by Rhonda James
Great. Just great. Now what was I supposed to do? It was already late and I had nowhere to go. In the past twenty-four hours, I’d driven over nine hundred miles, and the thought of getting back in the car to drive another ten made me want to curl up in the nearest corner and cry. As I walked toward my car, I couldn’t help but wonder if this wasn’t a sign of some sort. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to leave just yet. Hell, maybe I wasn’t supposed to be here at all. I mean, what sort of person ran off with a car full of musicians? In my defense, they were really hot musicians. Nevertheless, they were complete strangers, and I’d jumped at the chance to go with them.
This wasn’t me. I wasn’t the girl who found herself in troublesome situations. I was the practical one who always needed a reason for my actions. I never did anything crazy—other than relocate to Florida to be closer to Michael—but that had only been because I’d thought he loved me and couldn’t live without me. I guess when you looked at it that way, I’d been making rash decisions for years.
Getting behind the wheel of the SUV took nearly every ounce of energy I possessed. I could only hope I’d have better luck at my next destination.
The motel ended up having a few vacancies, so I paid for one night and made two trips hauling my suitcases up a flight of stairs to room twenty-one. The room was small, but it had a bed, covered in sheets that probably hadn’t seen a washer in weeks, and a shower, two things I desperately needed at that moment.
Taking in my surroundings sent my one-girl pity party into full swing. I was on the verge of tears when I remembered something Sophie had suggested last night.
Make a list.
A list might be just the ticket to helping me spice up my boring life. It was time I stopped thinking about what was best for others and started focusing on what was best for me. If that involved taking a few risks, I was up for the challenge. Now seemed as good a time as any to start.
I pulled a pad of paper and pen from my bag and decided I needed a title. My eyes scanned the room, looking for something to inspire me. I’d almost given up when the red key ring on the nightstand caught my attention. The room number etched on the oval-shaped tag seemed to jump out at me.
Perfect!
I jotted down the number at the top of the blank page and underlined it twice.
The number not only represented that room I was staying in, but it also coincided with my age. But that wasn’t all it represented. With my birthday only four weeks away, I decided if I was truly going to follow through with completing the items on this list, it was imperative that each one be accomplished before I reached my twenty-second birthday.
I chuckled wickedly at my own line of reasoning and started writing. My mind went blank after the fifth one, but I told myself I would finish the list tomorrow. Overall, I was pretty pleased with how the list was rounding out.
21
1) Adopt Sophie’s FUCK THE RULES motto
2) Be more adventurous
3) Kiss a random guy
4) Proposition a hot guy
5) Achieve the BIG ‘O’
I stuffed the notepad back in my bag and yawned. It had been a busy twenty-four hours, and I was beat. By the time my head hit the pillow, I no longer cared about the unsanitary condition of the bedding. I was out so fast I could have had creepy crawlies all over me and I wouldn’t have known it.
Score one for exhaustion.
***
I’d slept like the dead.
I had every intention of hitting the road before lunchtime, but seeing as how I hadn’t crawled out of bed until twelve thirty, I’d almost missed the one-o’clock checkout. I threw on some clothes and pulled my hair up in a messy bun before making my way down to the front office.
I stepped one foot out the door and groaned. The temperature registered in the mid-eighties, but it was humid as all get out. My T-shirt adhered to the small of my back as if it had been glued on. If it hadn’t been for the ocean breeze, I’d have melted on the spot.
As luck would have it, the motel sat catty-corner from the Devil’s Playground. I’d been so tired and frustrated last night that I hadn’t even paid attention to my surroundings when I pulled up to the motel. If I thought last night’s hotel fiasco had been a sign, a much larger one sat only three hundred feet away.
A marquis sign highlighting the featured band had been positioned near the curb. CHAOS RISING flashed in big block letters. My belly took a nosedive when I remembered the look I’d seen on Dylan’s face last night, just before he turned and walked back to the house. His last words ran through my mind, and despite the heat, my skin prickled with a rash of goose bumps at the thought of seeing him one more time.
