Rock Steady (6 page)

He was a beast.

An animal.

A creature carved out of midnight.

He was so far out of the realm of normal, and yet, she discovered herself drawn to that crack in his shell. The one she was pretty sure he wasn’t happy about her seeing.

It struck her as special.

Maybe “intimate” was a better word. Even if using it set off another warning bell. It made no sense and was really a far-fetched idea altogether. Mega rock stars didn’t play by the same rules as the rest of the world. Feeling connected to him on any level was going to end badly.

Very badly.

Still, she found herself looking at the way his fingers were curled around hers. A tender touch, innocent, and yet her heart rate accelerated. When was the last time a guy had held her hand? Before he’d made a move on her?

Okay, well, Ramsey had made a move on her. He’d embodied exactly what she’d thought he was: cornering her within minutes, laying waste to her morality with the force of his persona in a few polished moves that lived up to her image of him. Yet he hadn’t taken her. No, it had been far smoother. He’d stepped into her path, unnerved her, baited her, teased her, tempted her, and made sure she was the one tumbling into his embrace.

It was a blast.

A total high.

The only problem with that was the fall to the ground when she came down.

Mega rock stars didn’t leave the sky.

Nope. She’d end up looking up at him from the broken heap she landed in.

Alone.

Chapter 2

Toxsin’s fans were voracious.

The arena sounded alive, groaning and straining as showtime neared. It was like a tangible pulse floating through the air. It was a hundred times more powerful than static electricity.

Ramsey pulled Jewel down a series of hallways, past a couple of intense-looking security posts, and right through doors that had large warnings: “Performers Only. Violators Will Be Prosecuted.” Inside was a huge ready room of sorts, with makeup chairs and mirrors, rolling costume racks, and even a complete set of instruments for warming up.

“This is Brenton, our road manager.”

“Ah, the lady of the evening.” Brenton offered her his hand. Jewel reached out and shook it. He was wearing a black polo shirt with “Toxsin” embroidered over the left bicep. There were several other men wearing the same thing. Some of them had on headphones that covered their ears completely, while others had only clear pig-tail communications devices stuck in their right ears. It was far more organized than she’d expected. Which was a tad shallow of her, because she realized she was judging Ramsey without knowing very much about him. There was an attention to detail that was, frankly, almost military in nature.

“We’ve got your seat reserved. Kate will show you the way when showtime hits,” Brenton continued. “Here’s a little pass to make sure no one stops you. Keep it hidden. Some of the regulars know what it is and might try to snatch it.”

He handed her what looked like a hotel room key card hanging on a lanyard. It wouldn’t be hidden with the V-neck of the dress she’d worn, so she stuffed it into her bra. The road manager was somewhere in his early fifties, with a receding hairline he hid by keeping his brown hair clipped short. He clearly lifted weights, his shoulders and back having that bulky, muscular look. But his grin was easygoing, and there was a twinkle of happiness in his eyes that told her he really loved his job.

It was quite a job though, along the line of dream-come-true ones.

“You remember Taz and Syon?” Ramsey pointed toward a line of makeup stations, where the two rockers were sitting as their faces were touched up.

“I think you missed Drake,” Ramsey said as he pointed at the fourth member of Toxsin.

“Evening.” Drake unleashed a very British accent on her and winked from where he was inspecting his overall look in front of a full-length mirror.

“And Kate, our leather artist.” Ramsey pointed toward a redhead standing by a rolling clothing rack that had leather pants and vests hanging on it. “Syon’s her bitch.”

“And happy to be so,” Syon Braden, lead singer, sang out. He hopped out of the makeup chair and went over to his wife. There was a smack as he landed a hand on her bottom, her leather skirt popping.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” she chastised her husband.

“Oh, I can finish it alright,” Syon cooed softly to her. “And I will.”

But he moved over to where a guitar was hanging from a stand. He picked it up and started fingering the strings.

“Got to go to work,” Ramsey said.

