by Misti Murphy
Hollywood Rebel
An A-List Rebels Novel
Hollywood Rogue
Hollywood Rogue copyright © 2021 by Misti Murphy
All rights reserved.
This book is a work of fiction. Any similarity to real events, people, or places is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved. This book may not be reproduced or distributed in any format without the permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations used for review. If you have not purchased this book from Amazon or received a copy from the author, you are reading a pirated book.
Please do not continue reading if you are under the age of 18 or if this type of content is disturbing to you.
Edited by Tami Lund
Cover Design by Y’all That Graphic
About The Book
Strangers to lovers? More like don’t blow my cover. And don’t pick up strangers on the side of the road. Seems simple enough. But my life is anything but simple.
And he’s technically not a stranger.
But our history is—well…strange. I know exactly who Rogue Maddox is. The good, the bad-boy…and the ugly. But he doesn’t even know I exist. Or that we have history.
I never expected to see the Hollywood hottie again or for sparks to fly between us. Especially with him covered in blood and me in glitter…occupational hazard I guess you could say.
Now I’m caught in a lie that could destroy us. I’m not the person he thinks I am…that girl is a character I’ve been playing. If I tell him the truth, I could lose him. If I don’t, what’s between us will never be real.
But playing pretend is better than having my heart broken for real…right?
Table of Contents
About the book
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter One
Rogue
Click.
The out of place sound rouses me from a blissful postcoital nap. The ceiling fan above the bed whirring through the balmy afternoon stillness the only sound, before now.
“Oh my God.” Next to me the young woman with whom I’m enjoying this bit of bliss bolts into a seated position. Her hands reach for the sheet, grip it, and pull it to her naked body.
The silk grazes my body in a sensual manner until it barely covers one hip. Not that I have anything to hide. There isn’t a piece of my well-honed body I’m not proud of. Or accepting compliments on. Like earlier, when the girl beside me was screaming about how hugely talented I am.
“Daddy, what are you doing here? Daddy, no, what are you doing? Daddy?”
Click.
Daddy? Wide awake now, both eyes open, I come face to face with the man she’s calling Daddy. As in… “Your father?”
Christ. I sit up against the headboard as the man—who has to be twice my age, with his salt and pepper hair and sunbeaten skin—raises a gun and points it at me.
“Daddy, don’t shoot him,” the girl, whose name escapes me right now, pleads.
“I’m going to kill you,” the man states in an unworldly calm voice as he tugs at the knot in his power red tie. “You don’t get to come into my house and screw with my daughter.”
A freaking gun. Who pulls a gun on a naked guy? I leap off the bed and reach for my jeans. “You said you were twenty-five.”
She presses her lips together. “Twenty-two.”
“Seriously?” I snatch up my T-shirt and shoes.
“Yes.”
Clearly I wasn’t paying attention. Still, she’s not underage. Good. That’s good, because I would never ever do that. Even I have some morals. Not many. And even though the age of consent here in sunny California is eighteen, screwing around with anyone under the age of twenty-one is a line I don’t cross. I’m perverted, not a piece of shit pervert who has a penchant for schoolgirls, and I like to leave no room for error. When you’re a Maddox you have to have some unwritten rules you live by. Otherwise shit like this happens on the regular. Or worse. That’s why I have a strict “if she can’t buy liquor, I can’t lick her” policy.
“Purity, get dressed,” her old man screams. His eyes are practically popping out of his scarlet face.
Bang.
Plaster rains down from the ceiling and I jump like the old neighborhood cat did the time the kid from next door tied a firecracker to its tail. I hadn’t exactly been innocent in that scenario either, but I learned my lesson. My pulse races. I eyeball the bullet shaped hole above my head. “Fuck, man. Don’t you think you’re taking this parenting thing too far?”
The girl—Purity, that’s what he called her. Purity—I thought it was some kind of kink I could get on board with when she told me that, not her actual name—rushes to put herself between us. “Daddy, don’t shoot him. I think I love him.”
“Enough to marry him?” her dad asks.
“Oh, fuck no!” Not in my lifetime. I’d rather get shot than end up marr—
“Yes.” She squeals and claps her hands together under her chin.
“What?” She’s as insane as her father.
“Wait, you don’t want to?” Her lips part and her eyes start to well. She looks like I’ve ripped out her heart, but this morning I didn’t even know she existed.
Every cell in my body wants to jump out the closest window. Adrenaline is coursing through my veins as I shove one leg into my jeans and hop around while I try to get the other to cooperate. God knows where my boxers have gotten to. All the while Daddy dearest has his Colt aimed at me.
I’m not against girls calling me daddy between the sheets, but coming face to face with the genetic equivalent isn’t my cup of java. “Is this some kind of cult? Because I have to admit that I’m not sure I believe in God.”
“My daughter was a virgin, you stupid prick,” Dad roars, while my head gets stuck in my T-shirt.
