Taken (A Bad Boy Romance Book 1)

by Scott, Amanda

  Sarah starts bouncing up and down on her toes, trying to see to the front of the line. “I still can’t believe you scored these backstage passes! I mean I’ve heard these guys are total animals backstage.”

  I have no intentions of staying for longer than ten seconds after the show, but I’ll wait to break that to Sarah. Backstage my ass, even if I have to leave her here. A line has to be drawn somewhere.

  “You definitely owe me for this,” I say as I survey the rabid fans lined up outside.

  As we inch our way up to the front of the line, a thick, guttural voice calls out. “Ladies, move it or lose it, unless you feel like getting freezing those asses off like the rest of these fools.”

  Horror fills my veins as I look over at the doorman and realize that he’s talking directly to me and my little sister. “Yeah you! And her,” he says, pointing to Sarah.

  My sister is grinning from ear to ear. “Come on, let’s do what the man says! She giggles as she turns over her ticket to the colossal-sized man dressed in tight, shredded jeans and a sleeveless leather jacket. “Here you go, Mr. Bouncer man.”

  I hand him my ticket, take a deep breath, and enter the club. There are literally thousands of people in this place, but one person stands out immediately, catching all of my attention. That could be because he’s walking right towards us the second we enter the club. The lighting is dark, but light enough to see this guy’s dressed in a casual black suit with a silver undershirt beneath his suit coat. His hair is pitch black, and it’s slicked back over his head. He looks cleaner, more sophisticated than anybody else in this world.

  And the way he’s walking towards us, it’s like we’re old friends as he reaches his hand out to greet my sister. His eyes are cold and warm at the same time, if that makes any sense. “Welcome, we’ve been waiting for you.”

  My sister tilts her head and bites down on her lip. This guy could be a serial killer for all we know, and yet here she is immediately flirting with him like they’re about to get engaged. “I’m Sarah,” she offers.

  The man hands her a drink. “I’m Rex, manager of Invictus.” He turns to look at me. “And you are?”

  “I’m Sarah’s sister.”

  He smirks. “Good to meet you, Sarah’s sister.” Then he hands me a drink that I have no intention putting in my body. But he doesn’t need to know that right now.

  “Thanks,” I say as I bring the drink up to my lips and pretend to drink some of it.

  His eyes immediately shift back to my sister. Suddenly I’m incredibly non-important. And that’s not a bad thing based on the vibe I’m getting from this Rex guy so far. “Come on, let me show you two ladies to your seats. I think you’ll be pleased.”

  I start to feel a major pit of regret pool in my stomach. But as creepy Rex takes us further and further away from the crowd, my chances of avoiding Brady Stone are increasing. Maybe these tickets do have their privileges. Not sure how Brady got them in the first place, or why he gave them to me, but…

  Rex leads us through a side door and then immediately through another door until it’s clear that we have the best seats in the club- directly on the stage, off to the side where the rest of the fans can't see us.

  Sarah is literally bubbling over. “Oh. My. God!”

  “Not bad, am I right?” Rex adds.

  She giggles again and bats her eyelashes at him. “Definitely not bad,” she says.

  Rex looks up at the lighting, then down at his watch. “I got some shit to do. Make yourselves comfy.” He grabs my sister’s hand and kisses the top of it. “And I’ll see you backstage.”

  Gross.

  My sister looks like she’s about to faint. Rex disappears onto the stage itself and starts to fiddle with the mic. The crowd starts to roar in his honor.

  I jab her arm with my elbow. “What’s the matter with you? You act like you’re in love with that creep.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Did you not hear who he was? He’s the band manager. And he's sooo hot!”

  “Whatever… Did you see the way he was looking at you?”

  My raises her brows and takes a quick swig from her cup. “Like he wanted to fuck my brains out? Yeah I saw that look. Are you not getting the picture here Leila?” She rolls her eyes and takes another swig from her drink. “If you even had a clue how big these guys are you wouldn’t be so judgmental.”

