Fatal Temptations (Fatal Cross Live! Book 2)

by Hissong, Theresa

  “I really want to cancel that show and just skip town,” he grumbled. My sweet Brian, the one who didn’t like to upset me, would prefer to hide me away from my problems instead of seeing me suffer.

  “I love you,” I told him and smiled, leaning my head on his shoulder. “You know that, right?”

  “I do,” he nodded, proudly. I reached up and ran my fingers through his hair. He chuckled and grinned. He really was adorable.

  “I can’t run from my problems,” I reminded him, draining the rest of my water.

  “If I could take away your pain, Presley…I would,” he offered, sadness darkening his eyes.

  “I know,” I said, kissing his cheek. I slid out of the seat and dropped my empty bottle in the trash. I needed to change the subject. “How’s Heather?”

  “She’s ready to be a mom!” He glowed. Focusing on his life was the thing I needed to do to redirect his attention, and talking about his wife was the best way to do it.

  “What about you? Are you ready to be a dad?” I asked, leaning my butt against the counter.

  “I’m ready to see the little bugger,” he chuckled. “I can’t believe I’m going to be a dad. When did that happen?”

  “Well, if you need a biology lesson…” I laughed, throwing my head back. Damn, that felt good; to be myself for a moment, my worries forgotten.

  “Shut up,” he blushed. “You know what I meant.”

  I laughed and made my way back to the bunks. Brian followed me, climbing into the one above mine. I climbed in my bunk and pulled the covers over my shoulders. I closed my eyes and prayed that I could get enough rest before we arrived at our next gig.

  * * *

  My throat was killing me by the time I rolled out of bed. I refused to answer any calls or texts until after noon. I didn’t know when we had arrived at the venue, and I really didn’t care. I’d slept soundly once I climbed back in my bunk after three in the morning and I refused to climb out until I had slept my fill.

  My hand rubbed at my raw throat as I stumbled to the divider door between the bunks and the front living space of the bus. My eyes cleared as I powered up my phone. I frowned at the screen when several incoming texts alerted me to Ace blowing up my phone.

  “Well, shit,” I growled, heading for the coffee pot by the sink.

  “Shit is right,” Ace barked, startling me.

  “Son of a bitch!” I jumped, almost tripping over my own bare feet. Ace lunged for me and righted me before I made a complete ass of myself. “I’m sorry.”

  “Are you okay?” he demanded, pulling me closer. I tucked my face in his chest and breathed in his scent.

  “Please don’t startle me,” I whispered, rubbing my face against his shirt.

  “Fuck, I didn’t think.” He stiffened, his hold around my shoulders tightening.

  “You didn’t know,” I replied, not moving from my spot against his chest. It felt really good to have him wrapped around me. I felt protected.

  “I should have known,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head. I liked it when he did that…I liked it a lot.

  Groaning, I pushed him away and turned for the coffee, pouring a cup. Ace chuckled as he took a seat at the table. I cast my bleary eyes sideways, getting a glimpse at the temptation that was Ace Ryker. He wore tight denim jeans, black boots, and a concert shirt from a band I couldn’t read because he was sitting sideways and my brain hadn’t started really working yet.

  My eyes dropped to my bare legs and I double checked to make sure I didn’t look like a complete fool. I was wearing a pair of black cotton shorts that weren’t up my ass, and I smiled when I realized I’d slept in the Fatal Cross tank top I’d become very fond of over the past few weeks.

  “Let the coffee seep into my body,” I mumbled, sitting down at the table. Ace chuckled again, but the sound was cut off when I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not a morning person.”

  “I noticed that,” he replied, but made a show of zipping his lips…that were trying their hardest to remain in a straight line. Jerk.

  I couldn’t help it. A bubble of laughter came out of my mouth and I chuckled some more at the fact that he brought that response out of me. This simple man harnessed my happiness and fed it back to me with just one look. It was like magic when I was around him. I felt alive. I could breathe.

  I was quickly becoming addicted to him.

  His eyes raked over my body, those green eyes of his darkened as his gaze landed on my chest. I blushed, tucking my head. “I like the shirt.”

