Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (6 page)

L
iving
with a man was a new experience. Of course, I’d lived with my parents, but that was far different from my current situation.

He didn’t make a lot of noise. Actually, almost none to be truthful. We’d enjoyed our dinner and whipping-fest that was
Roadhouse
. I didn’t want to think about just how hard my heart had kicked at the love scene in the movie as we sat across from each other in my great room.

Both of us had bowls of salad cupped in our hands as we watched. Instead of trying for a full-blown meal, we’d ended up slicing the chicken and putting it over the greens.

He was a good cook. The chicken had been tangy and moist—shockingly—and when I dumped enough Thousand Island dressing on it, I’d been delightfully surprised how filling it had been.

But it had been a little weird to have Dalton banging the hell out of Doc against the barn wall with Quinn across from me. His eyes didn’t move from the screen, even if a slight wash of red had blazed strips along his cheeks.

Was kind of cute really.

Big tough guy a bit embarrassed about watching a love scene with a near stranger.

Me?

I was more worried about the fact that I wondered if he could do the same hoist-her-up-against-the-wall thing that Patrick had done.

Not at all what I should have been thinking.

My only saving grace was that he was hot and it had been a damn long time since anyone had hoisted me onto anything, let alone a bed. So, I was human.

That was my freaking story, and I was sticking to it.

The next few days had been the same. Quinn trying to feed me healthy food, Quinn vetoing any sort of outside trips—even walking the trails—Quinn putting the kibosh on visitors and, oh…doing anything fun.

I was about to go out of my damn mind.

If I watched one more episode of
Dr. Who
on my Netflix account, I was going to scream. Even David Tennant couldn’t soothe me. The tenth doctor could always soothe me, dammit.

I spun around on the couch and hooked my knees over the back so my head could dangle off the edge of the cushion.

This was my vacation before we started tour and I was holding my ass because some crackpot might do something. How was this my life? The fear I’d been holding the last four days had slowly burned to anger.

I needed to get out of this house.

I needed to do something.

Devon was coming home Tuesday, but that was still days away.

“Hey, Siri.”

“Yes, Keys.”

“Play my Dance Around the House Mix.”

“Playing Dance Around the House Mix.”

I put my hands on the floor and did a backbend off the couch as Taylor Swift blasted out of the house-wide speakers. I jogged through the great room into the kitchen as I shouted along with the words to, “Shake it Off”.

Bare feet slapping on the tile as I shook my booty for the pleasure of the fridge before opening both doors with a dramatic turn. I pulled down a peach-flavored water and closed the door and shrieked.

Quinn stood directly behind the door. “Can you turn it down?”

I uncapped the water. “Nope.” Then did a bastardized version of the mamba out of the kitchen to the dining room. I grabbed a peach from the fruit bowl in the center of the table.

The song changed to a wild Frank Turner one and my dancing turned into a ska-like punk jumping as I shook my arms and tried to get the tension out of my limbs.

I’d been lying around for days. Quinn liked things quiet. I needed music. I needed life and sound around me. I needed people.

He kept to himself and did a “sweep of the perimeter”—his words—every other hour. Otherwise he was always on his computer. He’d taken over my office, usually closing the door so I had no idea what he was doing. On the phone, with hushed tones. Again, I had no idea who he checked in with, or who he was talking to—I’d tried to eavesdrop—nada.

He was like a freaking covert spy.

“Faith,” he shouted.

I ran up the stairs as another of my favorite songs came on. I went straight to my upright and played with Frank Turner.

He followed me up the stairs and I pounded on the keys as the song burst into drums and guitars with crashing pianos. I screamed that I wanted to dance and to romance, though the words went so fast in this song that I had a hard time keeping up. I laughed as he laughed in the song, and the British pub song spiraled out about how he was no good at dancing but was going to do it anyway.

The song was exactly me.

I needed that life.

I knew every word of the song. I turned around and played behind my back as Quinn stood in the doorway with his hands on his hips.

I left the piano and crossed to him and dragged him inside and jumped around him. Every word screamed into his face. His expression was deadpan and stiff until I opened my arms at the end of the song where it was light and airy.