Fuck the rules.
I’m not sure what possessed me to change my mind, but it seemed as if Dylan Cross and I had some unfinished business that needed attending. Six years in the making. But still… Unfinished.
With a new sense of purpose, I threw my shoulders back before marching to the front desk and extending my stay.
After all, one more night wouldn’t hurt anything. Right?
CHAPTER 9
V
I paid the cover charge and made my way to the bar. At first glance, I took the bartender to be around my dad’s age, but a closer inspection left me second-guessing my assumption. The black T-shirt he wore hugged his toned body. The bar’s red logo stretched across his muscular chest, and when he turned to grab a bottle off the shelf, I noted the words CHIEF TEMPTER plastered between his broad shoulders. This was no dad bod. I watched him work, staring a little longer than I probably should have, but it was hard not to. After all, the hem of his cotton sleeve clung to each bicep as if it were attempting to squeeze the life out of them.
Waitresses shouted orders from all five points of the pentagram-shaped bar, and he filled each one with practiced precision. The place was buzzing with life and he had his hands full, yet when he turned to take my order, his smile was just as bright as it had been ten minutes ago when I’d first walked up.
“Hello, beautiful. What’s your temptation?” He used a towel to mop the bar while he waited for me to place my order.
“Hmmm.” I surveyed the array of bottles before making my decision. “Can I get a Zombie with an extra twist of lime, please?”
He studied my face before offering an easy smile. “Sure thing, doll. Just as soon as I see some ID.” I placed it on the counter, and he gave it a quick once-over. “Thank you, Victoria. I haven’t seen you around. First time here?”
I nodded as I slipped the ID in my back pocket. “First time in Panama City. Drove down from South Carolina yesterday.”
“That so? What brought you here?”
“Some friends needed a ride, and since I had nothing else going on, I figured ‘what the hell?’” I shrugged.
“So, you’re the angel responsible for putting those guys on stage last night.” He tipped his chin toward the stage as an appreciative smile filled his handsome face.
“Guilty. Though I’m not too sure about the angel reference,” I scoffed through a smirk.
“Darlin’, every time that stage is filled, my register overflows. That alone makes you an angel in my eyes. Now, why don’t you park your pretty ass on that stool and enjoy the music while I make that Zombie. I think you’ll like what you hear.” He draped the towel over his shoulder before bending to retrieve a glass.
Taking his advice, I climbed atop the nearest stool and surveyed my surroundings. The walls were dark, almost black, covered in band posters, mostly signed, and above the bar hung a line of framed gold records. Neon white messages had been strategically painted along the walls. Some were directional, but others read like a dirtier version of children’s playground rules.
SHOW THE LADIES RESPECT OR FACE THE FIRE.
PLAY AT YOUR OWN RISK.
EQUIPMENT WORKS BETTER WHEN WET.
PLAY AREA RESERVED FOR ADULTS ONLY.
KEEP IT CLEAN AND ALWAYS WEAR A RAINCOAT.
I read the last one, and a
laugh escaped past the fingers pressed against my lips as I turned to the sound of the bartender’s voice.
“Here you go, darlin’. This one’s on the house,” he offered with a gleam in his eye. I smiled and thanked him before turning back around.
A stage had been set up at the far end of the room with lights strategically angled to highlight the four men who were currently performing.
They were between songs, and Dylan spoke to the crowd around the stage. The sound of his voice had always done things to me. Exciting things. But tonight, there was something different about it. I could hear his voice, but I couldn’t see his face, and this time, there was no denying the rush of warmth I felt between my legs. Every hair on my body stood on end. The response left me unsettled.
I was mesmerized.
I shook my head, hoping to shake the illicit thoughts the sound of his voice had conjured up. I needed to see him. I was certain if I saw him, that would change everything. After all, I’d just spent eight hours with the man and hadn’t been bombarded with thoughts of running my tongue down the hollow of his throat. Yet, somehow, that was all I could think about.
