Revenge: The Complete Series (Erotic Rock Star Suspense Romance)

by Mimi Strong

  I sit up and grab the teddy bear to toss into my dresser drawer. When I look back over at Dylan, he’s already dressed and threading his belt back through the belt loops on his jeans.

  He lowers his voice to a whisper. “I think I hear your roommates. Should I leave through the window?”

  “Yes.”

  He goes to the window and chuckles. “There’s no ladder. Pull the sheets off the bed and we’ll make a rope.”

  “Okay.” I start pulling off the top blanket.

  He comes up behind me and wraps his arms around me, his long fingers around my wrists.

  “I was joking,” he murmurs in my ear. “I could jump down. It’s not far.”

  He folds his arms over mine and hugs me tighter. I could stand here like this forever, with his body wrapping around mine and his voice at my ear.

  “I’ll walk you out the front door,” I tell him. “My roommates probably know you’re here, anyway. Don’t worry about my reputation. The rules for this house are, um, relaxed.”

  He kisses the side of my cheek and agrees to go out the front door. He laces up his boots while I pull on a pair of sweatpants.

  I lead him out through the hallway.

  Amanda whips open her bedroom door. “Ah-hah!” she yells. Her bleached blonde hair is messy, but I’m relieved to see she’s wearing a robe. She points at Dylan, “You’re that singer.” She bobs her head. “Cool. I guess you and Miss Rivera here are hooking up?”

  “Miss Rivera and I are just friends,” he says coolly.

  Amanda frowns at me. She’s definitely going to have questions after Dylan leaves. Questions I don’t have the answers to. Questions such as, are you and Dylan really just friends?

  I keep walking, leading him through to the front door.

  Amanda chases after us. “Hey, singer guy,” she calls out. “Do you have any plans for dinner? Around eight o’clock? Why don’t you come have dinner with us?”

  I open the front door and try to push him out, but he won’t budge.

  He gives me a smirk, then says to Amanda, “My schedule should be clear by eight. Should I bring anything?”

  “Just your sexy self,” Amanda says.

  He gives me a quick hug, then steps outside quickly.

  “See you at eight,” he calls back over his shoulder.

  I watch as he disappears down the street. Then I turn around and give Amanda a dirty look.

  “You’re welcome,” she says.

  I open my mouth to give her shit, but then stop. On one hand, I want to murder her for interfering, but on the other hand, she asked Dylan to come back tonight. That was something I didn’t have the guts to ask for myself.

  “Who’s making dinner?” I ask.

  She snorts. “Not me.” She nods over her shoulder. “You and Riley are making dinner tonight. We talked about it last night, after you stomped off to your bedroom like an anti-social psycho.”

  “She’s the psycho.”

  I start to walk past Amanda, but she grabs me by the shoulders and shakes me.

  She locks her blue eyes on mine and gives me a serious scowl.

  “Riley has pulled herself up from the gutter. I don’t know what went down between the two of you, but it can’t be that bad. You two are blood. You need to find the love in your heart. You’ll never get some guy to care about you if he thinks you’re mean.”

  I try to shake my shoulders free of her hands, but she’s got a death grip on me.

  “I’m not mean.”

  “Then prove it by letting your sister apologize to you. She wants to, Jess. I swear. And when she does, you’d better accept it, or I will kick your ass, because that girl is my friend. And she was my friend long before you came into the picture.”

  I pull away from her. “Fine. She won’t apologize, so I’m not worried.”

  Amanda narrows her eyes at me. “Good. Then let’s go back to bed and start all over at a reasonable time, like noon.”

  I agree, and we both walk back toward our bedrooms.

  As we reach Amanda’s door, she says, “I need more sleep than normal people.”

  Her voice is soft, and makes me stop.

  “Why’s that?”

  She points to her nose and shakes her finger. “Sleep apnea, or something like that. The doctor said I should sleep with a monitor on, but I don’t know what that’s going to tell me that I don’t already know.”

