Fatal Temptations (Fatal Cross Live! Book 2) Read online

  “This is really neat,” I replied.

  We walked slowly toward a young man with long blond dreadlocks, stopping as we watched him create a rendition of a horse and buggy that we’d just passed carrying people for a tour through the Square. The vibrant colors of paint were neatly arranged beside him on a makeshift table. He looked over his shoulder and gave us a nod before returning to his work.

  Presley had left my side, wandering over to the next artist. She was studying a small angel pendant that was made from recycled metals. My eyes captured her flipping the little trinket around in her palm. Her brow furrowed before her face lit up with the decision to purchase what she’d discovered. I found myself smiling at her.

  I didn’t comment as we continued on our walk. The exercise was good for my back, but that didn’t matter to me. I would’ve walked around with Presley as long as she wanted just to see her relaxed and open. It wasn’t often she did that, and I found myself anticipating the moments when she was happy…the moments she shined.

  Chapter 7

  Presley

  The music vibrated through my aching muscles as I started the third song in our set. The crowd was pumped, waving their hands in the air and jumping around like they had no cares in the world.

  This was my life.

  Music was the only thing I knew how to do well and I would do it until I didn’t have any power left behind my voice. Knowing that these people loved what I did only pushed me to succeed.

  “Are you guys ready for Fatal Cross?” I yelled into the mic after closing out the song. In response, the crowd swelled with excitement, cheering and shouting their need to see Ace and the guys perform. My eyes scanned the crowd, looking for a flash of brown hair like my own. I giggled to myself when I saw my aunt Ginger sitting at the bar in the back. She held up her drink in a toast and smiled with a wink.

  “This next song goes out to someone very special to me,” I started, grabbing my guitar. “My dear Aunt Ginger taught me that anything is possible when you work hard for it.”

  The crowd roared, anticipating our next song. I had one more thing to say, and I knew it would embarrass her to be called out, but I didn’t care. Aunt Ginger meant the world to me, and I wanted the entire world to know it.

  “She used to warn me of the long road ahead on my path in life,” I said, most of the crowd cheering over my voice because they knew what song was coming up. “She used to encourage me to reach for my goals; to take that bitch and make it mine! My Aunt Ginger is here tonight, and this is her song…it’s “Long Road Ahead”. I pointed to the woman at the bar, and smiled when she blew me a kiss. Her face had turned pink from the attention. I laughed at her embarrassment and started the song.

  As my eyes swung to the right, I noticed Ace standing at the side of a stack of speakers. He smiled warmly and gave me a short nod. His hair was down and my mind automatically went to what it would feel like to run my fingers through his curls.

  When our set ended and I rushed off stage, Ace was there like he always was, watching me as I moved about. My eyes hardened when I noticed several girls hanging out with Cash, their bassist. He called Ace over and introduced the tramps, each one hugging him…well, more like mauling him. Ugh…band whores!

  I turned to my right and almost plowed into Coraline, who was also standing there glaring at the three girls.

  “You’d think they’d wear more clothes,” she huffed, giving an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

  “It is what it is.” I shrugged, not giving away my disgust.

  Cora just shook her head and hurried out to the stage with a tall crate that held the band’s equipment. I was sure that Coraline had seen plenty of crazy things in her time on the road. She’d been working behind the scenes for her cousin’s band ever since she graduated high school. That woman knew the ins and outs of the business better than anyone I knew.

  I didn’t even look at Ace as I walked past them. My main goal was to reach the green room and grab my stuff so I could hang out with Aunt Ginger on the bus until it was time to leave. It would be another three months before we were done with this tour and I could head back to New Orleans for a visit.

  “Come on,” she barked, climbing the steps of the bus. “I want to go see that hunk sing!”

  “Oh my god, Ginger!” I laughed. “You did not just say hunk!”

  “Hell yes I did.” She smiled, wagging her brows. “If you don’t go after him, then I just might! You know, men these days like cougars.” I almost died when she made a roaring sound just like a wild cat.

