The Complete Tempest World Box Set

by Mankin, Michelle

  “I do.” I offered it to her. She took it from me and turned her attention fully to it for several long moments. I breathed easier.

  “You did this rather quickly.”

  I nodded, meeting her gaze, standing a little straighter given the approval I saw within it.

  “Incredible. While looking in the mirror, correct?” She guessed.

  “Yeah.” I rubbed the back of my neck. I felt as uncomfortable discussing my art as Melinda was about the prospect of me drawing her. Hard not to dwell on all the eraser marks and weak points when you stared at something for hours and hours trying to get it exactly right.

  “You have incredible talent.”

  “Thanks.”

  She placed the sketch on the top of her desk and moved behind it, taking a seat and assuming her usual professional persona. There was no longer a trace of the unguarded woman I had heard on the phone. “I’ll send this on to the graphics department. I’ll see you and the band at the agreed appointment.”

  Oh, I was being dismissed. I turned to go. “Mr. Reed,” she called, and I stopped shifting to look at her over my shoulder. “I would appreciate it if you do not pass on any intel about me or Mr. Morris to your bandmates. We have a history. It’s not top secret, but I would rather focus on the task at hand instead of dealing with rumors and innuendoes about my personal life.”

  • • •

  Melinda

  As I was being shuffled off to the interview by Beth, I spotted him. Well, him and his bandmates. But he was the only one that mattered. The only one I really saw. Sager raked his windblown hair from his face, making eye contact with me at the same time. Only a couple of feet away on the other side of Karen’s desk, his frame stilled as if every cell in his body had rebooted to focus on taking me in. His white tee shirt hugged his lean torso. Short sleeves rolled up a couple of times revealed sculpted arms, tats and the leather cuff I had given him. His rosary dangled from his neck. He filled out his dark indigo jeans that had a bandana folded lengthwise and hanging from one back pocket. He looked delicious, and I gobbled up all the details as greedily as he seemed to be doing with me. Seeing wasn’t enough though and dignity was overrated. I ran to him and launched myself into his arms, exhaling the moment they closed welcoming around my waist like a homecoming. The tight band that had constricted my chest since we had separated at Whistler loosened. How had I managed to breathe without him?

  “Caught yourself a little pixie, did you?” Dizzy teased.

  “Not so little now. All grown up,” Bryan decided when I turned my head from where it had been plastered to Sager’s chest and peered over at him. “You look beautiful, Bluebelle. I’m digging the dark hair.”

  “So you’re the one who’s put a smile on Sage’s serious face,” War interjected, giving me a head to toe scan with oak hued eyes that glittered speculatively. I returned his stare noting the rakish good looks of Tempest’s prodigal lead singer. I could see why tens of thousands of women followed him on Instagram. Long caramel hair, rebellious booted stance, adorned with his trademark silver jewelry: several earrings, multiple necklaces and bracelets with rings on every single finger even his thumbs. Definitely a hard core rocker as intimidating in person as he was on stage. But he wasn’t my Sager. “I don’t think we’ve ever been formally introduced. I’m Warren Jinkins.”

  “Melinda Belle. Nice to meet you.”

  “Likewise. Though I feel like I already know you because of the guys. Looks like you’ve narrowed it down to one in particular. Glad to see that. We’ve had enough turmoil in this band because of chicks.”

  I felt Sager tense. “War,” he cautioned.

  “It’s ok. He’s just keeping it real,” I told Sager while keeping the controversial lead singer in my sights. “You’re right, War. I have made my choice. There’s only one Tempest guy for me. But since that’s been cleared up, I don’t think we need to recount my past missteps. Unless you’re in the mood to discuss your own?” I arched a brow.

  “Ouch. You got me.” War put a hand over his heart and staggered backward as if I had actually wounded him with my words. “I think I like this one.” War lifted his royal rock star gaze to Sager. “You may keep her.”

  “Melinda.” Beth held up her cell and tapped it. “We’ve gotta go.”