He moved over to where Syon was and picked up another guitar. Syon Braden was a legend, but Ramsey smoked him when he started to play. There was a sharp edge to the notes he coaxed out of the strings. His expression became raw while his whole body moved with the music. It was erotic, and she was mesmerized by the sight, suddenly realizing that she’d never seen a true music legend at work.

Drake started up on the drums as Taz joined in. The staff in the room started nodding with the beat as they finished up their duties. Jewel ended up leaning against the wall, enjoying the private glimpse of Toxsin. Without a doubt, it was a privilege.

At least she saw it that way.

Ramsey opened his eyes, catching her gaze. Her breath stopped, time freezing, and she felt suspended between moments, waiting for the next note, unable to move forward until the music carried her. It was incredibly intimate—that thing she’d seen a glimpse of in his eyes on full display now. Her gaze lowered to his lips, and her own tingled.

God, she wanted him to kiss her. And just for a moment, his lips curved, making it clear he wanted to do exactly that.

In the next instant, his eyes slid shut and he looked like he was pushing the music straight out of his soul.

He was letting loose completely. Something most people didn’t have the guts to do. At least, not in front of others, and he was going to do it in front of thousands of fans.

He rocked.

It was that simple.

She felt it seeping into her, washing away her better judgment and leaving her nothing but a pile of receptors, just waiting for him to stimulate her.

Rock star.

He was definitely that and something more, something that hit her as polished and trained. It was a heady combination, because she could have ignored someone who had just gotten lucky and was pushing out decent music with a show to tantalize the teenagers. Now, an artist who had earned everything he had? That was intoxicating on an epic level. She watched the way his fingers moved on the strings; the skill was unmistakable. He was watching a flat screen, looking at the notes the computer program picked up to make sure he was hitting them right.

That was skill and dedication. As well as respect for his art.

Hell, she was totally impressed now. The car was great, the strawberries a treat, but seeing him and his bandmates focused and determined to excel, well, that sent a whole different sensation through her.

Respect.

* * *

She had a seat.

Not that Jewel stayed in it.

The moment the members of Toxsin took the stage, the fans near the long catwalk surged to their feet and crowded the edge of the stage. The temperature felt like it was going up from the frenzy the crowd was working itself into.

Ramsey seemed to know exactly how to push their buttons too. He took the stage. He didn’t walk onto it. He fucking stormed it and claimed it as his domain. There was no just watching him. The audience was captivated, held in a grip that was nearly hypnotic. Ramsey and his bandmates were putting out such high levels of energy, everyone in the arena was moved to screaming.

Jewel was no exception.

Nor did she want to be.

She surged to her feet and smiled at the pulsing in her blood. It warmed her like alcohol and was just as devastating to her wits. Thinking was completely out of the question as Toxsin finished one song and rolled into another one that punched up the level of frenzy surrounding them. The fans were like desperate disciples who reached out for their idols. The reason was clear. The members of Toxsin embodied what everyone fought for.

They were truly free.

What they were was on display, along with all of their inner demons. The music was an outpouring of all the emotions everybody tried to ignore as they went about being respectable, civilized people. The cravings they had and were too self-conscious to admit having.

Tonight, they all roared as Toxsin gave them permission to embrace those feelings, the seedy and the oh-so-often labeled immoral sexual passion. Jewel screamed with the rest of them, feeling freer than she ever had. She got it, really got it. Inside her was a person who wanted to be accepted for what she was. It wasn’t always decent, and it certainly didn’t fit into anything that might be termed “civilized,” which was why she and everyone around her kept that part of their souls bottled up. The day-to-day grind made them all contain their cravings; Toxsin showed them how to embrace them.

Ramsey was a true badass, because he wasn’t afraid of what the world would say about him.

She realized he was the most honest man she’d ever met.

“Oh. My. God! Look at the tat!”

Ramsey arched back, playing a solo on his guitar. His lean, ripped abs stretched out, his neck corded as he pushed the instrument and filled the arena with a perfect blending of sound. His leather pants slipped lower; his vest rose higher, baring his waist and the top of the dragon. There was a hint of the head and tail, tantalizing glimpses as he moved.