  “Mmhmm,” he grinned, his eyes heating as they traced over my chest again. “I think you need one of every style. I like seeing it on you.”

  “I’ll pick some up tonight at the merchandise booth. Tell Coraline I’ll pay her after the show.” I downed the rest of my coffee, letting the hot liquid coat my sore throat.

  “You sound a little hoarse,” he observed, but I was already waving him off.

  “I’m good.” I nodded toward the tin container on the counter. “I think I have a few more of Ginger’s tea bags up there.” Her tea was the only thing that kept me going after some nights. I wasn’t quite sure what she put in there, and I really didn’t care because it worked like a charm.

  “You should be having that instead of coffee,” he scolded, sliding out of the booth. I didn’t really try to stop him, because I got to watch him move around. Ace’s chain wallet clanked as he moved and that sound was something that I’d come to associate with him. It was silly to admit it, but it was the truth.

  “Pres?” he said, turning slowly. “This is your last tea bag.” He turned the tin over so I could see the last bag sitting inside.

  “Shit,” I groaned. “I’ll call her and have her send me some to the venue in Flint.”

  “Where’s your honey?” he asked, his voice suddenly concerned.

  “In the cabinet.” I pointed, cringing when I saw that it was almost empty as well. “I’ll be okay.”

  “Okay,” he sighed, dropping the bag in the cup of hot water to steep. It concerned me when he turned quiet like that. Had I done something wrong? Was he mad because I didn’t realize I’d run out of the tea that kept my voice strong?

  “I’m sorry, Ace,” I apologized, an ache building in my throat. It wasn’t from the raw voice…it was from tears.

  “Hey,” he cooed, dropping to a knee in front of me. “Talk to me.”

  “I didn’t mean to disappoint you,” I said, turning my face toward his.

  “You could never disappoint me,” he said, taking my face in his hands. “Never.” I relaxed when he pressed his lips to mine in a soft kiss. I wanted to melt into him, but I refrained when he pulled away. I almost protested when he stood up.

  “Drink this,” he said, handing me the cup. I watched as he pulled out his phone. “I’ll have more delivered before we get to Minneapolis.”

  “She can’t pay for next day shipping, Ace,” I complained, reaching out to still his hand.

  “But I can,” he stressed, placing the call. My eyes widened when he spoke into the phone. “Hey, Ginger. It’s Ace. Yeah, she’s okay. I need you to package up some of that tea for Pres. I’ll send someone to come pick it up this afternoon. Okay, I will. Thank you.”

  “You have her number!” I gasped.

  “She slipped it to me before we left the shop,” he chuckled. “Told me to keep an eye on you, and I don’t break promises.”

  “Ace,” I moaned. Ginger was probably jumping for joy that he’d called her. She’d be beside herself with happiness knowing that he was trying to take care of me.

  “No complaints,” he ordered, pointing to my cup. “Drink.”

  “Yes, sir!” I smiled against the rim of the cup.

  He left me to shower and get ready for the show. I found a pair of leather shorts and a sparkly, sleeveless top to wear. I grabbed my leather duster and tossed it on my bunk as I waited for my curling iron to heat up.

  My outlook on the day was much improved after spending my morning w
ith Ace, who was very insistent that I not talk for the remainder of the day. I’d smiled and promised with a nod, proving that I could follow directions…and I may have smirked a little.

  “Don’t you look happy,” Garrison observed, leaning on the doorframe to the small bathroom.

  “I am,” I whispered, shrugging when his eyes narrowed.

  “Ace told me that your throat was bothering you,” he frowned, narrowing his eyes.

  I replied with a wide smile and a thumbs up. The last thing I needed was for all of the guys to be pestering me about seeing a doctor. Yes, my throat was sore, but nothing I couldn’t work through with a few days of vocal rest and hot tea.

  “We are skipping practice later,” he announced, but held up his hand to stop my protest. “You can warm up right before we go on.”

  I nodded, accepting his concern. He was right. I needed to take it easy. We still had four weeks left on this tour. After that, we had a few months off to rest my voice.

