Wanting Shaw
Terri Anne Browning
Copyright © Terri Anne Browning/Anna Henson 2020
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of Terri Anne Browning, except as permitted under the US Copyright Act of 1976.
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Wanting Shaw
Rockers’ Legacy Book 5
Written by Terri Anne Browning
All Rights Reserved ©Terri Anne Browning 2020
Cover Design Sara Eirew Photography
Edited by Lisa Hollett of Silently Correcting Your Grammar
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Wanting Shaw is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this book can be reproduced in any form by electronic or mechanical means, including storage or retrieval systems, without the express permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer who may quote short excerpts in a review.
Created with Vellum
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
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Fifteen Months Later
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Three Weeks Later
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Epilogue
42. Playlist
Chapter 1
Shaw
Picking up my water bottle, I took a thirsty swallow before handing it back to my mother. She was my assistant for the day, and I always knew to be on my best behavior when she was standing over me like she was right then.
Dallas Cage was the most beautiful woman I’d ever set eyes on, and I wasn’t just saying that because she was the one to birth me. With her long honey-blond hair, killer body, and badass ink, she looked like she’d just stepped off the cover of some glamorous rocker magazine. Dressed in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a simple black tank top, she was my definition of perfection in the form of feminine beauty.
But she also had this air of intimidation to her that made people pause and question if they really wanted to approach her. If they really wanted to be on her radar, and if so, how much of her attention they could withstand before they either cried or pissed themselves.
More often than not, Mom was my assistant at fashion shows and photo shoots. I felt at ease when she had my back, and I knew I didn’t have to worry about a single thing as long as she was there. Sure, I had to be a little more polite to people I tended to detest, but at least I didn’t have to deal with the BS some people tried to throw at me when she wasn’t around.
“Two more outfits and then you’re done,” she promised as she recapped the bottle and stepped aside so the makeup artist could touch up my lips.
“I’m starving,” I complained, and I heard the seamstress huff across the room as she got my next outfit ready.
“These people aren’t used to models eating. Otherwise, they would have set up a buffet for us,” Mom grumbled, shooting the woman a glare that had her rushing to finish up before giving me a smile that made her dimple pop. “Don’t worry. Momma will stop at a drive-thru on the way home.”
My stomach growled louder, and I touched my hand to my angry belly before standing from the makeup chair to change into another outfit.
As the seamstress made a few adjustments, basically sewing me into the top, I swiped through my phone to distract myself from how tight the damn thing was. Noticing I had a few missed texts, I opened the first one from my best friend.
Violet had missed school that morning, and I didn’t find out until lunch that it was because she was in freaking Alabama with her boyfriend’s parents, visiting him for the weekend. She’d sent me a picture of Luca and her cuddling, and I shook my head at what a beautiful couple those two made. Luca Thornton was so big, his huge body practically swallowed Vi with his arms around her, but being a defensive player for one of the country’s best college football teams meant he had to keep his muscles in top order or risk falling to second string.
My brother had sent me a text too, reminding me that he was having company for the weekend and to stay out of his way. What he really meant was to stay away from his best friend. My idiot brother might as well have been in love with Jagger with how possessive he was of the guy and their time together.
When we were younger, Cannon always let me hang out with him and his best friend. I went everywhere with them, followed their lead, got into trouble right beside them. But then I had to go and fall for Jagger Armstrong. When my brother realized I had feelings that weren’t exactly sisterly for the guy, he’d put distance between the three of us, refusing to let me spend so much as a few minutes with them these days.
Cannon acted like I was going to infect Jagger if we even breathed the same air. It hurt, but I wasn’t going to let the dumbass bring me down.
Mom pulled the phone from my hands. I pouted up at her, and she rolled her eyes as she placed it in her back pocket. “Work now. Phone later.”
“But I can’t breathe in this damn thing, Mom,” I whined. “At least let me have the phone to distract myself.”
“Maybe if you ate a few more veggies and a lot less trans fat, you wouldn’t—”
The seamstress didn’t finish what she was saying because my mother was in her face. “Do you like your job?”
The woman swallowed audibly. “Y-yes, ma’am. Very much.”
“Then keep your fucking mouth shut. This girl is already nothing but bones. If she didn’t have the look this client wanted, she wouldn’t be standing here right now, letting you torture her in that stupid, cheap-ass top.” The woman gulped again, but it was the guy in the suit coming through the dressing room door that suddenly had Mom’s attention. “Oh, fuck no,” she snarled and moved to stand in front of me. “Get out.”
