by Tonya Brooks
"What the hell was that?" Cyn demanded when John turned to face her. Now he was going after regular customers. This had to stop.
"Told you I don't put up with shit like that," he growled and pulled her into his arms, needing the reassurance that she was alright. "Not gonna have guys putting their hands on you, darlin'."
She was just pissed enough to taunt, "Did you even consider that I might have wanted his hands on me?"
Possessive fury roared through him and his hold on her tightened. "Fuck that. You're mine, Cyn."
Oh, hell to the no. He didn't go there. No way in hell was she letting him get away with that shit. She slipped out of his hold and snapped, "Stop treating me like a possession, John. I do not belong to you."
"Yeah, darlin', ya do," he assured her. She just didn't know it yet.
"Maybe you should play Blue On Black and dedicate it to yourself," Cyn suggested sarcastically. "Cause those lyrics? They're the story of my life."
John was still pissed as he watched her go. That he stayed that way was more than obvious in his music. The songs he chose were raw, angry, full of passion and left no one in any doubt as to who that passion was directed toward. His eyes never left Cyn all night and the desire burning in them was practically blazing.
~~~~~
Once the bar closed for the night, the band hung out and jammed with Danni. In spite of the late hour, no one was ready to go home and miss this. She and John got into a classic rock guitar battle and kept the others mesmerized with their combined talent. They kept throwing challenges back and forth at each other and it was amazing to watch. Dizzy was filming it all on Danni's phone.
John started them off with Sweet Child O' Mine and dared Danni to follow up with Layla. Then she challenged him to play Free Bird, which prompted him to demand Knockin' On Heaven's Door. Then it was her turn to choose again and she prompted, "Hotel California."
The smile was wiped from John's face just that fast. The band members cussed and muttered under their breath. "Danni, girl..." Alex began.
"I got this," John said firmly and gave his band a look that only they could decipher. His talented hands began to play the famous intro, but this time his eyes closed as if he were blocking everyone and everything out except for the music.
Cyn knew. She just knew that this song reminded him of Rex. She also knew that John hadn't played it since his friend died. The sadness portrayed in his expression told her that she was right. That he had closed his eyes and allowed the music to transport him to another place and time. Her heart ached for him and she wanted to take his pain away so bad it hurt.
When those intense blue eyes opened and locked onto hers, the pain she saw reflected there almost sent her to her knees. Then they changed right before her eyes. They softened, became lighter, happier, and she was amazed at the change in him. He shot her a wink and flashed that bad boy smile and all was right with the world again.
The entire atmosphere of the room shifted when he began to play. Whatever issues John had with the song were painful. So painful that you could feel it in every note he played and every word he sang. Danni was awed at the level of talent he had. To be able to project that much emotion into a song was a god given gift that no amount of training could reproduce.
"Wow," she said in reverence when he finished. "Now I know why they call you Johnny B. Bad."
"He's Johnny B. Bad 'cause there ain't an instrument he can't play," Matt said proudly. "He's just as good on the piano as the guitar."
"Shut up!" Danni exclaimed in surprise. "Show me."
John put his guitar down and walked over to the keyboard as Ricky moved out of the way. He sat down and began to play something that was a cross between rock and ragtime. It brought a smile to everyone in the room and instantly dispelled the somberness of the last song. Danni grabbed her phone from Dizzy and began to video John up close as his hands danced over the keyboard with lightning speed.
She was practically jumping up and down in excitement by the time he finished. "What the hell was that?" She asked in amazement since she had never heard anything like it before.
He shrugged his shoulders, offered her a sheepish smile and said, "I just play what I feel."
"You mean you just composed that while you were playing it?" Danni asked in astonishment.
"Uh huh."
Good Golly Miss Molly. Not only was the man a virtuoso, but he was an accomplished composer as well. Danni extended both arms toward him and bowed low in obeisance to his talent. "I concede. Johnny B. Bad is the rock god!" She said in absolute delight.
Not too long after that, the party broke up and they all went their separate ways. Danni curled up in bed and emailed the duel video and the footage that she had made of the band performing to Thorne McAllister. The front man for Thorne In My Side was gonna love the Bad Boys and she knew exactly what would happen next. It did. Less than an hour later she got a call from the head of Rebel Records.
"What took you so long?" She asked around a yawn and was wiped out from traveling all day and jamming with the band all night.
"You wanna tell me why Shard is calling me at the crack of dawn to demand I find out where the hell you are and get my ass there, pronto?" Johnny Ringo complained.
"Shard called?" Danni asked in surprise. "I sent the video to Thorne."
"Yeah, well, Thorne called, but I hit the FU button so he called Shard," he complained and yawned loudly. Nobody hit the FU button on Shard Dalton. The man was tenacious as hell and would just show up in person. That same tenacity had managed to launch his musical career to superstar status, but was a pain in the ass to deal with.
"Johnny, my man, I'm about to make your day," Danni assured him and forwarded the videos.
~~~~~
John was wrung out and reeling from the night he'd had. His emotions had been all over the place and he'd felt more tonight than he had in years. Much more of this shit and he'd be a total chick. He'd been jealous as hell when the dude put his hands on Cyn, and went into a complete rage when the mofo had cornered her.
