Crashing Down: Silver Tongued Devils Series Book 4

by Samantha Conley

  Crashing Down

  Silver Tongued Devils Series

  Samantha Conley

  Contents

  Cover Page

  Prologue

  1. Brett

  2. Brett

  3. Skylar

  4. Skylar

  5. Brett

  6. Skylar

  7. Brett

  8. Skylar

  9. Brett

  10. Skylar

  11. Brett

  12. Skylar

  13. Skylar

  14. Brett

  15. Skylar

  16. Brett

  17. Skylar

  18. Brett

  19. Skylar

  20. Skylar

  21. Brett

  Epilogue

  Crashing Down Playlist

  Also by Samantha Conley

  Down In Flames

  Break Me Down

  Down On My Knees

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Copyright

  © 2018 Samantha Conley

  All Rights Reserved

  * * *

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter without written permission, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be scanned, uploaded, or distributed via the Internet or any other means, electronic or print, without the publisher’s permission.

  * * *

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the writer’s imagination or have been fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons (living or dead), actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  * * *

  Photographer: Reggie Deanching

  Model: Guy Higgins

  Cover Design: Amanda Walker PA and Design Services

  Editor: Darlene Tallman

  Proofreader: Sandra LeBlanc

  Formatter: Liberty Parker

  Dedication

  To those who believe in second chances.

  Prologue

  Brett - April 2015

  Wiping away the sweat dripping into my eyes, I make my way off the stage with the guys right behind me, their heavy footsteps vibrating through the floor. Off to my left, Brian Jefferies, our manager, is standing with a shit eating grin on his face. He knows, as well as the rest of us, that we brought the mother fucking house down. The crowd chanting our name echoes off the cinderblock walls of the tunnel we’re in continuing the rush of excitement. As I round the corner, the ear-splitting screams of the VIP fans waiting for us echo through the cavernous room. Girls shriek and reach their arms through the line of security guards trying to get a feel. I pause a few times to take pictures and sign whatever object they push in front of me but after the third set of naked breasts are thrust in my face, I’m done.

  When we make it into the after-party room for the VIP fans, I manage to contain my groan when the two women I have been trying to avoid are sitting on one couch dotting the room. Mandy and Candy, the tag team duo. These two have been trying to get on my dick for the past two months and their aggression has grown with each encounter when I shut them down. I don’t know if it’s the thrill of fucking a rockstar that drives them or the fact that I have voiced I'm taken and don’t want anything to do with their skank asses. Lust flares in their eyes when they spot me in the group, but they make no move to come closer.

  “Damn, do those bitches ever give up?” Jason Livingston, the band’s drummer, asks as he walks beside me, looking at the girls with disgust, as the blonde, Mandy (or is it Candy?) uncrosses her leg, blatantly displaying exactly what she’s not wearing. Who the hell does she think she is? Sharon Stone? Hell, she’s probably not even old enough to know who that is.

  “I guess not. I don’t know what their fucking deal is. How many times can someone tell you they aren’t interested before you give up?” I vent.

  “Maybe you need to be blunt?” Jason asks.

  “Can I be any blunter than fuck off I’m not interested in your skank ass?” I deadpan.

  “Not much.” He chuckles.

  “I tried being nice and then I avoided them, but they keep popping up like a zit. I hate to be mean but damn, they can’t take a hint.”

  “Oh, the life of a rock god, surrounded by beautiful women who wants to ride your dick.” Jason pretends to wipe a tear off his face.

  “There’s only one woman allowed on that ride. You, on the other hand my brother, can get all the pussy you want. Just like our man, Isaac.” Jason's face splits into a shit eating grin as he sets his eyes on his prey for the night before walking away. Sometimes I envy that he has no commitment to anyone special and can get his rocks off anywhere. But then I remember the beautiful blonde waiting for me at home and it dissipates into thin air.

  As the night wears on, I’m surprised the girls haven’t made a move. On me or anyone else. Just as the thought crosses my mind, the blonde, yes that is Candy, moves to one of the wait staff in the room while giving me a side eyed smirk as she saunters across the throng of people.

  What the hell is she up to?

  Tracking her movement with my eyes, I lose sight of her in the crowd before Isaac Haynes, the band’s lead guitarist, walks up behind me.

  “Killer show, man. I can’t wait to get to Europe though,” he says before taking a swig of his beer.

  “I just wish we had a little longer break before we left. I’m missing home.”

  “You’re missing your girl.” He gives me a little smirk.

  “Damn right I am.”

  “You know if you wanted, you might catch a quick flight home and leave out of Dallas. It won’t be a long visit but at least you can get laid.”

  “Getting laid isn’t what I’m missing.” At his arched look, I continue. “Okay it’s not the only thing I’m missing. She’s the other half of my soul. I want to wake up next to her. I just miss her,” I profess.

