Love Rock'ollection: The Brutal Strength Rock Star Trilogy, books 1-3 (40 page)

“Ok, woman. Make it quick. Your lips are waiting.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

“I love you, too,” she said softly.

Forget the drums, he had mastered
her
.

SARA GLANCED OVER her shoulder, breathing a sigh of relief. She’d managed to shake Chris in the chaos of the after party. Things were getting too out of control with him. Scanning the backstage area, she located her sister wrapped up with JR in the far corner, the soft light from the exit sign illuminating their faces. “Hey y’all,” she said in greeting and the two jumped apart. “Nice work JR.”

Sam blushed.

“I mean on the drums,” Sara clarified with a smile.

“Thanks,” JR told her before leaning down and brushing his lips lightly against Sam’s cheek. “See you tomorrow. Think about it, ok?”

As soon as he walked away, Sara put her hands on her hips. “Ok. What’s going on, Sam?” she asked, noting the besotted expression on her sweet sister’s face.

“Uh-uh. No way.” Sam turned back to her sister, eyes unglazing. “You first. I saw you leave earlier with Chris, and when you came back in, much, much later, he had on a different shirt! Spill it, Sara Jo!”

Sara shook her head. “It’s not what you think. Did you see him in that urban cowboy fiasco? I had pity on him and took him back to the apartment to change. The press would have had a field day with him the way he was dressed.”

“Why would you even care?” Sam gently goaded her. “I thought you didn’t like him.”

“I don’t. Not really.” She turned away from her sister’s searching gaze.

“You could have fooled me.” Sam wasn’t about to let it go. “Why are you being so evasive? There’s more, isn’t there? What happened with him? Tell me.”

Looking her in the eyes, Sara pressed her lips together before confessing, “Alright. He kissed me.”

“Like at Soho?”

“Better than Soho. The man has some definite skills.”

“I thought you said he kissed like a grandpa.”

Sara’s lip curved up. She got a mischievous glint in her eye. “I lied.”

“Obviously, but why?”

“Enough of the grand inquisition. What’s your news, Munchkin?”

“JR told me he loves me.” Sam exhaled slowly.

“Tell me something I don’t already know.”

“I told him I love him, too.”

“Again, obvious.”

Sam giggled. “He wants me to fly out to Vancouver Island tomorrow to meet his mom.”

Sara tensed. “Things that serious already between you two?”

“What do you mean?” Sam gave her sister a bewildered look.

“Sam.” Sara pulled gently on one of Sam’s curls. “A guy doesn’t usually take you to meet his parents unless he’s getting ready to pop the question.”

“No way.” Sam shook her head in disbelief. “He just wants to show me where he grew up.”

“Ok, alright. I didn’t mean to spook you, Sam. But, just in case he did ask, what would you say?”

With only a slight hesitation, Sam replied easily, “I’d say, yes.”

JAW SET, DANNY entered his modest hotel room and threw his coat down on the faded floral bedspread. He began pacing back and forth. The anger that always simmered just below the surface boiled over. A string of profanity streamed from his lips. He hated JR.

The way that douchebag had gotten in his face tonight had been the final straw. After all it wasn’t like he’d been making a real move on that young intern with the nice rack. It’d just been harmless flirting. JR had a lot of nerve going all territorial on him when he’d probably be tired of her in a week. The dude never appreciated anything he had anyway. And he’d always been like that.

If JR was the star of his own solar system, then Danny was Pluto. So far removed from the center that he was almost unnoticeable. Inconsequential. Insignificant. JR’s little bitch.

Growing up in the same small town, he’d had to suffer watching that spoiled doctor’s kid get everything. All the things Danny wanted and deserved. What really galled him was how easily everything came to the guy. He cruised effortlessly through high school-tall, handsome, flashing those perfect teeth at the in crowd that orbited and revered him.

Meanwhile Danny had to duck and dodge through the asteroid belt of adolescence. Years of orthodontics and speech therapy had corrected his overbite and stuttering, but of course that wasn’t nearly enough to earn him a spot in JR’s universe.

When it came to Danny’s real passion, playing the drums, JR outshone him the most. While hours of daily practice had earned him a coveted drum corps spot, Richie Rich Raymond won first chair going away, all on innate talent. Still, Danny was good and he knew it. That’s why he thought he had a gambler’s chance when the Anthony brothers had held an open audition for their band. He’d been so confident that day. He’d nailed it, too. But then, JR showed up, and once again, Danny was eclipsed.

