Interlude (Rockstar #4)

by Anne Mercier

  “Just went for a walk.”

  “You okay?” She turned to look at me.

  “Yeah, sorry. My life has not been what you would call easy. I’m not used to people being nice to me. It’s just going to take me a bit to get used to it.”

  “It’s cool.” Sadie smiled brightly. “Now, let’s get you ready.”

  It was full dark when we came out of the room. Layla was just saying goodbye to her parents, and another girl with blonde hair and warm brown eyes was coming out of their shared room. Must be the other roommate.

  “Hi, I’m Melissa, but everyone calls me Mel.” She smiled.

  “Hey, I’m Sadie, and this is Becca. Want to come with us to the party?”

  “Where is it?” Layla asked, finally shutting the door and joining us.

  “Here somewhere. It’s sort of a floor party.” Sadie shrugged.

  “Give me ten minutes?” Mel asked, already backing toward her room. Layla followed suit and went to get ready.

  “They seem nice,” Sadie remarked. “Looks like this year is going to be great!”

  Her enthusiasm was refreshing. I found myself excited about what was to come.

  Sadie led the way, and Mel, Layla, and I followed behind her like it was the norm. People were spilled out into the halls and common areas. Red Solo cups were in hands, scattered on tables, and lining the hallway.

  “Let’s go get something to drink. I think I heard someone say there was a keg,” Sadie announced.

  A keg? I felt my stomach tie itself in knots. Alcohol made me nervous; I had seen too many times just what it could do to a person if they let it. Layla looked just as nervous as I felt, and for some reason, that made me feel better. I guess I wasn’t the only one who was new to all of this.

  I know a lot of kids did the keg parties in high school, but I wasn’t one of them. I preferred to dance; any spare moment I had in between taking care of my younger brother, Chad, and working an after school job, was spent in pointe shoes on a hardwood floor.

  “Here, everyone take a cup.” Sadie handed them out.

  I shook my head. “None for me, thanks.”

  “Oh, come on, live a little. This is your first night; have some fun.”

  “Really, I’m okay.” She shrugged and passed drinks to the other girls. Layla looked uncertain, but she took the cup anyway.

  This was so not my scene, too many people on their way to being drunk. I walked with the other girls through the maze of people, half zoned out, thinking about nothing in particular. I really must not have been paying attention, because I walked straight into someone, spilling his beer all over both of us.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry.” I looked up at him for the first time. I could feel the beer dripping down my arms, my shirt was soaked through

  “Hey, no problem.” He smiled at me. His mocha eyes drew me in. “I’m Levi, and this is my buddy, Julian.” He gestured to the blond guy next to him.

  “Becca. Sorry again. I was zoned out and not paying attention.” I could feel my cheeks flushing.

  “Hi, I’m Sadie, Becca’s roommate.” She smiled brightly at Levi.

  Levi smiled at her, but he didn’t stop looking at me. “I’m going to go change. Becca, can I walk you to your room?”

  “Um... sure, I guess. You don't have to, though. I’m fine to go by myself...” I was nervous beyond all belief.

  “No, I’ll walk you.”

  Sadie shot me a look that said she was not happy about the situation, but she didn’t comment.

  Levi followed me back the way I had just come and we ended up in front of my dorm room. “This is me.”

  “I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes? I’m just down the hall.” He ran off before I could say anything in response.

  I went and rummaged through my dresser, knowing full well that I didn’t have anything cute to wear to a party. I settled on a purple tank top that was tighter than most of my tops, but not as tight as the one that was currently soaked in beer. I contemplated not going back to the party and just changing into pajamas. I was all set to stay home when someone knocked on the door.

  I opened it and Levi was standing on the other side. He was seriously hot, and not at all what I needed right now. He was tall. I was not short by any means at 5’9,” but he was at least four inches taller than me. His hair was dark brown, and in that messy style guys our age always wore.

  “You ready?” He smiled at me.

  “Yeah.” I sighed and stepped back out into the hall with him. He gave me a look, but didn’t say anything. We found everyone else piled onto some couches in one of the common rooms.

  Layla looked slightly miserable. I could tell right away that she and I would get along great as she would not be dragging me to parties in the future. Mel was flirting with Julian, who seemed to be enjoying the attention. Sadie was sitting by herself, looking irritated, but her whole face lit up when she saw us approach.

  “Hey, Levi, I saved you a seat.” She patted the brown couch cushion next to her. He slid next to her and motioned for me to join them. Sadie shot me a look that clearly said not to, so I sat next to Layla instead. I should be pissed off. What if I had been interested in Levi? Would I have been expected to just step aside? But I’m not interested in starting anything with Levi, or anyone else.

  So there we were, Layla and I completely miserable, and the other two in hot guy heaven, flirting their brains out.

  After another thirty minutes of people watching and listening to the girls shamelessly flirt, I turned to Layla. “Want to go?”

  “Very much, yes.”

  I stood and announced that we were leaving.

  “Aw, you should stay, it’s still early.” Sadie pouted.

