Crash Into Me (3 page)

She hunched up her shoulders, tried to squirm away. But he was a lot stronger than
he looked and it only took a few moments for her to realize she wasn’t going anywhere
if he didn’t want her to.

“Come on, Max, let go!” She tried to cajole her freedom out of him, but the pounding
rhythms had once again begun to roll off stage and she was reduced to shouting at
him.

He just laughed, then put his mouth next to her ear and said, “Don’t worry. You’ll
get to Jared soon enough. I just want a taste, to see if you’re as nice and sweet
as they all say you are.”

“Let me go!” she screamed, struggling in earnest now that it had begun to sink in
that Max didn’t plan to take no for an answer. He was too high or too conceited to
understand that she really didn’t want him. That she wasn’t playing hard to get.

Or maybe he just didn’t care. She didn’t know, and it didn’t matter anyway. All that
mattered now was getting out of there before she got the full Max Casey treatment.
She couldn’t believe she’d ever thought he was attractive.

“Don’t you know who I am?” he demanded as he pressed even closer. “I’m
Max Casey
. Nobody says no to me.” He sounded so baffled that she might have felt sorry for
him if she wasn’t desperately terrified that he was going to rape her right there
in the hallway, thirty feet away from dozens of people who couldn’t hear her cries
for help.

“No!” she shouted. “No! No! No!” She brought her foot up, tried to catch his shin
with her spiked heel—the stupid things should be good for something—but he only moved
closer, so that his body was flush against hers and she had no wiggle room. She nearly
gagged when she felt him pressed against her.

“Stop it, Max!” she said, jerking from side to side as hard as she could. But he was
holding her so tightly she couldn’t get much traction. “Stop it!” she begged. “Please,
please, stop!”

He wasn’t listening or maybe he was just too high to listen. Either way, her stomach
turned as he trailed his wet mouth over her shoulder.

“Come on, baby,” he muttered, jerking her head back so he could press a sloppy kiss
to her mouth. “Just let it happen.”

She bit him then, clamping her teeth down on his lower lip as hard as she could. It
was his turn to scream, to shove at her. He pulled back a hand to hit her and she
braced herself for the impact. She’d take a beating over rape any day.

But his hand never connected. Instead, he was pulled off of her and slammed into the
opposite wall so hard she heard the
thud
even over the roar of the music. She went with him part of the way, until he finally
managed to untangle his hand from her hair and raise it in a misguided effort to defend
himself.

Even then it took Jamison a second to realize what was happening, to realize that
she was free. When she did, she scrambled several feet down the hallway, desperate
to simply get away. But as she prepared to run, she got a glimpse of her rescuer’s
face as he pinned Max to the wall.

Ryder.

It was Ryder who had found her, Ryder who had saved her. And Ryder who was currently
shouting obscenities as he beat the hell out of the other singer.

Chapter Two

“Are you out of your fucking mind, Max?” Ryder landed a blow straight to the other
man’s nose as fury raced through him like a freight train. “Are you really so fucking
high you think you can fucking rape a girl?” A one-two combo straight to Max’s stomach.
“Who the fuck do you think you are?” He gave up punching him—Max wasn’t putting up
much of a fight—and started slamming him repeatedly against the wall. “Who. The. Fuck.
Do. You. Think. You. Are?”

Max gurgled completely unintelligible reply. A warning went off in his head, told
him to stop, but the blinding rage ripping through him made it impossible for him
to listen. When he’d walked out of his dressing room and seen Max forcing himself
on that girl, all he’d been able to think about was Carrie. About what some asshole
in their local Battle of the Bands challenge had done to her. And how she’d never
recovered. How she’d always blamed him for not being there for her. How he’d always
blamed himself.

Pulling his fist back, he plunged it into Max’s face again. The guy was a total douche.
This wasn’t the first time Ryder had thought he overstepped his bounds with a woman,
but it was the first time it had been blatant enough that he could do something besides
making a comment about it. The first time, that he’d ever seen, that Max had actually
laid hands on an unwilling woman. The thought that this might have happened before
and he just hadn’t seen it, had bile churning in his gut. He channeled it, continued
whaling on Max. By the time he was done with him, the other singer would think three
or four times before he ever put his hands on another unwilling woman.

“Ryder.” The girl Max had been hassling called his name in a tremulous voice, but
it barely registered. He was too intent on making sure Max wouldn’t hurt another woman
the way he’d tried to hurt this one. “Ryder, stop.” Her voice was more insistent now,
and familiar. Very familiar. “Come on, Ryder. You need to stop or you’ll kill him.
Please. That’s enough.”

He turned to her , dazed, , his fist still cocked in midair. For long seconds he wasn’t
sure he was really seeing her, that she was really there.“Jamison?”

She nodded. “I’m okay, Ryder. You stopped him. You got here before he did anything.”

“Jamison,” he repeated again as he finally relinquished his hold on Max’s shirt. It
had been the only thing keeping the other singer upright and left to his own devices,
he slid slowly down the wall to land in a bloody heap on the floor.