And while JR and Brutal Strength rocketed into the stratosphere, Danny remained earthbound. He clawed and scraped his way up in the music industry, always on the road and never with enough money or recognition. That ten grand bet had been trivial to Raymond, but it wasn’t chump change to Danny.

Even now that he was in Chris Alex’s band he still felt like he was getting the crumbs while arrogant assholes like Raymond dined on the caviar. His visage darkened. Well, if there was anything…anything at all that he could do to screw with that prick, he’d consider it cosmic karma, medicine for his soul.

“DUTY TIME,” THE uniformed cell block supervisor barked from his position on the floor. He slapped his side handle baton against a muscled thigh. “Hop to it, Daniels, Jiminez, Smith, Reynolds.”

Hearing the command, Pace Daniels swore under his breath as he left his six by eight foot cell. It was so small he sometimes felt like the walls were closing in on him. He dutifully fell in line behind the other inmates. His fists clenched involuntarily as they made their way past the long row of cages identical to his. He was sick to death of this hell hole.

The atrocities that he’d seen taking place behind these walls…well, there’d been a time or two he’d longed for the freedom death would bring. Dark and demented souls ruled with iron hard fists and contraband weapons. Demons in orange jump suits, they wouldn’t hesitate to take you out if you had the misfortune to get on their bad side. A favorite pastime was inflicting pain on one another. Every day was a struggle to survive, never knowing when the next attack would come. The Texas State Penitentiary at Huntsville was a godforsaken Gehenna.

He took the basket of cleaning supplies from the storage closet, studying his hands as he went about his daily janitorial chores. They were calloused from time and toil, as hard and strong as the rest of him. Manual labor and exercise were all he had to fill the wasted days of the last seventeen years. It had been a monotonous existence. The bastards had given him the maximum, twenty years in this pit, for what he’d done. Only the crime of passion defense had spared him a life sentence. Unlike his hands, though, his prison record had been virtually spotless. So far he’d been denied parole, but he was coming up for consideration again in two more days, and given his behavior and time served, he felt really good about his chances.

Back in his cell later that evening, he gazed at the newspaper clippings and magazine articles that he’d collected over the years. He scowled at the latest picture. There she was in all her glory. The same sassy smile and grey eyes. The same whoring way. She was exactly like her momma.

Just two more days. Come hell or high water, he was getting out this time. His lip curled and his eyes narrowed to slits. He ran a finger across her face. He barely suppressed a gleeful laugh. He was so close. Gonzalo assured him everything was in place, everything he needed. He’d have his pound of flesh. The day of reckoning was coming. Just two more fucking days.

UNPLUGGING HER CELL from the charger the next morning, Sara saw that she’d missed three text messages and four calls from Chris. Scrolling through the texts showed that they were all variations on the same theme. Listening to the one voicemail sent her scurrying to finish up her cup of coffee so she could jump in the shower. The doorbell buzzed, making her jump.
Uh, oh.
Too late
.

Muttering curses under her breath, she went to open the apartment door. Chris leaned one arm against the doorframe, giving her the once over before his face slowly broke into that sexy smile of his.

“Chris, what a surprise,” Sara said, shifting uncomfortably under his gaze and feeling awkward in her comfy robe and striped socks. “Come on in,” she told him sarcastically, tossing her hair over her shoulder and leaving the door open for him. It irritated her that he looked so chipper and handsome this early in the morning fully dressed in a long-sleeve black button-down and tight jeans.

“You look like crap,” he told her.

“Thanks, so much. Figure flattery will get you somewhere, huh?” she snapped.

“I’m just kidding, babe.” If he told her what he was really thinking, she’d slap him. Her robe was white terry cloth and short, barely concealing the top of her thighs, leaving her long tanned legs on glorious display. And her hair was all tousled like she’d just had a romp in the hay. His imagination went wild and his throat went dry.

“Do I need to wipe that silly grin off your face then?”

He winked. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Hell, yes,” he replied instantly in a low husky voice. He moved even with her, so close she could feel the heat radiating off his frame. This time it was Sara who had difficulty swallowing.

“Where’s Sam?” he asked, tucking his hands in his pockets. Instead of all over her like he wanted. That would have to wait.

“Still sleeping, like most people are at this time of the day.”

He shrugged, pulling out one of the dining room chairs, turning it around, and straddling it. Watching the maneuver brought an image to mind that made her blush. The direction her thoughts took when he was around. It was ridiculous.

“Can I have some coffee?” he asked, pulling her mind back to reality. “Coffee, caffeine, liquid energy” he repeated, pointing at the cup in her hand.