Rockers After Dark: 6 Book Bundle of Sexy Musicians

by Chase, Deanna

  The expression on his face morphs from mild curiosity to outrage. “You slept with him? That’s it, isn’t it? You fucked this guy. What the hell is this? Your twisted way of getting back at me?”

  I stare at him, dumbfounded. Has he lost his mind? I left him three months ago. And he’d cheated on me. Was he so self-absorbed that he thought I’d be sitting around pining for him? “You’ve got to be kidding me. Jesus, Cadan. When are you going to realize I don’t belong to you?”

  “You’re my soul mate,” he says through clenched teeth.

  “You’re a dick. Leave or I’ll call the cops.” I won’t. At least I don’t think I will. A police scandal is the last thing either of us needs.

  “I know you better than that,” he says, his voice calmer. “Let’s go inside so you can warm up. You’re freezing.”

  I’m so mad I haven’t even noticed the cold seeping through my clothes. The wind is picking up and I can hear the crash of the waves on the rocks intensifying. A storm is coming, and I feel as if it’s brewing from deep inside me.

  Cadan holds out his hand for the house key. I stare at it, knowing no matter what I do, he’s not going to leave until he gets what he wants. Only I’m not exactly sure what it is he wants from me. For me to return to the band? To write him more songs? To be the soul mate I’m supposed to be? I can’t do any of those things and remain myself. If I give in, I’ll be lost, living in a world that caters to him and what he wants.

  “Lucy?”

  I raise my gaze to his worried one. I can’t stand the hidden manipulation I see there. As if in a trance, I raise my hand and drop the house key into his.

  He smiles and then turns to unlock the door.

  “I’ll be right back,” I say.

  Turning, he raises an eyebrow. “Where are you going?”

  I nod toward the garbage bins. “I need to roll those out before the rain starts.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you inside.” He disappears into my house as the first drops of rain fall on my head.

  “Asshole,” I say and spin on my heel. I bypass the garbage cans and his Mercedes rental and head straight for the highway. If he’s staying, I’m going. I don’t care if I have to walk the entire ten miles to town. Anything is better than enduring what’s waiting for me inside.

  Once I’m outside the gate, I break into a jog, careful to keep to the shoulder. It won’t take long for Cadan to start to wonder where I am. And considering he has access to a car and I don’t, the likelihood that he’ll find me is high. If I can make it to the small convenience store a mile down the road, I might have a chance. Bessie, the store owner, was a good friend of my dad’s. She’ll let me hang out in the back if necessary.

  The rain starts coming down at a steady rate, and it doesn’t take long for my clothes to get soaked through. I’m cold, angry, and pissed that I’d let Cadan get to me. The frustration only makes me run faster. And to add insult to injury, as I round a corner, a line of cars shoots past, spraying a wall of water at me.

  My only salvation is that none of them was Cadan. Or if one was, the rain is so heavy he didn’t notice me.

  My teeth are chattering by the time I get to Bessie’s, but instead of walking in, I bang on the door and poke my head in. “Bessie?”

  “In the back,” she calls.

  “Do you have a towel?” I don’t want to track in the mud clinging to my tennis shoes or drip a river of water on her hardwood floors. “I ran here and I’m soaked.”

  “What? Are you nuts?” She stalks out of the back room, her hands on her hips. “You could’ve been killed out there.”

  I grimace, knowing she’s right. “I have an unexpected visitor. And unfortunately he won’t leave, so I had to.”

  She tucks her gray curls behind one ear and smoothes her red apron over her round belly. “That good-for-nothing two-timer is here?”

  She knows my life well. I nod. “And my car died. It was either be stuck in the house with him or come here. Is this okay?”

  The anger melts from her face and she holds out a hand. “You know you’re always welcome. Come on in the back and dry off.”

  I leave a soggy trail behind me as I follow her.

  She pulls out a chair at what appears to be a break table and waves for me to sit. Then she bustles to a supply closet to grab a towel. “Is Jax coming for you?”

