Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (17 page)

I braceleted her wrist, and pulled her hand away from my mouth. “This isn’t happening.”

“It’s already done. I needed this.” She twisted her fingers into my shirt and swayed against me. “I made sure I was safe.”

I lowered my mouth to her ear. “You weren’t with me, so you weren’t safe.”

“You’ll hurt Ray Ray’s feelings.” She twisted in my arms, her ass swaying back and forth across my thighs and zipper. She waved at a truly huge guy with obsidian skin. He waved back at her, his ivory teeth glowing out of the dark.

I turned her back around and bit back a groan as she slid her knee between my legs. She crouched low, her short nails grazing my thighs, then over my growing erection and finally over my belly. She walked around me as the song grew more heated.

The song spoke of a man coming for the woman. That he’d never let her go. I tried to push out the lyrics, to ignore the beat that echoed a long slow fuck, and most of all I didn’t want her to think this was okay.

I gripped her hips, my fingers digging into her ass until she was flush with me. “I need you safe.”

“I am safe. You came for me. I knew you would.”

I moved one hand up to the back of her sweaty hair, and gripped a handful. “Anyone could have followed you. That ex-football jock could knock some heads if the room got rowdy, but that’s not the kind of trouble you need to watch out for.”

“I’m dying in that hotel room. I need this. I need to go out and to soak up music and people.”

“Ask me,” I growled.

“What would the answer have been?”

“Fuck, no.”

“Exactly. I made an executive decision.”

“You made a selfish decision.”

She flinched. “That’s right. I’ve been holed up for over a month. I can’t stay in a box, Quinn. I just can’t.”

“So you slip away? What if something happened to you?” I shook her. “If someone took you from—”Me. If someone took her from me I’d raze a city block to get her. “Goddammit, not on my watch.”

Her eyes flashed. “I was smart. I was safe.”

“No one will keep you safe like I do.” I dragged her against me. My grip softened in her hair until I simply cupped the back of her head. Until my heart stopped raging and my pulse eased back into a regular rhythm.

All that shit Lucy told me was burning my damn brain. I had no proof it was the same person that tried to take her before. I just had a gut feeling and enough fear to choke off any

She looped her arms around my waist, her fingers slipped under my shirt to get to skin. I lifted her up onto her toes and crushed her mouth with mine. I needed her taste, her warmth, her peach drenched skin.

I hustled her out of the bar, into the cool September air. The bouncer waved at us. “Sorry to see you go, Blondie. You’re just what the Mage needs. You come back anytime.”

“Thanks, Walter.”

“Your man, eh, he’s a bit intense for us. But maybe we make an exception for our little Keys.”

She grinned. “Hear that?”

I clamped my hand along the back of her neck and urged her along. “I hear it.”

The bouncer gave me a once over. “You okay with this guy?”

“I’m her security.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”

Faith gave him a cheeky grin. “He doesn’t like when I break the rules.”

“Thank you, Walter,” I said with gritted teeth. I led her to the car and opened the passenger side door. When she swung her legs in I reached in and pulled the belt across her chest.

“I can do that you know.”

I slid my hand across her naked midsection, my thumb brushed the line of her bra. The fact that she was making light of this fueled my anger all over again. “I’m going to need you to shut up right now so I don’t yell at you any further.”

She cupped my jaw. “And here I thought we were going to fuck it out.”

“Oh, you can count on that.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “What if I’m not in the mood for make up sex?”

“Who says we’re making up?”

H
e slammed the door
, and I winced. I’d known that this little venture was going to bite me on the butt. It had been worth it though. The songs, the music, the atmosphere—those were the things that got me through the grueling parts of touring.

And my body was buzzing with the anger coming off Quinn in waves. He only wanted to keep my safe. I also knew he would find me. Though the car up on the curb, and a little wildly parked worried me a little.

I’d seen Quinn angry before, but this was a bit different. When he got in and slammed the car into gear, I held on. I was getting used to the BMW. It rode way low to the ground and cornered like we were on an invisible track that only he seemed to know. I always felt safe and a little out of control at the same time.

I drew in a slow breath. When he got like this my system went haywire. He was definitely one of the most intense and dominant men I’d ever been with. Okay, he was
the
most intense. No one was like Quinn.

From the bone jarring sex, to the liquid gray dawn when his defenses were down, I thought I’d seen all of the different sides of him. I was fairly sure I was mistaken.

I reached for his hand on the shifter, but he shook me off. “You really don’t want to touch me right now.”

“Because you’re angry with me?”

Jaw click thingie in progress. Yeah, mad didn’t cover it. His jaw was so tight that I could actually see his vein pulsing in his temple. I shifted restlessly in my seat. I was way too keyed up, and the caveman tactics should have simmered me down.

Not so much.

Two shots of adrenaline and I couldn’t settle. One at our show, and the other on that tiny stage. I didn’t get behind the mic very often. I was happy in the back on my keyboards, but Halsey’s lyrics had been buzzing under my skin all week.

I should have asked Quinn to take me to the little hole in the wall. I just couldn’t take the chance that he’d have said no. It was better to beg forgiveness than ask for permission.