  “I’m tired, it’s been a long day, and I just want to get some sleep.”

  “Me, too,” Layla chimed in.

  We wandered back to our room, stepping over people sitting in groups on the floor against the hallway walls.

  “So the party scene isn’t for you, either?” I asked Layla as we walked.

  “No, not really. I’m more into my books and the library than boys and beer. What’s your excuse?” She smiled and pushed her bangs out of her eyes.

  “Not much for alcohol of any kind, and as for boys, I have no time for them. I have too much I want to accomplish; a relationship will only slow me down.”

  “Maybe we should switch rooms. It sounds like we’re on the same page.” She laughed.

  “I think having Sadie and Mel will be good for us, maybe force us out of the library every now and again.”

  We went our separate ways, me to my room and Layla to hers. I grabbed a quick shower before bed, was not in the mood to sleep with the smell of beer on me.

  Sadie was in the room when I came back in. “You’re home early,” I remarked.

  “Yeah, Levi and Julian left a little bit after you and Layla.” She frowned.

  “Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. I’ll see him around, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah, he lives in the dorm, so I’m sure you’ll see him all the time.”

  “That’s right; they do live here!” She perked up a bit. “He was hot, and so was his friend, Julian. Don’t you think?”

  I shrugged. “I guess.”

  “What do you mean, you guess? They were total hotties.”

  “I don’t have time for boys; they’re too much trouble.”

  “Oh, Becca, I have so much to teach you,” she said.

  Combative

  ©2015 Jay McLean

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Prologue

  I flex my fingers, watching the dried blood shift around my knuckles. I should be at home icing the shit out of them. But I’m not. Instead, I’m in a tiny room with nothing but a table and two chairs. I don’t know how the fuck I got into thi
s mess. Actually, I do, but the asshole was talking shit and I had no choice.

  That’s a lie.

  There was a choice.

  I made mine and I ended up here.

  The door swings open, and a suit walks in; his back to me—talking heatedly with someone on the other side of the door. “I’ll handle it, Pulver,” he says, before shutting the door and then...nothing. He just stands there staring at the closed door. His shoulders heave once, his head moving from side to side. And then slowly, he turns.

  The corners of my lips lift, but drop when I see him jerk his head. The action’s so slight that if I weren’t focused on him, I would’ve missed it. His gaze shifts to the camera in the corner of the room. It’s a split second movement, but one I understand. He rolls up the sleeves on his crisp, white shirt and takes the only seat available on the other side of the table. Resting on his forearms, he leans forward. “Parker.”

  I smirk. “Officer.”

  “Detective,” he corrects.

  “Who’d have thought,” I mumble.

  His features falter for a second, but only a second before his mask is back in place. He looks down at the open folder in front of him, his eyes scanning the page from side to side, and then he lifts his gaze. “Kyler Parker?” he asks, but he already knows who I am.

  I nod once.

  His eyes fix on the cuffs digging into my wrists. Letting out a breath with a huff, he leans to one side and shoves his hand in his pocket, revealing a set of keys.

  The second he removes the cuffs; there’s a banging on the door.

  His eye roll makes me chuckle.

  Another suit, a fatter one, stands at the door with his eyes narrowed. “Davis,” is all he says.

  “I said I’d handle it!” He stands up and walks to the door, then proceeds to forcefully shut it in fat-suit’s face.

  Once he’s settled back in his seat, he resumes his stance from earlier. “You’re in a bit of a mess,” he states.

  I nod again.

  He pulls a picture from the folder, now settled in the middle of the table, and pushes it under my nose. “You recognize him?”

  Another nod.

  “You broke his jaw, his nose, busted a rib, and punctured his lung. You also did some heavy damage to his right eye. They don’t know if it will have full functionality again.” He raises an eyebrow. “Was it worth it?”

  I clear my throat and lean forward, matching his position.

  Amusement fills his eyes. Then, just like that, it’s wiped. “Are you mute?”

  I bite my lip to stop from smiling. The taste of my blood hits my tongue.

  He hides his smile. “Does it taste like victory?”

  I drop my chin to my chest and do my best to keep it together.

  The scraping of his chair grabs my attention. He’s on his feet now, working his way over. Stopping next to me, he takes a seat on the edge of the table.

  “Ky,” he starts, then pauses for what I assume is dramatic effect. “I can call you Ky, right?” He doesn’t give me a chance to answer before adding, “Here’s the thing. Witnesses say that you had to be pulled off of him, and even then you kept throwing blow after blow. The damage you did—there’s too much of it. Obviously he’s pressing charges, so is the owner of the bar you just trashed because you couldn’t control your temper.”

  “Fuck you.”

  He raises his eyebrows. Then, clearing his throat, he slowly crosses his arms.

  “I could just leave you here. You could go to court—do the whole trial thing. I bet you think your chances of being let off are high—ex-combat vet suffering PTSD...all that shit. But the truth? The truth is it might have worked if we were talking assault, but we’re not. We’re talking attempted murder, Parker.”

