by Jayne Frost
“I loved your music,” she said, out of the blue. “Damaged was like …” She shook her head and looked away. “Everything.”
I never knew quite how to handle that type of comment. Should I commiserate? Thank her? Shrug it off? In the end, I merely nodded.
“Yeah.”
“It must be hard to move on after something like that.” All her focus shifted to me like a laser. “Have you? Moved on?”
A response twisted around my tongue, but I trapped it behind tight lips to make sure I didn’t blurt out something I’d regret. Every day, my feelings for Logan intensified. Not love. That would be stupid, since we were only playing around “until.” But … something.
“I’m trying,” I conceded, hoping she’d drop it.
Anna squared her shoulders, suddenly serious. “Logan’s a really good guy. I’ve known him since high school.”
A flush rose from my collar, burning a path to my face, because that look she was giving me—she knew. Jesus. There was no doubt.
Anna touched my hand, and I realized I was telegraphing my panic. If she didn’t know before, I’d just confirmed it. Which made her an evil genius or me a dumb ass.
“The guys don’t notice things,” she said gently. “But I do. And Logan is special to me.”
She slipped that last part in so casually, but her tone was one step from a warning.
“Special?”
It was out there before I could reel it in, and my tone had an edge as well. A razor sharp edge that elicited a small smile from the redhead.
“Sean is Logan’s best friend. I mean … they’re all best friends. You know how that goes.” She rolled her eyes, but I remained stoic. Watchful. “We were roommates after high school—Sean and me, and Logan.” I tilted my head to the side, and I know my mouth was open because I felt the air on my tongue. Anna turned a shade of red that matched her hair. “No …” She grabbed my arm. “Oh, God no. Not that kind of roommate. Shit … I’m messing this all up.”
Pressing my lips together, I watched her squirm for a moment while I tried to figure out an appropriate response. I finally gave up and opted for direct. “What exactly are you trying to say, Anna?”
She sighed, looking more than a little uncomfortable. “I just want Logan to be happy. He deserves it. If you only knew …” She shifted, eyes back on her daughter. “Just don’t hurt him. I don’t think he’s ever … well, I know he’s never connected with anyone. He doesn’t let people get close.”
“But you’re close,” I pointed out.
She nodded. “Do you know anything about what happened with Sean and me?”
I’d heard rumors. A year and a half ago, Sean was the biggest player around, second only to Logan, and then one day, boom, he was off the market. And then Anna was there, his high school sweetheart. With a kid no less. And one look at Willow and you could tell she was his.
“Not really.”
She brought her gaze to mine, and this time, I saw something else. Pain.
“After the accident …your accident …” she began hesitantly, “Mac offered Caged their first contract. Sean, well, both of us, we were so young. Invincible, or so we thought. And so in love. But I had my own plans that didn’t include chasing my boyfriend around the world. I would’ve done it, though. Especially since …” Her eyes drifted to Willow, and I just knew what was coming. “But Sean made a terrible mistake. We both made mistakes. Anyway … when Sean and I split, Logan chose Sean. No divided loyalties with that one. He’s not built that way. So Logan and me, we didn’t talk for almost three years. But then he emailed me. I don’t know what I’m trying to say, except that Logan doesn’t always come right out and say how he feels. He’s more an ‘actions speak louder than words’ kind of guy. So, if you care for him, you might have to be patient.”
Her tone was raw, infused with sincerity, and I couldn’t help but respond in kind. “I don’t know what Logan told you, but—”
“Nothing,” she was quick to interject. “He wouldn’t say anything. He might not even realize what’s going on. But I see it. I can read him.” She looked down, shaking her head. “Poor choice of words, I guess.”
Anna was all over the place, and I had no idea what she knew or didn’t.
“I like Logan,” I said with a smile. “He’s different than I thought he was. But, still kind of the same. He has his life and his goals. But he’s honest. And that’s all I want from him.”
All he can give me.