  My sister stares at me and waits for my response. I swallow hard as the crackling sounds of amplifiers heat up in the background.

  I should just tell her the truth… that I scored these tickets because I went completely and started hooking up with my client. Then maybe at least she’s understand where I’m coming from right now.

  But time is up. Rex, the slick, shady band manager, steps up to the microphone. He raises his hands in a V-like formation and the crowd erupts into a sea of noise. He screams at the top of his lungs, “The one! The only! Invictus!”

  Normally I would cover my ears, possibly even go hide in the nearest bathroom. But something steals my attention before I even have a chance to react. A tall, familiar, brooding figure walks onto the center of the stage.

  Good god.

  It’s Brady.

  He’s gripping a shiny black guitar with silver trimmed edges as he steps up to the main mic. My chest tightens and my palms start to melt at the mere sight of this man. He’s wearing a pair of black jeans, a tight, black t-shirt, and black boots. When he grabs the mic, the tattooed muscles in his arms practically glow beneath the stage lighting.

  His thick, god-like hair is slicked back over his head. “Thank you for coming, New York City!” he shouts into the mic. A spotlight frames his figure with a circle of red light. “TWO! THREE! FOUR!” he screams, sending the rest of the band lurking in the shadows behind him into a full speed rock anthem. His hand comes crashing down onto his electric guitar and the crowd loses their collective mind. “For those of you who believe that tonight is all we have… This show’s for you motherfuckers!”

  The roaring somehow gets even louder.

  Meanwhile, my jaw is practically on the floor. I can’t take my eyes off him. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t do it.

  Snap out of it, I tell myself. This is totally ridiculous.

  At least I thought it was, until he started to sing.

  Brady’s voice fills the room, and the moment I hear it I’m possessed. His voice is the most powerful, warm, and comforting sound I’ve ever heard.

  Fuck. I hate the way I feel right now, like the only thing I want to do is see him naked, explore the hard muscles beneath his shirt, and do the kind of things that a girl like me just shouldn’t be thinking about doing with a boy like Brady Stone.

  His lyrics are dark and edgy, and yet somehow they charge me up and make me feel like suddenly there are no limits.

  I hate that this guy is having this kind of effect over me. I mean, I already know what I need to do in life. I don’t need some random guy with a guitar throwing me off kilter.

  Okay, maybe he’s not random. And he’s definitely not just any man. In fact, I’ve never seen another man like him if I’m being honest. But that’s not the point.

  I can feel my sister bobbing up and down beside me, but my eyes continue to stay locked on Brady himself. Then something awful happens, something so evil that the universe must be punishing me for some past sin.

  Brady turns and faces me.

  My knees literally wobble. I take a massive gulp from the same drink that I’d sworn myself off just to hide from his gaze.

  He’s doesn’t miss a single word as he looks right through me with those dark, bad eyes of his. Then he looks away.

  Holy. God.

  Do not, I repeat, do not go backstage.

  My trance bubble is popped when a girl wearing next to nothing slips past a security guard and dashes her way towards Brady himself. She bites down on her lip and starts to grind into Brady from behind, sending the crowd into another
frenzy. Brady smiles at the crowd, not missing a lick on his guitar as she claws at his back. I look down and notice that I’ve got my fist clenched, ready to punch that skinny little slut in the face.

  What’s happening to me?

  Then I almost hurl my drink at her as she lifts her shirt up and starts to rub her bare chest all over him., if you could even call it that considering it barely covered her breasts let alone anything else of hers- up and off her body. The crowd starts chanting, “INVICTUS! INVICTUS! INVICTUS!”

  Puke.

  I feel furious inside. Not just at the tramp on the stage, but at myself to. I can literally hardly stomach watching her rub up against him like that. Why do I care?

  I can’t possibly want to be in her place, can I?

