Kissing Vicious

by Brooklyn Ann

  One of the medics looked like he was about to argue until the others nodded. “Fine, but you better stay out of the way.”

  “I’ll call you with directions to the hospital,” he called over his shoulder as he followed the paramedics.

  Once they loaded Kinley into the cramped ambulance, the EMTs hooked her up to an IV and attached a blood pressure cuff. She remained unresponsive, aside from a weak, pained moan that clenched Quinn’s heart.

  God, let her live; please let her live. He kept up the silent litany all the way to the hospital, willing away the icy panic as the paramedics unloaded her from the ambulance and rushed her inside.

  When Quinn tried to follow the gurney, the hospital staff barred his way, leaving him to fret in the waiting room. A few minutes later, a nurse approached to ask about Kinley’s next of kin, leaving him feeling even more helpless when he couldn’t answer.

  He wouldn’t feel anything else until he was certain Kinley would survive.

  Icy terror gripped his heart. Would she survive?

  Gaffer and his band mates joined him in the waiting room.

  The road manager put a hand on Quinn’s shoulder. “I convinced Phil to turn himself in to the police. I told him he’d be safer in jail, where you can’t get to him.”

  “He’ll never work in music again,” Tony commented, voice cold with hatred.

  Brand nodded, his gaze hard as steel. “Amen to that. I can’t believe he’d sink to such a low, dirty trick.” Turning to Quinn, his brows drew together in concern. “How is she? Is she gonna live?”

  “I don’t know yet.” Quinn’s fists clenched in helpless impotence.

  Gaffer nodded in sympathy. “I already cancelled the gig and I’m working to reschedule it, but we’re going to head to San Antonio for the next one. Hopefully Kinley will recover in time for you both to meet us there. I’ve brought the W2 and job application that Kinley filled out when she started working for us, so maybe they can track down her next of kin through that.”

  For a moment Quinn couldn’t speak, he was so overcome with gratitude. Throat dry, he choked out a weak thank you.

  An hour later, he paced through the hospital corridor, fighting the urge to go all Viking berserker on the place. The woman he loved could die at any moment and there was nothing he could do about it.

  The woman he loved. His pacing ceased and his body froze at the realization. He was in love with Kinley. He loved her so much his chest ached. What kind of stupid coward was he not to have realized it sooner?

  He loved her courage, her strength, her hard work, and determination. He loved the way she wouldn’t take shit from anyone. He loved the way she’d cry at sad parts of movies and do everything in her power not to let anyone see. He loved her blissful smile when she played guitar, her tangible passion for music. He loved the way she still blushed around him and struggled to hide it.

  Damn it, he loved her, pure and simple. She had to make it through this. He prayed to whoever was listening that Kinley would live. He swore to protect her from now on and keep her by his side.

  The vow filled him with resolve. There was only one way to guarantee her safety and ensure they’d share their future together.

  When Kinley recovered, he would ask her to marry him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Cold. Kinley was so cold. Though her muscles strained to curl up into the fetal position, she couldn’t move. Were her limbs encased in ice? She tried to open her eyes, but her lids were too heavy, maybe frozen shut.

  Needles pierced every inch of her skin, pressing hard into the tender flesh of her forearms. Am I dead? Was hell cold instead of hot? Or maybe hell was a constant shift between extremes. Earlier, she’d been on fire, burning and parched. Now that heat was a distant memory in the face of this bone-aching cold.

  Then there was that noise. A steady, monotonous beeping like a faraway alarm clock. A flare of hope came with the sound. Maybe she wasn’t dead. Maybe she was only trapped in a nightmare from which she could not escape. The beeping persisted, growing louder.

  Could it be an alarm clock? If so, she had to get up or she’d be late. Late to what? The next gig? Was that today? If it was, then why wasn’t Quinn waking her up?

  Because Quinn wasn’t here. The realization fell upon her like a stone in her belly. She ached from the absence of his body’s warmth next to hers. And why was she so cold? God, I need him so bad right now. She needed his warmth. Needed him to pull her from this nightmare and assure her everything would be okay.

