Revenge: The Complete Series (Erotic Rock Star Suspense Romance)

by Mimi Strong

  “I know,” Clay says. “But she wasn’t working alone. How did you come by this publicist in the first place?”

  Dylan answers, “She was a referral from…” He glares down at the printouts, too angry to speak.

  I lean over and look. He’s got his finger underneath one name in particular.

  It’s Maggie Clark.

  She’s the former vice president of Morris Music, who nearly ruined my life a few times already.

  I can’t control my reactions. “Oh my god. Dylan I should have known. Her son came to see me, and I just thought he was trying to get his old job back. I should have known.”

  Dylan turns to me. “Nick came to see you? At the house? I’ll kill him.”

  “No, not at the house. He came to Morris. It was that Saturday I went dress shopping, and then everything happened, and I forgot all about it. Oh my god, I feel so awful. I should have known the Clarks had something to do with this, and…” I trail off, on the verge of tears. Everything’s my fault.

  “Hush,” Dylan says. He puts his arm around me and pulls me toward him on the booth. My jeans squeak on the vinyl seat, which is just funny enough to keep me from freaking out completely.

  “Your reaction is normal,” Clay says. “Trust me. I’ve delivered this kind of information countless times, and people always blame themselves. We don’t want to believe someone else would hurt us, so we make excuses for them. We tell ourselves fairy tales, but life isn’t a fairy tale.”

  “Tell me about it,” I say coldly, my voice flat and metallic. “That Saturday, someone stole my wedding dress, and I ended up in the hospital.”

  “And you’re stronger for it,” Clay says with confidence.

  I stare into his wrinkled, weathered face. There’s wisdom there, in his experience, and in his words.

  “Clay is right.” Dylan’s still facing me, his voice soothing. “We’ve been through hell, and we survived.”

  I nod in agreement. We have survived, though I don’t know how much more hell from Maggie Clark I can take.

  “This was bound to happen,” Dylan says. “And it’s partly my fault. All of Maggie’s scheming wouldn’t have amounted to anything, if I hadn’t reacted the way I did.”

  Clay interrupts, “You can’t blame yourself.”

  “Of course not,” Dylan answers. “But I’ve learned some things about myself recently. I have these patterns, and some of them are destructive. They’re like… cracks in my own security.”

  Clay nods, contemplating Dylan’s words. “Cracks that someone can exploit.”

  “Exactly,” Dylan says.

  I pull my phone out of my purse and toss it onto the table between us.

  “Well, guys, I can get a new phone, but I can’t get a new Dylan.”

  They both chuckle at this, lightening the dark mood over the table.

  The waitress returns, with big plates of food. I don’t know if I can eat, but I’m happy for the opportunity.

  After she leaves us alone again, I ask the guys what the next step is. Now that we know Maggie Clark is still causing trouble in our lives, what are we going to do?

  How can we settle things with her, for once and for all?

  We eat our dinner and talk through our options. Clay Verity isn’t just a great investigator, he’s also cunning at planning new things. He knows how devious people think, and how to use their greed against them.

  The sun sets, and we don’t even notice the time flying by.

  The waitress keeps bringing us more coffee, and then pie.

  Clay Verity makes phone calls and we write notes on a pad of paper he’s brought along.

  There’s a shift change, and a new waitress comes to the table to check on us. She looks over our elaborate notes and asks us if we’re planning a bank heist.

  Clay looks up at her innocently and says, “We’re writing a screenplay. These are my writing partners. We’ve got a great idea. Gonna sell it for a million dollars.”

  She puts her hand on her hip and says, “You and everyone else who eats here, honey.”

  “Wanna hear the plot?” he asks.

  She backs away slowly. “Can I get you anything else from the kitchen?”

  Dylan asks her to bring one each of the flavors of pie we haven’t sampled yet. She runs off happily.

  “See how that works?” Clay says. “If you want someone to leave you alone, act like you’re desperate for their attention.”