  “Ok.” I squeezed my arms around Sager’s waist harder. His rock hard abs didn’t yield. “I’ll see you later.” I started to pull away from him, but his grip tightened.

  “Uh-uh. Not yet. Not until you kiss me like you mean it, Blue.”

  “In front of them?” I glanced over at his bandmates who were pretending not to watch us but they so were.

  “Oh, yeah. Especially in front of them.”

  “Fine.” I shifted, hopped up and wrapped my legs around him. His hands slid under my bottom, and he squeezed it possessively. I twined my arms around his neck, threaded my fingers into the silky hair at his temples and tugged. He lowered his head, and I lifted mine. We kissed. Long, wet and deep. After all, this was about showing them all that I belonged to him. And that he belonged to me. Someone cleared their throat. Several times.

  Sager broke the kiss and released me. I slid down his body, as I did feeling the insistence of his eager cock. I wobbled to Beth’s side on shaky legs. I heard the guys congratulating Sager.

  Repressing a smile that her glittering eyes gave away, Beth pushed open the door for me. I glanced back for one last look to find Sager watching me.

  I nearly came undone at the clash of our gazes.

  A couple of hazy moments later inside the backseat of the chauffeured town car, Beth handed me a tissue and a compact mirror. “Your lipstick’s smeared,” she explained.

  “Thanks.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ve known you since you were this high.” She held her hand about three feet up from the car floorboard. “Watched you grow from a little girl in pigtails tagging after her daddy into the beautiful woman you are today. Sager Reed is a hottie, and a nice guy from what I can see. I’m happy for you. I just don’t think I was ready for you to get serious about someone yet.”

  Her grey-green eyes looked a little misty.

  “It’s not serious,” I refuted.

  “I may be older than you, Melinda.” Her brows rose. “But I know you. I saw how he looked at you. You can use whatever terminology you want, but that guy’s crazy about you, and you’ve got it just as bad for him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Sager

  “Don’t,” I growled between gritted teeth. “I’ve had enough people yanking my chain today.”

  “I wasn’t gonna say anything.” Dizzy grinned. “Except maybe welcome to the world of the whipped. Don’t worry though, it gets easier.”

  “I hope so.” I ran a hand through my hair and glanced around the rich red and gold accented Indian restaurant, noting lots of familiar faces. Bridget had made many friends since coming to Vancouver and catching our short-term ex-lead singer’s eye.

  “Hey, have you seen Bridget?” Justin squeezed in beside Dizzy and me with Carter at his side. He rested his hands on his adopted son’s shoulders. I remembered standing with Jude like that when I had taken him to meet his kindergarten teacher. A swift arrow of loss struck me in the center of my chest. Carter didn’t look much like Jude, but he was about the same age my younger brother had been when they had taken him away from me. I glanced around as if I were helping Justin locate his wife, but really I was warding off a wave of emotion. Not a day went by that I didn’t miss Jude. His smiles had been worth taking every single punch my older brother had meant for him. His laughter had been reward enough for going for days without food just so that he would have enough to eat. And saving his life had justified every single day I had served in the correctional unit.

  “I gotta go outside.” I needed some fresh air. All of a sudden the walls felt like they were closing in on me. “Congrats if I don’t run into you again,” I told Justin before glancing at Carter. “You too, Champ. You’ve got a
great family.”

  I spun around and practically knocked over a waiter with an hors d’oeuvre tray in my haste to escape the restaurant.

  “I don’t care if she’s having a hard time, Bry. She’s got a fiancé. She can take it up with him.”

  Shit. Short platinum hair swirling around her face in the wind, Lace and our lead guitarist were having it out about Brutal Strength’s lead guitarist on the sidewalk right in front of me. Let’s just say that she and Avery had a love hate relationship minus any of the love. “Hey, Sager.” Lace waved at me, returned her hands to her slim hips and went right back to ripping Bryan.” If I find her with her grabby little hands on you again, I’ll snap them off of her dainty little wrists.”