The elation at meeting the lead guitarist from Thorne In My Side had just added to the mix. But when Danni had challenged him to play Hotel California, all the old emotions that he had locked away came pouring out. It had been Rex's favorite song and what they had jokingly called his Beverly Hills mansion.
He hadn't played that song since Rex died. Hell, he hadn't even been able to listen to it. Even though Alex had tried to give him an out, John knew he needed to play it. Not for Danni. Not for Rex. He had needed to play it for himself. So he had closed his eyes and let all of the feelings flow through him. It had hurt. Goddamn, it had hurt.
Then he'd opened his eyes and saw Cyn standing there watching him with tears in those big blue eyes. It was as if the dark clouds that surrounded him had parted. The weight of grief and sorrow fell away. He knew in that instant that Cyn was everything that he had never known he wanted. She was the one he wanted to wake up to every morning and go to bed with every night.
He loved her. They belonged together. Simple as that.
Yeah, no. The woman had been hurt before and she had serious issues with the whole relationship thing. The little peek she have given him into her head with the Blue On Black crack revealed that much. John avoided that song because he didn't want to remember what he'd lost, but Cyn used it as a reminder to prevent herself from being hurt again.
He was gonna have to find a way around that shit. The tears in her eyes tonight assured him that she cared about him. And Cyn had not liked seeing him with another woman. That was good, right? Hell, he didn't know.
What he did know was that he needed to find a way to make her trust him. To let her know that he wasn't going to leave. That her nights of being alone were over for good. Easier said than done when he didn't even have a clue where to start. Then again, maybe he did. You have to give something to receive it, so he was going to show her that she had his trust.
John opened the passenger door of the truc
k, lifted her up and said, "Scoot over, darlin'."
"You want me to drive?" She asked wide eyed, surprised that he was going to let her drive his baby.
"I'm a little wasted, so, yeah," he lied. Wasted his ass. John had a slight buzz, but he was nowhere near drunk. Turning her loose with his baby would show he trusted her, right? He hoped like hell it did, 'cause he'd never let anyone drive it before.
She climbed over the console and settled into the driver's seat, her feet not even close to the pedals. "Houston, we have a problem," Cyn admitted and bobbed her stiletto clad feet in the air.
John swung himself in lithely and handed over the keys. Slouching down comfortably he said, "Adjust whatever ya need to," and pulled up a search app on his phone. He typed in the word trust and scrolled down to a dictionary site. He tapped that listing and read, reliance on the integrity, strength, ability, surety, etc., of a person or thing; confidence. This had possibilities.
Cyn spent a few minutes getting everything set to her much smaller frame and then cranked the truck. The motor roared to life, the pipes growled in readiness, and she felt a little heady at having all of that power under her control. "Hang onto the oh shit bar," she teased and pulled the gear stick into reverse. The beast handled with surprising ease as she backed out and then pulled onto the road.
She kept glancing over at John on the short drive to his house, but he appeared to be completely engrossed in his phone. Huh, how about that. The man trusted her with his truck and wasn't even white knuckling the arm rest or side seat driving. Deciding to press her luck, she teased, "Does this mean you're gonna let me take her mud bogging?"
That got his attention and those twin blue lasers homed in on her. "You want to?"
"Not tonight," she denied with a laugh. "But yeah. I'd love to give it a try."
"Okay."
"Okay?" She questioned and shot him a look. "You're gonna let me take your baby through that obstacle course?"
He shrugged his shoulders, engrossed in the phone again and hid his smile. "I trust you."
Those three little words warmed her heart and brought a brilliant smile to her face. "Call me crazy, but I trust you, too," Cyn admitted. And she did. Way more than she should.
John barely resisted the urge to do a fist pump. It was exactly what he'd wanted to hear. Now he just had to figure out how to make her love him. With the help of Google, he was beginning to get some ideas on how to accomplish that.
A few minutes later, Cyn stood in front of the bathroom mirror and removed what was left of her makeup. It had been a long night and she was whipped. She glanced up and saw John standing in the doorway that led to his bedroom, his hands holding onto the doorframe above his head. "You okay?" She asked since he still seemed a little preoccupied.
"We good?" He questioned simply.
So much had happened that night that Cyn had forgotten their argument and the reason for it. She understood what he was trying to do, and why, but that didn't mean she liked it. "I guess," she shrugged and bent over to splash water on her face.
When she stood upright, John moved behind her, placed his hands on her hips and kissed her bare neck. His eyes met hers in the mirror as she dried her face with a hand towel. "Never had anything like this before, darlin'," he admitted in a tone far too serious for such an early hour. "Don't wanna screw it up."
She frowned and turned to look up at him. "John, we agreed that this was just sex," she reminded him as she removed the clip and let her hair cascade around her shoulders.
He gently brushed a stray hair away from her cheek. "Does that mean I can't care about you?" John asked. "Cause if it does we need to find a new name for what we're doing."
Cyn grabbed hold of her emotional oh shit bar because he was starting to scare the hell out of her. "What..." she croaked and had to clear her throat. "What did you have in mind?" Don't let him say it. Please, sweet baby Jesus, don't let him say he wanted a relationship. She was so not ready for this to be over yet. Whatever this was.