I was in nothing but the top the woman had stopped sewing me into in an attempt to dodge my mother’s temper. I didn’t even have on panties. Normally, that wouldn’t bother me. I was comfortable in my own skin, and there were times, especially at fashion shows, when I had to run around backstage completely naked to get into my next outfit before rushing out onto the catwalk. But the only guys who saw me running around like that were usually gay.
This guy, with his five-thousand-dollar custom-made suit and gleaming gaze that skimmed over me like a predator, was definitely not gay. I’d only met him for five minutes when Mom and I first arrived for the photo shoot a little over two hours before. He was the client, and after shaking my hand, he’d left with his army of personal assistants trailing after him.
&
nbsp; Now he was back, minus the assistants, it seemed.
“Shaw, get your clothes on. We’re leaving.”
“But—” I started to argue, but a single look at me over her shoulder had me shutting my mouth and snagging the robe hanging on the back of my makeup chair. Pulling it on, I grabbed my clothes I’d arrived in and went into the bathroom off to the side of the room to get dressed.
As I slid on my school uniform skirt, I heard Mom tearing into the client. They were both getting loud, the guy reminding my mother that I had a contract. When I tried to pull the top over my head, I nearly broke my neck because it was too tight. Sighing, I opened the bathroom door and walked out.
Seeing I was having trouble, Mom snatched a pair of scissors off the makeup table and cut the shirt down the back. “Hurry up,” she muttered before turning back to the dickhead who thought he was going to get anywhere threatening my mother with a lawsuit.
When I came back out from putting on my bra and shirt, Mom had her phone to her ear. “Yo, redhead.” I cringed inwardly while mentally pumping my fist in the air all at the same time, because I knew exactly who she was talking to.
Mom wasn’t one to run to someone else to handle something for her, but apparently this guy was still stressing “lawsuit” if I didn’t stay and finish the photo shoot. Her mouthing off to him didn’t seem to have fazed him, if the way he’d turned his creepy gaze on me again when I walked out in my school uniform was any indication.
“How many people do you have who can make something go viral for me?” Mom asked Aunt Emmie. “No, no. I just want people to know about the child predator who is trying to eye-fuck my daughter right now and crying breach of contract because I refuse to let Shaw stay and model the pervert’s cheap fucking clothes.”
“What?” Even from where I was standing, I could hear Jagger’s mom’s reaction and hoped she wasn’t in a meeting. Because if she was, I knew she was scaring the crap out of the poor souls. I pressed my lips together, fighting a grin as I grabbed my purse and Mom’s things.
Stepping behind Mom, I pulled my phone from her back pocket and swiped open the camera so I could record what was about to go down. From the way the client was suddenly sputtering, I figured it was about to get a whole lot more fun to watch, and my dad would want to see the aftermath of two of his favorite women making some pussy piss himself this beautiful Friday.
Just as the camera started rolling, I saw the client nearly swallow his tongue before he started protesting, “I’m not a predator. I’ll sue you for slander if you spread that around.”
“Hold on, Emmie,” Mom spoke into the phone before lifting her blue eyes to the guy in front of her. “Take about ten steps back, dickhead. You’re too fucking close to my kid.”
“She’s not a kid,” he shouted, his eyes going back to me almost as if he couldn’t help himself.
“She’s sixteen!” Mom reminded him. “And you’re what? Fifty?”
“Forty-seven,” he muttered.
“Right.” She nodded. “And the fact that she’s sixteen just made your cock jump in your pants. So, yeah, child predator.” Still holding the phone to her ear, she walked toward the client, whose name I didn’t even remember. I wish I did, so I could post the video to social media afterward and tag him in it. “I said hold on, Emmie,” Mom bit out. “I’m busy.”
“Mrs. Cage, I’m sure we can come to an under—” the guy started, but his eyes went over her shoulder to me, and I immediately wanted to cover up from head to toe so he couldn’t see a single inch of me.
As if she could feel my sudden tension, Mom didn’t even hesitate as she lifted her knee and clipped him in the groin. His face turned blood red, then an ugly purple as he cupped himself and bent in half. A pain-filled wheeze left him after a moment, and the pitch of the cry that left him didn’t sound human.
As he fell to his knees, tears leaking from his clenched-closed eyes, Mom kicked him between the legs, and the agonized scream echoing through the room made me wonder if maybe she’d ruptured something important. He dropped onto his side, curling into a fetal position. “Let’s go, Shaw,” Mom snapped before returning her attention to the woman on the other end of the phone. “Change of plans, Red. Instead of making something go viral, I’m going to need you to keep me out of jail for assault.”
