by Brooks, Anna
I am sorry that she went to sleep upset.
And I know she’s going to wake up from a nightmare tonight. There’s no way all this shit didn’t bring up some type of memory for her.
So I’ll wait.
Watching her so peaceful right now makes me want to do everything in my power to make it like that for her all the time. Not that I didn’t want to before, but the more time I spend with her, the more I want… more. I close my eyes and hope to get a little rest before we have to be up in the morning. But not even an hour after I doze off, she starts to stir. Instead of letting her wake up, I crawl into bed next to her and pull her in my arms. “You’re okay, Quinn. I’m here.”
She calms down and snuggles closer to me, and with a deep sigh, she falls back into a deep sleep. I continue to hold her, squeezing her tighter when she whines, wishing I could just take it all away. That I could take her away from everything… but me.
* * *
“Wesley?” Her quiet voice wakes me up, and I squint one eye open. My arm is tossed over her belly, and one of my knees is twisted between her legs. She smiles at me, the soft glow of her skin vibrant from a good night of sleep.
Fuck, I shouldn’t be here. I want to be. Nowhere else in the world would I want to be, but I shouldn’t. “Sorry, you kept waking up and—”
“It’s okay.” She cuts me off. “It’s okay. Thank you. I slept great.”
I sit up, making sure to keep the blanket over my morning wood. “Listen,” I start. I need to apologize for being a jealous dick last night. Explain it. “About last—”
“No, it’s fine. I understand. I… Wes, I don’t want anybody else to kiss me but you and—”
Fuck it. I shut her up by pulling her closer and slanting my mouth over hers. She squeaks, and it’s the cutest goddamn thing ever. I glide my hands up, my fingers twisting in her long silky hair. “Open for me.” I slide my tongue against the seam of her lips, and she slowly lets me in.
As soon as she works her tongue against mine, I push her down, deepening the kiss and using my other hand to pull her thigh up so I can slide my hand down and hold her perfectly round ass. I groan when my fingers reach their destination and find her with itty-bitty shorts on so short that my palm encompasses her silky skin. She moans and finally touches me.
Hesitant but needy, she slides her nails up my biceps, and she holds on. I slide my fingers over and brush a knuckle across her barely covered pussy, and she jumps.
Shit, shit, fuck. “You’re soaked.” I kiss down her neck, gently making circles between her legs.
“Oh, God.” She moans. Her eyes are squeezed shut, and I use a finger to push the material away and then circle her opening. Her hips shoot up off the bed, and I take my hand out of her hair to push her back down.
“Look at me, Quinn.”
She only moves her head back and forth.
“Quinn. Open your pretty eyes for me.”
When she does, I slide one finger into her, and her back arches. “Don’t look away from me.” She’s close already, and I can barely take it, so I press my thumb on her clit and add another finger as I fuck her with my hand.
Without warning, she explodes, writhing and moaning… the most beautiful and hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Damn. My balls ache something fierce, and my dick could pound nails right now. But when she opens her eyes just enough to see me, I know she’s not ready for more.
With flushed cheeks, she smiles as I take my hand away even though it wants to stay and play, and I almost come in my damn pants. Her stomach rumbles, and I smile. “Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
“Get yourself ready, and we’ll go downstairs for breakfast.”
“Okay.”
I rub my thumb along the rosy part of her cheek and lean over to gently kiss her forehead before going across the hall to get myself ready, tugging my jeans over my perma hard-on. I wait for her in the hallway, and she pauses when she opens her door. She’s wearing the same sweater she had on the first time I met her.
I take her hand in mine, and we walk down the spiral staircase together. “What do you want to eat?” I ask as we enter the kitchen. Nobody else is in the house right now, save for a couple of the guys who do rounds.
“I can make it.”
“So can I.”
“No. I always make breakfast, that’s why Beverly isn’t ever here in the morning.” She shakes her head. “And plus, you do so much for me already. I want to do it.”