  Brady snaps his finger in the air and the tramp on his arm is hauled off by security just as fast as she arrived.

  All sound from the band cuts off. The house lights fill the entire club. And Brady disappears from the stage.

  The show’s over, and I didn’t even have time to prepare myself for the end.

  Then again, I haven’t been prepared for anything to do with Brady Stone since the moment he walked into my office.

  * * *

  “Will you come on already?” I can hardly hear my sister pleading with me as she tugs at my arm.

  Enter Rex, right on cue. “Yeah, come on Sarah’s sister. The night’s not getting any younger,” he says. My gag reflex almost kicks in as he plants micro kisses on my little sister’s arm.

  I have every right to slap him across the face if it wasn’t for two major concerns. One, he’s twice my size. And two, it feels amazing too see my sister look this happy, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.

  “I don’t know,” I say, crinkling my nose at the idea of actually going backstage.

  “Come with me or don’t. I’m going anywyas. I’m a big girl now anyways,” Sarah adds. Rex’s tongue has now made it’s way behind her ear.

  “You’’ be okay, Sarah’s sister,” Rex throws in.

  I sigh and roll my eyes. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go for ten minutes.”

  Sarah’s mouth widens. Rex pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his suit coat and hands one to my sister. She giggles and takes it willingly.

  “Come on, let’s go meet the band,” Rex says as he lights her up. He put another cigarette in his mouth and presses the tip of it into Sarah’s lit end as she inhales a drag.

  I shutter, but willingly follow behind Rex and my little sister down a long, winding hallway in the outer recesses of the club. “Since when do you smoke?” I ask her, more because I’m freaking out inside about running into Brady then because I’m concerned about Sarah’s smoking habits right now.

  Before she can answer, we find ourselves in a back room. The show just ended and yet the party’s already well under way. Most of the people back here are basically super model groupies aside from the guys in the band itself. I’m way out of place, again.

  The room smells like weed and alcohol, and a recording of the band’s music pumps through a set background speakers to set the mood even more.

  One thing is beyond evident- I need to run the hell away from this room.

  I cringe as I spot two of the guys from the band snorting white powder off the bleach blonde Barbie’s chest in the back corner of the room, the same Barbie that was gyrating against Brady’s back seconds earlier.

  Oh boy.

  The room is all red and loaded with shiny velvet. It definitely suits the occasion; the perfect space for group sex and drugs and god only knows what else. Not exactly the kind of décor I’m used to relaxing in, not that my basement apartment is much better.

  But that’s a different story.

  I take a sharp breath as his voice comes from behind. “Rookie, I had a feeling you’d make it.”

  I turn to face him, Brady. And I don’t like the way my stomach feels all knotted up inside. Why oh why does he have to look so damn hot all the time? It just isn’t fair.

  He’s wearing a fresh, white t-shirt, different from the one he had on while he was performing, but he’s still sporting the same black jeans… the same rugged black jeans that seem to suck away all of my strength and dignity because of the way they hug his butt and hips so damn perfectly. It’s even worse now that his thick, dark hair is slicked back, making his devilish eyes and prominent cheekbones even more pronounced than the first time I saw this man. The lighting in the room isn’t exactly bright, but there are plenty of watts to see the moisture on his lips. And then there’s his beard…

  I can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be in bed with him, my cheeks nestled up against his thick beard while he spoons me.

  Completely naked.

  “I didn’t have a choice. Turns out my sister’s a big fan,” I say back.

  “She’s not the only one. I take you’re the classic, overprotective big sister,” he adds. Brady runs his fingers through his beard.

  “Maybe you should have been a therapist instead of me,” I say.

  He hands me a red plastic cup filled with beer. “Here, you look like you could use some of this. You’re part of the celebration, whether you like it or not.”

  “No offense, but I’m going to have to go with not,” I say back. Then I stare down at the foamy beer before taking a long, healing swig of it.

  “Could’ve fooled me from the way you were staring at me during the show.”