  Isaac places his hand on my shoulder and squeezes, “I know, man. You’re lucky that you have someone who loves you so much and puts up with your bullshit.”

  Looking over, I see Candy speaking to one of the waitresses as she slips her something discreetly. She better not be selling drugs in here. That’s one thing we won’t tolerate. The alcohol may flow freely backstage, but drugs are something we stay far away from. It’s been the down fall of far too many bands we have idolized.

  “Damn right I’m lucky. Kristen is my world. I wish I could talk her into coming on tour with us.”

  “You know that’ll never happen as long as she's still in school. Maybe after graduation though.”

  “Yeah, there’s no way I would want her to stop pursuing her Master’s in Nursing just to travel with me.” She dreams of being a pediatric nurse practitioner and there’s no way in the world I would ask her to give that up for me.

  “How does it feel to be engaged anyway? Knowing that your days as a single man are numbered?” Isaac laughs. “Attached to the old ball and chain.”

  “Isaac, you look at this the wrong way. All you see is what you see as the loss of my single status. I’m looking at what I’m gaining. I have the love of a smart, loving woman. She already owns my heart. I have someone I will share the rest of my life with. We’ll weather the good and troubled times together. We’ll support each other. Bear…”

  “Whoa, take it easy there,” Isaac interrupts. “You’re getting a little heavy for as late as it is. I’m glad you found the one you want to spend the rest of
your life with. As for me, well, I like the never-ending supply of pussy. Check ya later, man. I see a hot ass blonde over there who seems to need a little attention.” He smiles toward an exceptionally hot blonde I recognize as one of the hottest lingerie models on the planet. It always amazes me the celebrities that show up at our concerts.

  “I guess this means he’ll be on the cover of a tabloid in the morning,” Brian chuckles as he comes up beside me, a brunette waitress with her hair up in a ponytail following in his wake. “At least he doesn’t get too crazy,” he adds, nodding toward Isaac who already has the model wrapped up in his arms. A subtle throat clearing snags our attention as the waitress presents her tray with a bottle of water and a beer.

  “Oh, thank you,” Brian tells her as he picks up the bottle of beer. I smile at her before getting the bottle of water and slipping her some tip money before she hurries away.

  Twisting the top off the bottle, I take a healthy gulp, relishing the cool water against my parched throat. “Damn that’s good. How much longer do I have to hang around here? I’d like to call Kristen before it gets too late.”

  “Get out of here,” he says with a nod toward the door. “I’ll call you in the morning.”

  “Thanks, Brian.” I clap him on the back, nodding to the others as I make my way out of the room. The hallway is surprisingly barren, and my steps echo down the cinderblock walls. Half way down the corridor, my vision becomes blurry and I blink, trying to bring it back into focus. The double doors leading to our driver are within sight but it’s harder to put one foot in front of the other. The fast clicking of heels on the concrete reach my ears as I go to one knee.

  “Come on, baby. Let us help you,” a feminine voice coos in my ear. “Up you go.” Four hands wrap around my arms, their grunts bouncing off the walls as they heft me to my feet. “Let’s get you out of here.” They half drag, half walk me toward the doors.

  The chilly night air blasts my face as we clear the frame, helping me to clear my head. As I’m ushered into the car, I glance at the woman on my right, her blonde hair glowing in the light from the streetlamp.

  “Kris,” I slur, my tongue thick in my mouth.

  “Shush, baby, it will be okay. Take this for me.” Her face comes in and out of focus. She’s Kristen and then she’s not. Something bitter tasting touches my tongue before a bottle presses against my lips, the cool water soothing my parched throat.

  “Don’t give him too much. We can’t have any fun if he can’t get it up,” comes a harsh whisper.

  “Don’t worry, the guy assured me he’ll be raring to go all night long.”

  The car jerks into motion, the passing lights mesmerizing as we travel down the street before everything goes black.

  Hands rubbing up and down my chest.

  Soft thighs grip my hips.

  Wet heat engulfs my cock.

  My eyes open, head pounding and my mouth tasting like ass. Blinking a few times, trying to clear my blurry vision, I stretch my arms out and hit something solid and warm. What the fuck? I look to my left and see blonde hair sticking out from under the covers. I smile, wondering when Kris got here, but I realize I’m in Minneapolis and she’s back home. Fuck! What the fuck did I do? I try to inch away from the blonde and get off the bed when I run into another warm body. Over my shoulder there is a brunette smiling at me. I can’t tell if she’s pretty or not with her makeup smeared all over her face, like she’s been... Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?

  “Morning, Daddy,” she purrs. “Ready for another round? We don’t have to wake her up. It can just be us this time. I didn’t get enough last night.” She licks her cracked lips drawing forth a disgusted shudder that they have been anywhere near me.

  I need to get them out of here. Jesus, what am I going to do? I move to the end of the bed and find I’m naked, and so are they.