I sang the lyrics sweetly to the almost carnival tones of the song. His lips twitched and I ran over to my piano to play out the rest of the song until my heart was slamming and my breath couldn’t keep up with the words.

I stepped away from the piano, my shoulders heaving as I laughed.

“Better.”

“Can you turn it down now?”

Miranda Lambert came on and I shook my head. “I can’t turn off my girlfriend.” I jogged past him and down the stairs again. The song was country and spice with a whole lot of rock.

It made me want to tug on my boots and two-step. But I settled for jumping around my living room. Just as I was singing along to her lyrics about gunpowder and lace, the song cut off.

“Hey!”

He came down the stairs, a smile on his usually staid face.

“What did you do?”

“Turned off the damn Bluetooth.”

“You have no right.”

“I can’t hear myself think. Not to mention you’re telegraphing that you’re here for anyone to notice.”

“Of course I’m here. The warden doesn’t let me out of this place. You won’t even let me go to my parents’ house, for God’s sake.”

“Until we know what we’re dealing with this is far safer.”

I held out my arms. “I’m going nuts. Do you understand that?”

He tilted his head. “Find a hobby.”

“Do you honestly think I’m going to sit here and break out the decoupage and scrap books?” I asked incredulously.

“Maybe. Or how about read a book. Or watch a movie. Or hey, write a song if that works for you.”

“I’ve tried. I can’t find a song. It’s quiet as a freaking tomb in here because you don’t like music, you freak.”

“I don’t hate music.”

“You don’t like it.” I put my hands on my hips. “Who doesn’t like music? It’s just…wrong.”

“It’s just not part of my life like it is for you, Faith. I have to pay attention to my surroundings. I can’t be distracted if someone comes up to the house and tries to break in. I have to be able to protect you, dammit. And I can’t do that if you’re broadcasting the entire Dance Party USA catalog through your fucking house.”

I blinked at him.

He’d actually yelled.

His icy-blue eyes were wide and there was a vein popping along his neck.

I pressed my lips together. I should probably be horrified, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

“Unbelievable.” Quinn turned on his heel and stalked to the office and slammed the door.

“Oh, come on. I’m sorry!” I chased after him and stood outside the door. “Warden, open up.” He didn’t answer me. I pressed my forehead to the door. “Quinn. I was just trying to have a little fun. You can’t fault me for that, can you?”

Still nothing.

I pressed my hand to the door. “Dammit, Quinn.”

The door swung open and he was right there in front of me. I stumbled back, my heart skipping. I’d just stuck my face in his space fifteen minutes ago, but it was different now.

There was no playful banter, just a waft of spearmint and soap.

He fisted his hands under his arms as he crossed them. “Call one of your friends. Keep it a close friend.”

“Owen,” I said quickly.

He nodded. “Acceptable.”

I frowned. “He better be. He’s in my band, for God’s sake.”

Quinn said nothing, just arched a brow at me.

“He’s one of my best friends.”

“I said he could come, didn’t I?”

“Right.” My gaze dropped to his chest where his Henley pulled tight, then back up to his eyes. “Thanks.”

Not that I should thank him for deigning to let one of my friends come over, but I wasn’t going there right now. I’d won, and I needed to be good with that.

I skidded into the living room and swiped my phone off the couch. I didn’t want to wait on a text. Not when Owen was famous for forgetting to actually check his phone.

The call went to voicemail. “Pick up, you lazy sod.” A minute later my phone blasted out the
Boondock Saints
theme song. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for you as always, darlin’.”

I grinned. “My warden said I could have a friend over.”

“What are ya, twelve?”

“I feel like it.” I dropped onto the couch. “Are you busy?”

He paused and I heard him shuffling the phone to his other ear. “I’ve been begging to come over to see my favorite girl. Of course I’m not busy.”

“You have someone there.”

“No, of course not.”

I drew my feet up to sit cross-legged. “Is she a blonde? Blondes always get you in trouble.”

