Reckless Beat Box Set #2

by Summers, Eden

  “Sweetie…” Blake sat up straight, his shoulders slumped as he panted. “We’ll let you walk out of here once Ryan gets back, but until then, calm your tits and get used to it.”

  “Nope.” She cocked a hip. “I’m leaving.”

  Sean finally blinked to consciousness and met her gaze. “We’ll see.”

  “Yeah.” She gave him a sinister smile. She wasn’t scared of his bulk or the buzz cut hiding his teddy bear center. “We will see.”

  She sauntered for her suitcase at the start of the open plan kitchen, grabbed the trolley handle, and then made her way to the front door. Muttered curses followed, and then the padded footsteps of a rushed stride.

  “Get your ass back to the sofa.” Sean’s voice was tired, the on-stage adrenaline long gone, now leaving him in a defeated withdrawal.

  No way. She continued walking and spoke over her shoulder. “I know dealing with a different manager is going to be painful, but it’s only temporary.” She reached the door handle and twisted. Her chest expanded with the relief of freedom and then constricted with the reminder of her lonely future. “I’ll be in contact all the time.”

  Sean’s palm hit the door, slamming it shut in her face.

  “Get. Your ass. On the. Sofa.” Each word was enunciated in a terrifying growl.

  “Sean—” Her reply was cut off by a scream. Her scream as he lifted her off the ground and threw her over his shoulder like a sack of wheat.

  “I’m too tired for this shit.” He swung around and carried her back into the living room, ignoring the hard-core wiggle she increased in an effort to break free.

  “Down. Now!”

  He did as instructed, unceremoniously dumping her on the sofa, her arms and legs flailing. Blake and Mitch didn’t fluctuate from their positions. They didn’t even pay her attention as she began to hyperventilate in livid anger. “You don’t want to do this.”

  “Yeah.” Blake returned to his steady rhythm of sit-ups. “We do.”

  “I’ll run.”

  “With a suitcase and those heels?” Sean raised a brow and dropped down beside her. “Just sit tight until tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? You can’t be serious. I thought this was only going to take an hour. Two, tops. What could Ryan be doing—”

  “They took the jet and went back to New York.” Mitch slid his cell onto the coffee table and met her gaze. “It’s going to take time.”

  “New York?” No. She shook her head. No. “What are they…? Why are they…?” Christ. She needed answers. Nothing good could come from them going home. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out her cell.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Sean snatched the device from her grip, leaned to the side, and slid it beneath him.

  “Oh, no, you didn’t.” She gaped, her focus on the place where his thighs met the sofa cushions. Fuck. “You just ate my phone with your ass.”

  Blake threw his head back and laughed. A long, loud, and over-tired sound she wished she could mimic. No luck. She was furious.

  “Payback will be unimaginable.” She stood again, this time smoothing out her clothes and raising her chin to curb her frustration. Her brows descended into a scathing glare before she stalked across the room, heading for the bathroom, Sean’s chuckle a taunting companion.

  “You can only pay me back if you stick around.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Ryan was thankful he’d had the foresight to get the jet to San Antonio. The strategy had been far simpler yesterday—get Slicker on a chart, convince Leah they were going to make this work, ditch the tour bus to Houston, and spend the night in a hotel suite. Just the two of them. No clothes. No sleep.

  Instead, the jet was touching down in New York, the illuminated night sky greeting him through the tiny window.

  “Stop worrying. I’ve had to listen to your brain tick the whole way here.” Mason raised his head from a sleeping position on the opposite sofa. “Nothing is going to go wrong. In fact, I dare someone to take us on.”

  “Don’t be a jinx.” Ryan had failed in trying to claim the don’t-give-a-shit attitude Mason had perfected. Evidently, not everyone could enjoy being an asshole. “If something goes wrong…”

  “Nothing will go wrong. We’ll be in and out of here like a teen getting his first lay.”