  “You need to wake your friend up and get the fuck outta here,” I tell her as I run my hands through my hair.

  “Don’t be that way, Daddy,” she pouts. “We can still have fun."

  “I said get the fuck out! Now!” I yell at her, waking up the blonde. Damn, she looks worse than the brunette. “Get the fuck out before I call security and they take your asses out!”

  I turn and walk into the bathroom and shut the door. I can hear them moving around, and I can only pray that they’re getting dressed and getting the hell out. I take a piss and hear the door to the room slam shut. I double check they’re gone before I jump in the shower. I hope it wakes me up because I can’t remember a damn thing about last night, not even the concert. The hot water beats down on my back as I soap up, washing my dick, scrubbing until the damn thing is almost raw. Fuck, did we use protection? Last thing I need is to catch something and pass it on to Kris. The mere thought of hurting her is like a dagger in the heart. Fuck, I love that girl to death. What the fuck was I doing with those sluts? I can’t believe I cheated on her. Or did I? Vague flashes pop into my head but none of it makes sense. Shit, I think it’s obvious, as I woke up naked with two chicks in my bed.

  I step out of the shower and grab a towel. I’m drying off when I notice a maroon T-shirt, a pair of jeans and flip-flops on the floor. I know they’re not mine, and I doubt they belong to the sluts. I wrap the towel around my waist and bend down to pick the shirt up, recognizing it. It’s Kris’s favorite TWU shirt. Lifting it up to my nose, I smell apples, like the lotion Kris wears all the time. I drop it to the floor. No, it can’t be. She’s in Dallas.

  I hear my phone ring in the other room and hurry out to grab it, but it stops ringing before I get to it. I look around the room. The bed is in shambles. There’s an empty liquor bottle and baggies littering the floor. What the hell? I grab one baggy, finding traces of white powder inside. Jesus Christ, I’ve fucked up. I grab my phone. It’s noon, and I’ve missed six calls— two from Derek Calloway, my best friend and the band’s bassist and four from Brian. I call Brian back first.

  He picks up on the first ring. “Hello? You finally awake, Sleeping Beauty? Have a busy night?” he chuckles. “Did you like your surprise? Is that why you can’t answer the phone?”

  I stiffen. “What surprise?” I ask, not sure if I even want to know.

  “Kristen, dumbass. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise for you two to get a little time together before we head off to Europe for a few months. I hate she missed the show, but she said it was fine for her to go straight to the hotel and wait for you. She said she got there okay…Brett? Are you there?”

  My mind is whirling. Kris was here? Last night? “Brian, I think…” I swallow hard. “I think I fucked up.” I drop onto the bed and put my head in my hand, Brian swearing in the background before he barks out he’ll be here in ten and hangs up.

  Derek is my next call. Maybe he can help. Help with what? I don’t know yet.

  “What’s up, dickhead? I was trying to get more shut-eye,” he mumbles into the phone after the fourth ring.

  “I need you, man. I fucked up, and it’s really bad.”

  “Be there in a minute. Let me throw some clothes on. I’m a few doors down.”

  Derek hangs up, and I decide dressing is imperative. I grab a pair of jeans out of my bag and slip them on, then turn around and stare at the bed. I can’t believe this. Maybe Derek will have answers. We’ve been friends since we were kids, going through everything together from football, baseball, high school, and the death of my parents from a car accident. Maybe he’ll know what to do and get me out of this fucked-up situation. God, I hope he can.

  When I hear the knock at the door, I open it and let him in, giving him an opportunity to take in the room.

  “Damn. Did you have a party in here and not invite me?” he laughs. I look at him, and the smile drops from his face. “What? Is this what you called me about?” he asks. “This ain’t like you, man.”

  Sitting down on the bed, I'm not even man enough to look at him, unable to handle the disappointment I know will be there when I make my confessi
on.

  “I fucked up, Derek, and I don’t even remember it. I woke up, naked, with two chicks in bed with me.” My elbows are on my knees and my head hangs in shame. Bile rises in my throat. He says nothing, the silence deafening in the small room. After what seems like an eternity, I look at him to find him staring at me. “Say something, please?” I plead with him. His face grows hard, blue eyes glinting like ice.

  “What the fuck were you thinking, Brett?” he yells at me, the reverberation bouncing off the walls making my head throb. He paces around the room. “You’re telling me you cheated on Kris? I can’t fucking believe you. She’s the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to you, and this is how you treat her?” He’s looking at me like he doesn’t even know me. His fists clench at his side as if he’s holding himself back.

  “Last night is a blur. I can barely remember the concert and going backstage, but everything after that is a haze. I don’t know what I did.” The breath locks in my lungs, the words lodged in my throat. “I know I fucked up. What do I do to fix it?” I beg for answers on how to repair the damage that has been done but all I get in return is the slamming of a door as he stomps out of the room.

  1

  Brett

  a couple of years later