“You’re a blonde, sweetheart.”

“I don’t count.”

“You’re trouble enough for a whole city.”

Owen’s Irish accent was music in itself, and instantly soothed me. “As far as my new bodyguard is concerned, I’m even more trouble than that. Come save me.”

“Am I bringing movies and pop, or are we doing the other?”

My grin broadened. “Definitely the other.” I heard a girl’s voice. “You do have someone there.”

“I’m on vacation, darlin’. Of course I do, but you’re my mate and I’ll be there within the hour, yeah?”

“Thanks, Owen.”

“Just make sure you’ve got plenty of crisps.”

“Ten years out of Ireland and you still can’t say potato chips.”

“Crisps. I can’t help it if you people say it wrong.”

I laughed again. “See you soon.” I hung up and bounded off the couch. I took a quick shower and put on my favorite hoodie with a pair of yoga pants.

I needed to be limber for our marathon.

Fifty-eight minutes later I was pacing the kitchen.

“Would you stop slamming around out there,” Quinn yelled from the office.

“Why isn’t he here?”

“Because the traffic in LA is atrocious.”

“Right.” I cracked my knuckles and spun my jade ring. “You’re right.” Owen’s place was a few streets over from the Strip. I didn’t even know what day it was. Not that it mattered in this city. Every night was a show, or party, or premiere.

My phone buzzed in my hand. I frowned as a text came in twice. Same text.

“Stupid cell towers.” I ran for the door and was jerked back by my hood.

“Really? How many times are we going to go through this?”

“Forgot. But it’s Owen.”

“You don’t know that.”

I jerked out of his hold. “He just texted me.”

“Get back into the kitchen.”

I growled and stomped back into the dining room. I fixed the stack of boxes on the table and moved the bowl of chips a little left of center as they talked.

“I thought you’d be bigger,” Owen said.

I snickered and shot down the hall.

Quinn sighed. “Faith. Get away from the door.”

I pushed by Quinn and flung myself into Owen’s arms.

“There’s a love.” He put his arms around me and kissed the top of my head. “How’s my favorite keyboardist?”

“Better now.” I squeezed him hard. “So much better.”

Quinn cleared his throat. “I’ve got some paperwork to do. You guys have a nice visit.”

I looked up from the many layers of jewelry and cotton that was an Owen Blackwell ensemble and pulled way. I linked my fingers with his and gave Quinn a tight smile. “Thanks.”

“Sure.”

“Wow. He’s intense, yeah?”

“He takes his job very seriously.” I dragged him down the hall to the dining room. “So seriously that I require at least three games of
Hungry, Hungry Hippos
to help put me in a good mood.”

Owen shrugged out of his denim jacket and hooked it around the back of the chair, then rubbed his hands together. “That’s what I’m talking ’bout.” He lifted the top of the box off the game and lifted out the board. “Prepare for domination.”

“You’re so going down.”

Owen snagged a chip from the bowl and chomped. “Where’s the beer?”

I winced. “I have soda, but not beer.”

Owen wandered into the kitchen. “You wound me.”

“My house is kinda like a dry campus at the moment. The warden is pretty strict on keeping all the faculties clear.”

“Warden, huh?” He swung open the door to the fridge. “Wine will do, though.”

I shrugged. “I could do wine.”

“Beautiful.” He grabbed the corkscrew magnetized to the side of the fridge, and went to uncorking. “How are you doing?”

I spun my ring. “Going stir-crazy.”

“We’re all worried about you.”

“I know.” I hopped up onto the counter and swung my feet as he poured two glasses. “I’m just sitting here twiddling my freaking thumbs. Thanks.” I took the glass when he offered it.

“Has anything…you know, happened?”

I shook my head. “Nope. But then again, I’m trapped here, so who knows if it would or not.”

“There’s no need to take chances though.”

I knew that, but it didn’t make the whole situation any less shitty. I didn’t want to get all depressing. Not when I finally had someone here that I actually wanted to spend time with.

I hopped down. “I’ll just take all my aggressions out on your hippo.”