  I shake my head. “I haven’t called her yet.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled for some girl time. If not, you’ll stay here.”

  Bessie’s offer is sweet. But with her daughter and son-in-law and their four kids, her house is already bursting at the gills. I need to find somewhere else to go.

  With a tap of my finger, I call Jax. The phone rings once before it goes to voice mail. Damn. She declined my call. Her voice comes on the line, requesting I leave a message. “Jax. I’m stranded and desperately need a ride. Call me.”

  I end the call and try again, just in case. Two rings this time and then it goes to voice mail again. I frown at the phone, frustrated. Is she that mad at me? Seth’s at work; I can’t bother him again. Mike is there too. Shoot.

  “Bessie,” I call and head for the front of the store, but just as I slip through the door, the bell rings, indicating a customer.

  “Excuse me,” says an all-too-familiar voice.

  I duck back into the storage room, my heart pounding practically out of my chest. Cadan is already looking for me.

  “How can I help you?” I hear Bessie say.

  “I’m looking for someone. You might know her, she lives down the way. Lucy Moore?”

  “I know Lucy,” she says. “Haven’t seen her today though. On a day like this, I’d expect her to be tucked up in her house.”

  “Yeah.” Cadan sounds confused. “She should.” There’s a pregnant pause. Then he says, “Well, if you see her, please let her know I’m worried.”

  Bessie doesn’t say anything. A moment later, the bell chimes on the door again.

  “Need a ride somewhere?” a voice says from behind me.

  “Holy hell,” I say, clutching my chest. “Holt, you scared me.”

  He smiles. “Gran said to take you to town.” Holt can’t be a day over seventeen. He’s tall and lanky with recently straightened teeth.

  “You’re all grown up,” I say.

  “Getting there.” He jerks his head toward the back door. “Come on. I’ve got to meet my girl. I’ll drop you on the way.”

  “Thanks.” I smile up at him and then rush into the store to thank Bessie.

  “You can’t keep running forever,” she says.

  I bite my lip. “He’s not taking no for an answer.”

  “That’s tough. But you’ll need to find a way to make him understand sooner or later.”

  “I wish I knew how.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Seth

  I’m pissed at myself. As soon as I’d found out Lucy lives south on 1, my entire mood had shifted. It’s always rough passing by 128, the highway we’d been on the night of the accident. I should have told Lucy. Instead, I’d abandoned the pleasant flirtation we’d had going and turned into a moody dick. So much for that possible date later.

  The clock ticks loudly in the silent shop. Mike’s in the back grabbing more supplies for his station, and Tish is sitting at the desk, staring at me. It’s uncomfortable to say the least. It’s my own damn fault, though. Never mess around with anyone you work with, even if you were both so drunk you barely remember what happened. I have the feeling she remembers a lot more than I do. It was just once, months ago, but she still hasn’t let it go.

  “What time was my appointment supposed to be here?” I ask.

  “Twenty minutes ago.” She smacks her gum and pops a bubble.

  “Okay.” I turn to my sketchbook, meaning to finish a drawing of a phoenix I’
d started a few days ago, but I can’t concentrate. All I see is Lucy’s face. My fingers twitch to sketch her. Charcoal. I rummage around in my drawer and come up empty. “Shit,” I mumble and stand up abruptly. “Tish?”

  “What?” She gives me a hostile look that I patently ignore.

  “Text me if my appointment shows up. I need to run home for a moment.”

  “Whatever.” Grabbing a magazine, she spins in her stool to face the entrance.

  The rain is coming down in sheets now and it seems crazy to go out in the weather just to get my charcoal pencils, but there’s a driving force inside me. That creative fire that comes so rarely these days. I have to draw. And I can’t wait.

  By the time I get to my truck, I’m drenched. The windshield wipers work overtime as I creep through the city streets, but I move forward with single-minded determination. My house is close, but the storm makes the visibility almost zero. No wonder my appointment hadn’t shown up. I’m so focused that by the time I get home, I don’t even notice I’m flying up the stairs until I reach the sunroom door.