Shrugging, I grab a seat at the breakfast bar. “Be my guest.”
“Thanks.” Her bright smile shines, and she dips her head.
As she’s making us omelets, I double-check the itineraries and catch up with Erik. She looks proud when she sets my plate in front of me, and I thank her with a kiss. After we finish eating, she pauses at the counter as the dishes crash into the farmhouse sink. “My dad is a member of a motorcycle club.”
“What?” How the fuck did Q not catch that?
“My dad. His name is Barrett ‘Jury’ Zarski.”
“Okay.”
She clears her throat. “God, this is embarrassing…”
I grab her hand. “What are you so freaked about?”
“You said you know everything about me, right? So you know about the… that thing that happened with the drug charge.”
“Yeah, I read the report, babe. You were sixteen, though, so nobody else can get their hands on that.” But it happened at that motorcycle club, but the report said she went there with a friend not knowing why she was there. I took that at face value and never asked her more about it, but I guess I was wrong. Damn.
She leans in closer. “That’s why, Wes. Gail knows everything, and she… she—”
“She’s threatening you. Blackmail.” Fuck, how did I not see this coming?
Quinn blinks, and a single tear slides down her cheek. That’s why. She’s why I didn’t see anything else because the only thing I can see is her.
“It’s not about the drug thing because I was cleared of that. It’s because of who my dad is. It’s dangerous for him because if other people find out, they’ll either use me to get to him or use him to get to me.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Talk me through this and tell me everything.”
Her entire body tightens, so I rub circles on her hand. “Relax. It’s okay. I’m gonna fix it.”
She starts to protest, but I bring my hand up and put a finger over her lips. “Shh. I’m going to take care of this. It might take some time to get things lined up, and I still have all the other shit going on, but I promise you I’ll take care of it.”
A tightness in her body that I’ve always seen loosens a little bit, and I’m happy to finally see a genuine smile from her.
“My mom was a singer. She didn’t ever make it big or anything, but she sang in a lot of clubs and stuff. I never knew who my father was because she didn’t list anyone on the birth certificate. She did talk about him, though. Told me she loved him, and it broke her heart, but it was for the better that he wasn’t in our lives.
“When she died, I was sixteen and had to move in with my aunt Gail, Mom’s sister, who I barely knew. When I was going through my mom’s things, I found a picture of him and my mom together along with a letter. Needless to say, I figured out who he was and went to the clubhouse to confront him.”
I hold my hand up. “You went there by yourself? Just waltzed up and knocked on the fuckin’ door?”
“Well, yeah. I mean I had to drive there.” She shrugs as though it’s no big deal. “I showed him the picture and the letter he sent back that said he didn’t want anything to do with me. I’m not exactly sure what happened next; I just remember the place getting raided by a bunch of police and DEA and being put in the back of a cop car.
“They thought I was just a hang around and charged me with possession, and I got community service. My dad was arrested and spent a couple of months behind bars or whatever, but after that, we talked regularly. Always in private,
though. It’s safer for both of us.”
“Did he explain why he didn’t want to see you as a baby?”
She nodded. “For the exact reason of what happened when I went to find him. Danger. For him to have a child is a liability. And it’s unsafe for me. I’m a target for his enemies.”
I’m surprised at how adamant she is about it being safer if her dad stays away. “What exactly is Gail threatening you with?”
“That she’ll expose my ‘drug’ problem first. Then reveal who my dad is.”
“How does Gail know who he is?”
“My mom told her.” She shrugs. “I… I don’t know how much longer I can do it, Wes. I’m so goddamn tired and hate the things she makes me do, and for the first time in years, I don’t have bruises on my body from her because you’re with me all the time. All because she’s a greedy bitch. You’re absolutely right, too. I didn’t want to do that shoot. I was scared and uncomfortable, and it’s not who I am. But she holds everything over my head, and I—”
“Hey, come here.” I pull her in my arms, and she quietly cries into my T-shirt. “We’ll figure it out, I promise.”