  The jet pulled to a stop, the flight attendant opening the door to the main cabin seconds later. “I’ve arranged for the car you requested. It’s already waiting on the tarmac.”

  “Thanks.” Ryan stood, not needing to grab any luggage because he’d left San Antonio with nothing but his cell, wallet, and the clothes on his back.

  The drive into Manhattan was smooth, the early morning hours quiet while most of the city slept, the desolation in contrast to the frantic buzz inside his chest.

  “Are we in the right place?” Mason asked from the front seat of the car.

  “Yeah.” The tree-lined street was dead to the world. The houses devoid of inside lights. “Look for number thirty-six.”

  The driver slowed, taking in the numbers until they reached their destination. When the vehicle stopped, so did Ryan’s heart. Outside the window was a three-story townhouse, the narrow building dark and confronting.

  “We’ll be back soon.” Mason spoke to the driver and climbed from the car.

  Ryan wasn’t as quick to rush to the fray. He’d been in a panic to get here, but now the plan loomed in front of him, he questioned what he was doing. Leah could end up hating him. She may never speak to him again. The prospect had him second-guessing everything. Even the depth of his breaths.

  “Hurry the fuck up,” Mason called from the street.

  Shit. Ryan unclicked his belt, opened the door, and slid into the night air. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Why?” Mason snorted. “I’m pretty sure I established a bad reputation with this guy years ago.”

  “You may have.” Ryan started for the house. “But I’m hoping to make a good impression.”

  “At three in the morning? Good luck with that.”

  They climbed the four steps and stopped at the front door. Mason didn’t give him a chance to compose himself before a loud rap of knuckles pounded against the wood. Fuck. His heartrate increased. He began to fidget.

  “Come on,” Mason grated, staring up at the windows. “Wake up.” He knocked again, this time pounding with the side of his hand.

  A light brightened a third-story window. Seconds later, another illuminated on the second floor, followed by ground level. Footsteps approached. A shadow crossed the door. The lock clicked. Then they were staring at a balding man, his squinted eyes harsh with scrutiny. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  Not a good start. Not a fucking good start at all. “Hi, sir…” Ryan ignored Mason’s raised brow that mocked his greeting. “I’m a member of Reckless—”

  “I know who the hell you are, Ryan. We’ve met before. What I don’t know is why you’re banging on my door in the early hours of the morning.”

  “I wanted to speak to you about Leah.”

  “Damn it.” Bruce ran a hand over his wrinkled face. “You’re involved with her, aren’t you?”

  He straightened, preparing to fight. For her. “I want to be.” Deflection was key. Don’t lie. Just divert. “I’ve had feelings for Leah for a long time. And I’ve known, because of her job and my wife, that I couldn’t do anything about it. But I’m here today to ask you for permission—”

  “No.” Bruce shook his head. “Don’t ask. Don’t even go there.”

  “Hear him out.” Mason leaned against the side of the building, relaxed, oblivious to what was at stake, or simply not caring.

  “And delay crawling back into bed? Why? I already know the answer, and it won’t change. All this conversation will do is send Leah into the unemployment line.”

  “Please.” Ryan stepped forward. “I’m begging you. Take the clause out of her contract.”

  There was a beat of contemplat
ion as aged eyes narrowed. “You love her that much?”

  “Yeah, I do.” Hope sparked to life in his chest.

  “And how about your wife? Did you feel the same way about her, too?”

  Shit. Optimism took a nose-dive, freefalling without a parachute. “I was young and ignorant when I married Julie. I didn’t know what love was.”

  “But you vowed your life to her. Now you’re claiming Leah is all you want.”

  Ryan darted a pleading gaze to Mason. He was flailing, throwing punches that didn’t connect while Bruce had begun slamming this conversation out of the arena. “I appreciate what you’re trying to say. You think I’ll change my mind in the future. And I get that. I understand why you feel the way you do.”

