Undercover Rockstar: A Bad Girls novel

by Ann, Jennifer

  Her comment about already being broken balloons in my chest, settling like concrete. Who the hell broke her, and where can I find him to beat his ass? Why do I think her life’s even more complicated than mine?

  A vice grips my skull. I moan.

  Declan and Vaughn simultaneously begin to shout from the doorway.

  Declan: “Are you shitting me, Trent? That was Taya you were fucking ten ways to Sunday in here?”

  Vaughn: “The fuck, brother? Does this mean she gets to join the band?”

  Arm crooked over my eyes, I growl, “Go the fuck away.”

  “Not until you tell us what’s going on!” Vaughn’s voice closes in. “And for the love of Pete, cover your damn junk! Don’t need you showing off to those of us who aren’t as blessed!”

  Declan sniggers. “Speak for yourself, little man.”

  The sheet’s thrown over my groin. The mattress sags beneath Vaughn’s weight. “Seriously. One minute you refuse to let her in, the next she’s wobbling out of here with bite marks all over her neck and a satisfied smile. What is this bullshit? If this is only about getting a piece of ass—”

  “She’s not some piece of ass,” I snap, lowering my arm to scowl at him. “What’s it to you?”

  “Let her the fuck in,” he demands with a dark snarl. “We need her, and you know it.”

  Throwing my arm back over my eyes, I drop my head back on the mattress.

  I’ve already let her in.

  And I need her…more than I could’ve imagined.

  6

  Sasha

  My fingers thrum an impatient beat against the porcelain mug as I wait at the diner for Sgt. Kendall. I swear every other patron’s staring, seeing through me and my dirty little secret. Well-applied makeup did little to conceal the hickeys lining my neck, so I ran by the mall to get one of those trendy scarves Emersyn often wears. Sgt. Kendall’s observant enough that she’ll likely catch on since it’s not my usual style, but I’m desperate to try whatever it takes to save my ass and stay employed. Thankfully the array of fresh bruises to my breasts and pelvic area were easily hidden with a sweatshirt and leggings.

  Admittedly, things got out of control at Risotto’s. I took advantage of his condition when he wandered from the bar. Getting naked while he was asleep was a sure way to reel him back in, make him believe we had sex.

  Then the sun came up and he became an insatiable animal, morphing business to pleasure. Suddenly I was enjoying myself beyond measure, needing him to consume me. The man’s incapable of doing anything without the utmost severity—especially fucking. Even though he turned me inside out, exactly the way I begged him to, my clit still pangs with longing from the memory of his greedy mouth.

  Sgt. Kendall finally appears, marching through the diner in gym clothes and a baseball cap pulled low. The way both men and women leer at her perfect body in the yoga pants and mesh tank, she would’ve been less conspicuous wearing an oversized trench coat.

  I brace myself on the tabletop as she nears. There’s nothing I could say that would justify the fact that I rigorously nailed her prime suspect, thoroughly enjoying every second.

  “This better be good,” she snarls. “I wouldn’t advise we meet in the daylight again.”

  “What do you know about a man by the name of Bentley?” I ask as she slips into the booth across from me.

  It’s hard to say if she’s pissed, or just deep in thought when her brows spike downward. “I’ll tell you what everyone else in the city thinks they know about him…wealthy bachelor, made his first millions in real estate, donates a boatload to charity, has a cryogenic chamber in his basement and a butler named Alfred…you know, the usual billionaire bachelor bullshit. But there’s far more to him that’s not public information. He’s incredibly smart—more business savvy than Blackwood’s uncle ever was, which we both know is saying a lot. Bentley’s into more sophisticated crimes, using his multi-million dollar industries as a front. Money laundering, cybercrime, embezzlement…the list goes on. That’s not my department, but far as I can tell they’ve been unable to pin anything on him.” She tilts her head. “Why are you asking about Bentley?”

  A little part of me breathes easier when she doesn’t seem to notice or care about the damn scarf. Maybe it’s too soon to polish my resume. I clear my throat. “His name came up in conversation.”

