Dirty Boys: Bad Boy Rock Star Romance Box Set

by Jade C. Jamison

  David raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you come to my place? I want to make sure you eat more—and we can share a glass of wine.”

  “Wine?”

  “Yeah—Gerald’s been turning me on to drinking for enjoyment.”

  “As opposed to drinking for the purpose of getting blitzed?”

  “Exactly.”

  While I didn’t want to say no to companionship, I wasn’t ready for everything else that would come with that offer.

  “No…we better not. Scott’s there, and I don’t think he wants to see me right now.” I let out a sigh. “Trust me on this.”

  “He was there earlier, Case, but he should be at work by now. Trust me on this.”

  Fifteen minutes later, we were at his house, sitting at the kitchen table, as David poured two glasses of red wine that he promised would be sweet.

  “Did Scott tell you about this morning?”

  “Yes.”

  I took a sip of wine. As David promised, it was on the sweet side, but the addict in me wanted a cigarette to go with it. I touched the patch on my arm as if it granted me extra strength. “So how bad do you hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you.”

  “Scott probably does.” David didn’t take the bait, so I kept talking. “I hurt him pretty bad, didn’t I?”

  “Casey, my dear, you took the cake.”

  “I guess I deserved that one.”

  David tapped his finger on the table before looking at me. “You need to know. If you want the truth, I’ll give it to you. If not, don’t ask me any questions.”

  Fair enough. “So what do you know about this morning?”

  “Not much.”

  I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. “I told Scott the truth.”

  “Good.”

  “No, I’m starting to question it.”

  “What? Case, have you lost your mind?”

  “Bear with me here, Dave. So Scott is pissed at me for telling him the truth. Honesty’s supposedly the best policy, but I think if I’d lied, I wouldn’t be so miserable now.”

  “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

  “Okay.” I took a big gulp of the wine. Since I wasn’t with child, I had no qualms about drinking. “So I told Scott I was leaving because I needed to find myself—and I think I actually convinced myself that’s why—but that wasn’t all of it. The main reason why I left is because I thought I was pregnant.”

  “But you’re not?”

  “No. Long story. And now I’ve ruined everything.” Tears blurred my vision but I fought to keep them from becoming a stream. “Scott…Scott feels like a soulmate to me, someone I should spend my whole damn life with.”

  “Did you tell him that?”

  “No.”

  “You love him?”

  “Of course.”

  “So why the hell didn’t you say anything?”

  I stared at my glass. “Because I was afraid.”

  “Afraid? Afraid of what?”

  I forced myself to look in his eyes. “Afraid the feeling’s not mutual. Afraid of being involved with someone again. Hell, afraid of being rejected, especially right now. Afraid of everything that comes with relationships. Afraid of it all.”

  “All the more reason to say something.”

  “I can’t tell him any of that, David.”

  “Why not?”

  “‘Cause then I’d scare him off.”

  “You already did.”

  “No. I didn’t scare him away. I practically pushed him away. And now he hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you. I don’t think he ever could. Geez, Case, when you guys were together, I don’t think I’ve ever seen him that happy.”

  That made me feel like more of a jerk.

  “Here’s what you need to know about Scott, my friend. He’s a hopeless romantic. I know you don’t see that and he guards it. That’s part of why he ignored all the flaws in Jim for so long, too. He believes the best in people—so he gets disappointed a lot.”

  “Oh, God. You’re trying to cheer me up?”

  David flashed a wry grin as he lifted his glass. “No. I just think you were so self-absorbed that you couldn’t see the whole picture.”

  I started crying then. My intent had never been to hurt Scott but David was right. What I’d done was selfish and short-sighted, even if I had been pregnant. And if Scott was everything David was telling me right now, then I’d cut him deeply…and all I could do now was hope time would heal that wound.

  After my cries had dwindled to sobs, David said, “Okay, now it’s time to let it go, Casey.”

  “That’s easy for you to say. I’ve ruined the best relationship I’ve ever had. Forever.”