  “No.” The older man shook his head. “You don’t understand. Otherwise you wouldn’t be here. Do you think you’re the first person to ask for the contract to be changed? Out of all the celebrities my company represents, do you think you and Leah are the only ones to get swept up in the glitz and glamour and think it’s love?”

  “We’re not swept up in anything. I’ve been in love with her for years. And she feels the—”

  “I suggest you quit talking before you admit something I can’t ignore.”

  Mason pushed from the wall. “You’ll ignore whatever necessary to keep us as a client.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.” Bruce scowled at the lead singer. “Your worth is only as valuable as the reputation it gives my company. If your manager can’t control her feelings, it reflects badly on everyone under my employment and all the artists they represent.”

  “Then put a price on it,” Mason demanded.

  “I could buy her out of the clause.” Ryan stood firm, unwilling to give up, no matter the cost.

  “And when things end and I’m stuck with a bad reputation and a band who is no longer willing to work with their manager? What then?”

  “It won’t happen. Leah and I are good together. We’ll continue to make it work.”

  “Continue?” Bruce sighed. “You’ll continue to make it work?”

  Ryan didn’t give a shit about his admission. “Look, I’m not asking on a whim. I wouldn’t be here unless my future happiness was dependent on your answer. Leah’s, too. I’ve never seen her date during her entire time as the Reckless manager. She’s never needed or wanted to. But she needs this. She needs me and I feel the same way about her.”

  “Just put a fucking price on it,” Mason snapped.

  “Even I know Leah wouldn’t appreciate a price on a relationship.” Bruce scoffed. “But you want a number, so I’ll give you one. How does two million dollars sound?”

  Ryan fought to withhold a wince.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Mason grabbed Ryan’s shirt. “Let’s get out of here. He’s not going to negotiate.”

  “I could get the money together.” Ryan couldn’t move. He couldn’t quit staring at the man who held his happiness hostage.

  “I’m not going to let you do that.” Mason stepped in front of him. “Leah would kill you. I’d fucking kill you. You’re not wasting two mil on a chance with her. It’s not worth it.”

  “It’s not wasting two million on a chance. It’d be two million for an opportunity.”

  “He’s fucking with you, Ry. And besides, your track record with women isn’t a glowing recommendation to throw money at. You’ve got a wife who’s pregnant with another man, and Blake tells me you turned your other conquest to the dark side.”

  “Not funny.” Ryan glowered. “I have no other option.”

  “Yeah, you do.” Mason tugged again. “You just don’t want to take it.”

  True. Plan B was worse than the risks with Plan A. The revulsion at his action would be doubled. More people would be involved, diluting the affects but stretching them further. “I don’t think…”

  “Thinking’s never been your strong suit.” Mason dragged him down the cement steps and onto the sidewalk. “Now we do it my way.”

  * * *

  Leah sucked in a deep breath, filled her lungs, and then let loose with an off-pitch rendition of Adele’s latest release.

  “Fuck.” Mitch jerked upright from his dozing position on the sofa, while Blake and Sean cringed.

  She’d never been more proud of her lack of vocal talent.

  “Enough.” Sean shoved to his feet and stamped his grumpy ass into the kitchen, stopping in front of her seated position on the counter. “If I’d known payback would come in the form of singing, I would’ve drugged you hours ago.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” she cooed. “Retribution hasn’t even started.”

  Since her first failed attempt at escape, she’d tried to leave two more times. The first was in commando mode and involved a rather embarrassing crawl along numerous feet of hallway carpet before the click of a cell’s recording device encouraged her to stand. The second was when all three men had been dozing in varying positions around the living room. Mitch had sprung to his feet with the opening of the door and proceeded to run straight ahead, tripping over Blake on the floor. He hadn’t braced for impact. At least not with his hands. His face took the brunt of the fall, the resulting blood rushing from his nose enough to kick her conscience into overdrive.

  “Why don’t you get a few hours’ rest?” Sean leaned against the opposite counter, his shoulders slumped, his head drooping. “Please. Daylight is going to break any minute now.”