This shit is gonna end. And soon. I’ll have to make some calls and arrange for someone to be with her while I go talk to her dad, but I can guarantee if he finds out that his daughter is being abused, blackmailed, and threatened, he won’t take it lightly.
I’m going to put a stop to Gail, but he’s gonna want to help.
Quinn
The schedule for this tour is nonstop. I’ve performed in twelve cities over the past eighteen days. Over two weeks of falling more and more for Wes every day, of being happy instead of faking it for everyone, of feeling safe.
And practically gliding on air because I’m weightless now that I’ve told my secret to someone. Well, one of them.
He hasn’t told me what he’s doing behind the scenes, but whatever it is, he’s doing a great job of it. I’ve never enjoyed myself this much on and off stage while on the road before.
Despite all that… I’m tired. More tired than ever. Because instead of crashing when I’m not working, I’m laughing with Wesley. Eating munchies and watching movies. Cuddling.
And I love it.
But as I walk off stage, I stumble into Wes, completely exhausted.
“I’ve got you.”
He helps me to the dressing room backstage and locks the door behind us.
“Sorry, I—”
“Hungry?”
“Yeah.”
He grabs a protein bar off the basket of food on the counter and opens it for me, then tosses a bottle of water next to me. “I told you, you needed to eat more.”
I nibble on the bar and avoid looking at him. He’s been… awesome. I seriously don’t know how I did anything without him before. He’s always sticking up for me, getting in Gail’s face and putting my interests before anyone else’s.
The only bad thing that happened was last week when the story leaked that Jaysyn and I were dating, and I know it was Gail who did it. She’s such a vindictive bitch. She waited to do it late last week on my day off, so it was ruined. Everything she does is strategic.
The photo that went with the article wasn’t the one she took with him kissing me, but one with us on stage together. She’ll wait to leak the other… saving it for a good time for her when she thinks I need more publicity.
So then yesterday, instead of vegging out in a hotel, I was stuck doing interviews all day to tell everyone that Jaysyn and I are just friends. This is, of course, part of Gail’s plan. I don’t know what she’s going to do next, but I’m too tired to try to think.
“This is bullshit, Quinn.”
“Only a few more months.”
“You can’t fucking live like this!” Wes yells.
Ever since he slept with me the night before we left for the road and I finally got some of the weight off my shoulders, he hasn’t left my side. He was close before, but now, he’s in bed with me. We get ready together in the morning, and on the tour bus, it’s just him and me.
I wish I could say that we’ve done more stuff together, but he hasn’t pushed for anything more, and I’m too scared to take that leap. He kisses me, but that’s it. And somehow, he manages to always be “on” while I feel like I’m going to pass out on a daily basis.
But when I hit the stage, the adrenaline and natural high I get from doing what I love give me the energy I need to perform.
I hate that he’s upset because of this. I’m not purposely not eating. I do eat. A lot. I just forget sometimes. “I’ll be fine.”
We’ve had this same argument almost every day, and it hurts to know he’s upset with me.
“You have three days off coming up next week. I’m taking you away, and while we’re there, we’re gonna figure this shit out.”
I crumple the wrapper and toss it on the floor; my arm too damn weak to even get it into the trash can. “We can’t. I have that parade to do.”
“Not anymore.”
“Wes.” If I don’t do this shit, Gail gets crazy. The one time I went against her, she leaked a story about my mother dying. According to the article, it was from a drug overdose, and then it showed a photo of me at a party where I looked way drunker than I was. The headline read, “Like Dead Mother, Like Daughter.” It hurt. Really bad.
So when she threatens, I know she’s serious. And I know that she will put my father and me in horrific danger if I don’t continue to be her cash cow. But more than that… she has the picture. The one I can never, ever, ever let anyone else see.
And if it gets out, it’ll ruin my life.
In the event of her death, she’s informed me that an envelope exists with all the evidence of who my father is.