Anna looked me over, dubious. “Are you sure?”
No.
“Yes.” She nodded grimly, and I took a deep breath. “If you could keep this to yourself … I don’t want anybody to think …”
All the warmth drained from her emerald gaze. “You don’t want people to know, is that it?”
“Yes. No.” I shook my head. “I don’t want people to think that I’m playing favorites. It would only hurt the band. And my reputation. I have some other things going on … legal stuff.”
She relaxed a little. “Yeah, I know about that. Nothing specific,” she added when my gaze darted to hers. “I’m a law student. I keep up with stuff like that. Especially when it affects the band.”
Willow came trotting over, Daryl a step behind. He was smiling, a genuine smile that stretched across his whole face. I didn’t know that was possible.
“I’m huggry,” Willow said to her mother.
Anna sighed and shoved to her feet. “Let’s see if we can find one of the pretzel guys around here. Then we need to get back to the hotel and get ready for Daddy’s show.”
“You’re going?” I asked, pushing off the bench.
“Sure. Aren’t you?”
Crouching in front of Willow with a Wet Wipe she’d produced out of thin air, Anna went to work on her daughter’s hands. Did every mother have some hidden pocket where they kept all the things they needed to care for their child? I guess I’d never know.
“Tori?”
I shook my head, pushing the thought aside. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Are you going tonight?” she asked. “To the show?”
Two sets of eyes, one emerald green and the other the bluest blue stared up at me. And I smiled.
“Maybe.”
37
Becca, the rep assigned to the band for the Central Park gig, swept into the small building behind the stage. “We may have a situation,” she announced, a tight smile frozen on her lips. “Nothing we can’t handle, though.”
Something in Becca’s tone told me this wasn’t as casual as she wanted us to believe. Christian must’ve thought so too because he was the first to react. Setting aside his bass, he tipped forward in his canvas chair. “What kind of situation?”
Becca twisted her hands in front of her. “Nothing to worry about.”
If that were truly the case, issuing not one, but two disclaimers in as many minutes probably wouldn’t be necessary.
Cameron went to speak but I cut him off. “Why don’t you just tell us what’s going on?” My tone was light, my smile nothing but casual.
“Well,” she began, then bit her lip and sank onto the futon. “You see, last night … I mean, early this morning, when we made the announcement that Caged was taking over for Drafthouse, we didn’t anticipate …”
My stomach sank when she paused her stammered explanation. If the fans were demanding refunds, it was their loss. Caged was prepared to put on the show of our lives. And fuck anyone who didn’t believe we could do it.
Crossing my arms over my chest, I fought the frown with everything I had.
“It’s the damnedest thing,” she continued, brows drawn together. “People started lining up at twelve thirty a.m. And as of a few minutes ago, tickets were being scalped for seven hundred dollars a piece.”
I could almost hear the collective breath the guys released.
“So what’s the situation?” Cameron asked, taking his place beside me.
“We weren’t prepared,” Becca admitted. �
�When we agreed to the substitution, we thought we were trading down.” A nervous laugh bubbled free. “It’s not like Twin Souls offered up Leveraged or Revenged Theory.”
At the mention of Leveraged, the warm glow in my chest evaporated. Side-eyeing Cameron, I could tell he wasn’t happy about her comparison either.
“You still haven’t told us how this is a problem,” he said, irritation coloring his tone.
“We had to bring in extra security,” Becca said. “It’s going to cut into our budget.” Her forced smile was back. “But, that’s not your problem. I just wanted to let you know we did some shuffling, and Caged is anchoring the show. That’ll give us time to beef up security.” She pushed to her feet and brushed off her hands on her slacks. “You guys sit tight. It’s going to be a little while.”
Once she was gone, Christian jumped out of his chair. “Holy shit. What just happened?”
I smiled. “ We moved up a rung, that’s what.”
Sean fished his phone from his pocket. “Anna’s going to be here any time. She’s bringing Willow. I’m going to tell her to stay at the hotel for a bit.”