Sighing, I slung my purse over my shoulder and stepped over the sobbing man on the floor as I followed Mom.
But not before I accidentally kicked him in the stomach. “My bad,” I snickered. “Hope I didn’t hurt anything.” When he only whimpered, I couldn’t hold back my laugh. “Pussy.”
I wouldn’t be working with this particular client ever again, so I wasn’t afraid to burn this particular bridge. My agent wasn’t going to be happy with me over this, but after she’d set me up with this job, I was contemplating getting someone new to represent me and find me jobs with credible clients. She really hadn’t impressed me lately, and this had been her last chance. My contract with her was up at the end of the month, and I knew Mom wasn’t going to let me sign again even if I’d wanted to.
Ending the video, I sent it to my dad, a wicked grin on my face as I texted him what just happened.
Dad: That’s my girls.
Chapter 2
Jagger
Groaning, I rolled over in bed, only to have Cannon’s feet shoved in my face. “Fuck,” I grunted and pushed his legs away from me. He muttered something I didn’t understand and rolled onto his stomach, still out cold.
Blinking sleep from my eyes, I focused on trying to fully wake up. It must have been around dawn when we finally couldn’t stay awake any longer. Instead of going to some random party, we’d decided to stay in this weekend. After I got to Cannon’s house, we’d ordered enough pizzas to hold us over for a few hours and then played video games until we couldn’t keep our eyes open anymore.
With the mini fridge stocked with enough sports drinks and water, four pizzas to gorge on whenever we got hungry, and the connecting bathroom just a few feet away, there had been no reason to even leave Cannon’s bedroom the night before. It had been a fun, mostly relaxing Friday night hanging out with my best friend and killing zombies.
But waking up with his feet in my face when he hadn’t even showered the night before was not how I wanted to start my Saturday.
Glancing at the digital clock on the nightstand, I saw it was just after two in the afternoon. “Shit,” I muttered and reached for my phone that was charging on the floor. Seeing I already had a few missed texts from my mom, I quickly replied that I was awake and alive. I didn’t doubt for a second that she had already called one or the other Cage adult to make sure I was where I told her I was going to be and very much still breathing, but if I didn’t text her myself, she was going to come looking for me whether one of her friends had already confirmed it or not.
Once I had that taken care of, I sat up on the side of the bed. Still not fully awake, I debated if I needed food first or a shower.
“Turn the lights off,” Cannon whined from the other end of the bed.
“That’s called the sun, dumbass,” I told him as I finally got to my feet. My stomach was rumbling loudly, so I decided food was definitely more important than hygiene.
I got all the way to the door when I realized I needed a shirt. Wearing only a pair of basketball shorts around the kitchen was something I could get away with at my parents’ house, but Cannon would bust my balls if I did it at his. He had a problem with me even being in the same room with his sister these days. Probably because he knew I wanted her like I’d never wanted anything in my entire life, but we never talked about it.
Saying it out loud made shit real, so we never spoke about the stuff we didn’t want to deal with.
For me, it was admitting I was half in love with Shaw. That I wanted her more than I wanted air, but because I knew I would lose my best friend if I even tried to tell her what I was feeling, I kept quiet.
When we’d started noticing girls, we’d made a pact
. No girl would ever come between us. If we saw one we both wanted, neither of us could touch her. And under no circumstances could we touch the other’s sister. Seeing as Mia was older than us and barely paid us any attention when Cannon was around anyway, I didn’t really think it was an issue where my own sister was concerned. And Shaw was always following us around, getting just as dirty as we did and causing just as much—if not more—trouble than we could.
I saw her as nothing more than another sister.
Until she wasn’t.
I knew she was beautiful; a person would have to be dead not to know just how gorgeous Shaw Cage was. Inside and out. She had this hard outer shell that was all feral lioness, but underneath, she was a sweet and kind little kitten.
A kitten I really—fucking desperately—wanted to pet.
But it wasn’t until a year or so before that I’d realized her beauty could stop me in my tracks, cause the air to get trapped in my throat, make me get tongue-tied, and go completely brain-dead. She’d only been fifteen to my seventeen and playing in my pool back in Malibu. Her best friend Violet and the Thornton twins splashed around as I came out of the house with a drink in my hand and Cannon right beside me.
He’d been saying something to me, and I’d glanced at the pool just as Shaw called my name. I’d looked down, and she’d grinned up at me, causing those damn dimples to pop. Her thick lashes were damp, making her blue eyes glitter. Dressed in a conservative bikini top that covered her chest, she wiggled her fingers, wanting me to pull her out of the water.
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