Taken (A Bad Boy Romance Book 1) (4 page)

The roaring somehow gets even louder.

Meanwhile, my jaw is practically on the floor. I can’t take my eyes off him. No matter how hard I try, I just can’t do it.

Snap out of it
, I tell myself.
This is totally ridiculous
.

At least I thought it was, until he started to sing.

Brady’s voice fills the room, and the moment I hear it I’m possessed. His voice is the most powerful, warm, and comforting sound I’ve ever heard.

Fuck
. I hate the way I feel right now, like the only thing I want to do is see him naked, explore the hard muscles beneath his shirt, and do the kind of things that a girl like me just shouldn’t be thinking about doing with a boy like Brady Stone.

His lyrics are dark and edgy, and yet somehow they charge me up and make me feel like suddenly there are no limits.

I hate that this guy is having this kind of effect over me. I mean, I already know what I need to do in life. I don’t need some random guy with a guitar throwing me off kilter.

Okay, maybe he’s not random. And he’s definitely not just
any
man. In fact, I’ve never seen another man like him if I’m being honest. But that’s not the point.

I can feel my sister bobbing up and down beside me, but my eyes continue to stay locked on Brady himself. Then something awful happens, something so evil that the universe must be punishing me for some past sin.

Brady turns and faces
me
.

My knees literally wobble. I take a massive gulp from the same drink that I’d sworn myself off just to hide from his gaze.

He’s doesn’t miss a single word as he looks right through me with those dark, bad eyes of his. Then he looks away.

Holy. God.

Do not, I repeat, do not go backstage.

My trance bubble is popped when a girl wearing next to nothing slips past a security guard and dashes her way towards Brady himself. She bites down on her lip and starts to grind into Brady from behind, sending the crowd into another frenzy. Brady smiles at the crowd, not missing a lick on his guitar as she claws at his back. I look down and notice that I’ve got my fist clenched, ready to punch that skinny little slut in the face.

What’s happening to me?

Then I almost hurl my drink at her as she lifts her shirt up and starts to rub her bare chest
all over him.,
if you could even call it that considering it barely covered her breasts let alone anything else of hers- up and off her body. The crowd starts chanting, “INVICTUS! INVICTUS! INVICTUS!”

Puke.

I feel furious inside. Not just at the tramp on the stage, but at myself to. I can literally hardly stomach watching her rub up against him like that.
Why do I care?

I can’t possibly want to be in her place, can I?

Brady snaps his finger in the air and the tramp on his arm is hauled off by security just as fast as she arrived.

All sound from the band cuts off. The house lights fill the entire club. And Brady disappears from the stage.

The show’s over, and I didn’t even have time to prepare myself for the end.

Then again, I haven’t been prepared for anything to do with Brady Stone since the moment he walked into my office.

* * *

“Will you come on already?” I can hardly hear my sister pleading with me as she tugs at my arm.

Enter Rex, right on cue. “Yeah, come on Sarah’s sister. The night’s not getting any younger,” he says. My gag reflex almost kicks in as he plants micro kisses on my little sister’s arm.

I have every right to slap him across the face if it wasn’t for two major concerns. One, he’s twice my size. And two, it feels amazing too see my sister look
this
happy, even if it’s for all the wrong reasons.

“I don’t know,” I say, crinkling my nose at the idea of actually going backstage.

“Come with me or don’t. I’m going anywyas. I’m a big girl now anyways,” Sarah adds. Rex’s tongue has now made it’s way behind her ear.

“You’’ be okay, Sarah’s sister,” Rex throws in.

I sigh and roll my eyes. “Fine. Whatever. I’ll go for ten minutes.”

Sarah’s mouth widens. Rex pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his suit coat and hands one to my sister. She giggles and takes it willingly.

“Come on, let’s go meet the band,” Rex says as he lights her up. He put another cigarette in his mouth and presses the tip of it into Sarah’s lit end as she inhales a drag.

I shutter, but willingly follow behind Rex and my little sister down a long, winding hallway in the outer recesses of the club. “Since when do you smoke?” I ask her, more because I’m freaking out inside about running into Brady then because I’m concerned about Sarah’s smoking habits right now.