  Though her head throbbed with the effort, Kinley willed her trembling lips to move. Her ice-crusted lungs sucked in a piercing breath and she forced herself to exhale his name.

  “Quinn?” Her throat ached and her teeth chattered unbearably but she redoubled her effort to make her voice work. “Quinn?” She managed a feeble whimper.

  From far away, a voice answered, but it wasn’t him. Instead it was a woman, a stranger. “She’s awake. Will you go find Dr. Mellark?”

  The sound of footsteps squeaked on a hard floor and slowly faded as the voice came closer. “Stay with us, Miss Black.”

  She fought hard to open her eyes. Blinding light stabbed her skull, making her moan in pain, but she willed her vision to focus until she could discern the shape of a woman in scrubs leaning over her along with the IV in her arm and the heart monitor bleeping behind the nurse’s shoulder.

  “Hospital?” Kinley croaked.

  The nurse nodded. “That’s right. I’m sorry to say you suffered a near-lethal overdose of methamphetamine.”

  Her mind went dizzy with confusion. “But I don’t…”

  “From what I understand, someone put the drug in your coffee without your knowledge.” The nurse’s eyes glittered with sympathy and she squeezed Kinley’s hand. “That’s what your boyfriend told the EMTs.”

  “Quinn?” Her heart filled with desperate longing.

  “Yes, he’s here, and we’ll let him in as soon as the doctor is finished examining you.” Again came that comforting squeeze. “He’s handsome, by the way. He looks like a rock star.”

  He is a rock star, Kinley tried to say, but blackness bled into her vision, drowning her in unconsciousness. It couldn’t have lasted long because when she awoke the doctor had arrived.

  The older man smiled at her with kindly features as he checked her temperature. “I’m Dr. Mellark. How are you feeling Miss Black?”

  “C-cold,” she managed.

  He nodded, unperturbed. “Yes, we had to pack you in ice to get your temperature down.”

  “Ice?” Her eyes widened with disbelief while shivering at the word.

  He frowned in remorse. “It was the only thing we could do to save you.” The doctor continued to explain. They’d also pumped her stomach and shot her up with some crazy-named substance to bring her heart rate down. Kinley’s mind swam with disbelief. Phil had dosed her with meth. Her stomach growled, oblivious to her horror at such a sick betrayal.

  Dr. Mellark smiled. “Ah, you’re hungry. That’s a good sign. Unfortunately, we’ll have to wait at least another hour before we try to get anything solid in you. Also, we have some forms for you to fill out.”

  Kinley nodded. She didn’t feel hungry, no matter what her stomach said. She felt pissed. When I get out of here, I’m breaking Phil’s legs. She frowned. Likely Quinn had gotten to him first. Quinn. A fresh pang of longing struck her.

  As if reading her mind, Dr. Mellark said, “I’m going to keep you here overnight for observation, but I think you should be released tomorrow. For now, your boyfriend wants to see you. Is that all right?”

  “Yes, please.” Her voice came out pathetic and desperate, but she didn’t care.

  Moments later, Quinn’s beloved form filled the doorway. Kinley’s heart caught in her throat at the lines of tension and worry etched in his face.

  “How are you feeling?” His voice rumbled over her, deep and warm.

  Torn between joy at his presence and humiliation at her
bedraggled appearance, all she could do was lamely ask, “What about the gig?”

  His brows drew together. “I don’t care about the gig. I care about you.” Gently, he took her hand in his warm grip and squeezed. “Again, how are you feeling?”

  Kinley’s pulse rose, bleeping faster on the heart monitor. “I’m still sore and freezing my ass off, but the doctor said I’ll probably be able to leave here tomorrow and get back to work.”

  “Did he actually say you could get back to work?” Quinn frowned, voice laden with doubt.

  Her face heated. “Well, not exactly, but it’s what I intend to do.”

  “You’re going to rest tomorrow,” he said sternly. “Then we’ll see.”

  Lacking the strength to argue, she changed the subject. “They said Phil dosed me with meth.”

