Fatal Desires (Fatal Cross Live! Book 1)

by Hissong, Theresa

  “We don’t care what you do, Mitch,” Cash sighed. “But we need to air the place out. We don’t need to be around that shit.”

  “Gotcha, man,” Mitch said, jumping to his feet and heading toward the back door. He propped it open and the cross breeze pushed the cloud of smoke toward the front of the building. “So, I’m guessing you guys are still clean?”

  “Yeah,” I answered. It was well known that we’d had our fair share of parties since we’d started this band, and it was also well known that the band had all taken a year off to spend in drug rehab to stop the addictions that were slowly killing us.

  “Good,” he nodded. “That’s good to hear. You guys ready to work?”

  “Ready as we’ll ever be,” I declared, setting my guitar case down against the wall.

  Braxton Keller, our new drummer, was the last in the door and he groaned when he caught the unmistakable scent in the air. “Really? Are you fucking serious?” he growled angrily. He’d had his own run-ins with drugs and we forged a bond between the four of us when we signed him on after losing our last drummer for attempting to rape the wife of our dear friend Reed Sullivan, who is also the baby sister of Gabe Miller from the band Glory Days.

  “Five minutes and you’ll never know what went on here,” Mitch promised as he produced a can of air freshener and proceeded to use half of the can to cover up the smell. Of course, it didn’t work.

  It took twenty minutes before we were able to sit down with our songs and go over them with Mitch. The thing about Mitch was, he was the best damn producer on the West Coast and worth every penny spent to have his name on our album.

  Braxton was tense and I couldn’t blame the guy. He’d been clean for three years now, just a few months less than us. He’d turned his life around so much so, you wouldn’t even recognize him. Gone was the tall, skinny drummer, and in his place was a giant. His fucking arms were the size of boulders and I wouldn’t piss him off on his best day. The guy was quiet and that just made him scary as hell. His light brown hair was brushed back out of his face and his eyes were so fierce, he could pierce you with an angry stare from a block away.

  It didn’t take long before we started recording our first song on the new album. I played for hours that day and felt good about actually recording without being high. Ace sang as if his life depended on it, and I was smiling by the time we loaded up to head back to our homes.

  That day would end up being one of the hardest days I’d faced in the past two years.

  After I’d arrived home, a knock on my door had me cursing when I opened it, wanting to slam the door in the guy’s face.

  “Hey, T,” Jared greeted, holding out his hand. Seeing the man who’d supplied my habit for six years was not what I needed at the moment.

  “What do you want?” I avoided his touch and crossed my arms over my chest as I blocked the doorway, silently telling him he wasn’t going to step foot over my threshold.

  “I’ve got some stuff you like,” he smirked. “I’ll even cut you a deal on the K. What do you say?” K, meaning kilo.

  “Fuck no,” I growled. “Man, I’m clean and have no damn desire to start that shit back up again.”

  “Not even for an old friend?” he smiled, hoping to make a deal. Jared was a pretty boy, nothing like the drug dealers you see portrayed on television. No, this guy took his daddy’s money and started an empire, selling drugs to the rich and famous. There were no back alley transactions done by him or any of his crew.

  “You know damn good and well that we are not friends,” I seethed, clenching my fists. I’d beat the hell out of this guy if he didn’t leave…soon. I didn’t need, or want, this shit in my life again. It’d almost killed me once. “Now, get the fuck out of here and don’t come back. Got me?”

  “Damn, dude,” he frowned. “Thought I’d help a brother out.”

  “Well, you’re not helping,” I scoffed, placing my hand on the door, ready to close it in his face. I wasn’t stupid. I knew this guy carried a gun, and from the bulge at his hip, I knew he was packing heat. Fuck, I don’t need this shit today!

  “Here,” he insisted, tossing something at my chest. I automatically caught the small, clear baggie, dropping it like it was on fire as soon as I realized what it contained. “What? You don’t want a taste? It’s on me. Call me if you change your mind, but don’t wait long.”