  I quickly ducked around them and out of the light around the restaurant. I took a seat on a low wall nearby after brushing off the collected snow. If I smoked I might have lit one up right now with shaky hands. I was thinking Melinda might be right. Maybe I should try to get in touch with Jude. I didn’t think it likely that his adoptive parents would approve a visit, but shouldn’t I at least try?

  “Hola, pendejo.”

  “Hey, Juaquin.” I didn’t lift my gaze. I wasn’t feeling like hearing him put Melinda down right now.

  “It’s almost time to go.”

  I nodded.

  “The party is dope. Rojo seems to be where he wants to be. Not a lot of dudes would choose a single mom and her boy over being the front man of a successful rock band.”

  “I don’t know. You would be surprised what you might do for the right girl.”

  “I get that. You think I don’t have eyes in mi cabeza? But I also have a heart that is simpatico with mi hermano inside my chest. It’s just that I’ve been with you through enough to know I don’t want a repeat shit storm with you and the pixie.”

  “Things turn out badly with her, it’s on me, King. I gotta put myself out there, or I might as well give up. And start socking it away for a spot in the old folk’s home because minus you and your family that’s all I felt I had to look forward to until she came along.”

  He didn’t say anything. A car whooshed by splashing a dirty puddle from melted snow onto the curb in front of us. I fastened a couple of buttons on my black blazer and turned up the collar.

  Maybe sometimes I’m a little thick skulled,” King admitted in a gruff voice. “But it’s starting to sink in how you feel about her. I hope for your sake that it works out.” He offered me a hand and pulled me up when I took it. “Let’s go. We’ve got a contest to judge. You might not be interested in half-naked girls rolling around in the mud anymore, but I sure as fuck am.”

  • • •

  Whistles and jeers ringing in my ears, the crowd had swelled inside the Mine as the competition neared the final round. I slid lower behind the table that had been set up in front of the stage. So close it had gotten splattered with mud a couple of times. The metal back of the folding chair felt icy. I was tempted to put my blazer back on. I picked up my cell and checked it for messages again, hoping for a text from Melinda to let me know she was on her way over. Nothing yet.

  King leaned forward to talk to the rep from 102.7, the rock radio station sponsoring the event. The curly headed dude with a face for radio and an obnoxious personality was really starting to grate on me, or maybe it was only that I was so anxious to see Melinda. Whatever it was, I was glad King was a buffer between us.

  King was taking this judging thing very seriously. He even had an actual rule sheet in front of him. I think he was giving extra style points to the chicks with the tiniest bikinis. We were currently on break while they refilled the kiddie pool with more sludgy mud. I glanced again at my cell display. Still no text. I sighed, pulled my reading glasses out of my hair, put them back on and reopened the Kindle app on my phone.

  “Hey, how’s it going?” I lifted my head and peered over the rim of my glasses at Bryan. He and Lace were still dressed in their party clothes.

  “I didn’t realize you guys were coming.” I tucked my glasses back into the inside pocket of my blazer and laid my cell on the table.

  “Where is she? Where’s Avery?” Lace demanded so loudly that a few nearby heads turned. Her amber eyes still flashed with residual fire from their earlier argument. “Where’s Avery?”

  “Why would she be here?” I lifted my brows.

  “She and Marcus have been big supporters of the hospital since her dad got sick,” Bryan explained. “There she is.” Our lead guitarist lifted his chin. Lace spun, spotting the redhead, her gaze hardening. “Don’t, babe.” Bryan cautioned Lace as she took a step in that direction. “Don’t make a scene.”

  “Avery Jones!” the radio rep called, spotting her as well and waving his arms excitedly. “And Marcus Anthony. Come over for a publicity shot.” Avery began picking her way through the mostly male crowd who seemed indifferent to the rock stars in their midst with all of the mud splattered chicks in tiny bikinis around. Marcus trailed behind her. He didn’t look too happy about the prospect. Avery wore her usual friendly smile, that is until her gaze fell on Lace.

  “This is gonna be great.” The radio rep was really geared up. “The fans will eat it up.” He turned to King. “You should post it on your Facebook page, too.”