  “What’s with the sad face?” Garrison asked, placing a hand on my shoulder. I glanced at my reflection in the mirror, and my face had indeed fallen. The thought of not seeing Ace on a daily basis sent my good mood south.

  I schooled my features and shook my head. “It’s nothing.”

  “No talking,” my bassist scolded, brushing his long bangs out of his eyes. I really wished he’d go call his girlfriend and leave me alone. These men were like mother hens sometimes. I chuckled to myself…not sometimes…all the time. “Glad to see you find me so funny. I gotta go. Come find me around six, and make sure you eat something.”

  I gave him a salute and watched as he walked toward the front of the bus. It took a few minutes to realize that he had talked to Ace about my voice, and the fact that Garrison hadn’t scowled when he’d mentioned it.

  Chapter 13

  Ace

  If she bent over again to sing to the crowd, I thought I’d have to go take care of my erection in the bathroom. The bottom swell of her ass peeked out of those tight leather shorts every time she did that little move. Of course, if I was a complete gentleman, I’d move from my spot behind the stage…but I wasn’t that much of a gentleman.

  In fact, I was only chivalrous around Presley. For years, I’d fucked anything with tits and a wet spot between her legs. If I was high enough, I fucked two or three at once, but those days were over. My music and band meant too damn much to me. I’d grown up over the past few years, and I had my eyes set on being the best I could be on that stage. There were only a few things in my life that were still left unchecked on my bucket list. One of them was standing on that stage, owning the crowd.

  It was no secret that I wanted her. The fucking hardness in my jeans was a clear indicator as to how much. As I looked out into the crowd, I knew that I wasn’t the only one. Men watched her with predatory gazes, their eyes darkened with lust. She was beautiful. I couldn’t blame them for their thoughts, but I sure as fuck wanted to jump out there and beat the living hell out of each and every one of them.

  Presley Pittman was the type of woman you cherished, protected. She was broken, so much more than she even let on. After I had left her on the bus to get ready for tonight’s show, I ran into her band. Garrison, Brian, and Drake had pulled me into a secluded room in the back of the venue and had told me things I didn’t know and some I didn’t want to know. She’d told me a lot about her upbringing, but she’d sugarcoated it. I didn’t think she had done it to deceive me. I think she had done that to protect her heart.

  As I stood there watching Presley in her element, I knew I wanted her…every broken inch of the woman who found herself every night when she stepped on that stage, soaking up the spotlight.

  It was the place she belonged.

  It was the place she was destined to be.

  On that stage, she was a queen. Presley Pittman, the lead singer of Witch’s Spawn, was strong and confident. Her music made her who she was and the lyrics were her therapy. I’d definitely learned to listen to the words she sang, and now that I knew more about her, I understood her need for privacy.

  Her father enjoyed breaking her spirit every chance he got, telling Presley that she was nothing and would never make it in this business. Off the stage, his words put doubt in her mind. But if he could see her the way I saw her every single night, that asshole would know she was destined to be one of the best in the world. I had never met the guy, but I was going to do everything in my power to make her dreams come true…putting that motherfucker in his place.

  We had a break after the show in Flint. That would give her a week to rest her vocals and for me to insist she spend time in Seattle. I wasn’t going to let her jet off to parts unknown just for her to stew in her worry about the upcoming show in Denver.

  Witch’s Spawn finished their set and I walked around to meet her as she came off stage. Her face was flushed, more so than usual. I had a towel in hand when she sagged, sitting down heavily in a chair by the door.

  “Whoa,” I said, kneeling down in front of her. “What’s going on?”

  “Presley?” Brian called out, rushing up to her other side. The rest of the band followed quickly.

  “Did you eat?” Garrison growled, hovering at her left side.

  “Yes, I ate,” she said, turning her head to glare at her best friend. “I think I’m sick.”

  Drake reached up to touch her forehead. “Damn, you’re burning up, but it could be from the stage lights. Let’s get you out to the bus.”

  “Come on,” I said, pulling her up from her seat. She leaned into my side, but walked normally. I kept one arm around her waist and held one hand with the other. She felt very hot, but then again, Drake had made a good point.