Owen slung his arm around my neck. “Cheers to that.”

I
slumped back
in Faith’s office chair. It was too small for me, so my head tipped back before hitting the headrest. I stared at the beams above my head that made up a grid.

“I don’t know what to tell you, Q.”

“I know,” I said into my earpiece. “I was hoping to find some sort of lead.”

Aidan Roth sighed. “We have less than nothing to go on. I had two different people scour the footage. The only thing we found was a flash of blonde hair at one of the cameras on the south side of the building, but it could have been anyone.”

“Yeah.” I’d also gone through the hours of video and came up with one other Hail Mary shot of a woman near the stage at about the time Faith had been drugged.

Noah was in frame. The look on his face made my gut drop into my boots. I’d seen that face before.

“Q?”

“Yeah, here.”

“You can take her out—”

“No.”

Aidan sighed. “You know how to keep a client close and keep the danger to a minimum.”

“Too many variables. And I don’t trust her to stay close.”

“Noah didn’t say she was a flight risk. She understands how serious this is, right?”

“I don’t know. It’s been five days and there hasn’t even been chatter in the fandom. That worries me. The ones who are harmless and exuberant can’t keep their mouth shut. Quiet ones—patient ones—they’re the ones who go into the history books.”

They were out there slamming something plastic and…balls? No—marbles were scattering. Faith’s raucous laughter drifted from the dining room, followed by the deeper male voice.

I curled my fingers into a fist and crossed the room to close the door. My nature wasn’t to trust anyone, even if there was no reason to think Owen Blackwell would hurt Faith.

“What’s going on over there?” Aidan asked.

“I think they’re playing board games.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what to say to that, but at least she’s not streaming her music at top volume.” Just medium volume. Damn woman figured out how to get the speakers working again.

“Wishing you’d gone to France with Pierre?”

“Yes.”

Aidan laughed. “You hate French food.”

“I’d make do. At least the French
have
decent food. Faith eats like a fourteen-year-old boy.”

“Faith, huh?”

“That’s her name.”

“All the reports I have show Keys is the name she goes by most often.”

“When’s the last time you heard me use a nickname?”

“Third of Never.” There was a hint of a burr reminiscent of Owen’s accent. My boss had spent a lot of time in Northern Ireland when he’d been a SEAL, and it slipped out when he was tired or super amused.

I had a feeling amused was the reason behind the current slip.

Why the hell was everyone so damn tickled about me and this assignment?

I cleared my throat to get back on track. “I’ve been researching the band and working with Patrick on the more problematic fans that have been on their radar.”

“Take her out of the house, Q.”

I gripped the back of the chair and spun it. “Why?”

“Because you need to see if someone’s following her. You need to do some recon.”

“I don’t like it.”

“I know you don’t, but at least you can control the outcome here while you guys are in the city. When the tour starts, the fans and security will be even harder to control.”

“Don’t remind me.” I paced to the windows as dusk washed the hills in a slate blue. “I wish they’d call off the tour.”

“You know people can’t live like that.”

“I don’t know what the true threat level is.”

“And it might have been a one-time thing.”

“Could be,” I said, but I didn’t mean it. No one used Ketamine when they didn’t mean to kidnap someone. Another reason why I didn’t want to take her out of the damn house.

All it took was someone bumping into her and a little stick and she could go down. There was nowhere in this godforsaken city that wasn’t overrun with people.

“Take her out tomorrow, Quinn. That’s an order.”

I fisted my hand and pressed it against the glass. “Fine.” I swallowed a growl. “Have you heard back from Carson about the glass?”

“Yeah, he’s going to have it done while you guys are on tour. The house will be ready for their break in October.”

“Good. Does he outsource the jobs?”

“No, Blake is as much of a pain in the ass as you are. He has secure teams that work on the houses. He understands the security issues, Quinn. We’ll make sure the house is secure.”

“I’m not worried about the glass. I’m worried about someone in the house that I don’t know.”

“I requested a special team. The same one that worked on Lindsey York’s place out in the Canyon.”