Anything producing an intoxicating sound such as that deserved to be rewarded. Right?
No! I scolded myself for even thinking such disgusting thoughts. I silently repeated my newly imposed mantra. Dylan is bad for me. Very. Very. Bad.
This vacation was supposed to be a fresh start. Lusting after Michael’s brother was not the way to go about forgetting him.
Focus, Victoria.
I closed my eyes and shook my head a few times, shaking out the cobwebs that had taken shape in my rattled brain. When I opened them again, I directed all of my focus toward the stage. Doing my best to avoid him.
There had to be sixty or more people filling the expanse between the stage and where I was seated, making it hard to see the band. I blew out a frustrated huff and shifted my weight to balance on my knees. The new angle left me feeling a bit wobbly but rewarded me with a clear view of the stage.
Styx sat perched behind his drum kit, high above everyone else, working up a mean sweat as he pounded away at the drums. He was really good, too.
J.T.’s demeanor on stage matched the man I’d met only yesterday. Laid back. Completely in control. J.T. had been a man of few words, but when he spoke, I’d been captivated by the passion behind his words.
If J.T. seemed subdued, Hawk was the exact opposite. He was all over the stage. One minute, he was over by J.T., and the next he was in front of his microphone, singing backup. Just as quickly, he’d make his way over to Dylan and they would jam away on their guitars.
I sipped at my drink, fighting the insatiable urge to look at the last man on that stage.
As a man, Dylan Cross intrigued me. He’d surprised me yesterday, showing me a side of himself I hadn’t been expecting. He was smart. Funny. Kind. I didn’t know why, but from the stories Michael had told me, I guess I’d expected him to be something else. Hardened by circumstances. A complete asshole. Offensive even. But he was none of those things. Not even close.
I tried really hard not to stare, fearing what would happen when my eyes landed on the hard line of his jaw because I knew if they made it that far, there was no way in hell I could resist being drawn to the swell of his perfectly formed mouth.
I reached the end of my drink, and another was placed on the bar before I had a chance to order. With a nod of thanks, I took a few long sips and breathed a little easier as the alcohol began to work its magic.
While I’d been known to cut loose and hold my own with some of the guys in Michael’s frat, I wasn’t an every-night kind of drinker. But when I wanted to unwind, alcohol was the only way to go. And based on the kind of week I’d been having, I’d say I deserved a fuck ton of alcohol.
One song turned into another, and I went from watching the men on stage to watching the people around me. Everywhere I glanced, women were paired up in groups and appeared to be having the time of their lives. Couples danced. Laughed. Kissed. Had fun. Everything I wasn’t doing. In fact, I couldn’t tell you the last time I’d done anything remotely similar. Why? Why hadn’t I been enjoying life? Because of Michael Cross. That’s why…
In the middle of the bar, on a Friday night, I reached the end of my second drink when reality hit me like a ton of bricks.
I was definitely the most boring and pathetic person on the face of the planet.
I didn’t care what it took. I decided then and there to rectify the situation by any means necessary.
As that song ended, the band quickly launched into a cover of You Shook Me All Night Long. While Dylan’s deep voice put a different spin on the classic AC/DC tune, Styx and Hawk stuck to the original sound I’d always been fond of. I felt the beat coursing through my veins, and before I knew it, I was on the dance floor. It didn’t matter that I danced alone.
Guided by the riff of Hawk’s guitar, my hips swayed in slow circles from side to side. Round and round. Rolling left then circling back to the right. I closed my eyes and let the music lead me. The rhythm of Styx’s drum playing found its way into my shoulders, and my hair whipped around, falling against my shoulders as I lolled my head in circles to the quick tempo. I gave no thought to what I looked like.
I let myself get lost in the music.
I felt free.
It felt unbelievably amazing.
I never wanted it to end.