Angling for a better view of the crowd, I headed for the door.
“Careful out there,” Cameron warned as he sank back into his chair.
At least he spared me the usual speech: Don’t start any trouble. Be cool. Don’t take off with one of the fangirls and make us go looking for you.
Just to keep him on his toes, I shot him a sly smile over my shoulder, waggling my brows. He scowled but said nothing. And why would he? I’d been toeing the line, showing up at his door semi-regularly to go over the arrangements.
Once I was out of sight, I put on my earbuds so I could listen to my texts.
Victoria 11:41 a.m. Did you know Anna was coming by?
Victoria 3:07 p.m. I was thinking about coming to the show.
Victoria 4:53 p.m.: You’ve got a nice butt. Even if you suck at returning messages.
Smiling, I scratched the back of my head as I beat a path for the side of the building. There were still a few people milling around since this was the only entrance for the VIPs, but at least I could hear myself think. I’d just lifted the phone to my ear when I spotted Mac heading straight for me, a tall, model-type tucked close to his side.
Since it was too late to avoid the bastard, I stowed my phone and squared my shoulders.
Mac held out his hand as he approached. “Logan.”
In case there were any nosy photographers around, I slid my palm against his. But then I squeezed with enough force to let him know just what I thought of him. After overhearing bits and pieces of Tori’s conversations over the last few weeks, I knew what kind of shit he was putting her through, even if she wasn’t inclined to share the details.
“Why are you so far from home, Mac?”
“Just doing my part to support a good cause. You didn’t think Twin Souls had the market cornered on that, did you?” The woman at his side gave a derisive snort, drawing my attention. And Mac’s too.
“Sorry, babe,” he said to her before returning his focus to me. “Logan, you know Harper, right?”
Mac’s smile was sly, his eyes assessing.
“No.”
But her name shook something loose in my memory. Harper Rush. Her debut album was everywhere.
Chuffing out a breath, she looked away and muttered, “I’m not surprised.”
Mac squeezed her shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, babe.” His tone was unmistakably loud, leaving no doubt that he wanted me to hear. And then his eyes found mine, and he added, “You don’t need Twin Souls.”
I was too busy trying not to throw up in my mouth, since the girl looked young enough to be his daughter. But then it hit me—Twin Souls?
“You’re with TS?” I asked, my gaze fixed on Harper and not the lech at her side.
She rolled her eyes. “I was. I mean, I guess I still am.”
Something didn’t add up, so I dug a little deeper. “Then why aren’t you on the Survival Tour?”
Her jaw hardened, but then her gaze flicked over my shoulder, and she froze. Mac was already focused on whatever caught her eye, and he said with a smirk, “That’s a good question, Logan. Maybe you should ask your manager?”
Awareness rippled over my skin, and I turned, already knowing Tori would be there. She wasn’t looking at me, though. I don’t even think she registered my presence. Her gaze volleyed between Harper and Mac, a fury in her amber orbs that I’d never seen.
Cutting the distance in four quick strides, she stopped right in front of Harper. “If you’re fixin’ to break your NDA, let me know. I’ll call my attorney right now.”
Her rage brought out her drawl and a tone so venomous, Harper’s eyes widened to double their size. Catching Tori’s wrist when she inched forward, I stroked my thumb over her pulse point. “Easy, princess.”
Mac blinked. First at Tori, then at me, then at my hand, still coiled around her wrist. And he smiled. “Still a spitfire, huh, Belle?” He shook his head and tsked. “Always trying to control the situation. How’s that working out for you? It didn’t have to be like this. Anyway, the show’s about to start. If you’ll excuse us.”
When he brushed past us with a stunned Harper in tow, Tori turned to watch them leave, glaring daggers into their backs.
“What just happened?” I asked once they were out of earshot.
Tori dug her phone out of her pocket and took off down the path. I hung back just a little, but when she lifted the device to her ear and said, “Dylan. Call me. I need to talk to you,” I saw red.