  A chill goes through me as I remember the other day when she scared me. I went in one morning last and found her face red. She wasn’t breathing. It scared the hell out of me, and she just laughed it off.

  “Amanda, I’m sorry to hear that. Is there anything we can do?”

  “Nah.” She tilts her head to the side and looks down. She looks so much younger when she’s not wearing any makeup. “I try to get a little extra sleep, to make up for it. But sometimes I worry. I worry that I’ll stop breathing, and then my heart will just decide to stop beating, and then what?”

  “Is it that bad?”

  She looks up. “Yeah, Jess. It’s bad when your heart stops beating. Duh.” She grins and starts laughing at me. “Go to bed. Don’t wake me until noon. I was up late.”

  I nod, agreeing, and leave her to her room.

  I slip into mine and close the door gently.

  My room feels different now, like there’s an echo of Dylan’s presence still here. He left nothing behind, but he’s still here.

  I kick off my sweatpants and climb into bed. I open the drawer and pull out the teddy bear, then hold it tight against my chest.

  Waking up with Dylan beside me was terrible. Terrible because now every time I wake up alone, I’ll feel alone.

  Last night, I had sex for the first time, and I slept with a guy for the first time. I’m different now, and I wonder if I’ll be able to see it on my face. I wonder if other people will.

  When I was in college, I used to stare at couples, trying to imagine how they felt, being part of a couple. Some of them acted like best friends—like how I acted with my best friend. We’d have snowball fights and study in the common areas together. I’d even stretch out and drape my legs over his on the long benches, the way couples did.

  I miss my best friend, but I’m glad he’s not here.

  We were never like those couples who stared into each other’s eyes like they were getting high off each other. We weren’t in love, or in lust. I never understood what that could be like, until now.

  When Dylan’s looking at me, the rest of the world disappears. The building could be falling down around us, and I’d be staring at his lips. Thinking about kissing him. Thinking about his hand between my legs. Like this morning.

  My cheeks flush hot as I think about what happened, right here in this bed. Every time Dylan touches me, it’s a revelation. My body does things I didn’t dream possible.

  I squeeze the stuffed bear against my chest and look around the room again. He’s gone, but I can’t shake the feeling he’s still here.

  I think of the words Dylan said last night: “I’m going to burn myself into you like a brand. No matter what happens, part of you will always belong to me.”

  Maybe that’s what I’m feeling.

  He’s burned himself into me.

  And now he’s always here, with me.

  Chapter 8

  My half-sister, Riley, is six years older than me.

  I didn’t know her at all until my mother died. After my mother passed away, I went to live with my father. He put my half-sister in charge of me, even though she was only nine herself.

  Neighbors would find me wandering around outside at all hours, usually hungry and dirty. I can’t think about those times without getting upset. I have very few memories of those years, but the ones I have aren’t good.

  I eventually went to live with Nan when I was five.

  Nan kept me at home with her for the summer, before taking me to school for the first time in my life.

  My new school wasn’t sure about putting me
into grade one, because I was socially awkward to the point of hiding in dark corners. I didn’t want to be shy, but the change of moving was hard on me.

  Luckily for me, I had a compassionate teacher who understood me. She knew I just needed some coaxing out of my shell.

  Within a few months, I was doing well in the first grade, with other kids my age. Reading and math came to me easily, more easily than making friends.

  At home with Nan, I didn’t like all the new rules. I’d never had a bedtime, and I’d fight her to stay up. I was too young to understand my life was better with Nan.

  It took me a long time to accept that when she told me she loved me, she really meant it. I used to think love was just a word, like tree, or chair, until I saw it in her eyes.

  I’d forget sometimes, and go back to my reclusive ways. I’d get mad about all the farm chores and hide in my room. She’d give me space, but eventually push for me to come out and “join the living.” I’d threaten to call my father to come get me. She’d lose her patience and tell me to go ahead and call.

  “I’ll dial the number for you,” she’d say, calling my bluff.