  As Avery arrived at our table her feet suddenly slid out from under her on a slick puddle of mud. Bryan lunged forward and caught her as she fell. Her head missed striking the edge of our table by inches.

  “Thanks. I almost wiped out.” Her emerald eyes were wide, her cheeks flushed.

  “Farm boy at your service.” He helped steady her before removing her hands from his arms.

  She laughed. “Little easier than washing hair…” She cut herself short as Marcus put his hands on her shoulders as if to remind her he was there. His unhappy scowl was now redirected at our lead guitarist.

  Lace didn’t look too happy, either. “What the hell is she talking about, Bry?” she asked through her clenched teeth. “When did you wash her hair?”

  “After her accident. She had stitches, Lace. Anyway, it’s ancient history.” Bryan’s brows drew together.

  “You’re such a manipulative little bitch.” Lace spat at Avery. “I’m so sick of your ‘oh please help me Bryan’ routine.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Avery sputtered.

  “Don’t give me that Miss Innocent bullshit. You use any excuse to get Bryan to run to your rescue.”

  “You’re one to talk.” Avery put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “I can’t for the life of me figure out what Bryan sees in you.” The club had gone eerily silent as the two women stared each other down. No one was watching the bikinis anymore. They sensed a cat fight and most of us knew this particular one had been a long time coming. “Must be nostalgia since you don’t seem any different from the skanks who used to line up next to the tour bus waiting to have a turn with him.”

  “Grrr.” Lace took a swipe at Avery who dodged it but only just barely. Hands forming fists, Avery lunged back at Lace, but Marcus restrained her.

  “Ace, stop it,” he told her. “Calm down.”

  “Lace, stop it!” Bryan yelled, grabbing our fiery ex songstress by her elbows, swinging her around to face him. That was when I saw it in her eyes. Bryan probably saw it, too. Lace hated the Brutal Strength guitarist, sure, but I suspected that most of the anger was actually a mask for her own fear. Was there still something going on between Bryan and Avery? Remembering some of the things Bryan had said recently I glanced back and forth between the two of them, wondering if Lace might have a legitimate reason to worry.

  “Let it go, baby.” Bryan soothed. “Once and for all. Avery is just a friend.” His gaze swung to offer a quick apology to Avery before he returned his attention to Lace. His fingers curled into her arms and his expression softened even more. “She’s like a sister to me. I don’t want to see her get hurt is all.”

  “He’s telling the truth,” Avery chimed in when she probably shou
ld have stayed out of it.

  Lace’s head snapped around. “I don’t need you to tell me that, you sorry cunt. I believe him. Some of us have grownup relationships. Why don’t you and your old man,” she chided, glancing at Marcus, “run along now.” She shrugged free from the Tempest lead guitarist’s grip. “That is before you force me to wipe that stupid woe-is-me expression off your face. I owe you an ass-kicking because of all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

  “You owe me!” Avery lifted her chin. “That’s rich! Do you not have any self-awareness at all? You almost wrecked an entire band because you couldn’t decide whose cock you preferred between your legs.”

  “Ohhh.” Someone said outside our group. My jaw dropped. Avery was getting nasty. I looked at her with newfound respect. Lace seemed to bring out the beast in the sweet guitarist.

  A smattering of clapping erupted in support of Avery’s dig. Both women glanced around apparently only just realizing that a very private fight had suddenly become public. It wasn’t just the guys watching anymore. Even the mud slathered girls had tuned in now.

  Cell camera flashes went off all around. I noticed some people recording video, too. All this shit was going to end up plastered all over the internet.

  “Ha, ha, ha.” The radio guy chortled obnoxiously. “Seems you two have some unresolved issues to work out.” His face seemed to glow with glee. He smoothed his 102.7 t-shirt and moved closer shoving his mobile mic between the two women. “C’mon ladies, what’d you say? Why don’t we take all that rawr,” he swiped his hand like a claw, “up on stage to see who comes out on top. Huh?”

  “You’re out of your mind!” Avery shook her head, but the crowd started chanting her name.

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Lace looked down her nose at the Brutal Strength guitarist. “Unless you’re afraid?”