“That’ll have to do. I’ll do a sweep of the house when we get back before she’s brought in.”

“You’re worse than I am, man. And Marcus says I’m a cynical bastard with a control problem.”

“Yeah, well…no one’s getting kidnapped on my watch.”

“Let’s keep it that way.”

“Then I should keep her—”

“No. You need to do some recon out of that damn house.”

I clenched my jaw so tight my head was starting to throb.

“Say it, Q.”

“I’m taking her out tomorrow.”

“Good. Send me the list from Patrick and I’ll have Lucy dig into the names.”

“Will do.” At least that would be something. If there was dirt on anyone Lucy could find it. She was our resident hacker turned white hat. She was scary and amazing, and one of the few people I trusted to do research.

I hung up with my boss and took one step before coming to a halt again.

“No! You bastard!” Faith’s voice rose and ended in a burst of giggles. I was pretty sure I’d never heard her giggle in all the days we’d been together. Laugh, sure—she was naturally light-hearted.

I left the office and followed the voices out into the dining room. There were two bowls of junk food between them—chips and something with the fake orange cheese that ended up on clothes and fingers like a radioactive cloud. Two bottles of wine were empty and a third was being uncorked as I walked in.

A child’s game with manic-looking animals in primary colors was askew at the end of the table. In front of them was another game. Faith slapped a button gleefully and a geyser of black cards came at her.

“No! Come on.” She gathered them with both hands until she had a mitt full of colorful cards. An alarming number of them were Wild Cards to boot.
Uno
on steroids. I remembered playing the game when I was a kid, but then it was just a tray that you flipped.

Now, not so much.

Owen had a similar handful of cards and his eyes were bloodshot with too much wine. He looked over Faith’s shoulder and noticed me. “Oops. We’re in trouble now, love.”

She twisted around, the laughter in her eyes fading. “Here to ruin our fun, Warden?”

I smiled tightly. I really hated that name. I hated that I had to keep her cooped up when it was obvious she was one of the most alive people I knew. “Was just wondering if you wanted a pizza?”

She slapped her cards down. “Yeah?” She rushed over to a drawer near the fridge. “We’ve got three really good places.”

“No.”

She shut the drawer with a bang. “What do you mean, no?”

“I’m making pizza.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You’re making pizza?”

I nodded. Last grocery order, I’d added a few things that were more in Faith’s wheelhouse. We’d need to compromise on food, but at least I could do a few things to lessen her misery.

Her nose wrinkled up. “I don’t want broccoli pizza or something gross like that.”

I sighed. “Pepperoni and mushrooms sound good?”

Her eyes sparkled. “Now that’s what I’m talking about.” She crossed the room to me and dragged me into the kitchen. “I can help. We can help.”

Owen came in with his glass of wine. “I could use the carbs. This one is trying to drink me under the table.”

“Why don’t you two go back to your game and I’ll make a couple of pies, all right?”

“Yeah? You sure?” Owen asked. “I can actually do the pizza thing. I throw a frozen one in the oven all the time.”

“I’m making it fresh.”

He cupped his hand over the top of his glass, skull ring flashing on his middle finger. The rest of them were tattooed with letters so it spelled out, love with the scull as the o. Interesting look. “Oh, well then. We’re getting fancy. Does that come with the bodyguard classes?”

“Frozen dinners get old, man.”

“And that’s why I usually go out to dinner every day.” He took his glass. “C’mon, darling, we have a game to finish. I intend to win this round.”

Faith came around the island. “Only if you happen to have low cards for the next five hands.”

“Five?” He tipped his head back. “Can we switch to
Sorry
?”

She gathered the cards and started organizing them. I listened to them chatter on as I readied the dough and put the sauce together on the stovetop.

“Breadsticks are up,” I called to the table.

Faith came running over and groaned. “Garlic-a-licious, you beautiful man.” She snagged one out of the basket. “Hmm. I didn’t even know I had these baskets.”

I smiled down at her. “Your kitchen is as close to a chef’s set up as I’ve ever seen outside of a restaurant.”