  “I told you,” I roared, bending over to pick up the baggie filled with cocaine. “I don’t want it or fucking need it. Take this shit and do not ever come back!” My blood was boiling. If the son of a bitch didn’t have a damn gun on him, I’d beat the shit out of him.

  “You’ll be back,” he laughed, shaking his head. “You always come back.” He turned and made his way back down the driveway, where he climbed into his brand new Corvette.

  “Not happening,” I stated, watching him from my door to make sure he left my property.

  Once he was gone, I sat heavily on the couch. Dropping my head into my hands, I wanted to scream at the part of my brain that kept saying, “Just one more time. You’ll be careful. Just go slow. Just a little line. It’s not going to hurt you…Come on…You know you want it…”

  “Motherfucker!” I yelled, jumping to my feet. I made my way into the kitchen, scooping up my phone. I couldn’t do this alone. I couldn’t fall back into that lifestyle. I didn’t want to die, and I knew damn good and well that if I did one more line of coke…I’d be dead.

  “Taylor?” Mathew Gaines asked, answering on the first ring. Mathew’s my sponsor, and when things get rough, he’s the first person I call. I hurried to the bathroom off my kitchen and opened the baggie, spilling its contents into the toilet bowl, dropping the baggie in with it and hitting the handle to flush it down and out of my house.

  “I…I need you,” I gritted out, my eyes closed as I sat heavily on the couch. “My…my dealer came by the house.”

  “Ahh, man,” he worried. “Did you…?”

  “No!” I assured, relaxing when I heard him let out a heavy sigh. “I kicked him out, but I…I need to get out of here.”

  “I understand,” he said. “Do you need me to come get you?”

  “No,” I replied. “I can come to you. I don’t want to stay here any longer.” This house held too many damn memories of the parties I had thrown, the drugs that flowed freely, and I was so fucking done. I couldn’t stay in this house…I had to go before I did something that would forever change my life. I had to get help.

  “Come on over, Taylor,” he asserted, compassion in his voice. “You are welcome here as long as you need, brother.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully, hanging up and packing a bag. I had to get my fucking shit straight. Maybe by then, Coraline would be able to forgive me, because right now, I needed to take care of myself.

  Chapter 3

  Coraline

  Two Months Later

  “I promise you, I won’t kill him, Coraline,” Kane sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “But I want to kill him.” My cousin stood there shirtless, his massive collection of tattoos on display. His hair was the same jet black as my own. He kept his long and the sides shaved. Earlier in the day, I’d spiked his hair up into a wicked Mohawk that made him look even more dangerous than he normally did.

  “I’m fine, it’s over. I’d rather just go on with my life, Kane,” I resolved, my voice only above a whisper. “Please, just let me do my job.”

  “Okay, but I’m here,” he offered, reassuring me with a touch to my forearm. He stuck both hands into the pockets of his black denim jeans and kissed the top of my head.

  “Okay,” I acknowledged and grabbed a rolling case to take out to the stage.

  Today was the last full day before Gabe went home to be with his wife. Taylor was going to take his spot on the rest of the tour for my cousin’s band. I hadn’t spoken to him since the night we’d spent on the island, and I’d stopped calling him the night I lost the baby. Like I told Kane, I just wanted to forget it and move
on with my life.

  I’d just run the lights around Kane’s drum kit when I felt him enter the building. I was so attuned to Taylor Vaughn that I could feel him when he was near, and I hated it. We’d worked together many times over the years, and maybe that’s why I knew the moment he stepped into the same room I was in. Maybe?

  I heard the other roadies call out his name in excitement at his arrival and I gritted my teeth, climbing the scaffolding to hang a set of lights I’d set aside for just this moment. After this, I would be done with my portion of work and would make my way, very quickly, out to the bus.

  “Cora,” he called out.

  “Hi, Taylor,” I replied, turning away so I could focus on my job. Thankfully, Gabe came out of the backstage area and talked to him about some last minute things before he was scheduled to leave tomorrow.