  His words give me an idea for our plan. I sit up straight and flail my hands, barely able to control my excitement. “That’s it! I know exactly what we need to do.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  The meeting with Clay happened five days ago.

  Things have been hectic at Morris since then. Chet and I conducted a secret investigation at work, with Clay Verity helping us. We found an internal rat—Bridget. She had the phone number for Dylan’s publicist on a note on her computer monitor, and she had a ton of other incriminating evidence in her files.

  It turns out she had a nephew in the pool of musicians trying to become the new Dylan Wolf. I feel sorry for the kid, but I didn’t feel bad for Bridget when security hauled her out.

  Revenge is sweet when it’s simple justice.

  Dylan wanted to write a song about Maggie Clark and humiliate her, which made us all laugh. It was good in theory, but we agreed that when you get down to the level of someone like Maggie, you get covered in mud, and then you become more like her.

  I don’t want to have all that negativity in my life.

  Nan raised me better than that, plus I’ve seen for myself how doing something good causes better ripples than doing something bad. I wouldn’t have my sister Riley back in my life if I’d held onto my anger over the past.

  We will have our revenge on Maggie Clark, for all the heartbreak she caused us, but there will be good ripples.

  The phone on my desk rings, breaking me out of my plotting and scheming.

  “There’s someone here to see you, Miss Rivera,” says the security guard. “He won’t give his name.”

  “Is he tall, with dark hair?”

  “Yes, and he’s got chunks of metal all over his face. I mean piercings, Miss Rivera.”

  “Make a visitor badge for him and send him up. For his name, write it as Casper the Unfriendly Goth.”

  “Oh,” the guard says. “That’s a good name for him.”

  I hang up the phone, practically crying with giggles over Nick Clark seeing the name on his visitor badge.

  He appears at my door five minutes later, his face neutral as usual. I smirk at the badge, then compose myself. We have serious business to do. I buzz Chet’s desk over the intercom. “Nick’s here,” I say.

  “Five minutes. The lawyers are printing the agreements.”

  Nick takes a seat across from me. “This is all happening so fast.” He pulls the visitor chair closer to my desk and glances around the glass walls nervously. Everyone on the executive floor is aware of what’s happening, so I can’t blame Nick for feeling self-conscious.

  “Jess,” he says softly. “Once again, from the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry. I had no idea my mother was hacking phones. She can be spiteful… but trying to break up you and Dylan like that… I just can’t apologize enough.”

  “I believe you. And you came to warn me, right? Not in so many words, because you didn’t know the whole story, but I appreciate that. It’s something a friend would do.”

  The smallest bit of a smile creeps onto his face. “I’m trying to make amends, but it isn’t easy.”

  I give him a warm smile. We’ve been talking by phone for the last few days, ever since the investigator got to the bottom of my hacked phone. Nick has been more than helpful, going through his mother’s files for us.

  Hacking people’s phones is quite a serious offense, and with Nick’s help, we’ve been able to gather more than enough evidence to prove his mother was behind it.

  One key piece of evidence was the nude selfie Dylan
sent me. She had her tech guru pull it from my phone, and she sent me a fake news alert about it. I was relieved to find out I hadn’t been hallucinating that night, and even more relieved that the photo hadn’t been sent anywhere else. The funny thing is, a picture like that would probably make Dylan even more famous, but I wouldn’t want it out, because it was private, just for me.

  “How’s Dylan?” Nick asks.

  “Back in the studio, which is good. We took some time off together to reconnect.”

  “That sounds nice.”

  “It was.” I let out a light laugh. “But I’m glad he’s back at work again. When he’s around the house all day, he gets on my case about me getting coffee grounds all over the kitchen.”

  I smile at the memory of what happened this morning with Dylan in the kitchen, before we both left for work. The truth is, I’ve been making a mess on purpose, because it’s a new game we’re playing. Nick doesn’t need to know about that.

  “The reporters are still saying he’s abusive,” Nick says.