I was standing right fucking here, but instead she called Dylan.
What the actual fuck?
Without thinking, I closed the gap between us and took her elbow.
“Are you crazy?” Tori asked, her eyes darting around. “There are too many people around here.”
What did she think I was going to do—kiss her? Sink my fingers into her hair? Run a hand up her bare thigh and find out which panties were under that skirt?
Forcing myself to focus, I veered us off the path.
“Really, Vic?” I growled. “You almost took that girl down in front of God and everyone and you think I’m going to draw attention?”
I barked out a laugh and the anger brewing behind her amber gaze found a new target. Me.
Ignoring her death glare, my hand slid lower, past her wrist, and I laced our fingers. She grunted as I dragged her behind a deserted New York City Parks trailer abutting the wall separating the venue from the rest of the park. I continued to advance until we ran out of room and her back was against a plastic storage container that came to her waist.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed. “What if someone sees us?”
“Get over yourself. Nobody’s paying attention.” I wasn’t sure if it was true. And I didn’t give a fuck. “You want to tell me what just happened? And why you were calling Dylan?”
The last question slipped out from some unknown place.
She swallowed hard. “I can’t.”
I cocked my head so far to the side I felt the bones in my neck crack. “Why?”
“Because it doesn’t concern you.”
My hands came down hard on either side of her, fingers digging into the weathered plastic bin. “And what exactly does concern me?” My thumbs skated over the thin fabric at the curve of her waist.
“You just … you don’t understand.”
My gaze flicked to her taut nipples, the flush rising on her chest, and finally her mouth. “I think I understand just fine.” Sliding my hand to the hem of her skirt, I smiled bitterly when she squirmed. She wasn’t going to tell me, but this—my fingers inched higher and her breath hitched—this she’d give me. A consolation prize.
Peachy.
And the worst part? I knew I’d take it.
“Turn around.” I leaned in, my mouth so close now, I could feel her breath. “Turn the fuck around or I’m leaving.”
She had the power
. Always. The choice was never mine.
Slowly, she turned.
My palm skimmed her smooth thigh, up and up until I reached her panties. They weren’t the tiny bikinis she usually wore, but some kind of boy shorts.
Cupping the back of her neck, I bent her at the waist. “Hands flat on the bin, princess. And don’t move, or I won’t fuck you.” My fingers dipped inside her panties, over her slick flesh, and I leaned close to her ear. “You do want me to fuck you, right?”
I needed the words. All the words and all the thoughts. But I’d settle for just one.
“Yes.”
She groaned when I plunged two fingers inside her sweet cunt. “I can make you come this way. But you want more, don’t you?” My thumb grazed her clit. “Tell me you want more.”
“Yes … Yes … I want more.”
I pulled away, my lower half pinning her in place while I dug out my wallet from my back pocket.
Her head whipped around, lust-filled eyes locking onto mine.
“Turn around, Victoria.”
I don’t want to see you. As true as it was, I kept that part to myself.
She searched my face for a long moment, then did as I asked. My jeans hit the ground. And with her skirt bunched at her waist and her ass in the air, I stroked myself hard until my stomach coiled, and then I slid the condom over my shaft.
I planned to fuck her hard and fast. To tip over the edge and leave her wanting more. The way I did. But the minute I slipped inside her body, I knew I couldn’t do it.
Fisting her hair in one hand, I kept the other flat on her back as I thrust.
She fought to find her rhythm, whimpering as she writhed against the plastic bin. “I want … I want …”
That voice … it chipped away at my anger. And my resolve.
“What do you want?” When she didn’t answer, I pulled all the way out. She jerked to standing when I tugged her hair. And then I spun her around and looked into her eyes. “Tell me.”
She laid her palms flat on my chest, her touch searing me through my T-shirt. But she didn’t speak.
Banding one arm around her waist, I lifted her onto the bin and she opened for me. Inviting me in.