Anything But Mine

by Taryn Elliott

  He shrugged. “Be that as it may, I’m here to help you out. You and that hot little bookstore owner looked awfully cozy. You must have the golden cock, man. They all want a piece of you.”

  “Let me give you a tip. When you’re extorting money from someone, try to use one or two of your brain cells. Just a thought.”

  Brian clenched his jaw. “Fifty large, my final offer.”

  He handed him back the tablet. “Let it go to print. You aren’t getting a dime from me, Brian.”

  “You’re a cold one.” Brian backed away. “I saw you with the new girl. She’s a hot little piece. Seems like she’d be worth the money to me.”

  Logan forced himself not to react. Brian was a snake, but he was a perceptive one. He motioned to the security detail and he shuffled Brian out and beyond the barrier.

  Izzy was worth a million times more than that. He’d happily hand over his fortune for her not to see that damn picture. It was before they were together, and a mistake to even allow that kiss with Lindsey to almost happen. But it was also the final bit of napalm he needed to make sure what they had was scorched from the earth. Izzy was already hurt. If she hated him, then she would be safe from Aimee.

  And right now, that was all that mattered to him.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Bella tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and tightened her stubby little ponytail as she closed her front door behind her. Coffee. She needed so much coffee. The last show had been excruciating.

  There had been no way to avoid going and watching Logan own the stage with huge smiles and a sex appeal that was probably illegal in at least thirty states. No. She’d done her duty and stood next to Sharon and the council as Logan delivered.

  The show had been flawless. As if he hadn’t just sliced her chest open the day before. Reiterating just how right she was.

  Logan King had been her most epically beautiful mistake.

  But today was a new day and she could start over one more time. She’d done it before. And it would take a boatload of coffee to recover from the restless night’s sleep. She breezed into Valentine’s Diner.

  Dee came out of the back with a sunny smile. “Hey there, Miss Bella.”

  “I’m in desperate need of your espresso machine.”

  Dee’s blue eyes sparkled. “You know my baby never lets you down.” She petted the monster that took up half of her back counter.

  “It better not,” Sam shouted from the back. “I’m still paying that sucker off.”

  “Don’t listen to him, baby. He doesn’t know our special bond,” Dee crooned.

  Bella laughed. “Double shot mocha latte with extra cinnamon, please.”

  “Oh, it’s a serious day.” Dee dumped espresso beans in her grinder.

  Oh, that sweet, sweet smell. Bella dropped onto one of the swivel stools. “I have a lot to catch up on now that the festival’s over. I need all the help I can get.”

  A group of girls came in and sat at a booth in the back. Their eyes widened once then looked down at their phones.

  “Here you go, Bella.”

  Bella frowned and turned back to Dee. She left a five on the counter and pulled the cup toward her.

  “Nah, on the house.”

  “No, that’s okay.”

  “I insist.” Dee leaned on the counter. “It’s the least I can do.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Bella slid off the stool. That was weird. Maybe it was because she’d given Valentine’s a free booth. They’d made a killing. Even Sam couldn’t complain about the money they’d raked in. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Sounds good, sweetie.”

  Bella glanced over at the stage. Cam and his crew were busy pulling down the stage apron that went around the gazebo. Another year finished. She smiled at two women that passed her on the sidewalk.

  They smiled back, but a peal of laughter seemed a little excessive. Again, she got the distinct feeling they’d been looking at her like they knew her. Winchester Falls was a small town, but not so small that every person knew the other.

  And she was pretty good at remembering faces.

  She definitely did not know those women, or the trio of girls at the diner.

  She took a fortifying sip of Dee’s latte and turned into her store.

  “Bella, is that you?”

  She frowned. “Yeah. What are you doing here? I thought you weren’t coming in until afternoon.” She lifted her cup. “I would have gotten you one.”

  “I had to come in.”

  “Hey, I don’t mind the help. We’re backlogged on orders with the—”

  “B. Honey, stop.” Nic folded her arms.

  “Okay, what the hell is going on? Everyone’s acting weird today.”

  “You haven’t seen it?”

  “No. Did something happen?” Her stomach flipped. She hadn’t turned on the television in days. “God, nothing terrorist-related, right?”

  “Only if you consider what I’d like to do to Logan King’s nuts. I might get arrested. I don’t think it deserves a terrorist alert, though.”

  She sighed. “I do not want to talk about Logan. I want to put Logan behind me.” A decade would be good. Well, minus the aging. But the hurting part. She’d definitely skip that.

  The ache in her chest had been a twinge for all of a minute. Then Nic had to bring up him. Shouldn’t that be against the best friend code or something?

  She walked behind the counter and grabbed her iPad. “Well, if you’re here early then I’m going down to the dungeon. I’ve got loads of orders to sift through.”

  “B.”

  “You are not going to let this go, are you?”

  “I thought I was coming in to be a shoulder, now I guess I get the job of bomb squad.”

  “Fine. Tell me, oh bomb expert, just what did Logan do that is going to make me get so upset.” Was it wrong to want to skip this and run downstairs? To ignore it? Because the big sad filling Nic’s eyes made her want to scream, “No.”

