Manhandled: A Rockstar Romantic Comedy (Hammered Book 2) (9 page)

M
y fingers ached
from the number of times I’d followed the song to the end of the keyboard and back, chasing the chords around the high notes and back to the middle.

The song was still pure chaos. I finally found the right mix of notes and held the damper pedal to let it resonate and fade. I lifted my arms above my head to work out the kinks.

I was just about to play the chords again, when I noticed a male voice.

Looks like my warden had finally seen fit to come to bed.

I glanced at the clock above my upright. Two in the morning. I should probably give it a rest. He was probably yelling for me to do just that.

“No.”

My fingers curled into my palms, and I leaned back on my bench. That was a moan this time.

My mouth tipped up. “Hot dreams, Warden?”

I stood and crept to the wall between us. The shift of cotton over skin came through, but what I thought was a moan of pleasure ended in a guttural cry. Before I could think clearly, I was out my door and through his.

“Lissa!”

He bowed up off the bed, and for a moment, I was afraid I’d crashed in on a really potent sex dream. The twist of jealousy that stabbed me left me unbalanced, but in the shaft of light from the hallway I noticed the beads of sweat on his brow. His temples were soaked and his neck gleamed.

Nightmare.

Not a sexy dream.

“Quinn.” I pitched my voice so it was lower and more authoritative. The one I used to break up Bats and Hunter when they got in one of their fights.

Nothing.

All the muscles in his arms tensed as he writhed.

“Lissa, no.”

I tried his name again, but he was too far gone. The anguish in her name clutched me by the throat. I reached for him instinctively and screamed out when he reared off the bed with wild eyes.

“Quinn!”

He twisted my arms behind me and pressed me face-first into the mattress. One hand on my neck, one making a bar through my arms. He straddled my thighs and clamped my legs together. I was completely immobilized.

Fear kicked hard.

PTSD?

Would he kill me even before he woke up?

“Warden!” I yelled into the sheets.

“Faith?” His voice softened. “Oh, God.” The pressure on my neck eased and he released my arms. “I’m sorry.” He crawled off of me, but not before I felt the full press of his rigid cock along my ass.

I rolled to the other side of the bed, my breathing as fast as his.

“Jesus, Faith. What were you thinking?”

“You were yelling. I didn’t know what was going on.” I could barely hear around the roaring of my heart. Had it relocated itself to between my ears? Or was that between my thighs?

Sweet hell.

“So you come running in here? What if someone had been in here? You could have gotten killed.” He fisted his hands into his hair until it stood up in spikes.

“Excuse me if I was worried. Next time I’ll let you scream yourself hoarse.”

“Good,” he shouted.

The light from the hallway highlighted his naked chest. There wasn’t an ounce of flab on the man. Corded muscles flowed down his neck and shoulders to his arms. He had a tattoo down his ribs. I couldn’t make it out in the shadows, but I knew it wasn’t English.

Latin?

He paced away from me and into the bathroom. The water ran hard in the sink. I should have slunk away. Gone back to my room. Anything but follow him in there.

He met my gaze in the mirror, water dripping from his nose and chin as he hovered over the sink.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

He closed his eyes, dropping his chin to further break the contact. There was a small LED nightlight beside the door, tossing his back muscles into sharply defined shadows. His hips tapered to a tight butt under the boxer briefs he was wearing.

They hugged him like a second skin, accentuating the endless miles of muscle. I had no idea what he did to keep in shape. I never saw him working out, but I knew he did something in his room every day.

I’d caught light footsteps in the early hours of the morning. Mostly because I hadn’t been to sleep yet, instead of up early with the damn birds like he was.

Nothing about his body was inviting. His entire body was strained with anger, or embarrassment, or probably a mix of the two. And yet I wanted to step forward and rest my hand on his back, to ease the stress flowing through him.

“Not a good idea,” he said to the floor, then walked back into the bedroom.

I followed him. Had he known I wanted to help? Did he not want me to ask questions? They fairly screamed in my head. He knew everything about me from whatever files he had, whatever research he was always doing, but I knew nothing about him.

“Who’s Lissa?”

If it was possible, his shoulders tightened even more. “Not a topic open for discussion.”

“Your wife?” I asked.

“Faith,” he said in a warning tone.

“Your girlfriend?”

He held onto the doorknob. “Go to bed, Faith.”