“N-no.” I take a step back from the girl who I thought was just a real good time and stretch the cotton over my torso. “There is no way she’s a virgin with those moves. She told me—”
“Oh my God, Daddy. Did you hear what he just said to me? He took my virginity and now he doesn’t want me.” She sinks to the floor, clutching the sheet to her chest. “I was saving myself for Jesus, you jerk.”
I like a little wild. I’m the first to admit that I like things interesting, but this is my worst nightmare. In fact… I slap myself across the jaw as hard as I can.
“Ouch.” Nope, the scene doesn’t change.
“Why would you do that?” Purity wails.
Rolling my jaw, I take a step toward the window. And another. The curtains billow with the breeze. “This must be a dream.”
“What?” the girl wails again.
“It has to be a dream.”
“You’re not dreaming, you piece of shit.” Dad levels his sight on me again. Pulls the trigger.
Ban
g.
Plaster ejects from the wall as I dive through the billowing curtains and out the window. Another shot takes out a pane of glass. I slam full force against the balcony railing and almost go straight over it.
We’re on the second floor. Fuck. Damnit.
Bang.
A bullet whizzes past my ear. If I don’t get out of here I’m going to die. “Holy hell.”
There’s a pool below. A huge rectangular pool surrounded by an immaculate lawn and statues of cherubs. Angels? Seriously, is this a cult? L.A. tends to have more than its fair share of egotistical bastards who think they’re the next messiah.
I push up until I’m perched on the rail. Bite my lip. Oh sweet baby Jesus, it’s higher than Bianca Del Ray’s date was last New Year’s Eve. There’s a chance I could misjudge and end up dead anyway.
“Go ahead and run, you rat bastard. You’re not getting away with deflowering my daughter,” the man yells as he closes the distance. Any second now he’ll be on this balcony too.
My heart is pounding in my throat. My stomach is remembering that time when I was thirteen and ate too many corndogs and cotton candy and then got sick on the rollercoaster. Yep, that’s exactly what this feels like.
I clutch my shoes, wallet, and phone to my chest, draw in a deep breath, and jump.
The cold water slams into me like a wall, knocking my breath from my lungs before embracing me. I kick my legs as I fight my way to the surface. A bullet slams into the water beside me like a fat rain drop as I toss my stuff onto the ground so that I can pull myself over the rim.
Pain explodes in one globe of my ass as I climb to my feet. “Holy shit.”
My bare feet pound their way across the perfectly manicured lawn. I duck behind a nude cherub as another bullet thuds into the ground close by.
And then… nothing.
Silence. Sweet silence.
Maybe I’m out of danger.
“Daddy’s gone to get his other gun,” Purity yells from her balcony, in a tone that tells me the girl has a sadistic side. “He’s going to make you pay for taking my virginity.”
“You weren’t a virgin,” I yell back. If that girl was a virgin—even one of those everything but the pussy virgins— before I got to her, I’ll eat my boxers.
She laughs. The little lying liar. “That’s between me and my Daddy and the Lord.”
“That’s disturbing,” I mutter under my breath.
“He’s coming back,” she hollers in a way that makes the hair stick straight out on the back of my neck.
I don’t wait around to find out what her old man’s other gun is. My footfalls echo as I embrace my inner track star across the lawn and over the paved driveway.
When the boom of a shotgun follows me, I run harder. Up ahead a wrought iron gate with spikes blocks my path and I veer back into the garden to try my luck at the sandstone brick fence next to a gnarled tree that will hopefully withstand giving me a leg up.
Boom. A bullet buries itself in the trunk of the tree, making all the branches shake.
Another scatters chunks of sandstone next to my leg.
A hot minute later and a couple more bullets escaped, and I straddle that sandstone barrier like a tomcat. Swinging my leg over the other side, I drop to the ground.
“Oh shit. Oh fuck.” Bitter agony blooms from my ass cheek and steals my breath clear away for a moment. My vision teases me with dancing black spots that promise to bring me blindly to my knees if I try something like that again.
I grit my teeth and suck in a breath. Later, I can give in to the pain; once I’m free of this traumatic afternoon sex-capade. I gotta get out of here first. As far away as possible.
But I’d let the girl drive. Figured it wouldn’t be too hard to call for a lift. And my phone didn’t survive the pool.
I have no fucking clue where I am.
A car comes into a view. A little orange matchstick car that looks like it’s held together with electrical wire and duct tape. Mostly duct tape. It speeds along the wide street that’s covered in palm tree shadow stripes. The driver, whoever that is, is my ticket out of this nightmare. I just need to get them to stop.
I race across the grassy median to intercept the car. Please stop. Come on, stop. I run out into the road and wave the driver down with both arms. They’ll have to stop or hit me. “Come on, help a guy out.”
The smell of burned rubber fills the air. The brakes screech like they want to go back to the 90s where the rest of this monstrosity probably came from.