  “Don’t be melodramatic. I know it hurts, but this isn’t productive—and you’re wrong. Come tomorrow, I want you to pick yourself up by your bootstraps and live your best life. Give Scott time to forgive you and get over it and then talk to the man.”

  I swiped at all the moisture on my face and grabbed another napkin off the table, nodding.

  “Honey, let me get you a tissue.” He got up and pulled a couple of tissues out of the box on top of the fridge. “Now, what do you say we polish off this wine and find a sitcom we can binge?”

  “Yeah, I think I need that.”

  “I know you do.”

  And so we did.

  * * *

  My world was black when I awoke to a door slamming. When I opened my eyes, the television across the room seemed far too bright. As I adjusted to being awake, I saw David slumped in a chair nearby also dozing. I sat up, blinking my tired eyes, trying to focus. When I did, I saw Scott near the front door in his work clothes.

  “What are you doing here, Casey?”

  God. I wasn’t ready for this—and, I could tell by the tone of his voice, he wasn’t, either. “David and I were drinking. Sorry. I’ll leave.” I stood, stumbling a little, trying to get my bearings. I gritted my teeth, trying to collect myself while realizing I was drunk. David and I really had finished the bottle of wine and it had hit me hard. I didn’t know how I’d get home, but I couldn’t stay here, even if down the road I still had a chance with Scott. As I took a deep breath and tried once more to focus my eyes, I decided I’d either walk home or call my dad and ask him to get me—if it wasn’t too late in the evening.

  I stood and took a step before Scott put his hands on my shoulders. “Casey, you’re too drunk to drive. Go ahead and crash on the couch. It’s okay with me.”

  “No, I shouldn’t.”

  His eyes had a firm, stern look in them I hadn’t seen before. “Sit.” In response, I fell back on the couch. “You’re not going anywhere tonight.”

  I wasn’t inclined to argue—and, as I rested my head on the back of the couch and felt sleep threatening to overtake me again, I knew my body wasn’t either.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  It felt like I’d hardly been asleep, but when I heard the doorbell ring, I opened my eyes and could see everything in the living room in soft detail. I could still taste the wine and my head was throbbing, but I was alive.

  I considered getting up and answering the door, because I was still fully clothed, but this wasn’t my home—and David was no longer sleeping in the chair. But I did smell coffee and see a light coming from the kitchen, and I saw Scott walking toward the front door. I would have wondered if he’d even slept, except he wasn’t wearing his work clothes and his hair looked damp from the shower.

  I closed my eyes again until I heard two words: “Casey here?”

  When I realized I knew that voice, I bolted upright, a shiver charging through my spine. I knew that voice all too well.

  Because it belonged to my ex-husband Barry.

  Scott’s voice had a scary quality to it that I didn’t think I’d ever heard before. “Yeah. Who are you?”

  “Only her fucking husband.” As he stormed through the front door, shoving Scott aside, I felt my insides turn to jelly as my heart
started thumping in my chest. Barry looked the same since the last time I’d seen him during our divorce mediation. He’d been on his best behavior then, but right now he was the tall, intimidating man whose black hair had once made me swoon and now just made me think of evil.

  He hadn’t changed a bit.

  “You filthy, drunken whore!” he said when he saw me. I couldn’t believe my eyes—in half a year, he hadn’t changed a bit. Same tall, wiry build, dark hair slicked back, wearing black jeans and a form-fitting black t-shirt that sported a Dolce & Gabbana label, as if that would impress me. But I was wondering where the fuck his attitude was coming from.

  Was this even real? Was I still asleep?

  Unlike two years ago, I was not going to back down or cower. So I got up off the couch as Barry approached me with a speed that used to scare the shit out of me. “My God, Casey. You look like a skeleton. You’re ninety-five pounds soaking wet if you’re lucky. Are you smoking meth?”

  I could do this. “Barry, you’re a fucking idiot. And I am not your wife. I’m your ex-wife.”

  “Says you. You’re coming with me.”

  He grabbed my arm and started dragging me toward the door as if I were a stuffed animal. “No, I’m not!”