Before she can answer, we find ourselves in a back room. The show just ended and yet the party’s already well under way. Most of the people back here are basically super model groupies aside from the guys in the band itself. I’m way out of place, again.

The room smells like weed and alcohol, and a recording of the band’s music pumps through a set background speakers to set the mood even more.

One thing is beyond evident- I need to run the hell away from this room.

I cringe as I spot two of the guys from the band snorting white powder off the bleach blonde Barbie’s chest in the back corner of the room, the same Barbie that was gyrating against Brady’s back seconds earlier.

Oh boy
.

The room is all red and loaded with shiny velvet. It definitely suits the occasion; the perfect space for group sex and drugs and god only knows what else. Not exactly the kind of décor I’m used to relaxing in, not that my basement apartment is much better.

But that’s a different story.

I take a sharp breath as his voice comes from behind. “Rookie, I had a feeling you’d make it.”

I turn to face him,
Brady
. And I don’t like the way my stomach feels all knotted up inside. Why oh why does he have to look so damn hot all the time? It just isn’t fair.

He’s wearing a fresh, white t-shirt, different from the one he had on while he was performing, but he’s still sporting the same black jeans… the same rugged black jeans that seem to suck away all of my strength and dignity because of the way they hug his butt and hips so damn perfectly. It’s even worse now that his thick, dark hair is slicked back, making his devilish eyes and prominent cheekbones even more pronounced than the first time I saw this man. The lighting in the room isn’t exactly bright, but there are plenty of watts to see the moisture on his lips. And then there’s his beard…

I can’t help but imagine what it would feel like to be in bed with him, my cheeks nestled up against his thick beard while he spoons me.

Completely naked.

“I didn’t have a choice. Turns out my sister’s a big fan,” I say back.

“She’s not the only one. I take you’re the classic, overprotective big sister,” he adds. Brady runs his fingers through his beard.

“Maybe you should have been a therapist instead of me,” I say.

He hands me a red plastic cup filled with beer. “Here, you look like you could use some of this. You’re part of the celebration, whether you like it or not.”

“No offense, but I’m going to have to go with
not
,” I say back. Then I stare down at the foamy beer before taking a long, healing swig of it.

“Could’ve fooled me from the way you were staring at me during the show.”

I take another swig, only this time I accidentally leave a trail of foam across my lips. “I wasn’t staring, I was…”

But I don’t get a chance to defend myself. He swipes the foam off my lips with the tip of his thumb. My body quivers and tingles in all the wrong places.

Why does
this
man have
this
effect on me? WHY?

“You were gawking, Rookie,” he says. “Don’t argue with me.” He drains the rest of his cup then flings it across the room, landing it dead center into a cardboard box that’s filled to the top with empty bottles and cans. He shoots me a wink.

I hate that he made the shot, but then again that seems to be par for the course for him. If I were a betting woman, which I’m not, I’d bet he doesn’t miss too many shots no matter where he’s taking them from.

“Well I’m not gawking now,” I protest as I gesture towards to the cocaine-infested glass coffee table. I look off to the corner to check on Sarah who’s now lip-locked Rex.

“That’s your sister I take it?”

I nod, my eyes wide at the sight of her with making out with Rex.

“Relax, he won’t make this more than a one night thing,” Brady says.

“Is that supposed to make me feel any better?”

“Why not? He can pretty much have his pick of the litter these days,” he says. “And he picked your little sister.”

My eyes narrow. “The litter?
Really
?”

He doesn’t flinch. “Well, from the looks of it,
your
sister looks quite content.”

I look over at her again, then over at one of the guys that I recognize from the band. “Who wants a motherfucking piece of this?” he shouts, pointing to his crotch with one hand and pounding a red cup with the other. Three girls giggle in unison as they reach over to him and claw their hands all over his body.

“So
this
is what you do?” I say, referring to whole general backstage scene.

“What? You too smart for this?” he snaps back.

“I didn’t say that. But I can definitely understand how you landed yourself in my office to begin with.”

“Really? And how is that?” he asks.