And the person who it would get mailed to is the rival club of his who’s notorious for being coldhearted and vindictive and murderous.
I told this to Wes last week when he mumbled something about strangling her… not that I think he ever would. I’m sure it was just a comment said out of anger and frustration. I think.
“Let’s go.” He helps me stand, and I put my legs into a pair of sweats over the leotard I’m wearing, then zip a hoodie over the top. Once I get on the bus, I’ll shower and change, but right now, I just want to get out of here.
We sneak out a back entrance, but fans line the cyclone fence, so I sign a few autographs and take some selfies. The touch of Wesley’s hand doesn’t leave me until we get on the bus, where I begin to fall face first onto the couch.
“Shower.” He yanks me back playfully and shoves me toward the back. “Then sleep.”
I’d ask him to join me if I was brave enough, but even if I was, I know he wouldn’t because that would leave us vulnerable. One thing’s for sure, he takes his job seriously. Even though I don’t feel like a client.
As I stand under the spray, it takes a lot of strength to even hold my head up, but I power through. I forgot to take my makeup off, so after I get out, I grab a wipe and clean my face, then brush my teeth before sliding on a pair of pajama pants and a tank top.
“You look dead on your feet, baby.”
“I am.”
“Come on.” He guides me to my bed where I finally collapse for the night. His strong hands rub my back and massage my calves. Yeah, I definitely don’t feel like I’m just a job to him. I feel cherished and protected and cared for. He gives me the ability to let my guard down, so I’m able to close my eyes and drift off to sleep.
* * *
“Wesle—” I pull the robe tighter. “Oh, hi, Damien.”
“Hey, Quinn. Wes’ll be back in a little bit. He had an errand to run.”
“Where did he go?”
I don’t expect him to give me an answer, but when he shrugs, I sigh.
“Are you hungry?”
“No, thanks. I ate already.”
I grab a banana, a protein bar, and a bottle of water, then sit on the couch. “How long have you worked as a bodyguard?”
“Ro
yal, three years. But I was with another agency for about six before that.”
“Oh, cool.”
His eyes widen as if to say, yeah… real cool in the absolute most sarcastic way possible.
“So, uh, wh—”
“You’re a sweet girl, and it’s nice that you want to make conversation, but I’m not Wes. I don’t do small talk, and I’m not about to start with you. Eat your breakfast and Wes’ll be back soon, then you can talk his ear off… amongst other things.”
Chapter 6
Wesley
It was a sheer stroke of luck that she performs tonight in Reno, seeing as how her dad’s motorcycle club is just on the outskirts. I left her this morning with Damien on the bus. They’re parked at the venue for tonight in the guarded and secured lot.
When I pull up to the gate at my destination and hop out of the Escalade Damien’s been driving, two guys slowly walk over to meet me. I make sure to keep my hands visible because the last thing I need is someone shooting at me. “You know if Jury’s around?”
The older guy with a long beard and ponytail spits some chew on the ground. “He expecting you?”
I get closer and read his name patch, Zee. “Nope, but he’ll want to see me.”
“Who are you?” asks the younger one with light hair and a nose ring.
I cross my arms. “Name’s Wes.”
“That don’t mean shit to me, man. Jury ain’t available unless you have an appointment.”
I’m assuming Barrett trusts his brothers, but I don’t know how much they know, so I have to be careful with how much I say. “If you can get him out here, I’ll tell him what I’m here to see him about before you open your gate. But it’s not something I can share without him knowing.”
They grumble to each other, and the young guy turns around and walks into the old warehouse. Zee continues to stare at me with a hand on his pistol at his hip while he spits his chew on the ground.
A couple of minutes later, blondie is back with three other men. Christ.
The middle one, a tall motherfucker with hair the same color as Quinn’s natural dirty blond, comes up to me. His patch reads Sargeant at Arms, and I lift my chin at him. “Need a word, man.”
