture. Good God, that thing must have weighed at least a hundred pounds. Blood poured from the lacerations on Gia’s face and arms. Jesus, there was red everywhere.
Sara watched in stunned silence. The girls of Smeared Lipstick were in hysterics, especially Laney. Her words were barely discernible through the sobs. She’d fallen to the ground next to Gia, tears streaming down her face. The beefy security guards heaved the fixture off Gia’s limp body, while medics buzzed around, checking her vitals.
“Everybody stay back, please. Give them some room to work on her.”
The air was so thick; Sara could barely inhale. It wasn’t supposed to be Gia. She had a gut feeling that this accident was meant for her. Pain and suffering were meant for her. She was the one that was supposed to be at the sound check. When had the schedule changed? And why hadn’t she been told? Gia’s body was lifted onto a gurney and a path was cleared to the exit. Please let her be alive.
Hordes of medics, publicists, and band managers flanked all sides of the gurney, rushing to the waiting ambulances, guarding Gia from the relentless photogs camped outside the arena entrance. Sara’s feet were rooted to the spot, and even in the middle of a crowd, she felt more alone and afraid than she’d have ever imagined possible. A strong hand pressed onto her shoulder. She yelped, twisting away, only to feel a bandaged palm close around her wrist. Tears clouded her vision. Daxton’s familiar scent floated into the air, filling her with relief, security, and hope. She collapsed against his muscular chest, teeth chattering. “You were supposed to be up there. I was supposed to be up there. Gia is…she’s…oh my God, what if she doesn’t make it? This is my fault! It wasn’t supposed to be her. I’m so sorry, Dax, I should have never pushed you away, but I’m…I’m so scared.”
“Shh.” He pulled her against him. How was it possible that his arms alone could provide solace while everything crumbled, including her sanity? “It’s going to be okay. They’re going to take care of her.”
She swiped away the tears. Air blew from the overhead vents, chilling her from the outside in. “You don’t know that. She might not make it. It should have been me!” A throbbing sensation between her temples persisted. “I should be lying on that gurney!”
Daxton tilted her chin, concern shadowing his features. “You’re not making sense. What does this have to do with you?”
“I can’t…please…you need to get away from me. Gia got hurt because of me and I don’t want…”
“Dax! What the hell happened? I just saw the ambulances take off. Coop, Liam, and Finn followed them to the hospital. Don’t you think you should have gone, too?” Merrick nodded toward Sara. “I’m sure your publicist would agree.”
“Fuck off, Merrick. She’s upset. And yes, I am going to the hospital.”
“Good. It’s the right thing to do, considering you’ve been nailing Gia every third day since this tour started.”
Sara flinched at Merrick’s acidic tone. Why was he looking at her like that? What about that fist-pounding crap? Just when she thought things between them were trending toward civil, too. Did he get pleasure out of yanking her heart out of her chest, spitting on it, then clubbing it until it was flatter than a pancake with no hope of ever regaining shape or function? Did she really need to hear the sordid details? Even though deep down, she’d known this w
as the life Daxton had chosen, regardless of what he claimed otherwise.
Daxton’s arms dropped from her waist. Coldness snaked through her insides, as if her body sensed his lack of presence, craving any reassuring touch, confirming she wasn’t alone, exposed and vulnerable. She hugged her arms tightly around her own waist, stray hairs blowing around her tear-streaked face.
“Don’t fucking talk to me like that. And there’s no need to be so crude in front of Sara.” His voice was low and menacing, the tone alone making Merrick stumble backward.
Merrick’s eyes narrowed, dark as the ace of spades in the dim lighting. “You’d better watch yourself, Dax. I won’t hesitate to knock you on your fucking ass.”
Daxton inched closer to him, fists clenched. “Leave. Now.”
Merrick’s face twisted into an evil grimace. “Just get to the hospital,” he muttered before turning on his heel and storming toward the exit.
Daxton grabbed her hand, leading her out of the arena. The crowds had dispersed, and the corridors were near empty, save for a few cops gathering reports on the accident from the equipment teams. He stopped short and twisted toward her, his fingertips caressing the side of her face, swiping at the tears that fell. “Sara, about what Merrick said…”
“Can we please just go?” She shivered against him. “I don’t want to be here right now.”