“It’s a dragon!”

“I want one!”

“I have to have one!”

She lost track of all the comments, feeling the praise wash through her. That dream she’d so carefully nurtured for the last few months suddenly surged back to robust health like a drowning victim who’d received CPR. It was no longer limping along as she fought for enough morsels of strength to resist tossing in the towel and falling into line with the rest of the world because it was the sensible thing to do. The thing that would help her sleep at night, because she wasn’t wondering how she was going to scrape together the rent.

Ramsey was a mythical creature who had defied the odds and won.

She let out another scream, enjoying the high of the moment. When the concert ended, she melted into the crowd, leaving the VIP pass in her bra. She made her way onto the pavement and followed a huge bunch of people toward the underground BART trains.

She was wrung out, but happily so.

And you’re a chicken…

Well, it was a necessity, self-defense at its best. One kiss, and her self-control would be a goner. Poof! Up in smoke for sure.

Chicken…

Oh, she was guilty as charged. No argument. Just a twinge of regret kept her company on the train ride back to her end of town. Okay, a little more than a twinge. More like a bucketful, leaving her sexually frustrated and kicking herself for walking away from a prime opportunity.

Which was why she’d done it.

Ramsey was a lot of things, but she didn’t want to see him as an alley cat. She wanted to hold the memory of him being an artist. Keep him on a pedestal. Let him be a panther, a creature with nobility.

Whimsical.

And she wasn’t even drunk.

No mere mortal man could claim to have intoxicated her.

Only a god.

So she’d leave him in the heavens and hold on to her worship of him.

* * *

“I’m sorry, sir. She never came this way.”

Ramsey considered the doorman before shrugging. But he turned and caught Syon watching him. His bandmate knew him. Really knew him.

Syon carried a beer over to him, handing it to him as he sipped from his own longneck.

“Don’t worry about it,” Ramsey said.

Syon only took another long sip. Ramsey twisted the cap off and indulged, but the beverage didn’t taste right. He ended up setting it aside. He was unsatisfied, and beer wasn’t what he wanted.

Brenton came into the performers’ backstage room. “Great work, gentlemen. I have some opportunities for promotion, if you’re interested.”

Their new road manager didn’t try to control them, always making suggestions instead of demands. Brenton read off a few clubs that had issued invitations, along with two trendy restaurants that promised epic meals if the band wanted to drop in.

“Your wife looks like she wants to go eat at the place with the view of the bay,” Ramsey said.

Syon grinned at him. “Think I can’t spot a decoy from you, Rams?”

Ramsey shrugged again. “I’m fine. Just don’t feel like drinking. It didn’t end too well a couple of nights ago.”

“I don’t know about that.” Syon looked down at the top of the dragon tattoo.

“Okay, it ended well. But in an ass-backward sort of way.”

“Yeah, you almost got a reputation for liking flowers,” Taz said from a few feet away. “I can just smell the dressing room in Portland now if the fans had caught sight of those cherry blossoms.”

Ramsey snorted. “Exactly. I think I’m going to be on the wagon for a bit.”

“So, come to dinner.” Syon was already moving away before Ramsey got the chance to answer.

“I could do dinner,” Taz agreed. Drake gave them a thumbs-up.

“I’ll call and let them know you’re coming,” Brenton said as he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket.

* * *

Her electricity was off.

Jewel used her cell phone to light her way into her apartment and find a candle. She held it to the burner of her gas range to light it before setting it on the pub-style table. The golden, intimate glow fit her mood. The sketch of the dragon was on the table, drawing her to it. She sat down and picked up her pen, pulled to the image and the memory of working it onto Ramsey. Sometime later, she sipped a glass of red wine as she surveyed the finishing touches she’d put on the drawing. If she’d been smart, she would have had him sign it so she could have sold it for enough to pay her utility bills.

But she knew she’d rather be homeless than part with the drawing. It was too personal. Too much a part of something that had been created inside her soul.