  We settled into our life together, and eventually I made some friends at school. By the time I was eleven, I was just a normal girl, like the other girls at my school. And then, one day, I was the girl whose father was going to jail.

  Kids who weren’t even my friends wanted to talk to me about it. I couldn’t see the fascination, at all. I didn’t even know him. He was just the guy who sent me a birthday card, usually a month late.

  I thought I’d never see my half-sister again. After my father’s sentencing, she moved across the country to live with her mother.

  But that didn’t work out so well.

  My grandmother got the call. Being the kind-hearted person she is, she said yes. She said yes to having a drug-dealing seventeen-year-old girl come live with her, even though my half-sister wasn’t a blood relation to anyone in the family except me.

  Nan sent her money for the bus, but she spent it all and hitch-hiked her way to us. She turned up at three in the morning, all skinny and twitchy, her face covered in black makeup—black eyeliner, black lipstick.

  I showed her around the house, still optimistic about having a sister. I showed her the pretty pink towels we’d bought for the bathroom. The next day, the new towels were filthy, covered in her black makeup.

  For the next two years, she did nothing but destroy everything good in my life.

  I hated her for a thousand reasons. At the top of the list was the money she stole from Nan, and sleeping with one of my favorite teachers.

  I still don’t know which of those things was the worst. I hated how proud she was of upsetting me.

  Now I’m sitting in a car with her. She’s my roommate. For the third time in my life, I’m living with her, and I’ve never hated her more. A suspicious part of me thinks she planned this. Amanda swears it’s just a coincidence, but I don’t know.

  Now she and I are alone together, driving to the grocery store to buy food for dinner. She’s driving. She’s a careful driver, checking over her shoulder twice before changing lanes.

  The girl I knew wouldn’t check over her shoulder.

  I don’t know this Riley.

  “What’s on your mind?” she asks me.

  I look down at the grocery list in my hands. “I’ve never cooked these before. Artichokes. I’ve only had the ones that come in jars.”

  She tucks her long, brown hair behind her ear and glances over at me. I’m shocked by how many of her movements mirror my own. The way she turns her wrist—the way her eyes flick up, then down, then up again with a hint of a smile—she reminds me of myself.

  Her brown eyes are a mirror of mine. Dylan’s eyes are dark brown and rich like mahogany. Riley’s eyes have more amber and gold, just like our father’s, and like mine.

  “Artichokes?” Her eyebrows raise. “It’s been nine years, Jess. Don’t you have a little more you want to know?”

  “Sure,” I say, my voice hard. “Let’s make small talk. Why don’t you start by telling me about this amazing career you have?”

  The traffic light ahead turns yellow and she pushes the brakes hard to stop, rather than blowing through the intersection.

  “I wouldn’t say my career is amazing, but being a pharmaceutical rep definitely has its benefits. The pay is good. This car I’m driving is completely paid off. Can you believe that? It’s only two years old.”

  I turn and stare at her with wide eyes. “Pharmaceutical rep? You mean… you sell drugs?”

  “Not drugs. Medicine. And I don’t sell it directly.” She laughs. “Jess, I don’t deal heart pills and dick pills out of the back of my car. I visit medical centers and talk to doctors and specialists about the benefits of certain brand-name pharmaceutical.”

  “No shit.” I fold and unfold the grocery list in my hand. Is she lying to me? The way our other roommate, Amanda, talked about Riley, I could have sworn she was a call girl or something like that.

  “We’ve got some new cancer treatments that are really promising. I feel lucky that I get to do some good in the world.”

  “I’m confused. Amanda said you were on a vacation. And that you go to lots of fancy places.” I bite my lower lip for a minute, wondering if I should come right out and ask her. If this pharmaceutical job is just a cover story, she can drop the act with me.

  “I do travel for work,” she says.

  “Arielle—I mean, Riley, you don’t have to lie to me about what you really do.”

  She laughs and drums her hands on the steering wheel. “Did Amanda put you up to this? She’s always playing this joke. She tries to make people think I’m a high-priced call girl. Amanda is fucking insane. But I don’t have to tell you. You’ve figured that out by now, right?”