Ryder didn’t even spare him a glance. Instead, he wrapped an arm around his best friend’s
little sister and pulled her into his chest. “Are you really okay?” He couldn’t believe
she was here. Couldn’t believe that she was the woman Max had just been assaulting.

The fury came back, burning hotter than ever. There was a part of him that wanted
to keep beating on Max until the other man was unconscious. Until he’d ripped him
apart with his bare hands. He’d touched Jamison. He’d scared Jamison. The bastard
didn’t deserve to live.

More than prepared to finish what he started, he turned back around with a growl.
Would have started back in on Max all over again if Jamison, pale-faced but solid,
hadn’t grabbed onto him and held him in place. Not with her strength, but with the
look on her face. With the words that she spoke.

He stiffened as her words hit home. He pulled away, not liking the way her voice had
gone all soft and grateful. He didn’t deserve her gratitude, didn’t deserve anything
when he’d almost been too late.His gut clenched as he was bombarded with images of
what might have happened to Jamison if he hadn’t come out when he had. Even worse,
of what might very well have happened some other night to some other woman while he’d
been safely ensconced in his dressing room.

He shut his brain down, not wanting to go there tonight. But what he wanted and what
he got were often two very different things—rarely did he catch more than a couple
hours of sleep before the nightmares found him. Tonight wouldn’t be any different.

Especially not after what had just happened with Max. Not to mention what had made
him leave his dressing room to begin with. He’d showered crazy fast, had a drink,
then had slammed into the hallway with some asinine idea of trying to find the redhead
in the purple dress. The one he’d seen while onstage and had felt such an incredible
pull toward. The one he’d spent the whole second half of the concert singing to, while
his brain filled up with one lascivious thought after another.

Looking at Jamison now, standing in front of him in her pretty violet dress, he felt
lower than low. He hadn’t recognized her from the stage, hadn’t known he’d been lusting
after Jared’s little sister—and one of his closest friends. And now that he did, he
didn’t know what the hell to do with all the thoughts—the needs—that were still clawing
at him from the inside.

Behind him, Max finally stirred and he clenched his fists against the urge to beat
the asshole all over again. After all, it’d kill two birds with one stone—release
some of the escalating tension inside of him and teach the asshole the importance
of understanding the word
no
.

“Come on, let’s get you into the dressing room,” he told Jamison, leaning close to
her and speaking loudly to be heard over Darkness’s set. “Check you over and make
sure you’re okay.”

“I’m fine,” she told him again, staring up at him until he was forced to look into
her violet eyes. They were shadowed, but they were also steady. That calmed him more
than anything else could have. At least until he glanced down and realized the red
on her lips was blood, not lipstick.

“You’re bleeding.” The words cut like broken glass as he forced them from his suddenly
tight throat. “He hurt you.”

She raised a trembling hand to her mouth and that’s when he realized she wasn’t as
unaffected as she wanted him to believe. Her eyes told one story, but those blue-tipped
fingers told another. A fresh wave of fury tore through him.

“I don’t think it’s my blood,” she said, after a minute. Her voice was rife with satisfaction.
“I bit his lip when he tried to kiss me.”

That matter-of-fact satisfaction was what finally convinced him she was okay. “A shame
you didn’t get his tongue. I’d like to see him try to explain why he couldn’t sing
after that.”

“There’s no way I want his tongue close enough to me to bite, thank you very much.
Besides, I don’t think he’ll be singing for a while. Or doing anything else for that
matter.” She glanced over his shoulder. “Maybe we should call an ambulance.”

“He’ll be all right. I didn’t break anything.”

“How do you know?”

Because he knew what it felt like to break a bone—his own
and
someone else’s. Knew just how much pressure he had to exert to get the job done. And
he hadn’t gone there with Max. Not because he hadn’t wanted to damage the guy permanently,
but because if he’d broken bones the fight would have been over a hell of a lot sooner.

“I just know,” he finally told her, hoping she wouldn’t press.

She didn’t. Not, he knew, because she wasn’t curious, but because the specter of his
past was always there between them. It was just one of the many reasons he’d kept
his distance from her throughout the last decade. She was too tender-hearted. When
she looked at him, empathy brimming in those crazy amethyst eyes of hers, it made
him want to say things that should never be spoken out loud. Things that, once said,
couldn’t be unsaid.

His dick surged at the thought of connecting to Jamison like that, only got harder
as images of stripping her out of that violet dress and kissing every inch of her
soft, voluptuous body blasted through his brain. But the crash of need was followed
by an even stronger wave of self-loathing. This was Jared’s sister, the same girl
he’d comforted after she’d forgotten her lines in the school play or broken up with
her first boyfriend. He had no business thinking of her as anything but a friend.

“Where’s Jared?” she asked, bringing him back to reality with a thud.

He jerked his chin toward the dressing room Shaken Dirty had been using the last couple
of days. “Come on. I’ll take you to him.” He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and
propelled her down the hall, doing his best to be gentle. He didn’t know if Max had
bruised her or just scared her, but he wasn’t taking the chance of hurting her.