I was pretty sure Indie was going to stamp that on my wardrobe trunk. I was always disappearing on her. The lure to explore was always there, add in the shine of live music and I couldn’t resist.

I’d tried to, but there hadn’t been a single incident. I was so tired of putting my life on hold.

I looked out the window as Chicago passed me by. We took the Quinn route home. Back streets, side alleys, on and off the highways, but this time he seemed to be taking longer than usual. We skipped past our exit and turned off into a residential area. I frowned as he pulled up to a brownstone.

“Where are we?”

“My place.”

“What?” I scrambled out of the car after him. Well, that made sense why he knew the streets so well, but then again he always seemed to have an innate sense of direction that I so didn’t have.

He glanced down the block and held his arm out. “Inside.” He dug out his phone and typed furiously. He shoved his phone back in his pocket and went to a keypad at the door. The door buzzed and opened. He held open the door for me, and I rushed through.

The hallway smelled of beeswax and lemons. I followed him up the stairs, my fingers trailing over the silky, polished banister. When we got to the top, he twisted a rosette in the upper right corner of the old door and the fleur de lis came off. He took a key out of it and replaced the small wooden piece.

“Did you tell people where we are?”

“Yeah, I contacted the security team.”

I took in the room. Tall windows were unadorned, leaving shadows and moonlight to make a grid pattern over the hardwood floors. He walked through the dining room and finally turned on a light in the kitchen.

The house felt empty. Everything was pristine, and the lemon and beeswax scent carried into the living space. He came back into the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses.

“So, we’re going from hate fuck to romance?”

“No.”

“Just no?”

“We need to have a talk.”

I crossed my arms, cupping my elbows against the chill. “Why did we need to come here?” My heels clicked on the hardwood as I paced in front of the fireplace.

“I needed a secure place to take you.”

“And the hotel isn’t?”

He reached under the shade of a lamp and snapped it on. “It’s fine. I just can’t have eyes and ears on us right now.”

I swallowed. “Because you’re going to kill me and bury the body in the basement?”

“Tempting.”

“Funny.”

He poured half a glass and downed it in two gulps. I was pretty sure the only time I’d ever seen him drink had been at our going away dinner with Devon. He filled the glass this time, then mine, and stalked up and down the long room.

I reached for my glass and took a sip. It was much bolder than what I was used to. Good, just a lot richer. I sat down on the couch and waited him out.

Patience wasn’t exactly my strong suit, but I had a feeling keeping my mouth shut was definitely a good game plan. He didn’t talk, just kept pacing. “Okay, you’re officially freaking me out.”

He finished the second glass and put it down. “Tell me Miss Keystone, what do you think we’re doing?”

My eyebrows shot up.
Miss Keystone?
“We’re working together—sort of.” What the hell were we to each other? I ached for his touch, reached for him in the night, in the morning, even now with the anger lighting him up like a storm in the desert, I wanted to touch him. I wanted the burn coming off him in waves.

“Right. I think my role may have gotten lost in this relationship. You seem to think that my rules are subject to interpretation.”

My heart stalled. “I’ve been following them.”

“Really? Tonight?”

“It was just—well, one time.”

“That’s all it takes. Just one time.”

“There hasn’t been one peep out of this psycho. She probably crawled back into whatever hole she was in before.”

“Because that’s how kidnappers work. You know this how?”

I stood. “Wouldn’t she have done something by now?”

“What if she’s been doing something this whole time?”

“Like what?”

“You don’t think it’s crazy you get a package from a fan every month?”

“Not you too. You’ve got Devon all paranoid now. Did she put you up to this?”

Quinn spun his phone onto the coffee table in front of me. “It starts with little things. A book you mentioned, a handmade thing scrapbook, a shirt you mentioned in an interview, a ring that made her think of you.”

“I don’t know if they’re from a her. The packages are never signed.”

He tapped the home button on his phone and slid it in front of me. “How about this.”

I frowned and picked up his phone. There were a bunch of images in a gallery. I opened one. “It’s a setlist. So what? We throw them out into the crowd after shows. People like them as keepsakes of the show.” I handed him back the phone.

“Look closer.”

I sighed, then opened another and another file. The date was scrawled across the top, as was the venue. “Seattle, Spokane, Boise, Billings…These are in order.”

“Notice anything else?”

“That your screen is absurdly small.”

“Magnify it, Faith.”

My hand shook a little, but I tapped on the picture. My name was in the corner. Smudges of ink and dirt from taping it on the floor, but it was the perfect block letters in the margin with notes and arrows that dried my mouth. I opened them one by one. Every single one had notes about improving a song, changing one out, demands for longer solos.

I placed the phone on the desk.

“You don’t think this is a bit over the line?”

I stood up. “Of course it is, but it’s not a threat.”

His light blue eyes flashed. “I’d call it intent.”

“If you brought it to a cop, what would they do?”

“Nothing. Because the boxes come from mail centers all over Manhattan. They’re unmarked and unsigned.”

I brushed by him to stand in front of the fireplace.

He came up behind me and settled his hands on my shoulders. “I know you want to believe the best in people, but not everyone is harmless.”