  I turn and stare out the window at the traffic. “Yup. That Amanda. She’s a real joker.”

  “What about you? You’ve got a new job in sales and marketing? I could give you some sales tips.”

  “I’m just an intern.” I look down at the grocery list in my hand. I’ve touched it so much, the ink is smearing under the oils from my fingers.

  She puts on the car’s turn signal and drives carefully into the parking area for a big grocery store.

  “I’m really glad the new roommate is you,” she says.

  I try to say I’m glad as well, but the words won’t come out. I’m not glad my lying half-sister is back in my life.

  We walk into the store, and my eyes go to a community corkboard near the door. There are several postings by people looking for roommates. When Riley’s not looking, I tear off a few phone numbers.

  Chapter 9

  After we finish buying groceries for tonight’s dinner, Riley asks me to go for a late lunch with her.

  I haven’t eaten anything today, but I tell her I’m not hungry.

  She doesn’t take no for an answer and drives us to a taco place anyway.

  The waiter keeps looking back and forth between us. Finally, he asks, “Sisters?”

  “Yes,” Riley says.

  “Half-sisters,” I say.

  After he walks away, she frowns at me. “Why do you have to be like that, Jess? It’s just like when we were kids. I still remember the day you told me to call Nan by her real name. You couldn’t stand me calling her Nan, because she wasn’t my real grandmother.”

  I stare at her in shock. “What are you talking about? I never said that.”

  “Yes, you did.” She grabs the basket of nacho chips and pulls the chips over to her side of the table.

  “I don’t remember that.”

  “Just because you don’t remember, that doesn’t mean it didn’t happen.”

  I roll my eyes. This is just like her. I can’t believe Amanda thinks Riley’s going to apologize to me. She’ll never say she’s sorry, because she isn’t sorry. Everything Riley does is someone else’s fault.

  We get our meals and eat in silence.

>   She pulls out her phone and sends messages the whole time.

  When the bill comes, she sets out money for half, then stares at me.

  As soon as I reach for my wallet, she laughs and pulls the bill over to her side. “I’m paying,” she says. “I have an expense account.”

  “Good for you,” I say.

  We leave the restaurant and drive back to the house without another word exchanged.

  I hang out in my bedroom until seven o’clock.

  I come out and find Riley and Amanda in the kitchen. Amanda must have every pot and pan in the house out and in use. You’d think she was catering a party of twenty.

  The two of them seem to be managing just fine without me, so I take a seat on one of the stools and watch.

  Amanda hands me a drink with crushed ice and bits of green leaves. “Mojito,” she says.

  I take a sip. It’s way too sweet, but I drink it anyway.

  Amanda starts chopping onions and explaining what she’s doing, in a fake TV voice. Riley joins in at her side, telling me about how to caramelize onions.

  They obviously think they’re funny.

  The mojito must be strong, because after a few minutes of their cooking show, I’m smiling. I find myself warming up to them. By the time they get to rubbing the spices on the chicken breasts, I’m laughing pretty hard.

  The doorbell rings, and the two of them start screaming with excitement.

  “The rock star is here!” Amanda yells.

  I wag my finger at them. “You two behave yourselves, or I’ll never invite him over again.”

  They exchange a look that tells me tonight is going to be a disaster.

  I march to the front door and yank it open. “You don’t have to stay long,” I say to Dylan.

  He doesn’t answer, but slowly looks me up and down.

  “I’ve been thinking about you,” he says.

  His voice is sweet and gritty, like burnt sugar. His dark eyes make my legs feel weak. And when I look at his mouth, it doesn’t seem possible that I’ve kissed him—that his perfect mouth would ever touch mine.

  He’s standing in the doorway with his hands behind his back. Since he left here early this morning, he’s shaved and changed clothes. He’s wearing a black leather jacket, which makes him look even bigger, and rugged. The way he’s hunching forward, he looks like someone who might start trouble—like he might pick a fight with another guy, just for fun.