  “Let me change and we’ll head out there.” I sighed, giving up on any chance to have her just sit still on the bus and talk. No, not my aunt Ginger. Her eccentric personality was what made her who she was and I loved her even more for her individuality.

  She waited patiently for me to throw on a pair of jeans and a Fatal Cross tank top I’d purchased the first night of the tour. I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and added a baseball cap, pulling it low over my eyes. I didn’t think there would be any problems, but I tried to keep myself as incognito as possible when out in the crowd.

  “Want a water?” Ginger asked once we made our way through the crowd.

  “Please.” I smiled, taking a seat at the bar. We swiveled our stools around and watched Fatal Cross wow the audience. Ace was like watching a god on stage. He knew how to work the crowd. His performance was perfectly scripted, ensuring he moved fluidly from one side of the stage to the other.

  The lights went down, leaving the stage dark for a few minutes while the guys prepared for the next song. Braxton, their drummer, kept up a steady beat on the base drum. After several seconds, the lights began to pulse with each beat. The crowd threw their hands in the air, pumping their fists to the sound.

  I saw their shadows as they returned to the stage. The moment the lights blared to life, Ace was standing on the raised platform in front of Braxton’s kit…and he was shirtless. My legs automatically clenched together, my lower belly ached in ways I hadn’t felt in a very long time.

  Ace’s tanned skin and tight six pack was on full display and I noticed the women in the crowd with lust in their eyes. His dark jeans were slung low on his narrow hips, leaving the thick muscle that draped over his hips on full display. My mouth watered and I leaned forward, enthralled by the way he moved on stage. I had only watched from the side of the stage until now, but this was different. I was getting Ace Ryker in all his glory…his element.

  My pulse quickened when his eyes landed on mine. The connection was made and I was helpless to break it by looking away. In that moment, everything faded away…the venue…the crowd…the music. My eyes widened when white lights focused on his body as he stood there, belting out the words to a song I couldn’t even hear. There was no one else in the room except for us…just staring…connected, watching each other exist in the moment.

  My chest tightened as his eyes darkened with lust. I wanted to touch him. I wanted to reach out and let my fingers trail down the defined muscles on his chest and stomach, savoring each sculptured bump and valley. My tongue automatically swiped across my bottom lip, wondering if his skin tasted as good as it looked.

  “Oh my,” Ginger breathed, breaking into my thoughts.

  “Yeah,” I replied. That was all I could really say.

  Chapter 8

  Ace

  She was there, watching from the back of the venue. Something had passed between us, sending a chill up my spine. As she sat on the barstool with her aunt, Presley’s eyes had pierced my own from all the way across the room.

  The hardest thing I think I’d ever done was to break eye contact with the woman who intrigued me. As I found my next mark on the stage, I closed my eyes as I sang the chorus of our song. I opened them to find her still sitting there; her aunt’s lips moved slowly and Presley responded with a one word answer, not taking her eyes off of me while I worked the stage.

  If I had my way, Presley would be in my bed tonight, but that wasn’t goin
g to happen. I drank in her appearance one last time before starting the next song. Her tight tank top sported my band’s name, and my cock swelled with the idea that I’d just marked her in some way.

  When the lights went down and our time on stage was over, I hurried to the back of the venue and showered quickly. We would be boarding the bus and rolling out of New Orleans in less than two hours.

  I wanted to find her, to have her close to me. The heated glances during the show were in the forefront of my mind. Presley Pittman was going to be mine. I had no doubt about that.

  My heart sped in anticipation of seeing her as I walked quickly down the hallway leading to the back entrance of the venue. Just as I exited the doors, I saw her. She still wore the baseball cap and tight denim jeans. Across her ass were rhinestones that swirled over the pockets. The bleached-out denim looked worn and hugged the tight curves of her hips. Now, that was a woman I could get lost in for hours.

  My mouth opened to say something when she turned her head slightly. She was looking down at the ground…wiping at the tears coming from her eyes. At that moment, my heart stopped.