  After tonight’s show, Gabe would head out, and Taylor would be the temporary guitarist for Glory Days. After this tour was over, Taylor would be off on his own tour with his band Fatal Cross. They’d be starting out overseas, and would be gone for only three weeks, before returning to the states. After that, he’d be on a six month excursion across the U.S., performing in smaller venues. His band wasn’t at the caliber of my cousin’s band, but Fatal Cross was quickly moving up the charts and would soon be selling out arenas if they kept gaining momentum with their music. As much as I disliked Taylor right now, I was happy for him and his success.

  I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye and tried not to watch the way he walked or the way those jeans hugged his tight ass. Oh, he looked so much better than I remembered. He’d cut his long brown hair to a shorter style. The sides were shaved tight to his scalp and the top was so long that the ends brushed his strong cheekbones as it fell over his fiercely erotic green eyes. I swear he’d also put on about twenty pounds of muscle since I’d last seen him. His skin still looked as soft as I remembered it, though.

  “Fuck!” I cursed under my breath.

  “You alright up there?” Rita, one of our roadies, called out from below.

  “Stupid lights,” I shrugged and went back to work.

  Once Taylor and Gabe were backstage, I hurried along with my work and came down so that I could make my escape from the stage and out to the bus. When I entered the backstage area, I groaned when I found Kane and Gabe talking near Taylor. Kane was glaring daggers at Taylor’s back.

  “You ready to go home and see your new baby?” I asked Gabe, trying to take their focus off of Taylor.

  “Eighteen more hours,” he sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Taylor. “Is everything okay? Should I be worried about leaving?”

  “Everything’s fine, Gabe,” I lied. He looked between Kane and Taylor, and then to me. I shrugged and said my goodbyes, wishing him a safe trip home. “Give Brooklyn my best.”

  “Hey,” Kane said, stopping me from leaving. “There’s food in the back room, Cora. You should eat something while you can.” God, he was so fucking protective. I really wished his wife was here so she could be under his watchful eye instead of me.

  “Thanks,” I nodded and made my way over to the room, Kane following behind me.

  As I grabbed some food, Taylor walked in and ignored most of us, removing his laptop. Plugging it into the outlet on the far wall, he sat at a small bistro table that was set up with two chairs. He opened the lid and started typing away.

  Instead of heading out to the safety of the bus like I’d originally wanted to do, I took to the corner of the couch and sat my plate on my crossed legs. Ash Martin, the lead singer of my cousin’s band, took a seat next to me and smiled. “I’m going to have another baby.”

  “What?” I gasped, enveloping him in a hug. “I didn’t know! Congrats, Big Papa!”

  “Thanks,” he smiled, looking pretty smug with his announcement. His wife was now pregnant with their third child. She was an amazing woman and perfect for the front man of Glory Days.

  All this talk of babies had me happy for them, but made me want to pull my fucking hair out, what little I had. I kept the dark locks cut very short. I liked it that way so that I could work the rigorous task of getting the band set up and ready to perform for thousands of people every night. The thought of shaving it completely off was always an option, because after this tour, I’d either be bald from running my hands through it or prematurely gray from the stress.

  Glancing over at Ash, I sighed heavily with the dark thoughts I’d been having lately. I wouldn’t be a good mom. So, if I took a deep reality check, I’d realize that losing the baby was a good thing. I was only twenty-four and I had my whole life ahead of me. I wasn’t quite ready to settle down and stay at home to raise a kid.

  With my stomach churning, I dumped my plate and left the room. As I walked down the corridor to the rear exit of the building, I felt him behind me. I didn’t turn or even slow down when I hit the door, pushing it open wide.

  “Cora,” Taylor said, calling out twice before I stopped once I had reached the bus.

  “What, Taylor?” I sighed, turning around slowly to face him.

  “Look,” he began, running his fingers through his now shorter hair. His green eyes sparkled from the lights hanging above the door to the back of the venue. “I’m sorry I never called you back. It’s just that I wanted to talk to you in person.”

