by Brooklyn Ann
THE ROADIE
At 15, aspiring guitarist Kinley Black wished she were a boy. At 16, after hearing Quinn Mayne sing, she wanted him to make her a woman. Now, at 22, her dreams have come true. Quinn’s band Viciöus needs someone to lug their amps around the country, to strive and sweat with the guys. She just has to act like one of them.
AND THE ROCK GOD
Quinn had to admit the new chick could pull her weight, but that didn’t mean his road manager made the right choice. Taking a hottie on a heavy metal music tour was like dangling meat in front of a pack of feral hounds—and Quinn could be part dog himself. But more surprising than her beautiful body are Kinley’s sweet licks, so that no man could help but demand a jam session. Quinn will soon do anything to possess her, and to put Kinley in the spotlight where she belongs. And to keep her safe and sound from the wolves.
PRAISE FOR BROOKLYN ANN
“Following her promising debut (BITE ME, YOUR GRACE), Ann hits her stride with solid writing, a tasty dash of originality, and realistic relationships that zing with sexual energy. A strong sense of fun mixed with a little feminism keeps things lively and light, while the well-developed story keeps eyes on the page.”
—Publishers Weekly
“Ann’s delightful vampire world is a fun place to stop for a swift, lively evening’s enjoyment. Yes, it is a dark world, but with Ann’s propensity for subtle humor and eccentric characters, it’s an enchanting world as well. Four Stars.”
—RT Book Reviews
“Clutch the pearls, ladies. It’s wonderful…I have found a new love in ONE BITE PER NIGHT and Brooklyn Ann’s work. I can’t wait to get my greedy little hands on more of it.”
—Lit Bites
“Brooklyn Ann’s series is a definitely must read.”
—Romantic Reads and Such
“I could not put this book down I became so engrossed in the storyline and all of the colorful characters”
—RomFan Reviews
KISSING VICIOUS
Brooklyn Ann
a HEARTS OF METAL novel
www.BOROUGHSPUBLISHINGGROUP.com
PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, business establishments or persons, living or dead, is coincidental. Boroughs Publishing Group does not have any control over and does not assume responsibility for author or third-party websites, blogs or critiques or their content.
KISSING VICIOUS
Copyright © 2015 Brooklyn Ann
All rights reserved. Unless specifically noted, no part of this publication may be reproduced, scanned, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of Boroughs Publishing Group. The scanning, uploading and distribution of this book via the Internet or by any other means without the permission of Boroughs Publishing Group is illegal and punishable by law. Participation in the piracy of copyrighted materials violates the author’s rights.
ISBN 978-1-942886-78-5
Dedicated to Karen Ann
(6-11-62 - 2-14-09)
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Thanks to my editor, Camille Hahn, for providing a home for this story and embracing the not-so-glamorous aspects of the rock ’n’ roll world.
Thanks to my fabulous agent, Nephele Tempest, for all your wise words and encouragement.
Thanks to Kinley Baker, for letting me use your cool name for my heroine.
Thanks so much to my musician friends for their helpful feedback on the music industry: Tommy Rossini, Mason Bundshuh, Kent Butler, Craig Goldy, and Jeremy Wagner.
Thanks to my critique partners: Ashlyn Chase, Rissa Watkins, Bonnie R. Paulson, Shelley Martin, Millie McClaine, Laurie Schneider, and Brigitte De Mouey.
Thanks to my friends and family and my colleagues in the Inland Empire Chapter of Romance Writers of America and Gus’s Pub for all your support.
Finally, thanks to my readers. Writers would be nothing without you.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
About the Author
KISSING VICIOUS
Chapter One
“C’mon, baby, just let me feel ’em and I’ll let you through.” The leering roadie uncrossed his arms to reach forward.
Kinley choked back a groan of revulsion and stepped away.
Her pulse had been jacked up, her steps light with anticipation as she’d gone backstage to interview her favorite band. This interview would be her website’s biggest feature to date.
And now this asshole roadie was ruining her elation with his disgusting come-ons.
“It’s not the seventies anymore. Let me through.” She waved her laminated pass. “I have a scheduled interview.”
There. That was as diplomatic as she could be. It wouldn’t do to piss off the crew if she wanted to talk to the band, but this Neanderthal made it hard to be nice. With any luck, he’d back off and badger someone else. But considering those piggy eyes and that “Female Body Inspector” shirt, a woman would have to be desperate to allow his grimy fingers near her. The fact that a band as awesome as Viciöus had such a prick in their employ was beyond depressing.
She sighed. After she got her interview, it would all be worth it. Her ears still pounded from the glorious shredding guitar riffs, the throbbing bass, and the impossible speed of the drums. They had been gods on stage and now she was going to meet them.
“Sorry, sugar. Rules are rules. I gotta make sure the band’s getting Grade A titties.” With speed belying his sluggish appearance, he shoved those sausage fingers forward, reaching for her breasts. She swatted his hand away.