  “Presley?” I announced as I walked forward. We were only feet away from each other and I heard when she took a ragged breath. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

  “I’m fine.” She sighed, letting out a soft laugh. “I’m sorry. I always cry when Ginger heads home.”

  My heart started beating again. Presley loved her aunt, there was no doubt, and it was nice to see the more personal side of her. She didn’t open up much in general conversations, preferring to sit back and listen to everyone else talk about home. No, Presley didn’t really speak unless spoken to, and what information she did volunteer was minimal at best.

  “It’s okay.” I smiled, reaching up to wipe a tear she’d missed. My hand froze on her soft skin. I didn’t realize what I was doing until the action had already passed. Presley’s big blue eyes looked up at mine and I was lost again.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered, taking a step back. My hand fell to my side in disappointment. “I…I can’t do this.”

  “Presley?” I called out as she ran toward the steps of her bus. “Fuck!”

  I wanted to follow her. I wanted to know her secrets, but tonight wouldn’t be the time to unravel what I was sure was going to be the complicated world of Presley Pittman. She intrigued me. Hell, she unhinged me. Her soft skin, her deep blue eyes…those lips. Her talent called to me. I wanted to beg her to just sing…sing anything. I could get lost in her voice for days.

  My boots clomped heavily as I boarded our bus. Everyone was already gathered in the back, watching what sounded like an action movie. Our driver called out that we were packed and ready to go. I dimmed the lights in the front of the bus, leaving on a small light over the table.

  I had an old, worn notebook sitting in a caddie by the window. It was just something that I kept to write lyrics in when the inspiration hit me. I’d been thinking about what Presley had written the day before and I wanted to expand off of her ideas. I knew it wouldn’t amount to anything, really. It was in my head and I just needed to get it out.

  I’d learned over the years that I needed to write down all of the words that took up space in my head. To get them out gave a little more space for the everyday tasks of life. I’d learned that my creativity and drugs were not a great mix. The pills not only dulled my back pain, but they also quieted the muses. Having the journal helped alleviate all of the congestion of my thoughts.

  “Hey, Ace,” Braxton called out as he reached in the small refrigerator, taking out a bottled water. He sat one in front of me and slid into the seat across from mine. “Mind fucked?”

  “Yeah.” I gave a short laugh, setting the pen down across the pages. “Just getting some words out.”

  “You’re okay? Right?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

  Our big ass drummer’s voice was concerned, but I just shook my head and smiled. “It’s…um, yeah. It’s Presley.” I followed up by tapping my temple with my finger.

  “She’s something else,” he grunted. “But she’s been hurt, Ace, my man.”

  “I know,” I sighed. “She doesn’t talk about it though.”

  “She won’t talk about it either…trust me,” he replied. The thing about Braxton? He didn’t talk much. There were so many issues with his past, I couldn’t even begin to decipher how fucked up his life had been up until three years ago when we’d met. “That girl has scars.”

  “Yeah,” I said sadly. “I’ve seen the one on her lip.”

  “And the ones on her back…her neck.” He cursed. I was frozen in fear at what he’d said.

  “What the fuck do you mean?” I demanded, slamming my fists on the tabletop.

  “Seen her in a tank top.” He paused, shaking his head. “Bad scar on her shoulder blade. The shirt would’ve covered it up, but she bent over to pick something up and it slid over just a bit. Her hair fell to the side and there’s a scar at her hairline, too.”

  “Jesus,” I gasped, wiping my hand down my face.

  “Go easy with her, Ace,” he warned, standing up from the table. He downed his water, throwing the empty bottle in the trash.

  “Thanks.” I nodded, closing the journal and placing it back in the holder by the window. I had suddenly lost the desire to write. “What about you, Brax?”

  “I’m good.” He nodded, leaning his hip against the small counter. “I’ve got to take care of some things with the folks when we take a break.”

  “They doing okay?” I asked, thankful for the change of subject.

