Lead Him Not Into Temptation (Redemption Book 2) (8 page)

“Now neither of us has a prize, we’re even,” he says when he returns from his creepy good deed.

“I guess so. I say we buy our own funnel cakes. You’re without a prize, and I’m not nice to cheaters,” I tell him before filing into the funnel cake line.

After we each take our turn buying our snacks and find seats on a set of nearby hay bales, we both dig into the confectionary goodness, which is no doubt rotting my teeth with every bite.

“So, Stacy, huh?” I ask, shoving another piece of bread into my mouth, powdered sugar leaving a trail on my chin. “You guys all just take your turn passing her around or what?”

He chokes on his funnel cake and it takes him a moment to catch his breath. “I’ve never been with Stacy, not for a lack of trying on her part. I told you, I don’t sleep around, Jen,” he responds and then wipes the sugar off my chin.

“But you hang with Royce and you have to admit that guy has had more ‘tang than an astronaut.” Casen bursts into laughter at my critique of his friend.

“Royce really isn’t that bad of a guy, but I’m nothing like him when it comes to women. You need to understand the difference between him and me. While Royce is looking for a girl for the night, I’m looking for a girl for the rest of my life.” I try to let his comparison sink in, but before I can respond, Casen gathers our trash and once again offers his hand to me. “Come on, I’ll take you back to your car. Thank you for hanging out with me tonight. I hope this means we’ve called a truce and can be friends.”

I don’t say anything. Instead, I smile and slide my hand into his. That’s all I need to show him. My hand tucked in his provides a sense of security that I never thought I could tolerate, let alone seek out. Just for a moment, I can feel those restraints unbuckle and my heart beats wildly at the idea of a relationship with Casen, but then my mind gains control again, and snaps those emotions back into place. The risk is too daunting.

Jen

Shit, shit, shit! I pride myself on my ability to be on time to appointments. Correction; I pride myself on the effort I put into trying to be on time to events. I’m usually late, but I try hard not to be. Tonight is no damn different. It’s only the third show in the tour and I, once again, have found arranging the “perfect” outfit to tease Casen has proven elusive and is now the cause for my tardiness.

Tonight is a bigger show in Colorado Springs with several bands performing throughout the evening. The venue is large, the crowd is supposed to be large, and the media attention leading up to it has been large. Being late is not good.

I manage to find a parking spot in the crowded lot behind the venue, which is filled with tour buses, roadies, and the inevitable groupies/fans who are loitering in the back section of the lot, waiting for their chance to “see” the bands.

Slamming my little Camry into park and grabbing my camera bag, I rush toward the back entrance for employees-only as quickly as my skirt and heels will allow. It’s not until I reach the security gate and the burly guard when I realize I don’t have my crew pass which will allow me on the lot behind the scenes. What a perfect cherry on top to my shit-evening-sundae.

“Sorry, I forgot my badge; do you have a list or something for approved personnel?” I ask as I approach the guard. He’s somewhat intimidating, more large than muscular, but bigger than me nonetheless. He has a bit of a haggard appearance with shaggy hair and a few days’ worth of facial hair growth. As I get closer I smell alcohol on him, which if the guys in the band or Campbell knew about, he would be tossed out on his ass quicker than Royce could charm the panties off one of the girls waiting at his bus.

“Sorry, honey. No badge, no entrance; those are the rules,” he replies as his eyes scan my body, probably appraising whether I’m someone of importance or just some well-dressed groupie. “But you know, with a little persuasion, I’ve been known to bend the rules a little,” he adds, moving closer to me and placing a hand on my ass.

I quickly bat his hand away. “Not interested, asshole. Do I look like the type who would fuck some random limp-dick roadie just for entrance into a small-time concert?”

His breath is warm and acidic, breathing heavily on me as he considers his next chess move. I don’t back down though, not from this fuckwad who thinks he can push me around. However, he surprises the hell out of me when he grabs my hand and places it on his dick.

“I think you look like a slut who’s pretending she wouldn’t fuck anyone who would get her want she wants. And, I would say, right now, you want entrance into this concert. I also think you’ll find there is nothing limp about this situation.”

His other hand once again finds my ass, squeezing and rubbing it so hard that I realize I’m outmatched and I need to back away from the situation. I move my hand away from his less than impressive area, rear my knee back as much as I can in his grasp, and kick him in the junk hard enough to double him over and cause blunt force trauma to his little swimmers.

“I said I wasn’t interested, dipshit,” I say, taking a step away from him as he catches his breath. I refuse to leave, if anything I’ll call one of the guys and have them meet me at the gate to let me in.

When he finally gathers his bearings, he stands and the look on his face sends an uncomfortable chill up my back; rage is radiating off of him. “You bitch,” he roars as he raises his hand and slams it across my face, sending me flying to the unforgiving asphalt. An explosion of pain spreads throughout my cheek and the ground rips open the skin on my knee. I feel the blood begin to drip down my leg.

I’m left on the ground, stunned. I’ve never been struck before and I don’t know how to respond. I don’t want to exacerbate the situation by verbally attacking him further, but I don’t want to run away and let this go as if I accept what he’s done as acceptable. I’m only on the ground for a few seconds, with no chance to make up my mind on my course of action, before he’s picking me up and pulling me by my hair toward a shadowed part of the gate.