Fury boiled from her toes up. “If you touch me again, I’ll wipe the floor with your ass.”
The roadie’s laughter, like from a cheesy sitcom, rang in her ears. “Sounds kinky.” The moron actually stepped closer.
Kinley rolled her eyes. If it weren’t for this once-in-a-lifetime chance, she would have answered him with an uppercut. “A little help here?” she shouted, trying to salvage the situation.
The mass of gawkers muttered and looked in all directions, avoiding her gaze. Some asshole in the crowd yelled, “Show your tits!”
The roadie grinned and nodded in agreement.
“Thanks,” she muttered, embittered but unsurprised.
After what seemed like hours of dancing out of the caveman’s reach, a man approached. Her eyes widened. It was none other than Curtis Scrimm, lead guitarist of Viciöus.
He pushed his dirty blond locks from his face and grinned. “What’s going on?”
She struggled to meet his gaze while keeping one eye on the roadie. “I have a pass, but this guy’s molesting me and won’t let me through. Could you please tell him to stop?”
Kinley waved her laminate in case he hadn’t noticed. He leaned forward and gazed at it with squinty, glazed eyes.
Damn. If he was high, he’d be no help at all.
The roadie gave him a pleading look. “C’mon, Curt, she won’t play the game.
”
Curt shrugged helplessly, eyes darting between Kinley and the roadie, then back at the swarm of groupies visibly panting after him. One already had her breasts bared.
“I’m serious,” Kinley growled. “I’ll kick his ass if he touches me again.”
Her harasser licked his lips. “Oooh. I like it when they fight.”
The guitarist shook his head, blinking at the roadie. “Harry, are you drunk on the job again? I thought Gaffer warned you. Besides, she doesn’t look like she has much anyway…” He trailed off as the groupies slinked closer, eyes feral with curiosity.
Kinley’s chest tightened with trepidation. Where were the other security guys? Where was the rest of the band?
The roadie reached for her again.
She jumped out of his way, stomach churning with anxiety. Then again, maybe it was a good thing the rest of the band wasn’t here to witness this disaster. The situation was quickly getting out of control. And it looked like she wouldn’t be getting her interview after all.
“I’ll fuck him up,” she stammered, flipping her braid over her shoulder. “I swear!”
Curtis chuckled, eyes roving over her body, visibly assessing her odds. Though she was tall and fit, she was lean, and the roadie outweighed her by at least eighty pounds. “Lady, if you can kick Harry’s ass, you can have his job.”
Her breath left her lungs. Kinley had been prepared to just break the roadie’s nose and walk out, but now the proverbial carrot had been dangled.
A chance to work for Viciöus? Hell, a chance to be back in music?
A wave of longing rushed over her to once more be part of it all. For that pump of adrenaline, the roar of the crowd, the heat of the stage lights—the soul searing passion of the music. To return to that life, even if only on the fringes, Kinley would do anything.
Beating this perverted scumbag to a pulp would be no hardship.
She dropped into a fighting stance and slightly relaxed her fists, the better to do more damage.
One last time, she tried for diplomacy. “As much as I’d love to work for you, it really would be better to call him off and let me—”
Harry’s porcine hand gripped her breast.
Kinley saw red.
Her fist connected with the roadie’s nose and she felt the satisfying crunch. He bellowed like a boar and blindly swung a ham-like fist.
Kinley easily ducked the punch and followed up with a knee to his gut.
He doubled over with an agonized groan but surprised her with an uppercut that thankfully missed her jaw and instead struck the side of her head. Kinley stumbled back, one ear ringing from the blow, the other echoing from the noise of her audience. Are those cheers or jeers?
Her mind struggled to unscramble. Another punch whistled past her head and she dodged it just in time. Her heel slammed into Harry’s kneecap and he went down shrieking.
This time Kinley didn’t give him a chance to recover. Her fists pummeled his face like the punching bag she practiced on in her garage.
Savage glee infused her with every strike. He collapsed after another blow to the jaw, but she wasn’t finished. Kinley raised her fist.
A voice rang out: “What the fuck is going on here?”
She froze. Quinn Mayne, lead singer of Viciöus, strode forward, his long black hair framing a chiseled, god-like face with green eyes foreboding as a hurricane sky.
Reality crashed down upon her. Suddenly, she could see how insane she must appear.
Heart pulsing, Kinley released the unconscious roadie. His skull thudded on the cement floor as her lips quavered to form a response.
Quinn was her hero. She’d had a full-on crush on him for years. The man was capable of brilliant vocals and shredding guitar riffs—not to mention his stormy good looks. Securing an interview with him had been a dream come true. And now she’d turned it into a nightmare.
A horde of groupies squealed and scurried toward Quinn, but he waved them off. His gaze never left his band. “I’m waiting.”