“Yeah, of course.” He grasped her hand, leading her through the maze of hallways toward a blocked off exit. Her eyes darted in all directions as Daxton spoke to the head of security. Nobody had followed, and nobody was coming for her…yet.
Chapter Twenty-One
DAXTON PULLED OPEN THE DOOR of the tour bus and guided Sara up the steps. They’d managed to avoid the press on their way out, since everyone with a camera was fixated on what had happened inside the arena and who had been loaded into the ambulance. The guys were all at the hospital, leaving them alone on the bus for the foreseeable future. He closed the door to his bedroom and flipped the lock. With a slow turn, he pulled Sara tight into his arms. “Okay, you’re safe now. Tell me what’s going on. Why are you so freaked out? Why should it have been you?”
“Daxton, please. I can’t tell you. It’s bad. God, it’s so bad, and I thought I could escape. I figured they’d never find me here, but I was wrong. And now, Gia—”
“Shhh. Take it easy. Sit down for a minute.” He walked over to the bar, poured an amber-colored liquor into a glass, and then handed it to her. “Drink this.”
“Thank you.” Her hand trembled as she raised the cool crystal to her lips. At least her teeth had stopped chattering for a few seconds, allowing her to gulp the liquid.
Daxton watched as her shoulders stopped quaking. “Sara, I didn’t want you to find out about Gia that way. Merrick is an insensitive asshole. It didn’t mean anything, and I never meant to hurt you. I thought you were still with Eli and I…I just couldn’t handle being around you. You were all I thought about.”
Sara hugged herself, her body still visibly shaking. “Dax, it’s fine. I understand. I’m not mad, and you don’t owe me any explanations. Whatever happened between you guys was your business. And I did have Eli. It’s just that…” She took a deep breath. “…from the moment we met, I haven’t been able to think about anyone but you. I should have ended things with Eli a long time ago. My heart has been telling me to run to you for a while. I was just too stubborn to listen. But I am listening now.” She gnawed her lower lip, studying her hands.
“It’s about damn time.” The corners of Daxton’s lips curled upward. He caressed the sides of her face, the pained expression visibly calming under his touch. “How about we forget the past? I only care about what happens next, as long as it involves you.”
“That’s the problem, Dax; my past won’t let me forget. I can’t escape it.” The fear was back, washing over her features. “There was an accident. A guy I was dating back home…Brian…he was bad news, mixed up with drugs, dropped out of school, couldn’t hold a job. My parents never cared about me, only about their image. My dad’s the mayor, so appearances are everything. I got tired of being the trophy daughter and started sneaking around with this guy. One night, we were at a party on the lake. He’d gotten pretty trashed and we fought. He accused me of cheating on him. I tried to convince him it wasn’t true, but he was high and irate. He shoved me onto a boat and rowed us to the middle. It was so dark, and everyone had left by then. No amount of screaming would have helped me. He tried…he tried to rape me. We struggled, and I grabbed an oar and swung it as hard as I could, knocking him out of the boat.” Tears pooled in her eyes, her voice trembling. “He couldn’t swim. I didn’t know that, and I…I…”
Daxton wrapped his arms around her, stroking the small of her back. “It’s okay.”
She pulled away, swiping at the tears now streaming down her face. “No. I let him drown. I didn’t help him. It’s my fault he died.”
“You were in shock, trying to protect yourself. Didn’t you tell your story to the cops?”
“No, the police only know that it was a drowning accident. I lied and told them he was goofing around and fell out of the boat. That’s it. Not that he was wasted and tried to rape me because I told him it was over between us,” she whispered. “That’s why I left. My parents sent me away, telling everyone that I was too traumatized by the accident, when in reality, they sent me away because of what it could do to my dad’s career. He was in the middle of re-election. If his daughter had been brought up on murder charges…“ She shook her head. “It wouldn’t have mattered if it were self-defense or not. And now, I’ve been getting threats. Somebody knows what really happened, and they’ve found me. I thought I could escape, but it’s too late. Gia’s in the hospital. That wasn’t an accident. It was supposed to be me, not her!”