No matter how many warnings I’d given myself, there was no possible way to resist looking at him. Dylan Cross was a gorgeous man. Beauty redefined. Sure, I’d seen plenty of good-looking men over the course of my lifetime. But there was something about Dylan that made him stand out from the rest. He was a thing of beauty. A unicorn.
Like the rarest eclipse, even though I knew better, knew it might be dangerous, I found myself staring directly at him.
And I was blinded.
Blinded to everything I’d promised myself I wouldn’t fall prey to.
No doubt about it. I was deep in the Devil’s Playground.
And damn if I hadn’t been tempted by Sin.
CHAPTER 10
SIN
It felt great to be back up on stage, playing a new venue. On stage was where I felt most at home. It was the one place where I could put all the shit from my past behind me. The audience didn’t know about my past. No one was judging me for the choices I’d made. All they cared about was the music. Often, I found myself feeling the same way. The song started, and I connected with the lyrics. In that moment, nothing else mattered. All I cared about was getting lost in the music.
I fucking loved that feeling.
It was freedom.
It was the only time I truly felt alive.
The energy in the room was through the fucking roof. This was the kind of crowd we loved performing for. They loved the music. Loved cutting loose. They sang along with all the songs.
Everything a performer needed to validate the months away from home.
The miles traveled.
The hours spent practicing.
Performing.
Honing our craft.
Too many diner meals eaten.
The meals we’d gone without.
It was great to see Blade again. I was looking forward to sitting down and catching up. Too many years had passed since we’d been in the same room. We’d kept in touch, and he came to visit me while I’d been locked up. But that wasn’t the same. Most of my memories of Blade consisted of the two of us strumming on guitars, a beer in his hand, cigarette dangling from the corner of both our mouths. While I’d since kicked the smoking habit, the beer and guitar were still a trusted source of tranquility.
Tonight’s set went smoothly, even better than last night’s, and we’d rocked that set. I closed with an old classic by AC/DC. It didn’t matter what age you were playing to. Everyone knew that song, and most everyone still loved it. It was guaranteed to get a few heads banging.
I’d just finished belting out the first
verse when I looked out into the crowd and spotted a mane of dark, lustrous hair. I had to do a double take because, last I knew, V wasn’t supposed to be in Panama City. She’d planned on leaving for parts unknown first thing this morning. Frankly, I’d been surprised when we hadn’t heard from her last night. In fact, I’d given her my number certain she would come calling for something. Most women I knew didn’t like to be alone, especially in a strange city. Blade had mentioned something about a big convention being held in town this weekend. Said hotels had been booked solid for damn near a year. Guess she must have found a room after all. Hawk had been hoping she’d call and ask to bunk with us for the night. I came close to clocking him when he told me that. The last thing I wanted was to get all pissy about the two of them cozying up with one another again.
Fuck that.
Despite all attempts to fight against it, I found myself unable to look away. I honed in on her ass, watching as it swayed back and forth in the most suggestive of ways. She moved in perfect tune, as if the music pumped through her veins. She wasn’t just listening to the music. She felt it. Her body screamed sexuality, and the idea that my voice was living inside her left me feeling powerful. Almost Godlike.
I hadn’t been prepared to see her again. In fact, I’d spent most of last night trying to think of everything but Victoria. I knew she was taboo. Out of my league. But goddammit if I didn’t still desire her, as did probably most of the men in this bar. Victoria was a beautiful woman, but she also possessed the kind of beauty that many would never get the chance to see. Not unless they were granted the gift of spending time with her. Before yesterday, all I’d been able to see had been her outward beauty. And believe me, that was enough to make my cock twitch with false hope. But there were moments in the car when I’d felt that I’d seen a little piece of her soul. I got the feeling she didn’t share that glimpse with too many people.
The song ended, and I bid the audience good night. The crowd parted, and for a brief second, our eyes locked and she offered a shy smile. Before I could respond, Hawk spotted her and jumped off stage to greet her. In ten seconds flat, my good mood soured.