Sexy rock god Daxton Cole has everything…and nothing that can bring him peace.
Music, whiskey,
pills, and parades of silicone-enhanced groupies keep his bed warm at
any given time, but none of it soothes his wounded soul. The demons
always win.
His life is a toxic existence on a permanent loop, like a bad 80s movie.
Until…
Sara Russell, the junior publicist hired to salvage his tarnished
image, plows into him. Literally. Innocent, naïve, and pure, she’s the
only one who can piece together what has long been shattered.
But sometimes, when you’re so broken, it’s impossible to become whole again. And even more impossible to save anyone else.
“Dax, where the hell are you
going?” Finn’s question was followed by a yawn so loud, it could have
woken the inhabitants of the neighboring buses. “We have sound check in
an hour.”
Daxton ran a hand through his tousled, gel-crunched hair and pulled on a Houston Astros baseball cap. “I’m going for a run.”
“Sorry, I don’t speak that language. Come again?”
“I need to clear my head, okay? Buy me some time. I’ll be back.”
“Since when do you run? Don’t you want to get breakfast instead? Bacon, egg, and cheese sandwich, home fries,
coffee?”
“Look, it was a shitty night. I need to get out for a while. Alone.”
“Dude, Merrick is gonna—“
“He’ll deal. I’ll see you later.”
Daxton
slid open the tour bus door, breathing in the crisp, fresh air. Nobody
in sight. Great, he finally had a chance to escape the questions he
couldn’t answer, questions he didn’t even want
to acknowledge.
The
sun peeked over the clouds as he sank into a hamstring stretch. His
muscles were so tight, just like the knot that had taken up residence at
the base of his skull. Ironic. Excessive booze
normally had the opposite effect. And he’d pretty much drank himself
sober after last night’s debacle. How the hell had that guy gotten so
close?
He rubbed the back of his neck, desperate to relieve the knot. “Dammit!”
“Rough night?”
That
raspy voice made him jump about twenty feet into the air. Christ, did
she know how sexy her voice sounded in the morning? He’d love to hear it
waking him up after a very sleepless night
infused with lots of carnal pleasures. Oh, fuck yeah.
“I
didn’t mean to startle you.” Sara twirled her ponytail around her index
finger, a sleepy smile on her face. The soft morning light danced atop
her head, half-hooded green eyes making his
cock twitch. Shit, even at this ungodly hour of the morning?
“I didn’t expect anyone else to be awake.”
“Thought
you’d escape unnoticed, huh?” Sara smirked. “I’m going for a run.
Figured it was my only chance for some peace and quiet before Merrick
assigns me his list of errands for the day.”
“Uh-huh.”
His eyes raked over the curves poured into hot pink spandex, mind
unable to formulate a thought beyond peeling her out of those
constricting clothes. Immediately, if not sooner.
“Okay, then.”
“Okay, what?”
She
grabbed her ankles one at a time, pulling each toward to her perfect
ass, stretching her quads. “Let’s go. You shouldn’t be by yourself,
anyway.”
“So you’re gonna protect me?”
Her pink lips curled into a sly smile. “It’s my job. Now stop procrastinating and
move.”
“You’re kind of pushy. Why can’t we ease into it? Nice and slow to start?”
“Nice and slow, huh? Kind of shocking. You don’t seem the type.”
He stretched his arms over his head. “I don’t know what you’re implying. I was talking about
running.“
“Sure you were.” She tightened her ponytail. “Trust me, you’ll feel better once you sweat out all the alcohol.”
A slow trot increased in intensity much too quickly, and soon, they were circling the arena parking lot at full speed. Focus, focus, focus!
His primary objective was not to collapse.
A sidelong glance confirmed Sara had barely broken a sweat since they’d
started. No words were exchanged, which was a good thing, since he
couldn’t catch a single breath. A burning sensation erupted in the pit
of his belly, spreading through his lungs, singeing
his insides. His legs, now feeling more like Jell-O than actual limbs,
were on the brink of revolution. Why didn’t he grab a bottle of water?
Panting only made his mouth drier, as if it wasn’t already more arid
than the Sahara at midday. Sweat drizzled into
his eyes, blurring his vision. How many more times were they going to
make this death loop?
Sara
pivoted to face him, tiny beads of perspiration glistening along her
hairline, the only sign she was exerting herself at all. Jogging
backwards. Not even changing her gait. He was a step
above pathetic – a very short step.
“How is it that you can’t even make it a mile without looking like you’re about to pass out?”
Great, he needed to speak now?
“It’s
not like…I’m…Britney Spears…shaking my ass…all over the stage.” His
calf muscles ached as his sneakers pounded the pavement. Bacon, egg, and
cheese had been a very delicious alternative,
and he opted out for this self-inflicted torture? “I play guitar…and
sing…doesn’t require…cardio.” He mopped his face with the edge of the
t-shirt. “How the hell…are you…able to do this? I don’t think…your
boy…friend is…keeping you…up late…enough.”
Croaking out those last words nearly killed him, for multiple reasons.
“You
should really consider traveling with an oxygen mask.” She flipped
around, giving him a glimpse of her shapely backside, just about the
only thing keeping him going. “And, just so you know,
he’s not my boyfriend anymore.”
“Not
your…boy—“ A sharp pain shot through his foot, stopping him mid-stride.
“Ahh!” His body rocketed forward, arms flailing, sending him to the
pebbly concrete lot with nothing to cushion the
blow except his pride.
Thump!
“Holy
crap, are you okay?” Sara fell to the ground where he was writhing in
agony, bits of pebble mashed into his skin. “Where does it hurt?”
He let out a loud groan and fell backward. “Fuck. Everywhere!”