“Sara, you didn’t do anything wrong. It was self-defense. You did what you had to do.”
“I still should have saved him.”
“Why? So he could have killed you?” He cupped her chin. “You had to protect yourself.”
“Somebody is threatening me, Dax. I don’t know who, or how they know, but they want me to suffer. I don’t know what to do.”
“Nobody is going to hurt you. I promise I won’t let anything happen to you. And what happened to Gia was an accident. You don’t know that it was meant for you.” His thumb wiped away a tear. “But just in case, I’ll take care of security. You’ll be safe.”
“You know, you’re the only person who makes me feel that way.” She bit her lower lip. God, he wanted her with every fiber of his being. He was desperate to stroke her hair, to drag his fingertips down the slope of her back, and to feel her body pressed against his. The emotion in her gaze morphed into something very different in that instant…need, lust, desire…or some combination of the three. “I’m sorry about before. I shouldn’t have let you leave like that. That kiss wasn’t a mistake. It was incredible, and I just…“
Dizzy. So much so, he could barely think. His body had taken over, commanding his every movement - hands acting of their own accord were now lost in her thick blonde hair, lips crushing against her grape-flavored ones. Pipe dreams were overrated. He needed this…her…even if it were the only opportunity he got before they both acknowledged none of this was real, or that the tour was some kind of alternate reality where life was lived within a self-indulgent bubble. Screw it; he’d deal with that another time. Now wasn’t the time to obsess, not when they’d finally given in to the fantasy. A delicious ache had settled in his groin, one that only she could ease. Her mouth was so hot against his own - determined, insistent, and hungry. She drank him in like a plant in need of water and sunshine and dammit, he wanted that mouth on so many other places.
He slid off her jacket, grazing the soft skin of her shoulders, as his lips trailed the smooth column of her neck. The scent of spun sugar hit his nostrils, so sweet and pure. She melted against him, arching her back, making the tight t-shirt stretch against her pert breasts.
/> Rock solid. She hadn’t even laid a finger on him and his cock throbbed, straining against his jeans, ready to erupt like Mount Saint Helens. Firm thighs straddled him. Blood rushed to his cock, the ache intensifying with each hip roll. The globes of her ass were so perfect – tight and smooth. He grasped them, squeezing a mewl out of her before his hands slipped into her shorts and skated over soft, flimsy lace that barely covered places he longed to taste and touch. She was wet, so fucking wet for him. The thought of driving himself into her heat could make him blow like a teenaged boy jerking off for the first time.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on his jeans. He was dying a slow death from the torture of restraint. Dammit, he’d burn every single pair of those button-flies later. Seconds felt like hours, until she’d freed him from the confines of fabric. But, oh God, it was worth the wait. A few pumps of her hand and he was ready to combust. The head of his cock rubbed against her soaked panties. They were drenched because she was every bit as hot for him as he was for her. Fuck, yeah.
He slid his fingers under the lace, plunging into her slick opening. It was so soft and warm, the walls quivering as he stroked her clit before delving back into her core, over and over. A soft sigh escaped her swollen lips, so juicy and bitable. A tingling sensation deep within his balls was enough of a warning. He was hovering on the brink, and dammit, he wanted her to fall over the edge right alongside him.
With one swift movement, he had Sara on her back, resting on the plush red comforter. Her cheeks were flushed, her hair was mussed, and her porcelain complexion was a stark contrast to the vibrant color surrounding her. She was so beautiful, vulnerable, and…real. She lifted her arms, a smile playing with the corners of her mouth. “Don’t stop now, you’re on a roll.”
His cock twitched, still stiff, still aching with need. He pulled off her shirt and tossed it aside. Her breasts, plump and heaving, were squeezed into a black sports bra. With the flick of his fingers, they were free - perfect, lush, and all for him. Her deep pink nipples were taut, begging to be teased, and he was all too willing to comply. But he wanted, no, needed, so much more…everything she had to give.
Dirty, Dark, & Dangerous: A Contemporary Romance Boxset Page 10