I let out as much of a scream as I can muster, recognizing this might be my only chance to call for help. “Shut the fuck up,” he huffs, as he throws me against the fence, pinning me between it and his chest. His fingers are twisted into my hair, holding me in place, my battered face being scraped further by the metal of the fence.

“Please,” I plead. “Please stop.” I try to wiggle out of his grasp but he’s too strong. His acidic, beer breath is hot on my neck and it turns my stomach. I continue to struggle until I feel his free hand moving under my skirt ripping at my panties. My body tenses and panic overwhelms me.

“Women like you need to be taken down a few notches,” I hear him whisper “I plan on teaching you a fucking lesson.”

My brain begins to shut off to the present, making way for the images of the night that changed everything. It was an event I could never truly remember, but the scenes in the photographs are something I could never forget. They flood my head, taking over.

Before his hands can violate my body further, the weight forcing me against the fence is gone and I slide down until I’m sitting on the ground, huddled against the jagged metal, gripping onto it for safety.

My eyes are pinched shut, but somehow tears have managed to escape and are sliding down my face. I feel completely out of control as my body shakes with adrenaline, but still I refuse to release the safety of the chain-link. When I feel hands on my face and then smoothing through my hair, the sensation causes me to yell out and move closer to the fence, even though there is no possible way to get any closer without climbing it.

“Shhh, sweetheart. You’re safe now,” a smooth, baritone voice that has become so familiar to me whispers…Casen. I know it’s him, but I can’t seem to let myself peel away from the fence.

“I’m here, Jen. Let go, baby, I’m here,” Casen continues as he tries to pull me away from the gate.

The blood rushes back to my fingers when I release my grip on the slick metal. My thumbs run along the indentations to soothe the throbbing sensation. Casen immediately slides me onto his lap and I burrow myself into his chest.

“What the fuck happened here, man?” I hear Royce shout.

“What the fuck do you think happened, Royce?” he replies as he begins to stand with me in his arms. “Call the police to get this piece of shit out of here. I’m taking her with me.” It’s only then I finally open my eyes and the sight before me causes a sob to break loose. My attacker is on the ground, unconscious and bleeding. I can’t see them, but I’m sure I would find large gashes on Casen’s knuckles, judging from the damage his hands caused.

“No, no police,” I tell him. His strong stride instantly stops.

“We have to call the police, he needs to go to jail for this,” he says soothingly, holding me close.

I respond by shaking my head adamantly. I may not give a shit about my horrible parents, but I’m smart enough to know not to venture under their radar. “If there are police reports, there will be media attention. Please, I just want to leave.”

Casen dips his head and sighs after an excruciatingly long pause. I know he’s going against his better judgment by respecting my wishes, and if he were calling the shots here there would be about a million police cars circling this back lot.

“Okay,” he finally says before turning back around to face Royce. “Don’t call the police, Royce, just get this shit bag off the lot and see to it that he won’t be working any more venues. Whatever Deputy Dewey badge he has, I want it revoked.”

“No fucking way, we need to call the authorities, and what in the hell am I supposed to do with this guy? What about the show, man?” Royce asks.

Casen tightens his grip on me and takes a deep breath before letting out a bellow, which makes me startle in his arms. “Dammit, Royce, just fucking handle this!” he shouts, taking a step closer to him. “Tell Campbell I had some kind of emergency and she’ll find a stand-in for the night. Either way, I’m leaving and taking Jen with me.”

Without giving Royce the opportunity to argue, he storms off in the direction of his truck. I don’t protest, I don’t request he take me to my car. I go willingly with him, handing over every bit of control I usually demand from a situation. Casen makes me feel safe and taken care of, a feeling I rarely have felt in my life. My parents couldn’t protect me, my friends have never known I needed protection, yet Casen has somehow stepped in and given me what I needed in the exact moment I needed it.

Once in the passenger seat and on the road, the lights of the city begin to fade. As the dark landscape of the mountains envelops us, I allow my mind to finally process the events of the evening. Thankfully, Casen doesn’t bombard me with questions or pepper me with insistent probing into my well-being. He stays quiet, merely holding my hand to show his support; it’s like he knows that is all I need or even want right now.

The darkness and lack of conversation forces my mind to be overtaken by the resurfaced memories of my tainted past and the terrifying events which occurred this evening. I’m conflicted by feelings of appreciation as well as embarrassment that Casen was there to see and save me in such a vulnerable moment. As much as I don’t want Casen to see me struggle, I can’t keep my tears at bay. They slowly run down my cheeks and when Casen hears my sniffles, he squeezes my hand, but continues to remain silent. I’m so emotionally exhausted it soon becomes a challenge to keep my eyes open. It isn’t long before I feel the calmness of sleep pull me under.

Casen

As soon as we get to the camper I keep parked at Mueller State Park, I carry a sleeping Jen to the back bedroom and make a bed for myself on the foldout couch. As much as I want to sleep, I’m unsuccessful, tossing and turning until I force myself out of bed to get things ready for Jen in the morning.

I don’t know how I contained myself from killing that guy. Lord knows I fucking wanted to. Since that was off the table, I at least wanted him arrested. I was more than shocked when Jen wouldn’t let me call the authorities. I really don’t know what to do for her; I don’t know how to fix any of this, fix her—but I want to. It’s apparent she’s been through some kind of shit in her life…haven’t we all? This is different though, she’s hiding something. I’ve always been able to tell when someone was running, when they’ve buried secrets, and Jen MacLauchlan has buried something vicious.