  Nic took her iPad and flipped off the cover. “It’s a picture. It’s not that bad. But, it’s not great either.” She tapped on the screen then handed it to Bella.

  She closed her eyes. She so didn’t want to see it.

  She took a deep breath and opened her eyes. It was Logan on stage at the barn. A picture from that first night. When he’d been blazing on fire. The black shirt she’d peeled off of him before bringing him into that moonlit room.

  But then she saw the inside caption. The picture was slightly blurrier, but there was no doubt who it was. Logan and Lindsey.

  Kissing.

  Her jaw clenched tight and tears flooded her eyes. “Damn you, Logan.” She whipped the cover closed. “Just, dammit.”

  Had it been the same night? He was always wearing black when he was working, so she couldn’t tell. Not that it mattered. If she hadn’t been sure about just how much of a liar he was, this certainly was the final bit of proof.

  Nic came up behind her, her hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “No.” She blew out a breath. “But I will be.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  New York City

  Logan stepped out of the Town Car. The unending noise of the city was jarring compared to the relative quiet of the last few weeks. He’d needed to get back into the city for a number of reasons, but the main one had been here.

  A discreet bronze plaque was the only way thing that distinguished this wall of glass from the other half dozen on this block of West 70th. Bold, capital letters read: ROTH DEFENSE.

  The name seemed a little overkill, but he couldn’t fault their reputation for personal security. He’d used them a few times for private shows for insurance purposes. His net worth made people nervous.

  He pushed through the wide fog-tinted doors to the jet black desk that dominated the lobby. “Hello. Logan King to see Mr. Roth.”

  The tank-sized man in a well-cut suit smiled at him. “Certainly, sir.” His fingers flew over the keys and h
e touched his ear. “Mr. King for Marcus. Right, yes. No problem.” He stood. “I’ll take you right up.”

  Logan followed the man to an elevator with an onyx sheen. The doors opened and the tank leaned into a panel. Retina scan? Really?

  Helluva selling point.

  The car moved silently and smoothly, then opened to a charcoal and black lobby. A company after his own heart.

  “This way, sir.”

  Logan followed the human tank around the corner and he stopped dead. It looked like the set of a modern day War Games. A map of the world filled one wall with dozens of little glowing lights.

  A man came out of a glassed-in office at the back. “Thanks, Terry.” He crossed the room with his hand out. “I appreciate your business. I’m Marcus Roth I hope this face to face isn’t anything serious.”

  Logan shook his hand. “I’m afraid it is.”

  Marcus nodded. “You had that look when you walked in.”

  “I have a problem. Her name is Aimee Collen and she’s been actively stalking me for the last nine months. A little less obviously, for two.”

  Marcus pulled out a notebook. “Spell her name for me, so I can run a check on her.”

  Logan spelled it, then sighed.

  Marcus’s head snapped up. “Aimee Collen of the—”

  “Yes, of the Manhattan family.”

  “Well, then.”

  “I also need a personal security detail, long-term on a Ms. Isabella Grace. She’s currently in Winchester Falls, New York.”

  Marcus scribbled in his notebook.

  “And I need it discreetly.” Logan slid a piece of white paper on the conference table. Scotch tape had reassembled Aimee’s last note. “I’ve broken things off with Miss Grace because of an indirect threat against her. Now I need to make sure she’s safe. Money is no object.”

  There’s more to Izzy and Logan’s story in BULLETPROOF WEEKS.

  COMING 1/13/15.

  PREORDER SOON.

  LET YOUR VOICE BE HEARD

  HIT IT OR QUIT IT: After you finish ANYTHING BUT MINE please consider leaving an honest review here or on Goodreads.

  COME PLAY WITH ME: We have a blast on our Facebook group, Word Wenches. It’s all about the teasers, giveaways, music, hot guys…oh and books. Join us!

  BE SOCIAL: I’m all over social media. Follow me on Facebook & Twitter.

  GET INFORMED: Sign up for my NEWSLETTER for contests, advanced notice on new releases & other fun.

  If you liked ANYTHING BUT MINE and would like to try more of my work, I also write a NEW ADULT rock star series with CARI QUINN.

  Lost In Oblivion: Introduction

  SEDUCED

  CHAPTER ONE

  NICK: LOSING IT

  She’s my last hope, when hope can’t be found.

  “Holy shit, Lita Ford had some nice tits.”

  Nick Crandall set his guitar on the plaid monstrosity behind him and yanked the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. No wonder he couldn’t get in the right headspace. He’d been working on this song for days—okay, weeks—and the few lines of chicken scratch he’d come up with wouldn’t win any awards, that was for damn sure. “Seriously, Simon?”

  “That’s not Lita Ford. Hot, but definitely not Lita.” Deacon manipulated his tuning keys instinctively, his eyes focused on the television.

  “You sure?” Simon continued staring at the plasma TV, happily oblivious.

  Nick scowled. So much for actually writing some freaking songs. Flash a pair of silicone boobs in some Day-Glo netting and the guys were gone.

  There was only one thing that would get them in the right frame of mind.