“Do
you think anything’s broken?” Her hand squeezed his and for the briefest
of seconds, the presence of his very intense pain faded, replaced by
Sara’s compassion, worry, and genuine concern.
Somebody actually cared. That hadn’t happened in…shit, long enough that
he couldn’t pinpoint an amount of time. It felt nice. Until the agony
crashed over him again like a tsunami.
Sitting up was a struggle, but dammit, he was already hovering on the brink of being a complete and total pansy ass.
Ignore the pain. Find out what happened with the boyfriend. Even a
fall like that couldn’t quell his curiosity. He had to know, even if he
was going to be in traction and unable to do anything about it for the
foreseeable future.
“Am I allowed to ask what happened?”
A
look of shock flitted across Sara’s face, quickly followed by a snicker.
“Wow. Your focus is impressive, even with four potentially broken
limbs.” Her playful tone couldn’t mask her nerves,
though. She toyed with her ponytail again, normally bright green eyes
darkening. “I walked in to find Laney riding him like she was competing
for the Triple Crown.”
“Horse racing fan?”
“Yeah,
we have a horse farm back home. Raised several thoroughbreds. I always
loved to ride.” She averted her eyes, but not before he caught a glimpse
of what she’d been trying to shield.
“Where’s home?”
“Minnesota.”
She sat back on her heels, eyes still guarded. Conversation over. “So,
what do you think? Are you able to hoof it back to the buses?”
“Eli is a fucking idiot.”
A slow smile brightened her flushed face. “Agreed.” She held out a hand. “Come on, let’s see if those legs still work.”
“Are you gonna carry me if they don’t?”
“You don’t pay me enough.”
Gritting his teeth, he pulled himself to his feet. “Christ, I feel like I’ve been run over by a freight train.”
Sara snaked an arm around his waist, hoisting him against her. “Take it slow, okay? You said you liked that.”
The scent of citrus
wafted into the air between them. So delicious, like a fruit salad. How
could she still smell so good after that run? “Yeah...I figured you’d
use that against me soon enough.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“Looks like we have lots of time to kill before we make it back to camp. Shoot.”
“What happened last night? Who was the guy?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.“
How the hell did she even know?
”I’m
sure your little groupies love the coy act, but I’ll pass.” She cocked
an eyebrow. “Daxton, I’m part of your PR team. It’s my job to know
everything that goes on during this tour. Sean
from security told me someone approached you. I can’t do damage control
without all the facts. Who was he, and what did he want? Or, maybe a
better question might be
what does he know?”
His face twisted
into a grimace with each step. The buses weren’t even in sight. With any
luck, they’d make it back by lunchtime. “You ever feel like you’re
suffocating? That there’s air all around, but you
just can’t breathe it in? Like your body resists what it needs to
survive, and you feel like you’re constantly drowning? That’s how I feel
most of the time. The air, everything around me – what people see, what
they want to believe, judgments they make based
on half-truths – it’s all toxic. Better not to inhale. The lesser of
two evils, but either way, I’m fucked.”
She nodded, her hair tickling his shoulder. “I do know what you mean.” Her voice was soft,
sad. There was something beneath that snarky exterior, something
he was desperate to uncover, but her demeanor begged him not to press.
They
walked for a few silent minutes that seemed to stretch into hours. He
clenched and unclenched his fists as waves of pain assaulted his ankle.
“Shit, that hurts.”
“I don’t think you should push it. Let me call Merrick.“
“No.” He stopped, teetering on one leg. “Please. Not yet. Can we just sit down for a minute?”
“Of course.” She eased him to the ground and sank onto the pavement. “Is there anything I can—?”
“The guy from last
night said he knew my mother.” Daxton held his head, expelling a deep
breath. “She disappeared after my brother died last year, without a
trace. Without a warning. One day, she was there;
the next, gone. With her clothes, car, jewelry. Everything…gone. My dad
made a half-hearted attempt to find her, but I was too angry to try.
I’d just lost my best friend, and my mother picked that time to bail. We
should have been there for each other, but
she didn’t care enough to even say goodbye.”
“I’m so sorry.” Sara
grasped his hand. Her skin was so soft against his calloused fingers.
It was an occupational hazard for a guitarist.
“I don’t want to
have anything to do with her. She abandoned her family. Things between
her and my dad were never great, but what the hell did I ever do to
her?”
“So you had security get rid of him.”
“People always have
an angle, Sara.” He raised his eyes to see the empathy reflected in her
gaze. “I can’t trust anyone because everyone has an agenda. They want to
know what I can do for them, how much I’ll
pay to keep something from happening, what they can hold over my head
in exchange for things they want. Even if this guy is telling the truth,
I’m not willing to listen because nothing comes without a high price
tag.
Toxic. But the problem is, even though my body tries to protect
me by resisting the urge to inhale the poison around me, I want to live,
to be whole again, free from all this useless anger and resentment. I
need to breathe.” He raked a hand through his
hair. “I just can’t remember how.”
Kristen Luciani
Kristen
Luciani is a self-proclaimed momtrepreneur with a penchant for
Christian Louboutins, Silicon Valley, plunging necklines and grapefruit
martinis. As a deep-rooted romantic
who prefers juicy drama to fill the lives of anyone other than her, she
tried her hand at creating a world of enchantment, sensuality, and
intrigue, finally uncovering her true passion. No pun intended…
Other Works by Kristen Luciani
The Venture Series
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Rebecca Manuel
Rebecca Manuel, a.k.a. Becca the
Bibliophile, is a lover of books, Fireball, Diet Dr. Pepper and Texas
Trash Pie from Royers Roundtop
Café. With a deep-rooted passion for
the creative, she started the first independent short film company
within the literary industry, charged with bringing book characters and
plots to life via the Internet. She lives in Houston
with her techie geek husband, two fabulous kids, and their menagerie of
furry friends.
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