  Then I freeze. Water drips down the side of my face and splatters on the hardwood floor. I don’t come up here anymore. I’d forced myself to enter twice. Neither time had ended well.

  My pencils are on the other side of the door. That driving force is getting stronger. I don’t think I can turn around now even if I want to. I grab the handle and twist, waiting for the panic to set in. It always does.

  But this time, with the sheets of rain obscuring the view and my mind on the charcoal, it doesn’t come. Not even when I walk to the center of the room and eye the oil paintings lined up against the wall.

  They’re all there. The last dozen or so E and I worked on. Flashbacks of her standing in this room, a paintbrush in her hands, her long blond hair piled into a loose knot on her head as she laughs at her own jokes, filter through my mind. That joy I’d always felt with her around slams into me. I let the emotion fill me up, reveling in the long-forgotten state of being. This used to be my life, so full of hope and wonder. Now the room is dank and dusty, holding everything I loved about her locked away.

  All too soon, the soul-crushing ache I’d lived with the last eighteen months takes over, knowing the person who made me whole was gone. Those long days of creating together, bringing something meaningful to not only ourselves but the world around us, had vanished that awful night.

  Why?

  The question haunts me now just as it had then. There is no answer. There’s only silence.

  I blink, and the visions of her are wiped away, leaving me in the dark room as the wind blows, rattling the glass. Why am I here?

  The charcoal. Lucy. It should feel wrong to be in this space while my mind is on another lover, but it doesn’t. Instead, the urge to sketch grows. If only those portraits weren’t staring at me. The ones still waiting for a few minor finishes. The ones they’d never get now.

  I move mechanically to a shelf full of supplies and pull out a drape. I should have covered them long ago, if for nothing else other than to preserve the art against the sun. Once I have the drape in place, the memories of E dim, and Lucy’s image fills my mind again.

  The image of her standing on the stage, feet shoulder-width apart as she sings seductively into the mic, fights with the one of her eyeing me shyly in the truck when she thinks I’m not paying attention.

  My easel lies abandoned on the floor, knocked over in a drunken rage the last time I’d ventured up here. Now I bend and pick it up, positioning it in the corner so all I have to look at while working is the rain splattering on the glass. I rip a handful of damaged sheets off the sketchpad, wadding them up as I go. Once I have a fresh, unmarred surface, my hand closes around the charcoal and I begin to sketch.

  The world fades away, and all I hear is the splatter of raindrops mixed with the faint sound of the pencil against the paper. It’s soothing as my creative self takes over, seeing only Lucy and the angles of her body, the striking intelligence shining through those eyes and the hidden vulnerability. It’s that above everything else that draws me to her. The sheen of strength masking all the emotions underneath.

  Time ticks away as I fill half a dozen sheets with various poses, all ones my mind has been locking away for just this moment, I realize. She’s become my muse, the one I can’t walk away from. What’s happening to me right now isn’t the same as what E and I had. Together, we’d brought magic to a piece; it came alive under our ministrations, revealing something to the subject. No, this is revealing what’s inside me through a subject. In a way, it’s almost more personal. It’s raw and though it’s her image, it’s all about what’s going on inside me.

  A dam breaks, and my walls come crashing down. I’m all in, adding stroke after stroke, shading and erasing, pouring myself into this piece in a way I can’t with my tattoos. It’s freeing and also terrifying because I don’t know if I can go back.

  But for now, I just draw.

  ***

  Hours later, with over a dozen sketches hung around the room, my hand begins to cramp. I know if I don’t stop, I won’t be able to work tomorrow, so even though I’d rather stay up all night in the sunroom, I put my charcoals away and step back.

  Pleasure seeps into all those broken crevices inside me. I created something. Something just for me. It’s not for anyone. It’s an expression of what I feel in this moment. My heart thumps a little faster. I’m alive for the first time since I lost E.

  And it’s thanks to Lucy.