  “Yes, and the son of a bitch is lucky I didn’t kill him.” His voice was a feral growl. “He turned himself in to the cops, so you won’t be seeing him again.”

  “I can’t believe he did that. I knew he hated me, but still…” Kinley trailed off, mind swimming with hurt confusion. How could anyone do such a vile thing?

  The force of Quinn’s grip, fierce with anger, was almost painful. “He was a fucked up little man.”

  Exhaustion weighed down her limbs, making it difficult to speak. Just before she faded away into blackness, Kinley clenched Quinn’s hand. “Please don’t leave me.”

  Quinn’s thumb caressed her knuckles. As sleep sucked her under, she thought she heard him answer, “Never.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Two weeks later

  Quinn watched Kinley anxiously as she crossed the stage for her guitar solo. Though she seemed to have her strength back, she still looked a little pale. But her hands remained steady, fingers dashing expertly up and down the fret board as the fans cheered. Some of the tightness in his chest eased, only to be replaced by a nervous tremor in his stomach.

  This was the last show of the tour and tonight, before the farewell party, he would ask Kinley to become his wife. Once she said yes, he’d finally be able to keep her safe by his side.

  A tremor of anticipation nearly made him drop his guitar. It had taken every bit of his willpower to wait until she’d gotten her strength back. But the last couple weeks had been too stressful to even consider proposing to her.

  The moment Kinley was discharged from the hospital, she and Quinn were bombarded with questions from news stations and metal magazines. They brushed all inquiries aside. Their official statement said simply that she’d been ill. That had seemed to placate the public, until some enterprising snoop dug up Phil’s arrest record, which revealed that the former guitar tech had been charged with attempted manslaughter.

  An uproar ensued throughout their fan base, then spread to various tabloids and Internet sites. Outraged feminists flocked to Kinley’s “cause,” exposing and berating the rampant misogyny in the heavy metal industry. She was praised as a hero and survivor while Quinn and the rest of Viciöus were lauded for giving her a place in the band and for protecting her when one of their own “tried to murder her for succeeding in a man’s world.”

  Pictures of her triumphantly playing guitar went viral along with images of her in Quinn’s arms. What had at first been a secret relationship was now touted as one of the most famous love stories in the history of metal. The sickeningly sweet nickname “Quinnley” spread. A few fans continued to reject the notion, warning that she’d just be another Yoko and break up the band, but even they were mostly silenced after hearing Kinley’s story—and hearing her play.

  She continued to face questions regarding her position with Viciöus and her relationship with Quinn. To the frustration of all, she was vague regarding her future involvement with either, except to assure everyone that her position with the band was temporary and would only last until Curt returned. Her respect for Curt placated those who were not already won over by her sheer talent.

  Record sales for the band skyrocketed along with concert ticket sales. Quinn had never before seen so many females in the audience. Kinley and Kat’s website also doubled its exposure and ad revenue.

  As his gaze scanned the excited faces of their fans, he couldn’t help but be astounded that so much good had come from a near tragedy.

  Striking the chords on his Fender, Quinn joined her in the solo. Her dark eyes met his, sending a bolt of exhilaration through his chest. He’d had a hell of a ride since he’d met Kinley and he only wanted the ride to continue.

  Striking the final chord, she grinned at him and sketched a little bow, the sweet curves of her ass pointed enticingly in his direction. Quinn bit back a groan as a wave of hot lust engulfed him. He hadn’t just held off his proposal since her poisoning, he’d also refrained from making love to her. With the shadows under her eyes and her pale skin, she’d looked so fragile he was afraid to hurt her.

  But tonight… He licked his lips in bated desire, not giving a shit if the audience noticed.

  Oh yes, tonight he would have her—but gently.

  ***

  Kinley followed Quinn up to the hotel room on quaking legs. He’d said he needed to talk to her and his eyes had burned with a solemn intensity she’d never seen before. It had to be about her job. The tour was over, and probably her time with him as well. She sucked in a shaky breath and straightened her spine. It was inevitable that she’d lose him. She’d always known it. Taking a deep breath, she squared her shoulders. She could handle this.