  “Where?” she demands. “In what context?”

  “I think it was either Risotto or Patterson that mentioned him. I didn’t catch all the details of what they were saying—I was in the next room and they had the TV blaring.”

  My gut tightens with the lie. It’s a clear indication that I’m already jaded from sleeping with Risotto since I clearly heard them tie this Bentley person in with the girl who OD’d. But I want to reserve judgment of the bandmates with my own investigation before throwing them to the wolves. And it’s not like I’m about to reveal I was naked in Risotto’s bed when the conversation went down.

  Sgt. Kendall’s phone vibrates against the table with a text. Lips pinched together, she takes a moment to read it, eyes narrowing more with every second. “Funny you should mention his name. A background check on our latest vigilante victim shows his employer as one Jonathan Bentley.” She leans over the table and lowers her voice. “Use any means necessary to get these guys to open up to you. Find out if they’re somehow involved with Bentley. Just between you and me, that man has too much power—he often gets overlooked as a suspect. I’m still counting on you to expose whoever’s behind these crimes, Green. It’s the only way I’ll get the Captain off my ass.”

  “I’ll make it happen,” I say with a confident nod.

  In reality, my heart’s racing. What if I’m unable to get my mind back on the right track? Giving myself to Risotto has become a new addiction worse than one involving a crack pipe, and I’m already looking forward to taking another hit.

  The minute I became comfortable with him, I started the journey down a dangerous path.

  Unless something changes, I’m royally screwed.

  * * *

  Per Vaughn’s latest text, I head to the abandoned brewery several hours later. After leaving Sgt. Kendall, I warmed up on Trask’s set for awhile, teaching myself a handful of songs I’d found on YouTube of Blood Hands performing. Their last drummer was mediocre at best, so I can understand better why I blew them away with my audition. Their songs aren’t overly complicated, but having heard them will give me an advantage so I at least look like I know what I’m doing.

  From the sheen of sweat on their faces, the boys have clearly been hard at it already. My eyes draw to Risotto like magnets. I’m rewarded with an excited thrill when finding him jamming with a slight smirk. I could easily stand here for hours and watch the man play, but just as before, his eyes find mine, then travel down to my tight tank top. I purposely left home without a bra, knowing he’d come undone with the sight of my tits poking against the thin material. His smirk shifts into a dark, sultry look that has my pussy throbbing.

  “Whoa—hold on!” Declan hollers into the microphone. “We have company!”

  The music cuts out. Three sets of eyes watch me as I start for them, drumsticks from home in my back pocket. “Morning, boys. Thanks for the invite.”

  “Fuck yeah!” Vaughn runs up to swoop me into the air, then brings me back down for a quick hug. “Welcome to Blood Hands, sweetheart!”

  I shoot Risotto a bratty look over Vaughn’s shoulder before backing away. The angry scowl he shoots back nearly buckles my knees.

  Declan welcomes me with a warm hug that brings an unexpected rush of tears to my eyes. He wasn't as welcoming before. I’m all at once reminded of how Ryker and the others in Trask’s band were there for me from the very beginning, always waiting with open arms. Even though I didn’t see much of them after I left for college in Illinois, I always knew I could still count on them. They’d do anything for me in a heartbeat, no questions asked.

  What if I form the same kind of bond with
these three? How could I possibly walk away from that?

  After Declan releases me, Vaughn smirks in Risotto’s direction. “Aren’t you going to give Taya a proper welcome?”

  Risotto shifts his weight from one foot to the other, glaring back at him like he’s crossed a line. They obviously know we slept together, so I decide to let him off the hook. I move over to him and wrap my arms around his broad waist. “Don’t worry, big guy, we both know you already did that this morning.”

  Then I stand on my toes, offering my mouth. And he takes it. Boy, does he ever take it. He’s hungry for more, ravaging my already bruised lips, sliding his tongue with mine, digging his fingers into my ass, tugging on one of my braids.

  I wiggle up against him, brushing my fingers over the hard bulge in his jeans and rubbing my peaked nipples over the Iron Maiden t-shirt stretched across his chest. It provides the most delightful friction. The way he grunts, he must agree.