  The overwhelming urge to see her takes over. Should I call? Head over to her house? The rain is still battering our town. I shouldn’t go anywhere, but I’m afraid if I call I’ll only hang up utterly frustrated. After spending the afternoon and the evening with her image in my head, I want her. Want to experience her gentle yet demanding touch, see her smile, hear her soft laugh as her breath tickles my neck.

  Hell. I’m hard just thinking about her. I pull my phone out and send her a text.

  Would you mind company?

  My phone buzzes a few moments later, but it’s not Lucy. It’s Tish.

  Your appointment is finally here… five hours late. Want to take it? Or should I send him home?

  I glance at the clock. It’s eight p.m. The shop closes at nine. My first thought is to tell her to send him packing. But then my rational mind takes over. It’s December, not exactly a high-traffic season, and a job is a job. I could use the cash.

  I’ll be there in less than ten.

  Fine.

  I take a moment to wash the charcoal remains from my hands, then grab a raincoat and head on back to the shop. The street is empty with only the lights of the tattoo parlor and the coffee shop glowing in the night. After stopping in for a latte, I jog up the street and slip into the shop, ready to work.

  “Hey, Tish,” I say. “Did Mike already leave?”

  “Ten minutes ago when he found out you were coming back.”

  I nod and glance around. “Where’s my appointment?”

  “Bathroom.” She grins. “Wait until you see who it is.”

  “Who?” I ask as I settle in at my station.

  She shakes her head. “You’ll see.”

  I roll my eyes and check my phone. Lucy still hasn’t answered. I glance at the storm brewing outside and start to worry. No, she’s at home where I left her. She’s probably just not near her phone. If I still haven’t heard from her by the time I’m done, I’ll give her a call to be sure she’s okay. Right. That’s why I’ll call. Not because I’m aching to see her. No, not at all.

  “Hey, man.”

  I lift my head and have to fight back a scowl. Shit. Cadan Kinx. What the fuck is he doing here? I keep my expression neutral and nod to the chair. What I really want to do is throw his ass out, but he hasn’t done anything to me and we have bills to pay. “Hey.”

  “Sorry I’m late. I h
ad some business to take care of.” He gives me that million-dollar smile he no doubt uses on all his groupies. The ones he’s busy banging instead of hanging out with his girl. Ex-girl that is. What a fucking loser.

  “It’s fine. Did you have something in mind?” I ask.

  He nods and pulls out a piece of paper with a crude sketch of a dragon. “I know it’s rough, but judging by the piece on your arm, I’m guessing you can turn this into something badass.”

  I narrow my eyes at the dragon spiraling around my arm. “I didn’t ink that.”

  “Sure, sure. That makes sense. But you can do something with it, right?”

  “Yeah, but I’ll need a little time to work it up. We might be able to get the outline drawn, but we don’t have enough time to finish tonight.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “What if I pay you double?”

  “Sorry,” I say without even considering it. “I’ve got somewhere I have to be.” I don’t, but I plan on being at Lucy’s. Or at the very least, making sure she’s all right with this douche hanging around.

  He raises his hands in mock defeat. “Okay. I’ll be in town a few days anyway. We can finish tomorrow, right?”

  I give a noncommittal shrug. The idea of working on this guy makes my skin crawl. It shouldn’t. He’s done nothing to me. It’s because of what he’s done to Lucy. After today’s work session, I’m feeling more territorial than I had after we’d spent the night together. I can’t explain it, but it’s as if I’m connected to her in some way. Not like with E, not in the magical sense. No, this is something else on a pure primal level.

  I get up and walk to Mike’s station, pretending to look for supplies. I need to get away from Kinx before I say something I’ll regret. Their relationship isn’t any of my business, no matter how much I’m starting to realize I want it to be. Twenty-four hours ago, my life had been uncomplicated and void of all emotion.

  Now Lucy has changed everything.

  I turn back to Kinx. “Where is this going to go?”

  “Right here.” He thumps his chest over his heart.

  Great. Now I have to stare at his ugly ass half-naked. “Take off your shirt,” I order.