  “He’s not. He’s moody sometimes, but…” I trail off, because I am feeling more friendly toward Nick, but I’m not going to tell anyone about Dylan and his sessions with his therapist. It’s normal for everyone in L.A. to be seeing someone, but this is still our private life.

  Nick finishes for me, “But we all have our issues. For example, I’m about to take over the business I co-own with my mother, and she’s going to scream at me for a week. I’ve got a plan, though. I’ve booked a ticket for a cruise, and if she doesn’t take the ticket, I will.”

  “A cruise?” I laugh. “Oh, Nick. Your revenge plans are so devious.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkle. “It’s a singles cruise for seniors. I hope she takes it, because I do not want to go on a singles cruise for seniors.”

  “Then again, it would be a nice change of pace from L.A.”

  “True.”

  We talk about the cruise for a few minutes, joking around about the on-board entertainment.

  We’re interrupted by Chet arriving with a stack of papers for Nick. He sets the papers on the desk between me and Nick, but doesn’t take a seat in the other visitor chair.

  He stays standing, which is a classic Chet Morris power move. Nick gets to his feet to shake his hand. They’ve spoken by phone, and have probably seen each other around Morris Music over the years, but they’re very formal now.

  Nick starts babbling apologies for his mother’s behavior.

  “Say no more,” Chet commands. “What’s done is done. From this day, we move forward. We are not responsible for our family, only for ourselves.”

  “Yes,” Nick says. “You’re right.”

  Chet turns and gives me a friendly wink. “That’s why I’m the boss. Right, Jess?”

  “That’s right, boss,” I say.

  Chet pats the stack of papers. “Everything’s here, Nick. After the fundraiser goes down, Maggie will see the light. She’ll sign the papers, and we’ll move forward.” He pauses, looking thoughtful. “And I’m happy with how things have turned out. The music industry is changing so rapidly. It makes sense to partner with venues this way, even small ones.”

  “We won’t be small for long,” Nick says.

  Chet gives him a winning grin. “First things first. Let’s drop the bombshell on Maggie and close this deal. I’m sorry I can’t be there for the fundraiser, but I’m sure it will be quite the show.”

  “Thanks for everything,” Nick says.

  Chet nods as though dismissing us, and heads back out the door again.

  After he’s gone, Nick says, “He reminds me of someone.”

  “He’s got the same eyes as Carter Morris.”

  “That must be it.” Nick shakes his head in wonder. “Family gatherings with the Morrises must be intense.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  “For a while when I was younger, I did hope Carter would marry my mother, so I could be one of them. But I would have never been one of them, not really.”

  “Oh, Nick. Just be yourself.”

  “I’m trying.” He returns to his chair, still glancing around at the other executives walking around on the other side of the glass. “Did Ryanna tell you we have a date?”

  I frown. “I thought you were gay. Did she kiss you? Nick, you can tell me if she did.”

  He gives me a confused look. “No, she didn’t kiss me. I guess I shouldn’t have called it a date. We’re going to have lunch and talk in person. She wants to move out of that apartment so her former boss doesn’t have her address. I was thinking she could crash with me for a while. My loft has plenty of space for two people, I think.”

  “The firehall.” I sigh as the memories rush back. Dylan and I spent our first intimate moments there when he was renting it from Nick. “You two can throw the best parties there.”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. First, we have to get through the fundraiser. Are you nervous, Jess? You don’t have to go on stage. Personally, I think it will be perfect to give you a front-row view of my mother’s face, but we could get anyone to play the backup girls.”

  I hold up one finger for Nick to hold his thoughts. I reach for the shopping bag next to my desk and pull out a pair of the most gorgeous, flashy, sexy blue stilettos ever made. They’re vivid blue and covered in swirls of bright sparkles that remind me of that Van Gogh painting, Starry Night.

  “Nick, I need somewhere to wear these shoes.”

  His eyes widen. “Those are some great shoes.”

  “Plus I think it will be good for me. Dylan and I are trying to share our lives more. I’ve been showing him a bit more about my work, and I think the best way for me to understand what it’s like for him to be on stage is for me to actually get up there. Does that sound cray cray?”