I take another swig, and between this giant beer and the drink I ended up accidentally downing during the show, I’m starting to feel a little lighter than usual. “If you surround yourself in this world, you’re bound to find trouble.”

He presses his lips together in a hard, straight line. “I don’t find trouble, Leila. I
am
trouble.”

Heat shoots down my back as I fight back a shiver.
Why?

I dodge his gaze, only to land my sights on the drummer whose pants are now down to his ankles as the three bubbly groupie chicks nibble at his ears and fondle his parts that are thankfully still hidden behind a pair of underwear. “All I’m saying is that I’m not getting a real wholesome vibe here.”

He laughs. Then he gets up in my face, so close I can smell his delicious scent. “And what about when you let me stick my tongue in your mouth in your office? Was that wholesome, Leila?” he rasps.

My heart beats so hard I feel like my chest is going to explode. I actually check my pulse on my wrist just to make sure I’m okay. “That was different. That was…”

“Love at first sight?” He’s not smiling as he locks in his gaze.

“No,” I whisper back.

His voice grows even huskier. “How do you know?”

“Because I know. I just know these things.”

I sound ridiculous. I can’t believe I’m even answering these questions right now.

“How do know if you never even finished what we started?”

I take another swig, and then look over at the spot where Sarah once stood. She’s gone, but I have way bigger issues right now. I look back at Brady. “That was a fluke. A momentary lapse of sanity, that’s all,” I say.

He moves in closer to me, so close that his hips are now gently pressed up against mine. “You know you could lose your license for doing that sort of thing with a client?”

I can’t stop my nipple from stiffening and my eyes from glazing over. “Yeah, I know. Luckily you’re not client anymore,” I say.

His smile is dirty and hungry. “I’ll be the judge of that, Rookie.”

“No seriously…”

He puts his finger up to my lip. “You are so fucking tight, Leila Crawford. And…” He looks around, then gives me the knock-out hypnotic punch. “I think I can really help you with that.”

I swallow hard but refuse to look anywhere but directly into his eyes, not that that’s any safer. The room around me feels like it’s starting to spin, but not because of the alcohol.

“I really don’t need any help from you,” I say.

He moves in close to my lips. “I’m not asking for your permission, Leila.”

Then the whole room starts to chant in synch with each other, completely shattering the spell that he put me under. “Fuck her! Fuck her! Fuck her!”

“No, fuck
you
!” Brady snaps at one of the band guys lying back on the red velvet couch. Brady takes my cup of beer and hurls it at his stomach, causing beer to splatter all over him
and
the two shirtless girls on his denim lap.

He rushes up from the couch and wedges between Brady and me. “What the fuck, Stone?”

“Don’t ever disrespect her like again,” Brady snaps back, digging his finger into his band mate’s chest.

I feel ecstasy and shame all wrapped into one big ball of mess. Ecstasy because of how unbelievable it feels to be
this
protected. And shame because my protector himself is more dangerous to me than anyone in the room.

“What are you going to do about it, Stone? I ain’t like you’re going throw it all away now, am I right?”

Brady wears a fake smile and digs his finger deeper into his chest. “I’ll walk away from every single bit of this even if it’s just to prove a point to you,
Tucker
. And besides, I’m willing to bet the rest of the guys in the band would rather look another fucking bassist over replacing me. Am I right motherfuckers?” Brady scans the room with his narrow, rage-filled eyes. Even the floosy groupie girls are giggle-free.

Rex comes out from a side door with my sister in his arms. Her hair is a disheveled mess as she buttons up her jeans. “Everything okay out here, fellas?” The manager looks back and forth between Brady and Tuck. “Last I checked we kind of have a national fucking tour to kick off.” Rex looks the bassist over and lowers his voice. “Tuck, what are you doing right now?”

Brady breathes out a long, slow puff of air. His eyes are relatively calmer. “Can you seriously get this piece of shit out of my face Rex?”

Rex acknowledges Brady with a single nod. “Right on, front man.” The band manager scans the room, then holds a lit joint in the air like he’s passing on the Olympic torch. “Late night at my boy Ty’s pad! Everybody out!”