  The throbbing ache in her heart begged to differ.

  The door closed behind them with ominous finality. Quinn’s eyes blazed with determination as he looked at her.

  White spots encroached on the edges of her vision. Oh God, this is it. He’s breaking up with me. This is the end. This is—

  “Marry me.” The soft, tender command infused her senses.

  Kinley swayed and almost fell. “What?” Her dizziness must be making her mind play tricks on her.

  “Marry me,” Quinn repeated firmly. He pulled a small velvet box from his pocket and opened it to reveal a diamond ring in a filigreed silver setting.

  She eyed the diamond as if she’d never seen one before, her mind swimming with surprise and confusion. Is this really happening? Kinley thought of the friends who’d faded from her life and abandoned their dreams not long after she’d returned the bridesmaid gowns from their weddings.

  Another part of her conjured a tempting vision of herself bedecked in a white gown, carrying a bouquet of flowers, and walking down an aisle to meet Quinn. Shaking her head to banish her clouded judgment, she voiced her next thought. “But what then?”

  Sure, she would be Quinn’s wife, but what else would she be?

  He frowned, still holding out the ring. “What do you mean?”

  “What about my job?” she asked, voice hollow as she shoved her hands in her pockets, resisting the urge to take the ring and see how it looked on her finger. She took a step back to avoid throwing herself in his arms.

  He raised a brow. The arm holding out the ring began to lower. “What about it?”

  “I mean, am I still working with the band? Will I still be your guitar tech when Curt comes back?” Uncertainty and shock crept into her voice. Will I still be a person?

  “I’m asking you to be my wife.” Quinn frowned. “What does your job have to do with this?”

  “What do you mean?” Kinley choked back a cry of frustration and betrayal at his obliviousness. “It has everything to do with it!”

  “Okay, well then you’re fired,” he replied with narrowed eyes. “You won’t have to worry about it. And I won’t have to worry about you. You’ll be safe.”

  Kinley recoiled as if he’d slapped her. He’d never given a damn about her work and her love for the music. He’d make her into a housemaid and a sex toy. He really was like all the other men.

  “Fuck you!” she hissed through clenched teeth.

  Her traitorous heart screamed at her to take it back, to throw
herself into his arms and accept his proposal. Before it could win, she grabbed her bags and fled from the room.

  “What the hell?” Quinn burst out behind her. “Kinley, wait.”

  Ignoring his voice, she darted faster down the corridor, punching the elevator button as soon as she reached it.

  “Kinley!” His footsteps sounded behind her and faded as the elevator doors closed.

  She bolted from the hotel, leaving her heart behind.

  ***

  Quinn slammed his fist on the closed elevator door. What the fuck just happened?

  He’d put his heart on the line, asked her to become his other half, and all she cared about was her damned job. His blood ran cold. Had she only wanted to be in his life for the music and the hype? Had she never cared about the real him?

  The ring became a burning weight in his grasp. Quinn put it in his pocket with a sigh and hit the elevator button. After the party, she had some explaining to do.

  But once he arrived at the crowded celebration, it quickly became apparent she wasn’t there. He grabbed a beer and forced himself to wait.

  “Where’s Kin?” Gaffer asked. “I just got off the phone with your producer and we might have a job for her.”

  Quinn shook his head. “You haven’t seen her either?”

  The road manager’s brows drew together in concern. “You sound worried. What happened?”

  “I asked her to marry me and she told me to fuck off and she— Oh shit!” He slammed his beer down, heart wrenching at the memory. “She took her bags and left.” Yanking his phone from his pocket, he dialed her number, dread curling in his gut.

  Of course there was no answer. With scant hope, he went back to their room, praying she’d be back. Swiping the keycard, he opened the door and heaved an agonized sigh at the empty room. Even her laptop case was gone—how did he miss her taking that too?

  He tried calling her again. Again, there was no answer. Nor was there when he tried ten minutes later. She’d left him. She’d really left him.