  I lean back in my chair and look up at him.

  “I’m here to make a deal—one that you should take.” He sighs and drops his head, then pushes off the table. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out a pair of handcuffs, the same ones I was wearing when he walked in. He circles them around my wrists—looser than they were before. “You have one night.” He places his business card in my hand. “An officer will tail you. I suggest you get a drink and think about taking the deal.”

  “Fuck your deal.”

  He smiles. “Fuck your life.”

  Identity Crisis

  © 2015 Rochelle Paige Popovic

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Monica Black

  Cover designed by Sara Eirew

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing.”

  Chapter 1

  Blaine

  Sweeping my gaze across the glitzy casino, I absently ran my finger under the collar of my shirt. Damn bow tie felt like it was strangling me. I couldn’t help but wonder how the hell I’d managed to find myself here, living in the lap of luxury with such a cushy job. Even though this had been my life for the past year, it was so far removed from my childhood, I felt like I would never belong. When my phone buzzed, I yanked it out of my pocket — relieved by the distraction and hoping like hell it would help me pull my head out of my ass.

  When I glanced down at the notification, I was surprised to see a text from Serena Taylor. Talk about a blast from the past. The last time I saw her was before my first deployment overseas. We’d met for dinner at my hotel when I went to Atlanta to see her and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t been hoping for more than just dinner. Training and the pre-deployment workup that followed were grueling and the idea of hooking back up with the girl next door, one who’d fueled most of my high school fantasies, was more appealing than hitting a bar and picking up some random chick wanting to bang a SEAL. It didn’t take long for me to feel like I’d been there and done that.

  I was surprised when things didn’t work out as planned. We had a nice dinner and Serena caught me up on all the news from back home, but the spark wasn’t there anymore. She wasn’t the same girl I’d known growing up, and it wasn’t just the move to a big city far from home. Gone was the girl who had been soft and vulnerable, in her place was a sleek and sophisticated stranger. I’d been looking for a piece of home to hold onto while I was overseas and it didn’t take long to realize Serena wasn’t it.

  I wasn’t an idiot, though. I still would have banged her, except, it turned out, she had a boyfriend. When she talked about the new man in her life, the reason for the change became immediately clear. She’d hooked up with some rich guy who wanted her as his arm candy. I was disappointed to realize the girl I’d cared for had turned into a woman who wanted nice things more than she wanted a good man in her life.

  But it didn’t stop me from worrying about her. She was still the girl I grew up with, the first one I’d ever kissed. Hell, she let me pop her cherry when we were sophomores.

  Before she left, I made sure she had my contact information and I told her she better use it if she ever needed anything. Time had passed and I hadn’t heard from her again—until now.

  Serena: I’m in trouble. Need help.

  Me: What kind of trouble?

  Serena: The kind where I’m on the run and looking for a place to hide out.

  Me: Still in Atlanta?

  Serena: Yes

  The only time I’d ever been there was my quick trip to see her, so I didn’t have any contacts available to help with something like this. But I knew someone who could find some quickly.

  Me: Hold on.

  With the nine-hour time difference, odds were high Brody was sound asleep. He’d become a night owl ever since we made it home. I pulled up his name in my contacts and listened as the call rolled to voicemail, redialing two more times before he finally picked up.

  “You better be calling me to bail your asses out of jail,” he rasped in a low tone.

  “Like your brother wouldn’t be able to ge
t his hands on as much cash as we needed at the drop of a hat,” I reminded him.

  His snort of laughter made it clear he was just yanking my chain. “Then why the fuck are you calling me this early in the morning?”

  “Do you know anyone in Atlanta who can help someone lay low for a couple days?”

  “Someone?”

  “Serena,” I sighed, knowing an interrogation would soon follow. Not only did Brody know me better than any other person alive, including my past with Serena, he was the reason my life had changed so much in the last year.

  As someone who saw their mom poorly treated by wealthy people, I used to despise them. My father died when I was five, leaving her to raise me on her own. They’d been high school sweethearts and married young. With no education or job experience, she ended up cleaning houses to make a living.

  She was damn good at her job, but that didn’t mean the families who hired her ever saw her as a real person. In their eyes, she was a convenience—a disposable one, at that. If something was broken, blame the maid. Can’t find a piece of jewelry? Blame the maid. It didn’t matter whether she had done anything wrong, or that it was usually their spoiled kid at fault. The bottom line was: she was replaceable and her wealthy employers never had a problem letting her go. Watching her accept their mistreatment, year after year, left me with a chip on my shoulder the size of a boulder.

  Needless to say, I wanted better for my mom, and myself. My grades in high school were good, but not great since I’d juggled school, sports, and a part-time job to help lessen the load. With a full ride scholarship out of the question, college wasn’t an option for me. I finally found my way out when I joined the Navy. It broke my mom’s heart when I enlisted. She was scared to death of losing me too, but she accepted it like she did everything else in her life: with grace. I comforted myself with the knowledge that I didn’t need much to maintain my bachelor lifestyle and would be able to send money to her every month.