She shrugged. “As I said, Tristan tricked it out. I think he used me as an excuse to buy toys to try out. He cooked for me for a week. It was fairly glorious.” She snuck over to the sauce and dipped the end of her bread in.

“Hey!”

She popped it into her mouth. “What? You saw nothing.” She broke off another and held it up to me. “Want?”

My mouth watered. And not for the damn breadstick. “I’m good.”

“Come on. You’re always denying yourself. It tastes so good. All buttery and perfect. Decadent and so bad for you.” Her eyes were soft with too much wine and happiness.

Christ, she made me want.

She held it closer to my mouth.

“Faith.”

She rolled her eyes. “Right. You said no. I forgot. It’s your favorite word.” She backed up and dunked it into the pot on the stove. “You’re missing out.”

I moved to the stove and swallowed a groan. Oregano and spices should have overpowered the space. Instead, her peach scent was the only thing I noticed. I reached around her to a ladle and the little bowl I’d readied for dunking.

She chewed, her lips shiny with butter. I held the bowl out for her. “Use this, huh?”

“Right. You know it’s more fun to dunk in the pot, right?”

“You’re going to get my sauce all greasy with the butter.”

She dipped her finger into the bowl and licked sauce off her fingertip. “Wouldn’t want that.”

“Go feed your friend.”

“We’ll try not to fill up on the breadsticks.” She twirled around, grabbing the basket on her way by. “I have appetizers,” she said in her singsong way.

“Excellent,” Owen said. “And I’m red by the way.”

“I’m blue.”

I listened to them trash talk each other over the game that was older than both of them combined. Oh, it was an updated version, but I was pretty sure my grandparents had played it. Or maybe that was
Parcheesi
.

Either way it was a comforting sound.

I could deal with that better than the music. Watching her hips sway and the bawdy, sultry voice that rolled out of such a tiny woman had nearly killed me. I kneaded the dough out a little too forcefully at the memory of her spinning around me earlier. So carefree and so defiant.

The fact that I wanted to snatch her up and wrap those distractingly bare legs around my waist was the mother of all bad ideas. Heightened situations and forced proximity were the gateway to serious trouble.

I wasn’t her type—never would be her type. If it wasn’t for the fact that I had to be in her space, she’d never give me a second thought. Hell, she wasn’t my ideal either. She was brash and bucked at even the idea of rules. There was no safe corner in her world.

It was purely a physical response to her.

I could ignore physical needs.

I’d been ignoring them for the last year, ever since I’d enjoyed a mutually beneficial hour of stress relief with a woman after a charity ball. It had been a one day thing where Aidan had needed extra security personnel. Since I’d been between jobs and knew the layout of the Kennedy Center, I’d been a logical choice.

There’d been some chatter about a possible sniper and I’d been using that particular woman’s balcony seats as a lookout. Being on that kind of high alert for hours, then not having any action had resulted in a one-night stand with an heiress from some Fortune 500 company. She liked the idea of danger, and I’d been alone too long.

It had been sexual release, and that was it. Neither of us had wanted anything more than that moment and had parted ways with a, “Have a nice life”. Then I’d taken the ambassador job and had been too focused on deciphering the ins and outs of D.C. to think about getting involved with anyone.

I wasn’t exactly the flirting kind, and usually attracted women who found my serious nature an attribute. The problem with that was I ended up with women who were just as serious about their careers as I was. Add in the fact that there was little time for socializing when my calendar was full of political functions, as well as an active family to watch out for, and in the end, relationships had always landed on the bottom of the list.

Little moments like this, when I couldn’t ignore the pull of intangibles like chemistry, were the times I wondered how long I could do this job without making another mistake.

I loaded the two pizzas into the oven and closed the door a little too hard. Faith turned in her seat and gave me a look over the rim of her wine glass.

If it wasn’t Noah asking me for this favor, I would have requested a reassignment.

Not only because Faith was a wild card in so many different respects, but because having any sort of emotions in this job was detrimental to the safety of the client.

I stabbed the timer app on my phone and wished for a beer. Fuck, it was going to be a long night.