Plowed

by Kristen Luciani

  Her buzzing iPhone was the only discernable 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?

  “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.

  “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?

  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.

  Meandering the dimmed corridors, skulking around columns, trying to catch even a glimpse of how this tortured rock god operated when he thought nobody else was watching, obsessing about every inch of his hard, sculpted body, and how it would feel plastered against—

  Fuck! What kind of sick, crazed person did that shit?

  A lump the size of a golf ball took up residence, shallow breaths barely able to squeeze through as muffled sounds of Gia’s wailing carried into the desolate hallway. Even with eyes squeezed shut, the images kept looping, over and over, in excruciatingly lewd detail.

  Shocking realization had long since turned into full-on obsession.

  Unrequited love was a real bitch, accidental though it was.

  Speaking of which, it looked like Gia might be due for an accident herself…

  HEAT EMITTED BY THE FLASHING strobe lights was always unbearable, but tonight, it was suffocating. Sweat dripped down Daxton’s back, drenching through the black t-shirt as his hands raced over the guitar strings. He squinted through the drops of perspiration burning his eyes. After a few more breathless notes, the final bridge was in sight. Almost time to put this day far behind him, burying it for good. Christ, how jaded had he become that the one thing he loved more than anything had become so stifling?

  Once the curtain fell, he expelled a deep sigh, which released exactly none of the angst gripping him. Even an hour with Gia writhing against him, naked, wet, and ready, couldn’t get him hard. She sucked, rubbed, and tugged to no avail. Every attempt to put Sara out of his mind was futile, and now, with all the media hype surrounding his father’s upcoming nuptials to that mindless bimbo, Layla, there wasn’t a hope or prayer for reconstruction of his emotional state. The press just loved any excuse to tear open all of his old wounds - Jase, Cooper, his mother. His mind knew he needed to move on, but dammit, his heart ignored every plea. How much longer could he just stand still?

  “Dax, Kayla and Gia were talking about staying on the bus tonight. You want me to take care of that? Or do you have someone else in mind for your post-show entertainment? I figured it would be good to mingle with our openers, yeah?” Finn slung an arm around his shoulders then recoiled. “Fuck, man, you’re disgusting!”

  “Nobody told you to start pawing at me, dude.” Daxton ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. “And not tonight. I’m hitting it hard and alone.”

  “Porn? Seriously?” Finn nodded toward the crowd of women waving various articles of lingerie in the air. “Take your pick. I can have any of those freaky chicks spread eagle on your bed in five minutes.”

  “No, I’m hitting the pillow, Finn. I’m exhausted. But feel free to enjoy your threesome.”

  “I may need to take them to my green room before we ship out. Two chicks in my bunk on the bus isn’t going to work. At least, not for the other guys. I needed your sweet suite.” Finn flashed a wicked grin at Daxton before giving his arm a hard punch. “Have fun sleeping.”

  Daxton grabbed a bottle of water from a table backstage. Finn joined Cooper and Liam, who were surrounded by paparazzi. Incessant camera flashes antagonized the stress knot sitting at the base of his skull. Scantily clad girls - not women, girls; most not more than twenty - waited eagerly in a roped off area, hoping to be fingered by one of the band members, and invited to a raucous after party.

  He wasn’t in the mood. Seemed like he’d been saying that way too much lately. What the hell kind of rock star was he anyway? Mooning after one girl when there were thousands of others who’d give a limb to share his bed?

  Merrick emerged from the throng of spectators, a look of concern on his face. “You okay?”

  “As good as can be expected.”

  “Finn said you don’t want to get laid tonight. Do you feel sick or something? Want me to call a doctor?”

  Daxton barked out a laugh. “I’m fine. Ju
st tired, though I appreciate the concern about my alleged diminished sex drive.”

  “You’re sure you don’t want me to pick anyone out?“

  “One hundred and fifty percent sure. I need sleep.” With any luck, he’d escape the nightmares. Booze always helped numb his mind enough to settle. Without it, who knew what demons would be chasing him? Fuck it, he’d take the risk. The ills ailing him couldn’t be remedied with alcohol or sex, and it was about time he’d accepted that and figured out how to come to terms with everything clouding his life.

  “After you shower.”

  “After I shower.” Dax rolled his eyes. “Now, get me out of here.”

  Merrick waved over a couple of the bodyguards. “Guys, can you clear a path?”

  “Back to the bus, Dax?” Sean, the larger of the two, and the band’s head of security, asked. Yes, he was actually bigger, if that was even believable, considering both were built like brick shithouses on stilts.

  “Yeah.” He gulped the last remaining droplets of water, draining the bottle. The bulky guys huddled around him, making sure none of the rowdy and grabby females sunk their claws into him. It was like a gauntlet, except instead of knives being flung at him, it was fake tits. And if you’ve felt one, well, everyone knows the rest of that line. Now, Sara’s rack was one he’d wished was being offered. Lush, perky, sans silicone. Those babies pressed against him…fuck yeah, sleep would lose in that competition.

  Where was she, anyway? Daxton’s neck craned back toward the crowd still hovering around the rest of the band. Sara’s blonde hair fanned out behind her as she twisted in the direction of a reporter, no doubt trying to salvage Daxton’s reputation. It was a tough job, though he’d like to personally make sure it wasn’t a thankless one. Except she was a good girl, with a boyfriend, and she was well aware of how much of a disaster he was. Just a few tiny obstacles cock blocking him.