  “Very cray cray,” he says. “You should do it.”

  “In six days, I will.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Six days after my meeting with Nick Clark, I drive up to the music-themed restaurant he owns with his mother. Tonight, she’s going to find out they’re going into partnership with Morris Music. If she tries to wiggle out of the deal, Nick is going to show her all the criminal evidence we have on her. She’ll have no choice but to play nice.

  Best of all, she’ll stop trying to hurt Morris Music and the people who work there, because it will backfire on her.

  This whole move reminds me of those times in history when people would marry off their children to the children of other kings and queens. It’s smart to keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

  I’m happy I have real friends around me.

  I’m driving my car, and I’ve got my girls, Amanda and Riley, with me. They’re both dressed to kill, and so am I. In fact, we’re wearing identical outfits—blue dresses and the sexy blue high heels I showed Nick at my office.

  Dylan’s always wanted me to wear something this sexy, and he’s going to freak out when he sees me.

  I slow down the car and look for a spot to park, out of sight of the restaurant’s front doors and the crowd of paparazzi.

  Amanda grabs the rear view mirror to make sure her swept-up hair and makeup are perfect. She squeals, “We look like a trio of badass bridesmaids!”

  Riley, in the back seat, tries to tug down the short hem of her dress. “Bridesmaids? I think we look like hookers.”

  “You love it,” Amanda teases. “Get in touch with your inner hooker.”

  Riley snorts. “You are so gross. Why are we friends with you?”

  “I bring the party.” Amanda snaps her fingers and bobs her head from side to side.

  The two of them keep teasing each other while we get parked and step out of the car. I’m glad they’re in high spirits and being goofy, because I’m nervous as hell.

  The plan seemed like such a great idea that night in the diner, but now I don’t know. I’m dressed like a hooker-bridesmaid in gleaming blue, and things are about to go down. Our plan seems weak.

&nb
sp; But I’m here now, and I can’t let Dylan down.

  Our future is riding on this.

  My legs are shaking, and I’m wobbly. I tell myself it’s just the crazy high heels, not my nerves.

  The girls help me get the trunk open, and we pull out the guitar case. Dylan’s beloved old guitar is in here—the one he wrote his first songs on. He was playing this guitar on the street when we first met. He collected coins and dollar bills in the velvet-lined case.

  I feel like I’m about to lose an old friend. But that’s silly. My dearest friends are at my side, posing in their tight blue dresses and laughing over who looks like more of a skank.

  I hold the guitar case tight to me and tell the girls I’m ready.

  “For your revenge?” Amanda asks.

  “For anything,” I answer, then nod for us to get going.

  As we cross the street, I spot the model, Ryanna, walking through the horde of paparazzi in front of the restaurant.

  She looks like a professional model today, her golden hair perfect, her back straight, and her head tilted just right for the best photos. Maybe she isn’t as naive as I was when I first came to L.A.

  Plus… and I haven’t told anyone but Dylan about this, but the memory makes me giggle now… Ryanna does pack quite the kiss. The fact that I kissed her back just a little bit was what allowed me to forgive Dylan for a few seconds of his hesitation. Ryanna is quite the girl. If we all survive tonight, I think she’ll do just fine in Hollywood.

  We approach the crowd of photographers, who seem uninterested in pictures of us. The three of us have our dark sunglasses on. With the matching dresses and upswept hairdos, plus our bright red lipstick, we look like a trio of backup singers. We pause near the entrance and pose for pictures, waving for attention. A couple guys snap shots, but it feels like they’re just doing it to be polite.

  I’m glad I borrowed Clay Verity’s trick. Act like you want attention, and people turn away, worried you’ll try to sell them something.

  I overhear some of the press asking each other who tonight’s surprise celebrities will be. A few of them make guesses, naming different reality TV stars. One guy says, “I know who won’t be showing up tonight. Dylan Wolf.” They all guffaw.