I lifted my eyes to meet his in the mirror. “Devon tried to show me these, but I put her off. Before you took over my life, I barely paid attention to the packages. I swear I have like five of them in my closet unopened.”

His nostrils flared.

“I just didn’t think—”

“No, you didn’t.” He turned me around to face him. “I know you think it’s paranoia talking, but I really think this is the same person. It’s what my gut says.”

“You can’t know that.”

“I don’t. I just know that following my gut has saved me more times than I can count. I’m not going to ignore this, not when it comes to you. I need more proof, and I’m going to find this woman, but I need you to help me. I can’t do my job if you’re undermining the operation because you’re bored.”

I winced. “It sounds so bad when you say it like that.”

“You think I like being the bad guy? But you pay me to look at the shadows and the ugly parts of this world.”

My father paid him. My chest constricted. Mustn’t forget that he was with me because he had to be. So much truth in one evening.

The notes and presents from my fan had always been sweet. I’d even thanked him or her on our YouTube channel and showed off some of the items.

I closed my eyes.

Had I deepened the focus?

“This is my fault.”

“Absolutely not.” He cupped my face. “But that sweet nature of yours can make people believe anything is possible.”

I sniffed and pulled out my phone. “I didn’t even think about it. I used to do video blogs all the time. Little things to thank the fans. We’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to do them much lately.” I kept scrolling and finally found it. “Here. My Secret Admirer.” I pushed my phone into his hand and crossed the room to pick up my wine again.

I tipped back the glass and swallowed all of it, refilling my glass as my chirpy voice laughed through a video, gushing about the gifts I’d received so far.

Had I inadvertently made this person believe they were even more important?

“I’m sending this to Lucy to look at. Maybe she can look around at the code and see who’s visited the site. A repeat offender that can’t stop watching it maybe.”

“Yeah, maybe.” I wandered to the window and watched the trees sway in the light breeze. Right now I actually missed my back patio, and my lemon trees.

Even if glass had just as much fear attached to it as anything else these days. I never knew who was watching anymore. And if this super fan had been to all my shows lately, had she been watching me other times of the day?

Had she seen me with Quinn?

Would she hurt him?

I pressed my forehead to the cool glass.

“Faith?”

I took a step back. “Yeah, yeah. I know—get away from the glass.”

He came up behind me, his eyes so dark and intense. “No, actually you’re safe here. My house was one of the prototypes for the Carson glass I told you about.”

“The glass that’s getting installed at my house soon?”

“The same.”

I shuddered. Safe. Not on display. I’d never really worried about it before. I’d spent most of my adult life in the spotlight—it had always been my normal. But it felt different now. Shadows felt darker, and the lights felt intrusive. I was able to ignore most of it on stage, but now that she might be at every show, I wasn’t sure how I was going to do this.

He slid an arm around me and caught my hand, bringing it up to the glass. He spread his fingers between mine so we both touched the coolness. “I know I scared you tonight.”

His warm skin seeped into mine. I didn’t realize just how cold I’d been until now. “Guess we’re even. I probably scared the hell out of you by disappearing.”

“Understatement.” His other arm looped around my hip, his thumb brushing over my belly chain.

I rolled my head against his chest. “I hate this, Quinn.”

“I know, babe.”

I couldn’t stop a smile. He used my name almost exclusively. He didn’t seem to be a nickname person like I was. But every once in awhile that one slipped out. Usually when he wasn’t quite awake. “Can we have that make up sex now?”

“What if I’m still mad at you?”

I covered his hand on my hip and slid it up to my breast. “Be mad later. Touch me now.”

He flipped the cup of my bra up and plucked at my nipple. The glass was like a mirror with the night behind it and the soft light at our backs. “I’m not sure I have gentle in me yet.”

I groaned as I watched the pink flush to a darker rose with every tug. His hand was large and tanned with little silvery scars hatching his fingers in odd little spots. A man’s hand. No part of him was soft.

But I didn’t want the soft, or the sweet. Not really.

I just wanted him.

He watched us in the glass, his eyes hooded as he took my other hand and put it against the window. “Keep them there, Faith.”

I shivered at his dominant tone. The fact that this voice could piss me off and turn me on was wrong on a number of levels. He left the bra flipped up, and my shirt shoved up against my neck. He dragged his lips and stubbled chin along my ribs to my spine and followed the dip to my ass as he crouched behind me.

He traced the chain around my belly with his middle finger from each hand, then came back to the middle, under my navel, and flicked open the three buttons of my hip hugging jeans.

His breath fanned along the cleft of my ass as he pulled them and my thong down and off.

“I can smell the stage on you.” He nudged my legs apart and licked my inner thigh just under the curve of my cheek.

I swallowed hard.

He smoothed his palm over each cheek and opened me with his thumbs. “Peaches and Faith.”

My breathing was shallow. My thighs shook as I waited for him to touch me. My heartbeat filled my brain, my heart had to be leaping out of my chest. He was crouched behind me, silent, waiting.

“Quinn.”

I was going mad.

I stared at myself in the window. Lost. Wild. Trembling on the edge of something I was too afraid to name.

A light, cool breeze kissed my overheated skin.