As they passed Oblivious’s dressing room, he pounded on the door hard enough to be
heard over the blaring music. A few seconds later it swung open to reveal the band’s
nearly naked bass player. Each of his arms
was wrapped around a different girl. “What’s up, man? You want to party?” Jake stepped
back as if to let them in.

Ryder jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “You might want to check on Max.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“I just beat the shit out of him.”

“What’d you do that for?” The guy looked more surprised than concerned.

“Because he’s an asshole.”

For a second, it looked like Jake was going to argue with him. Eventually, though,
he just shook his head. “True that.” After disentangling himself from the groupies,
he called, “Max fucked up again. Someone give me a hand.”

Satisfied that there’d be no problems from Oblivious’s front—though he didn’t really
give a shit if there were—Ryder moved on to his own dressing room. Of course he’d
forgotten the damn key, so he had to pound on the fucking door and wait until one
of his bandmates deigned to let him in.

Wyatt was the one who finally answered, a dark scowl on his face. “Where’s the fire,
asshole? I was just about to—” He broke off in mid-sentence when he saw Jamison, a
dull flush creeping up his world-famous cheekbones. “Jelly Bean! What are you doing
here? I thought you weren’t coming ‘til tomorrow night.”

“I wanted to surprise you guys.”

“Well, you did that.” Wyatt opened his arms and Jamison walked right into them. Wyatt
gave her a huge bear hug and then reluctantly passed her on to Quinn and Micah, who
were crowding him from behind.

Figuring Jamison was in good hands, Ryder headed toward the bathroom. Opening the
closed door without bothering to knock, he shouted to Jared, who was in the shower,
“Jamison’s here.”

“What? Now?”

“Yeah, now. And I just beat the shit out of Max Casey. Thought you should know.”

He closed the door before Jared could pick his jaw up off the ground and bombard him
with questions. Then crossed to the bar in the corner and poured Jamison a shot of
Patron silver. She was holding steady, but it was his experience that a shot of tequila
worked wonders on frayed nerves.

By that time, Wyatt and Quinn had her settled on the sofa between them while Micah
was ushering three groupies out the door. They didn’t look exactly pleased, and once
they were at the door, one of them grabbed onto him and refused to go. Ryder didn’t
envy him. Especially when the chick starting crying and begging him to let her stay.
Seconds later, he all but slammed the door in her face. Which was rude, sure, but
often necessary. Just one of the many reasons Ryder didn’t mess with groupies unless
he had to.

Ryder handed Jamison the drink just as Jared burst out of the bathroom. He had a towel
wrapped around his waist, but it was obvious that was all he’d taken time to do. He
was still soaking wet.

Jamison didn’t seem to care as she launched herself at him. He picked her up and twirled
her around before giving her a smacking kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t think you were
coming until tomorrow night, Jelly Bean! I would have sent someone to bring you backstage
before the concert if I’d known you were here.”

“I haven’t seen you guys play in eighteen months. The last place I wanted to be during
your set was backstage. You were amazing, by the way. The crowd loved you!”

“They were a good crowd,” Jared told her.

She snorted. “For you. They weren’t anywhere near that enthusiastic when Oblivious
was onstage. Or for that first band. What were they called again?”

“Eclipse.” Ryder gritted out the name from between tightly clamped teeth. “Oblivious
sucks,” he sneered. Just the sound of Max Casey’s band on her lips made him want to
beat the shit out of the bastard all over again.

“Whoa. What’s eating you?” Micah demanded.

Before he could answer, Jamison reached for the shot of tequila he’d brought her and
slammed it back like a pro. He didn’t know where she’d learned to drink like that,
but whoever had taught her had taught her well.

“It’s my fault,” she said after a second, glancing back at the door. “But believe
me, I’ve learned my lesson. I am
never
going to try to surprise you again.”

Jared and the others looked confused, at least until Ryder told them what he’d interrupted
in the hallway. Jared jumped up then, murder in his eyes, but Ryder had been expecting
that.

He crossed to the dressing room door, leaned back against it as he waited for his
best friend to calm down. It was going to take a few minutes. For all of them, as
Wyatt, Micah and Quinn were nearly a protective of Jamison as he and Jared were. Not
that he blamed them for being pissed, but the last thing that needed to happen was
for them to go over and start whaling on Max all over again. Just in case Oblivious
got the dumb idea to call the police, Ryder didn’t want anyone else going down for
what he’d done.

“Get out of my way, Montgomery,” Jared growled.

“Not until you calm down, Matthews,” Ryder answered with deliberate insolence.

“I’ll calm down after I teach that bastard some manners.” He grabbed onto Ryder’s
shirt like he was going to rip him away from the door.

“Ryder already did that.” Jamison jumped in, ducking under Jared’s arm and insinuating
herself between the two of them. Which was a really tight fit considering how close
Jared was standing to him—and the abundant nature of her curves. Not that he had noticed
them or anything. “He took care of me,” she continued. “I promise, Jared.”