  Behind us, the guys start a ruckus.

  “Guess she really is into girls!”

  “Get a room already!”

  “My turn to greet her again!”

  I giggle against Risotto’s mouth. He removes his sensual lips and lowers them to my ear. “Get your hot ass behind that set. Don’t trust myself not to drag you outta here and fuck you some more.”

  A whimper sticks in my throat as I spin away. I only take one step before he delivers a burning slap to my ass cheeks, spilling a delighted gasp from my lips. The others chuckle.

  Heat spreads through my chest with blinding severity, drowning out whatever crude comments they yell in my wake. I’m a little dazed when I grip my sticks and take my place on the little round bench, staring back at Risotto. Those severe eyes have followed me since I arrived, and they’re doing a number to my head. There’s something deeper that goes well past desire reflecting back at me—I just wish I knew what else he was thinking.

  It can only ever be about sex with this man. Deliciously dirty, hot sex. Anything else will make it too complicated if forced to bring him down. So far he’s done nothing to confirm Sgt. Kendall’s suspicions, but that doesn’t mean he’s not guilty. Either way, he’s not going to want anything to do with someone who’s deceived him from day one.

  “Let’s start her out with something she knows,” Vaughn suggests. I turn with the sound of his voice to find him smirking my way, brows raised and arm draped over his bass. “Guessing you’re familiar with Nine Inch Nails’ Closer?”

  Declan guffaws and I giggle along, able to appreciate their twisted humor. There’s certainly no arguing that Risotto “fucked me like an animal” as the song’s lyrics suggest.

  “Wise asses,” Risotto grunts, throwing his guitar strap back over his head. “Best get it out of your system before I decide to shut those smart mouths.”

  “I know a few of your songs,” I inform them. “We could start with Bad Day or Underestimated. Just be patient—I’ll catch on quickly without reading music. I’m more of the hands on type.”

  “Oh, baby girl,” Vaughn coos, smirking while playfully batting his dark lashes. “When you decide you’re done with this surly bastard, you can put those hands on me, because I think I’m in love.”

  “Fuck off,” Risotto snarls. “She’s not going anywhere.”

  Wings take flight in my chest with the possessiveness in his timbre.

  Vaughn chuckles and mouths to me, “Surly. Bastard.”

  The energy immediately shifts after Declan decides on Underestimated and we start to jam. Though I’m trying to concentrate and watch what I’m doing, I sense Risotto’s eyes on me more often than not, as probing and warm as his fingers.

  I throw myself into the music as we burn through the band’s songs. They’re violent and edgy, giving my wrists and biceps an intense workout. I get lost in the heavy beats, the raw rasp of Declan’s voice, the exciting hum of the guitars. It doesn’t take long before my arms become an extension of the melody, my soul a part of a new family. When I close my eyes, I realize that for the first time since Trask was murdered, I’m right where I belong.

  Home.

  The unexpected word sets my heart racing. I open my eyes, meeting Risotto’s baby blues. How much of what I’m feeling is because I’m a part of something I’ve always wanted, and how much is because of Trent and what he did to me—to my body?

  * * *

  Becoming hot and sweaty from drumming has always been more satisfying than a thorough workout at the gym, but I can’t recall the last time I played for three hours straight without neighbors yelling threats and banging on the walls. By the time we’re done, I’m high on adrenaline.

  “Dude…so glad we found you,” Vaughn tells me as we’re packing up to leave. He stops to toss me a folded towel from a duffel bag. “You’re pretty damn wet.”

  Glancing over my shoulder, I find Risotto eyeing us from across the room with a menacing scowl. I giggle while turning back to Vaughn. “You may wanna chose your words carefully around the surly bastard.”

  Vaughn laughs in a sharp, nasally sound. “If I’m gonna get my ass kicked just for talking to you, may as well have fun while doing it. For real, though. Hard to believe you learned all that from playing in the school band. You’re the best addition we could’ve hoped for. You’ll make Trent the happiest surly bastard in the world if you help us land a recording contract someday.”