"Lovers works for me," he said softly and slid his arms around her waist.
"L... Lovers?" She squeaked nervously. Oh God, oh God, oh, God. Don't let him be getting serious on me, she fervently prayed.
"Uh huh. I Googled it to be sure. It means a person who has a sexual or romantic relationship with another."
Well, that explained what he'd been doing with his phone. Her lips twitched at the thought of him Googling the word to find the definition, but it was the other part of the statement that had alarm bells going off in her head. "This is not a relationship," Cyn firmly denied.
"Googled that, too," he admitted. "It means a sexual involvement, or affair."
"Seriously?" She asked in disbelief. Not that she was doubting the definition as much the fact that he had actually googled it.
"It had other meanings, but that one fit us," John confessed. "So lovers can have mind blowing sex and be able to care about each other. Right?"
Cyn could not fault his logic and she did try. She really did. "I suppose," she admitted hesitantly.
Step one complete. Time for step two. "You didn't like seeing me with Danni, did you?"
Cyn stiffened in his loose embrace. "You're free to see who ever you want," she assured him.
John lifted her up and sat her on the vanity, his body moving into the space between her spread knees. "Not what I asked, darlin'."
She blew out an exasperated breath and admitted, "No, I didn't like seeing the guy I'm having sex with, with another woman."
"Sure as hell don't like seeing other guys with their hands on you," he confessed. "We need to make this relationship exclusive."
She narrowed her eyes and asked, "Did ya Google that, too?"
"Want me to?" He offered. "I can tell ya it means nobody but me gets to touch this smokin' hot body and vice versa."
Which was a pretty apt definition of the word so she let it go. "I don't have a problem with that."
Step two complete. "Sweet," he said and wrapped her legs around his hips before lifting her into his arms. "Got better things to do than argue."
"Like what?" She asked in amusement as he carried her to his bed.
"We haven't wrecked my room yet," he grinned and claimed her lips.
Chapter Fourteen
Saturday, June 7
After he had curled her toes with mind blowing morning sex and left her too boneless to move, John had bounded out of bed and thrown on a pair of shorts. Then he had smacked her ass, told her to get dressed and meet him in the gym. So here she was trudging barefoot out to the old carriage house, coffee in hand and more than a little disgruntled at being ordered about.
As soon as Cyn stepped inside the gym, every complaint flew right out of her head. Holy sweet baby Jesus! John was working out on the heavyweight bag and it was a sight that she'd never forget. Sweat glistened on his sun bronzed skin as the muscles beneath it flexed and rippled on command. He was breathtaking and she seriously regretted not seeing him in action before.
"Come on in, darlin'," John said as he threw a series of punches to the bag. "I'm almost finished."
Cyn could have cried at that revelation until he stepped back and began to deliver an assortment of kicks that revealed why his ass was so firm and tight. Much to her complete astonishment, he did this crazy as hell maneuver that she saw and still couldn't believe was possible.
He had jumped up in the air, his entire body in a spin, a horizontal spin, and delivered one kick head high and a second one chest high before he landed flat footed, threw a few more punches and then backed away from the bag. "Holy effin' shit," she breathed in awe. John really was as badass as he claimed to be. Her thong was drenched and she'd just put the damn thing on.
John dried his chest and arms with a towel and pulled his shirt back on as he moved over to the exercise mat. "C'mere, darlin'. Wanna show you somethin'."
"Oh, baby, you can show me anything you got," she assured him as she sat the coffee cup aside and hurried over to the mat. "
That was seriously hot."
"Ya think?" He asked with a cocky grin.
"I'm talking hotter than eyeliner hot," Cyn readily agreed as she grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him down to her level. "Can we wreck the gym?"
John laughed at her hopeful expression and planted a quick kiss on her lips. "Not this time," he denied and stood upright. "Gonna show you how to throw a throat punch." It was a simple and very effective technique that she could use to get away from the stalker or anyone else who put their hands on her.
Cyn released the towel and took a step back, shaking her head. "Nope. I'm good, thanks," she refused. Having seen just how lethal he was, she wasn't about to embarrass herself by trying to do any of that shit.
"Dude had his hands on you last night before I could get to ya," he reminded her and it was more than evident that he did not like the fact. "Need to know you can get away if it happens again. Want you safe, darlin'."
"Alright," she relented in the face of his genuine concern. "What do you want me to do?"
John took her right hand and placed her index finger and thumb across from each other on his throat. "Feel that little ridge?" He asked and saw her nod. He repositioned her fingers a bit higher and asked, "And that dip?" Cyn nodded again. "That's the sweet spot. One hit there and he ain't gettin' back up."
She snatched her hand away and stared at him, completely appalled. "You want me to hit you there?"
"Not unless you know CPR," he admitted. "A punch there will crush the windpipe."
"Oh, God. I can't do this," she denied and knew that she could never deliberately crush someone's windpipe.
"Now, darlin', you don't have to hit him there," he soothed. "But you need to know where the spot is and what kind of damage you can do."