“Big man, if you’re up there, I could really use a hand. Please don’t let me have escaped bullets to be run over by this Honda Civic hatchback. I’ll… learn my lesson. I’ll give up random hookups I meet in line while waiting for bagels.”
My heart is threatening to explode, it’s thumping so damn hard. My lungs are sealed tight. No oxygen is getting in or out. I can’t tear my gaze away from the car bearing down on me. The woman behind the steering wheel opens her mouth on a scream. Her ice blue eyes widen into horrified saucers. And is she wearing a crown on her platinum blonde locks?
I slam my eyes shut. If this is how I go out… mowed down by a chick in a princess costume…
The gentlest nudge of something against my knees has me opening my eyes. The woman behind the wheel is the color of white paper. Her knuckles are even paler. I drag in the biggest lungful of air as my body realizes it’s starved of oxygen and it isn’t going to die today so it better do something about the discrepancy.
Bending in half, I brace myself against the hood of the car with both hands. “Can you help me?”
Her eyes widen even further. I don’t know how that’s possible, but they do. They take up all of her face. She nods. She nods a lot.
“Thank you,” I say to her as we stare at each other through the windshield.
“Get in,” she mouths, and indicates the passenger side.
My legs don’t seem to want to cooperate as I make my way around the car. The passenger door groans so loudly I worry it’ll come off in my hand. It’s one death trap after another today. I slide into the seat and shut the door. Pain lances through my leg again and I wheeze, “Shit.”
“Y-you’re b-bleeding.” She wrings the steering wheel even tighter. Her gaze stays glued to my right leg.
I touch the spot where my ass hurts and my fingers come away with blood on them. “Oh. Yeah. I am.”
Chapter Two
Ivy
Holy shit. He’s—
“I think I might need to go to the hospital,” he says in a bright, amused voice. “I caught a bullet. I should probably have it looked at.”
I’m having a heart attack. I can feel it. My heart is pounding so hard. Rogue Maddox just jumped out in front of my car. I almost ran over the A-list celebrity. Holy shit. Hollywood’s hottest scoundrel is in my car. “Hospital?”
“Please. Unless you know a good veterinarian.”
“I-I don’t.”
“It was a joke,” he says.
“Right.” My breath is trembling in and out of me in little gasps. My hands are shaking. And Jaffa, my car, is chugging like she’s on her last legs. Which she is. She’s more than thirty years old. The old beaten up Civic was all I could afford, being a college student and working part-time. Sooner or later my little orange pocket rocket is going to finally give up the ghost and fall apart, but that day won’t be today.
“Seriously though… if we could get moving that would be great.” He sounds a little impatient as he darts glances in the direction he came from.
Oh right, he caught a bullet. “You were shot?”
“Yes. Now can we get out of here before they come back for more?”
“I. Yes.” If someone was shooting at him, possibly trying to kill him, and now he’s in my car… there’s a possibility I’m in danger too. “We should go.”
“Do you think?” He raises a brow, his expression wry, but his blue, blue eyes twinkle like he’s having the time of his life.
I
swallow down the nerves that come with almost running him down and put Jaffa into gear.
He jumps when my baby backfires. His head hits the ceiling and he winces. “Ouch.”
“Sorry.” I keep both hands on the steering wheel and my eyes on the road as I drive in the direction of the closest hospital.
“That’s okay. It hurt less than my ass.” He sits awkwardly in the tiny space, trying to keep the load off the wound. One arm wrapped around the headrest, he stretches a leg to push his weight up. His gaze skims my body in an assessing manner before it finally settles on my face.
Nerves make my heart beat funny, but I keep my eyes glued to the traffic. Even so, I am in constant awareness of his attention on me.
His brow creases. The lines deepen the longer he studies me. “I know you.”
“I don’t think so.” I move between cars; the bonus of Jaffa being so old and broken is that other cars make room to let me pass. No one wants a scratch on their BMW or Audi or Tesla. Jaffa has a thousand already.
“Yeah, I do,” he says, so certain of himself.
I shake my head and purse my lips. There’s no way he knows who I am, though I know who he is. A-List Rebel. Movie star. Even hotter than his twin brother Rebel Maddox if you ask me, which no one ever does. But I’ve been close enough to compare the pair.
Rebel Maddox is blisteringly hot with a beastly attitude and bad boy swagger, but there is something about Rogue Maddox that is so…I don’t know…but I’m drawn to him. He has this smile that’s all dimples and cheeks and when he’s happy his eyes light up to the brightest blue. The first time I saw him in person he took my breath away. Oh yeah, I’ve been face to face with him before, but there’s no way he remembers me.
“No, really.” He adjusts his position again, but he’s having a hard time keeping still.
Blood is seeping into the car seat. Quite a bit of blood actually. More than I would have thought would come from a bullet to the behind.