  My heart sputters erratically. A recording contract? That would be amazing. But it’s impossible. If I had to reveal my identity—hell, if I have to arrest them—shit would hit the fan.

  “You good?” Risotto asks with an archaic grunt, suddenly at my side. His beautiful blues flicker between us like his friend was trying to slip me something more than his number.

  “Relax, man,” Vaughn says. “Just giving your girl praise.” He punches Risotto’s shoulder before strolling away and chuckling to himself.

  His girl?

  Risotto flashes me a prideful look rather than correcting Vaughn, and a swell of panic rises in my throat. I actually like that title. I wanted him to mark me, to brand me as his. And the idea of being in his band, hitting the charts, signing a contract, and having loyal fans who are jealous of our relationship is like my wildest dream come true.

  Now I’m fantasizing about a relationship?

  Warning bells clang in my head.

  “See you tomorrow,” Declan tells us. Honied eyes sparkling, he lets out a little smile. “You did good today, kid.”

  I nod back before he leaves me alone with the man capable of fulfilling my wildest desires.

  “I have to split, too,” I blurt to Risotto.

  More like I have to sit across the street to watch your hot ass conspire against Bentley from a safer distance—far enough away so I won’t be tempted to spiral out of control yet again.

  “Where you goin’?” he asks.

  “Dinner…” I sputter, “with a…a friend.”

  “Cancel.” Paired with the severe look he’s casting, it’s no request.

  I twist my mouth, ready to tell him to go fuck himself, but he closes the distance between us in three large strides. I move along with him until my back slams into cool concrete. He leans in, trapping me on either side with his large arms. The wall of intense muscle planted before me smells like hot sex and bad decisions. My clit quivers. I set my hand on my throat, wondering why I can’t seem to pull in a breath.

  “You started this,” he says with his hot mouth a heartbeat away. “You crawled into my bed naked. Even if you were drunk last night, you were sober as a judge when you begged me to fuck you this morning.” Bending to press his slick forehead against mine, his fingers toy with one of my braids for a moment before giving it a firm tug. “And I think we can agree I fucked you good and hard, just the way you wanted.”

  A pool of moisture soaks my panties along with a quiet whimper. God, he’s so damn scary and gorgeous all at once. Curling my fingers a little tighter around my throat, I try to keep my expression unaffected. “And? What’
s your point?”

  “Watching you work those drums got me hard as fuck.” He removes my hand from my throat, guiding it down to the large swell in his jeans. I groan through clenched teeth, practically salivating with the idea of wrapping my fingers around his bare shaft. “Seems to me you should be the one to take care of it.”

  My thoughts turn fuzzy. Next thing I know, I’m tugging his jeans down his thighs and falling to my knees, unfurling him from black boxer briefs. His dome is satiny and shining with a pearl of arousal when I take it in my mouth, stretching my lips as far as they’ll go to take him in.

  “That’s my good little drummer girl,” he says, his voice hefty and groggy. He takes my braids in his fists, yanking until my eyes water. “Take all of it, sweetheart. No stopping until you’ve swallowed every last drop down that hot little throat.”

  Gripping his muscular ass cheeks in either hand, I take as much of him as I can, letting him set the pace with the tug of my braids. My lungs sputter against the must of the building. He’s so large that he’s practically choking me to death, making tears stream down my cheeks. But it’s worth every second of misery to hear his little grunts and moans of approval.

  “Almost like fuckin’ this hole as much as your tight cunt,” he tells me at one point.

  I suck him with all my might until my lips burn, knees ache against the concrete, cheeks stretch unbearably thin from pressure. With the stamina he showed this morning, I worry he could go all damn night. So I slide my fingers back, finding his puckered hole and applying pressure to hurry things along.

  “Dirty girl,” he scolds, cheeks clenching around my hand.

  With a great roar he jerks into my mouth, shooting warm cum down my throat as promised. I suck down every last drop, even when he twitches and hisses through his teeth, yanking on my braids even harder and begging me to stop.