The audience warbled enthusiastically, albeit with contradictory responses. They fell silent as Brand Kife, the bassist, stepped forward. Broad shouldered and with curling auburn hair, he was almost as handsome as Quinn. “Curt told her to kick his ass…and, well, I was going to step in, but she handled it herself.”
“I didn’t tell her to kick his ass,” Curt interjected. “I said if she can kick his ass—”
“Son of a bitch had it coming,” a new voice intruded. Tony McVries, the drummer, shook his head. “Harry was up to his old shit. Couldn’t keep his hands to himself. This lady gave him fair warning, and then laid his ass out before any of us could do anything.”
Damn, Tony was there too? Too bad he hadn’t intervened. The drummer was built like a brick house. Kinley’s mouth went dry as a question sprang up: How long had the rest of the band been watching?
Quinn’s gaze darted back and forth from his band members to Harry’s pudgy form on the floor—and then to her.
Every time he looked at her, her pulse sped up, his presence stealing the breath from her body.
He’s really there. I am standing here before Quinn Mayne! The girlish voice squealed in the back of her mind. She loathed that voice. That voice made her want to slap herself, now more than ever. She wasn’t going to turn into a stupid simpering groupie just because she was attracted to the guy. This was business.
She took a deep breath and faced Quinn head on. “I tried to get him to leave me alone, but he wouldn’t quit. Then he grabbed my breast and…” She looked down at the bruised and beaten man on the floor. Why hadn’t that asshole just listened? “I just lost it.”
“I’m pretty sure he was drunk again,” Curtis supplied, finally being of some help.
A bearlike, older man came up behind Quinn. “Then that means he’s fired.”
Quinn nodded and turned to Kinley, staring at her with unnerving intensity. The impact of his stormy eyes made her suck in another breath. Heat unfurled within her stomach.
“I’m so sorry about this.” He reached forward to shake her hand, but lowered his arm at the last minute, grimacing at the blood coating her fingers.
Kinley’s face burned in humiliation at the rejection, understandable though it was. She’d anticipated shaking Quinn’s hand since the minute his publicist had approved the interview. Only now, he was clearly repulsed at the idea of touching her.
“What the hell were you all doing when this was going down?” He turned his thunderous gaze on his band mates.
“I…uh…” Curtis shrugged.
Brand flushed. “We really were going to help, but she handled herself just fine. Besides, what do you care about it anyway? Don’t you have interviews and autographs and other shit to do?”
Tony held up his hands. “Hey, man, I told you I wanted to do something but…”
The singer ran an exasperated hand through his thick dark hair. “Are you telling me you just stood here and let Harry harass a chick to the point where she was forced to defend herself?”
One of the groupies stepped forward, wrapping her fingers possessively around Curt’s bicep as she pouted up at Quinn. “They had a bet.”
His frown deepened. “What do you mean?”
Kinley sighed and explained. “Your guitarist said that if I could kick your roadie’s ass, I could have his job.”
“What?” Quinn roared, rounding on Curtis. “Why the hell would you do that? Not only is a deal like that completely fucked up, but since when do you call the shots?”
The big man behind him nodded. “That’s my job, Curt.”
Oh shit! Dread filled her stomach. He must be the road manager.
Quinn frowned at the comatose mess on the floor. “Look. I don’t have time for this clusterfuck. I have an interview in ten minutes.”
The thudding of her heart increased. Kinley opened her mouth to inform him that the interview was with her. All that came out was a pathetic squeak. Thankfully, no one heard. She gritted her teeth
. Man up, Kinley.
The manager glared at Brand and Curtis. “When Harry wakes up, get him a bus ticket home. You two are paying for it.”
“Aw, man!” Brand protested.
Quinn silenced him with a glare. “And if he needs medical treatment, that’s on your dime too. You should have stopped this.” He eyed Kinley and sighed. “And she can—”
“We can reschedule our interview, maybe do it online or over the phone,” Kinley finally managed.
Quinn’s expression was one of sublime confusion.
“Our interview. I can reschedule. I…um…” She looked down at her gore-encrusted hands, resisting the urge to wipe them on her jeans. “I need to clean up anyway.”
If he even wanted to talk to her after this. She glanced at the bleeding mess of the roadie. She’d hurt him worse than she’d intended.
The manager burst out laughing. “You’re Kinley Black? The host of Metalness.com? This is too rich.”
Quinn’s gaze returned to Kinley, gleaming with momentary interest before darkening again. “Wait, you’re the one who’s interviewing me?” He shook his head and turned back to his band. “So not only did you assholes let Harry harass a woman, then stood there with your thumbs up your asses while she took care of him, but that woman is a fucking journalist too? What the hell is wrong with all of you?”
Kinley’s spirits sank further. Great, he was seriously pissed off now.
“I didn’t want to get hurt,” Brand replied, eyes twinkling with merriment. “That chick packs a serious punch.”
“Yeah,” Tony added, absently twirling a drumstick. “She handled herself fine.”