  “I’m fine, really,” she groaned, her voice sounding rougher than it had earlier in the day. “Just need to shower and sleep.”

  “First, you are going to have your temperature checked,” I insisted. Her eyes looked vacant and dark circles were starting to appear under them.

  Garrison rushed ahead of us to grab the first aid kit on the bus as we exited the building. When the cool air hit her skin, she shivered and burrowed deeper into my side. “It’s freezing out here.”

  “It’s not that cold.” Drake frowned.

  “On the bus,” I ordered, letting her walk ahead of me. Damn, I was worried she’d pass out from exhaustion right there and I wanted to make sure I caught her when she fell.

  “Open,” Garrison demanded, holding a thermometer up to her lips. She complied and closed her eyes. Thankfully, it was a digital one and the thing beeped within seconds.

  “Well, shit, Pres,” he cursed, reaching back for a bottle of pills and handing them to me. My eyes scanned the label, because it was an old habit. I relaxed when I noticed it was an over the counter fever reducer.

  “Take these,” I told her, dropping two of them in her hand. Drake arrived with bottled water and I heard Brian shuffling something back in their bunk area.

  Presley complied and pushed us all away. “You’re smothering me.”

  “You’ve got a seriously high fever,” Drake growled, pointing toward the back of the bus. “In the bed.”

  “I want to shower,” she pouted. If she wasn’t so sick, I’d want to lean in and bite her bottom lip.

  “Then shower,” I said, looking up at her bandmates. “I have to go.”

  “Come back?” she whispered.

  “I’ll check on you after the show,” I promised, kissing the top of her head before I stood up.

  I hurried down the steps, rushing toward the back door. If I didn’t show up on time, Coraline would have my ass, and I didn’t need Taylor being grumpy during the show. He was very protective of his girl and if she was upset, so was he.

  Looking over my shoulder at their bus, I now understood his worry. It took every ounce of willpower I had to pull that door open and walk into the building when all I wanted to do was climb on that bus and take care of Presley.

  “I was about to come find you
,” Cora growled, slapping the microphone in my hand.

  “I’m ready,” I assured her, ignoring her scowl. I pushed the plugs in my ears and reluctantly stepped on the stage, forcing a smile for the crowd. My mind wasn’t on the show, but I forced myself to perform at my best.

  The thought of Presley being sick sent a foreign feeling through my chest. I’d never taken care of anyone else when they were under the weather. What the hell did I need to do to make her better? Taylor nudged me as he passed behind me, moving to the other side of the stage. When I looked over, Coraline was there with a worried frown on her face. I needed to get my shit together.

  The show lasted forever. It felt like days before I got off that stage, rushing out to the buses to check on Presley. Drake met me at the bus door.

  “She’s asleep in her bunk,” he informed me, standing to the side so I could enter the living area.

  “How’s her fever?” I asked.

  “It’s back to normal,” Garrison said happily. “I think she just has a cold, but I’m going to have a doc see her in Minneapolis.”

  I nodded my agreement and walked quietly back to the bunks. I smiled when I found her snuggled among several purple blankets, her hair pushed back from her face. I touched her forehead and smiled when she mumbled my name.

  “It’s me, babe,” I whispered.

  Her eyes cracked open and she smiled. “I’m sorry,” she rasped.

  “No talking,” I ordered softly. “Everyone thinks you may have a virus. Garrison is getting you a doctor’s appointment as soon as we get to the next stop.”

  “Okay,” she agreed, closing her eyes. I smiled when her breathing evened out and she fell back asleep.

  I left with a promise from the guys that they’d call me if she got worse. I had to get to the front of the building to sign some autographs while our crew took down the equipment. It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 14

  Presley

  “Jesus Christ! I’m sick, not dying,” I complained, taking a sip of hot tea Ace’d had shipped in for me the day before. I’d also seen a doc in Minneapolis and sure enough, I had a throat infection, but it wasn’t that bad. I got a shot in my ass and a prescription for antibiotics. They sent me on my way.