  He stalked over to the flat screen and yanked the cord out of the wall. The platinum-haired woman in the video onscreen with her legs spread like a damn wishbone wailed into silence as the screen went black.

  Groans sounded behind him. “Jesus fuck, really?” Simon pushed a hand through his dark hair and flopped on the couch beside Nick’s guitar. He shoved it aside harder than Nick preferred, but hey, a guy denied eye candy couldn’t be expected to be gentle with their goddamn equipment, right?

  The same equipment that would maybe, just fucking maybe, someday lead to them getting a deal that would get them out of this shithole basement. They lived beneath a frigging laundromat, of all things. He’d woken up with the smell of flowery detergent burning his nostrils more times than he could count. Not that Simon seemed to care about that, since he spent many of his nights elsewhere with his latest woman of the hour.

  Nick clambered over Deacon’s outstretched legs, currently propped on the coffee table, and shoved his cigarette back between his lips before he snatched his guitar. He kicked Simon’s leg out of the way, earning a grunt and a kick in return. “What’s your problem, dick?”

  “My problem is you. Both of you,” Nick added. “Can’t you get some focus? And not on that screen. We have a gig this weekend.”

  “What gig? We don’t have a drummer.” Deacon dropped his head on the back of the sofa. His shaggy brown hair fell away to reveal the scruff that drove the ladies wild.

  Assuming they ever got in front of ladies—or anyone else—ever again.

  “So what? We just roll over and play frigging dead? We’ll learn what we need to. And we have songs that don’t rely on—”

  “Ballads.” Simon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stabbed his fingers into his eyes. His bloodshot eyes. The ass hadn’t stopped drinking since yesterday, which didn’t help that whole attention-span thing. “You want us to sing damn harmonies like we’re some fuck-all choir?”

  Nick bit down on the cigarette clamped between his teeth. He hadn’t smoked for six months and six days, but if he was going to break his streak any night, tonight would be it. “You got a better idea?”

  “I do.” Deacon scrubbed his cheeks with both hands and sat up. “Cancel the gig until we figure this shit out. Maybe Snake will get clean. Or maybe we’ll find someone else.”

  Nick stared at his two best friends as if he’d never seen them before. Right then he didn’t recognize the defeat on their faces, that was for damn sure. “Snake’s not getting out of detox for a while, which you damn well know.”

  Simon unfolded himself from the lumpy sofa and strode across the room. He climbed the wooden step stool shoved against the wall and slammed open the window. The cool March breeze blew into the stuffy basement until Simon pushed his head and half his torso out. His naked stomach scraped the sill but he probably didn’t even feel it. Drunk motherfucker.

  “What the hell are you doing?” Nick asked.

  “Getting some goddamn air. Problem?”

  “You’re letting all the heat out.”

  Simon ducked back inside. “Quit your bitching. You don’t pay for it.”

  “Mrs. Martine does,” Nick muttered. The old lady who owned the Fluff and Fold let them live there for free because they helped look out for things for her. At least he and Deak did. Simon didn’t look out for anything that didn’t begin with ‘S’ and end with ‘n’.

  “It’s hot as hell in here. I swear those dryer vents are aimed right over my bunk.” Deacon crossed the room and dragged Simon off the stool. “Get in here, idiot.”

  As usual, Deacon diffused the tension between him and Simon. Or tried to anyway. Every time Nick looked at Simon lately he wanted to bury his fist into his too-pretty face.

  Simon stumbled down and veered into the chipped crates they used for a coffee table. Only Deacon’s quick reflexes kept him from pitching head first onto the floor.

  “Jesus.” Nick breathed in deep through his nose. “I pay the rest of the bills. I’m sorry if that makes me too responsible for you fuckwits.”

  “Yeah, yeah, whine some more, why don’t you?” Simon dropped onto the purple club chair jammed into the corner, propping his foot on a Marshall amplifier. He pushed his hair out of his face. “You’re the only one who cares about the band. The only one who makes money to pay our bills. Deak and me are just the jerk
s who’re holding you back. Blah fucking blah. The song is as tired as your lyrics lately.”

  Nick jerked up from the couch. “If you’re so fucking gifted, where are all your new songs then? Looks like you’re about as dry as I am.”

  Simon staggered to his feet. “You got a problem?

  Nick took a step forward and flashed a tight smile when Simon swayed. He’d enjoy giving his best friend a good pounding. It was a nice way to vent some frustration, and hell, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Maybe I do.”

  “So get gone then. See if we give a flying fuck.”

  Despite Nick’s own anger, Simon’s quick, careless response cut him deep. “So that’s how it is? You want me to go?”

  Simon shrugged. “Don’t give a shit.”

  “Want me out? You gotta kick me out.” Nick set his cig on the end table—he wasn’t wasting his last one—and flexed his fists. “Bring it, Pretty Boy.”

  LOST IN OBLIVION

  the Series

  SEDUCED (intro)

  ROCKED (book #1)

  ROCK, RATTLE & ROLL (book #1.5)

  * * ♦ * *

  Coming soon

  TWISTED

  UNTWISTED

  DESTROYED

  If you’d like more information about the series & extras please visit www.lostinoblivion.com.