  His parents were older and not in the greatest of health. He spent as much time as possible with them when we were not on the road.

  “Yeah.” He frowned. “It’s not just them this time.”

  “Abby?” I asked, flinching when I saw pain cross his features. Abby was a sore spot I shouldn’t have brought up, but he needed to know that we were here for him if he needed us.

  “Yeah.” He sighed, running his hand over his face. “I’m going to crash. I’ll see you later.” And like that, he turned for his bunk, not talking about what had him in a hurry to rush home to deal with whatever it was that was happening with his past.

  * * *

  We made it to Tulsa by morning. When we arrived, the Witch’s Spawn bus was already parked, their crew milling around the back lot. I sat at the table again, doodling nonsense in my journal. I’d done nothing more than draw a crazy-eyed elephant and some elegant swirls on a new page for the past hour. I was too busy glancing out the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of her.

  I hadn’t slept very well during the night, tossing and turning over unanswered questions about Presley. The few times that I had dozed off, I swear I had dreams about her. But for some reason, I couldn’t recall exactly what had happened.

  Her bandmates were standing in front of the bus; two of them smoking. I decided to take my chances and go ask them if she was awake yet. I grabbed my jacket and slid on my boots, walking down the steps casually. I knew her bandmates had noticed us talking, maybe even flirting a time or two. I knew they were very protective of Presley, but I wasn’t sure if they’d warn me away from her.

  “Hey, Ace.” Garrison smiled, holding out his hand for a shake. The other two said their greetings and Brian kept checking his phone.

  “Hey.” I nodded toward the bus, pulling my jacket tighter as the cool wind blew in from the north. “Is Presley up yet? I was going to talk to her for a bit.”

  “No, man.” Drake, her guitarist, frowned. “She’s taking a break today.”

  “A break?” I asked, confused.

  “She sometimes needs to get away.” Garrison sighed heavily. “She’s gone to a motel for some alone time.”

  “Is she okay?” I barked, suddenly protective. My heart fluttered. What the hell was coming over me when it came to this woman?

  “I don’t know,” Garrison said, narrowing his eyes. “I know you two talked last night before she stormed the bus, re
fusing to talk to us. She hit the bunk, and as soon as the wheels came to a stop on the bus, she’d run out like her tail was on fire. Left a note and had a cab already waiting.”

  “Fuck,” I growled. “Where is she?”

  “Me telling you all depends on the next few minutes of conversation, Ace,” Garrison said, eyeing me carefully. His tone was protective and I didn’t blame him one bit.

  “Nothing happened,” I replied. “I found her out here. She was crying because she was sad to see Ginger go home. I tried to talk to her and she said she couldn’t talk, then she ran off to get on the bus.”

  “Oh shit, man,” Drake cursed, running his hand through his hair. He turned for the bus, but not before giving Garrison a meaningful look.

  “Where is she?” I asked.

  “I can’t tell you,” Garrison growled. “When she needs space, man…she needs space. She’ll be back well before the show starts. Just give her a few hours, okay?”

  “I want to make sure she’s okay,” I continued, not really caring about her damn guard dogs. “Now, tell me where she is.”

  “Who the fuck do you think you are?” Garrison asked, stepping up to get in my face. Brian bristled at his side, his eyes narrowing as he opened his mouth to speak, but I had something I needed to get out in the open.

  “I care for her,” I whispered, clearing my throat so I could speak louder. “I need to know she’s okay.”

  “Don’t you fucking hurt her,” Brian warned, stepping up to my side. I figured I was putting myself on the line, but in my heart, I knew that she was worth the fight. Presley was worth any ass whooping I’d receive from her band.

  She was worth it.

  “Please?” I begged.

  “She’s at the Marriott, room 332,” Garrison admitted. I started to turn away, the phone already raised to my ear to call a cab, but a hand on my shoulder stopped me from moving forward. “She’s been through a lot in her life, Ace. If she accepts you and lets you in, don’t hurt her.”