  Through gritted teeth, he turned his head to bark an order. “Come on!” That just made me dig my heels in, fighting him harder.

  Scott, though, blocked the door. “I don’t think she wants to go with you.”

  In spite of my resistance, Barry dragged me closer to the door. “And who the fuck are you anyway? Some random guy she’s been boning?” He pulled me so that he could look me in the eyes, his fingers digging into my flesh. “You haven’t changed at all, have you, Casey?”

  Then he faced Scott, holding up his free left hand to show he still wore the black rhodium band that had been his wedding ring. “That mean anything to you? You’re lucky I don’t kill you, fucking other guys’ wives.”

  I could see it in Scott’s eyes—he questioned if what Barry was saying was true. And so he let Barry shove his way through the door, dragging me by the wrist.

  I guessed that meant Scott and I were now officially through.

  But I couldn’t worry about that right now. “Barry, you asshole, stop it. You’re hurting me!”

  He turned, putting his face up to mine, practically growling like a dog. “Shut up, you fucking cunt. You’re coming with me, and you’re going to explain all this to your parents.”

  “All what?”

  “What a whore you are.”

  The muscles in my neck and jaw tightened and my brain threatened to give in—but I couldn’t. “Let me go, Barry. We’re not married anymore—so you can’t tell me what to do.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Casey.” His fingers dug in again, causing me to cry out, and he dragged me down the sidewalk toward his car.

  I hated that fucking thing, a goddamn black Lamborghini Barry had always loved more than he’d ever cared about me. That car had enjoyed far more tender moments with him than I ever had.

  I found a reserve of energy and fought anew, trying futilely to remove my arm from his grip, but all I succeeded in doing was making it hurt worse. “Why the hell are you even here?”

  “You said, ‘Till death do us part.’ I took our vows seriously.” Pulling me close again, snarling, he sent another fresh dart of fear through my body. “And you will, too, if it’s the last thing I do.”

  “I’m not your wife anymore! I don’t love you, Barry!”

  “You’re mine, Casey. Mine. And you’ll figure out how to love me again.”

  As I tried tugging my arm out of his grip, I saw Scott appear in front of the passenger door of the car. “She doesn’t want to go with you. Let her go.”

  I could hear a dog barking a few doors down, and I wondered how long it would be before the whole neighborhood sounded like a kennel, thanks to the ruckus.

  “I warned you, motherfucker.” Barry finally let go of my arm, and it should have felt like welcome relief, but the pain was just as fresh and raw if not more so. Barry tightened that same hand into a fist, his white knuckles causing another sickening wave of fear to course through my veins. Without hesitation, he swung his fist toward Scott’s head.

  But I knew something he didn’t.

  Barry worked out in a gym and used his wife as a punching bag, whereas Scott had actual fighting experience.

  And as Barry’s fist swung at Scott’s head, Scott dodged it before countering with his own punch to my ex-husband’s exposed ribs. Barry’s eyes bulged as if he didn’t know what hit him as Scott delivered another blow with his other fist. Barry kind of doubled over and I thought he was going to stop. Instead, he ran forward, ramming his head into Scott’s torso, shoving him into the car. Scott wrapped his arms around him to hold him so he couldn’t inflict more damage. I yelled, “Stop it!”

  David appeared beside me, his hair disheveled but his eyes alert. “What the hell’s going on?”

  “My crazy ex tracked me down.”

  “Be right back.” David ran back toward the house and, when I turned back to see the two men struggling, Barry had gotten loose from Scott’s grip and landed a punch to his chest. But that didn’t slow Scott down. He delivered his own blow to Barry’s jaw, and it sent my ex reeling backward so that I had to move so he wouldn’t run into me.

  Scott’s eyes were dark and frightening, but he didn’t scare me. He was protecting me from the crazed madman I’d been married to for far too long.

  Funny, though…Barry wasn’t scaring me anymore, either.

  Barry recovered and did another ramming drive toward Scott, but this time Scott moved at the last second and, as Barry brushed past, Scott shoved his back so he crashed into the car again.