  I take another swig, only this time I accidentally leave a trail of foam across my lips. “I wasn’t staring, I was…”

  But I don’t get a chance to defend myself. He swipes the foam off my lips with the tip of his thumb. My body quivers and tingles in all the wrong places.

  Why does this man have this effect on me? WHY?

  “You were gawking, Rookie,” he says. “Don’t argue with me.” He drains the rest of his cup then flings it across the room, landing it dead center into a cardboard box that’s filled to the top with empty bottles and cans. He shoots me a wink.

  I hate that he made the shot, but then again that seems to be par for the course for him. If I were a betting woman, which I’m not, I’d bet he doesn’t miss too many shots no matter where he’s taking them from.

  “Well I’m not gawking now,” I protest as I gesture towards to the cocaine-infested glass coffee table. I look off to the corner to check on Sarah who’s now lip-locked Rex.

  “That’s your sister I take it?”

  I nod, my eyes wide at the sight of her with making out with Rex.

  “Relax, he won’t make this more than a one night thing,” Brady says.

  “Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

  “Why not? He can pretty much have his pick of the litter these days,” he says. “And he picked your little sister.”

  My eyes narrow. “The litter? Really?”

  He doesn’t flinch. “Well, from the looks of it, your sister looks quite content.”

  I look over at her again, then over at one of the guys that I recognize from the band. “Who wants a motherfucking piece of this?” he shouts, pointing to his crotch with one hand and pounding a red cup with the other. Three girls giggle in unison as they reach over to him and claw their hands all over his body.

  “So this is what you do?” I say, referring to whole general backstage scene.

  “What? You too smart for this?” he snaps back.

  “I didn’t say that. But I can definitely understand how you landed yourself in my office to begin with.”

  “Really? And how is that?” he asks.

  I take another swig, and between this giant beer and the drink I ended up accidentally downing during the show, I’m starting to feel a little lighter than usual. “If you surround yourself in this world, you’re bound to find trouble.”

  He presses his lips together in a hard, straight line. “I don’t find trouble, Leila. I am trouble.”

  Heat shoot
s down my back as I fight back a shiver. Why?

  I dodge his gaze, only to land my sights on the drummer whose pants are now down to his ankles as the three bubbly groupie chicks nibble at his ears and fondle his parts that are thankfully still hidden behind a pair of underwear. “All I’m saying is that I’m not getting a real wholesome vibe here.”

  He laughs. Then he gets up in my face, so close I can smell his delicious scent. “And what about when you let me stick my tongue in your mouth in your office? Was that wholesome, Leila?” he rasps.

  My heart beats so hard I feel like my chest is going to explode. I actually check my pulse on my wrist just to make sure I’m okay. “That was different. That was…”

  “Love at first sight?” He’s not smiling as he locks in his gaze.

  “No,” I whisper back.

  His voice grows even huskier. “How do you know?”

  “Because I know. I just know these things.”

  I sound ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m even answering these questions right now.

  “How do know if you never even finished what we started?”

  I take another swig, and then look over at the spot where Sarah once stood. She’s gone, but I have way bigger issues right now. I look back at Brady. “That was a fluke. A momentary lapse of sanity, that’s all,” I say.

  He moves in closer to me, so close that his hips are now gently pressed up against mine. “You know you could lose your license for doing that sort of thing with a client?”

  I can’t stop my nipple from stiffening and my eyes from glazing over. “Yeah, I know. Luckily you’re not client anymore,” I say.

  His smile is dirty and hungry. “I’ll be the judge of that, Rookie.”

  “No seriously…”

  He puts his finger up to my lip. “You are so fucking tight, Leila Crawford. And…” He looks around, then gives me the knock-out hypnotic punch. “I think I can really help you with that.”

  I swallow hard but refuse to look anywhere but directly into his eyes, not that that’s any safer. The room around me feels like it’s starting to spin, but not because of the alcohol.