  “If your career was on the line, would you be able to rest?”

  He raised his chin and met her gaze with determination. “If I were you, I’d have faith in the men who love and adore you.”

  She glanced down at her swaying feet, cursing the effects lack of sleep had on her emotions. “Do you forget how well I know you all?” She shot him a look through her lashes before lowering her focus again. “My position is already perilous, and then Ryan made it worse by kissing me in front of the crew. If Bruce finds out…”

  “He already has.”

  Her gaze shot up.

  “Sean,” Blake warned, the bass guitarist striding into the kitchen. “Let’s keep this quiet until Ryan gets back.”

  “No.” She pushed from the counter. “I deserve to know what’s going on with my own career.”

  “We’ve got your back. That’s all you need to know.” Mitch came up beside Blake, wiping a rough hand over his face. “This won’t end until we’re all happy with the outcome.”

  “We’re all happy?” Incredulity dripped from her lips. “Since when did you claim dictatorship over my life? This is my career. My choice. Not yours.”

  They had the sense to look remorseful. The three of them now struggling to maintain eye contact. This wasn’t a game anymore. It wasn’t fun or comical. It was her future they played with. Her decisions they stole.

  “Do you understand what you’ve done?” She pinned Blake with a stare. “You’re going to be a dad soon. You may have a daughter.”

  He stiffened.

  “When she’s a grown woman—fit and capable to make her own decisions—would you find it acceptable to have the people she works with make choices about her future on her behalf?”

  “It’s not like that,” he grated.

  “Then what is it like?”

  His jaw ticked, the beat of contemplation narrowing his gaze. “Do you remember when we were back in Australia and you found out the infidelity rumors about Julie?”

  Ice water washed through her, along veins, through nerves.

  “It’s like that,” he continued. “You made the choice not to tell Ryan, even though he deserved to know, merely because you thought it was the best thing for him.”

  “It was best for the band,” she clarified.

  Sean inclined his head. “It was a professional decision.” He approached, grabbing her upper arms and staring down at her. “And so was ours. We can’t continue the tour without you. Not even for a day. It’s not something any of us are willing to do. So you can either look at it as if we�
�re trying to protect you—which we are. Or you can see it as the best career move we’ll make, because both apply.”

  “We’ll make this right, Leah.” Mitch gave a sad smile.

  She sucked in a deep breath and demanded the anger to dissipate as Sean pulled her into his chest.

  “I assume you’ve been in contact with Ryan.” She reluctantly slid her arms around his waist, taking comfort in whatever way she could.

  “We’ve messaged back and forth.”

  “Then tell me—” she retreated and met his eyes, “—what did Bruce say when he found out?”

  His eyes softened, the lack of excitement filling her with dread.

  “In short, he wasn’t happy and refused to negotiate.”

  Translation—her contract remained in place and now her boss had the evidence to send her packing.

  “Don’t give up on us.” Mitch came to her side, wrapped a hand around her neck and kissed her cheek. “You’ve fought for us from day one. It’s our turn to fight for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  “Don’t start regretting it now,” Mason muttered from the other side of the cab. “The damage is already done.”

  “I’m not.” Ryan stared out the window, watching the hotel come into view. He’d been trying to imagine the different ways Leah could respond to the news, and nothing he came up with was favorable. Not to begin with, anyway. She’d either be upset or livid, and the reaction would take hours, if not days, to simmer. “It’s going to take some time for her to forgive us.”

  “We already knew that before we started. But at least you can be with her now. If I would’ve been in the same situation with Sid, I wouldn’t think twice about what we’ve done.”

  “That’s because you’re an asshole.” The cab pulled to a stop and Ryan handed the driver a stack of bills, giving the guy a healthy tip because he hadn’t acknowledged the celebrities in his back seat.

  “True.” Mason opened his door and slid from the car.

  They regrouped in the lobby, ignoring the curious stares of people who were awake at this ungodly hour.