  I was going to laugh if that goddamn car got a dent.

  As Barry turned, Scott struck a fighting pose—legs slightly bent at the knees, both hands formed into fists, arms bent at the elbows, protecting his body while ready to strike a blow. Barry’s dark eyes glowered, and I wondered what he was going to do as I heard David’s footsteps behind me. Barry, breathing hard, took one step toward Scott but then darted, lunging toward me.

  My entire frame felt like ice as if my body heat had instantly drained into the sidewalk below. I’d been here before. Before I’d lost all my spirit with Barry, we’d had an argument that I was winning, and Barry didn’t like to lose. He’d pounced on me, pinning me to the wall before violating me. That memory flooded my brain as my body froze.

  But I didn’t have to give in. I did not belong to Barry, and he didn’t deserve me.

  I felt all my muscles tighten, preparing for whatever Barry was about to do to me—but, by God, I wasn’t going to cower. I would not surrender. I drew in a deep breath through my nostrils, my lips pursed, fists clenched much like Scott’s, except my arms were at my side. I could feel defiance on my face as I dared him to do his damnedest.

  And he grabbed my arm again.

  I fought against him with all my might, struggling against pressure and pain, pushing against him with my free arm while digging my heels in once more, but I was no match for him. I couldn’t quite see what happened, though, thanks to my own struggles, but Scott seemed to be pummeling Barry in the back. It wasn’t until my ex loosened his grip that I was able to pull my arm out of his hand and turn to see Scott unleashing a furious assault.

  Barry no longer had a chance, and I started to grow scared that Scott was going too far. But David got close. “Hey, buddy. Enough. Enough.” He touched Scott’s shoulder and Scott turned to look at him, an untamed look in his eyes. For a second, I thought he was going to deck David. But then he blinked and took a deep breath, and that slight pause was all it took for him to realize he didn’t need to do anything else.

  Barry had managed to protect his head, but I could tell Scott’s fists had taken the fire out of him. I could hear a siren in the distance, a rare sound in Winchester. David said, “Good. I called the cops and they’re on their way to arres
t your ass.”

  Shaking himself loose from Scott’s grip, he said, “Joke’s on you, fucker. I’m outta here. They can arrest this punk instead.” He pulled his shirt smooth against his frame as if that restored a sense of dignity.

  When he turned to me, Scott stuck an arm between the two of us. “She has nothing to say to you. Get the fuck out of here. If you ever lay another hand on her, I’ll fucking kill you.”

  Barry took in a deep breath, pointing a finger at me, and almost said something, but the swell of the police siren was growing louder. He shook his head and walked around to the driver’s side of the car, getting in and driving away too fast for me to tell if the passenger’s side had incurred any damage from the fight.

  All my muscles relaxed as the air poured out of me. Barry no longer owned me. Not one iota.

  That was the first day I felt truly free.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Scott, David, and I stood on the sidewalk as I prepared myself to talk to the cops, but after half a minute, the sound of the siren—a few blocks away—faded as it went another direction.

  David looked at me with a smirk. “I didn’t really call the cops.”

  “Then what the hell did you go in the house for?”

  “This.” He held up a small pepper spray canister.

  Scott shook his head before looking at me. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah.” I didn’t want to complain about how badly my arm hurt, especially seeing the blood on Scott’s knuckles.

  “Let’s get you guys some ice.” David put an arm around my shoulders and we walked back in the house, just as I noticed the neighbors across the street walking out onto their porch to see what all the commotion was about.

  David, acting like a mother, soon had both of us sitting at the kitchen table. He’d taken Ziploc bags, filled them with ice cubes, and then wrapped them in dishtowels. He had me hold one against the red skin on the inner sensitive area of my arm that was beginning to show signs of bruising. Scott said, “I don’t need it.” Instead, he grabbed a bottle of Jack and poured a shot.

  “Isn’t it a little early for a drink?” David asked.

  “Not if it isn’t too early for a fight.”