  “Three months later?” I chided, glaring at his handsome face. Why the hell did my insides melt when he was so close? “Seriously?”

  “I’m sorry,” he pled, his green eyes masked with guilt. Puppy dog eyes. That’s all he was doing, and I’d be dammed if I fell into that trap again.

  “No,” I protested. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that what we did proved to me what a man whore you really are, and that I was nothing but a scratch you needed itched. Get the fuck away from me, Taylor Vaughn. I’m not your fucking whore.”

  Spinning on my heel, I stormed off toward the door of the bus, but Taylor obviously wasn’t having any of that. A warm hand latched onto my upper arm, turning me around to face him. His guilty eyes were now deep emerald and very pissed off.

  “You were not some fucking whore,” he ranted. “And I swear to God, Coraline Maddox, if I ever hear you talk about yourself like that again, I will blister your ass to the point where you won’t be able to sit down for a month.”

  “Leave me alone, Taylor,” I sighed heavily, my shoulders slumping with exhaustion. I was so tired of replaying that night on the island over and over in my head.

  “Never,” he whispered, before pushing his weight into my body, causing my back to hit the cold exterior of the tour bus. His hand grasped my chin, holding it in place for his lips to capture them. I tried to struggle, but it was no use. Taylor was larger than me and the grip he had on my face was so dominating that I found myself not wanting him to release me. How fucked up was that?

  The kiss was just as hot as I’d remembered. His tongue swept across my lip, and when I didn’t open, he used his teeth to bite them. For a split second, I let myself get lost in his kiss, but I had to be strong. I had to stop this before it went too far…again.

  “Please,” I begged, turning my head to the left once he pulled back enough for us to take a breath. “Don’t do this.”

  “Don’t do what, Cora?” he whispered softly, landing one last press of his lips to the side of my neck.

  “This,” I stated. “We have to work together for a few weeks, then it’s done…over, Taylor. I won’t have sex with you again. Don’t kiss me, either.”

  “And this is what you want?” he asked, looking into my eyes. I knew he was studying my face, watching for any sign of the truth. I couldn’t lie worth a damn, and the traitorous tears pricking the backs of my eyes were a dead giveaway for what I was about to say.

  “Yes, this is what I want,” I lied, breaking away from him and rushing up the stairs to the bus. I went to my bunk and let the tears fall where no one could hear me cry.

  I had to stay far away from that man, because Taylor Vaughn might
just be my downfall.

  Chapter 4

  Taylor

  Tasting Coraline Maddox again was like taking another line of cocaine into my system. She was addicting, and the taste was exquisite. I craved her more than I’d realized. If there was ever a female body that would make men go to war, that body would belong to Coraline Maddox. She was short, but curved in all the right places. Her breasts were huge and her hips flared perfectly for my large hands to grasp while I took her from behind. She had a little birthmark on the side of her right hip that looked like one half of a heart. I shivered when I remembered tasting that mark with my tongue.

  As she ran up the steps on the bus, I heaved a deep breath and calmed my nerves. She was angry and had every right to be, because I had been a complete jerk to her. Not calling her was a jackass move, but I’d thought that a face to face explanation was due. It looked like she was not going to accept my apology anytime in the near future.

  I wanted to call her…I really did. By the time she started calling me, I’d been heading back into the studio. I’d had a hard go of things right after returning from the studio that night and I’d been staying with my sponsor in Seattle for a few weeks. I’d lost my nerve to contact her and look where that got me…right in the damn doghouse. I’m lucky she didn’t punch me in the fucking nuts.

  Coraline Maddox wasn’t a girly-girl. No, she was a badass bitch and a small part of me wanted her naked, screaming my name instead of orders. In fact, I wanted to tie her to my bed and listen to her calling out my name again and again.

  Without a backwards glance, I tucked my hands in my pockets and headed for the back door to the venue. A security guard regarded me with cautioned eyes, but let me through without any problems after seeing the laminated pass attached to the key ring on my hip.

  “Where’s Cora?” Kane barked, as I rounded the corner. He looked worried, concerned.