The cool light from the hallway emphasized his eight-pack, the arrow of shadow that led from his hips to below his underwear. I swallowed at the semi-hard shaft that followed those lines of sin.

My mouth was dry.

He never spoke about his life, his family, his anything. He could have a wife out there. Which made everything about this wrong. I had to know it wasn’t just me.

“Lover?”

The muscle in his jaw jumped.

My stomach ached with the deep breaths I couldn’t take. I curled my arms around my middle. “Sister?” Though that felt wrong. It had been a different sort of anguish in his throat.

He grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me toward the door. I slapped my free hand along the doorjamb.

He crowded behind me, angling me against the wall beside the door. His cock dug into my hip, as his mouth brushed my ear. “Dead,” he said harshly.

I shivered. So much pain in that one word, and yet devoid of any real information.

“I’m not like the men that you wrap around your finger.”

I flinched. “I don’t do—”

“I see it with everyone that comes into your airspace. They’d do anything to see you smile, they want you to notice them, they want you to let them in.”

Confusion dented the riot of emotions strumming through me. My nipples were pushing against the coolness of the wall, my shoulders and thighs burning where he pressed in on me. My mouth was dry and I was terrified that my thighs were anything but.

“I’m not one of those men. I don’t want to let anyone in. My body wants you. My cock is screaming to bury itself into your sweet, perfect body, but I can usually ignore those needs. Do you know why?”

My heart was definitely between my thighs now. Breathing was a necessity, but I couldn’t seem to gather oxygen into my lungs.

He brought his hand around my hip, his fingertips sliding into the frayed edges of my shorts along my inner thigh.

“Because we make sure to keep boundaries. In the dark, the boundaries get fuzzy.”

I drew in a hiccupping breath as his scruffy chin dragged over my neck.

Were those his lips?

His tongue swirled over my pulse before his teeth caged the rioting vein. The tiny spark of pain dragged a moan out of me. His fingers slid deeper until we groaned in a duet.

Wet didn’t even cover it. My entire body was a taut piano wire ready to be plucked. I was pretty sure it would only take one tiny flick.

My fingers dug into his outer thigh, as he bypassed the edge of my panties and slid between my cleft. He didn’t move, just stayed there, invading and waiting. Two fingers branding every swollen nerve. There was barely a pulse of movement before he retreated.

“So, you can’t come in here, because I need those boundaries to keep you safe.” He took one long breath, then stepped back.

I’d never felt so empty in my life.

I stumbled out the door and raced for my room, slamming the door behind me. I collapsed against the door and slid to the floor. I wrapped my arms around my shins and pressed my forehead to my knees.

Adrenaline, shock, anger, and loss warred inside of me.

My body was a live wire.

I needed to scream. I needed to come.

And I hated him for showing me there was that level of want living inside of me, only to take it away because of some white knight complex. I pushed off the floor and launched myself at my piano. I didn’t care if it was nearly three in the morning.

I pounded out the cords I hadn’t been able to find before. The song soared into the rafters and battered the windows of my room. The lyrics came out in a rush.

I dragged out blank music sheets and scrawled notes over the staff lines.

The name of the song emblazoned at the top in huge block letters: “Idiot”.

T
he next two
days were torture. Keys came out long enough to grab food, but only when I was in my office. She disappeared back upstairs and played the loudest, most head-pounding songs she could.

Every time I thought she was finally done, that her fingers had to be bleeding from pounding on that fucking piano, she kept on going.

And every night, I heard that same song.

The song she’d played after I’d forced myself to push her away.

The lyrics got bawdier with every day that passed until I was ready to take a sledgehammer her damn piano.

Her feelings on the subject were loud and clear.

I was an idiot.

I knew I’d made the right decision. Didn’t stop the blue balls I’d had that whole night. Her maniacal music-playing had killed some of the lust I’d been harboring for the last two weeks. Unfortunately, I was pretty sure it would return as soon as I got the regular Faith back.

She could hold her mad like a champ though.

Jesus.

Tuesday morning, she came downstairs before noon and knocked on the door to the office.

“Come in.”

She opened the door, her fingers gripping the doorknob so hard that her knuckles were white. “We need to go pick up Devon.”

I frowned. “And you’re just telling me now?”

“She was supposed to have a ride, but there’s a rally in the city.”

“She’ll have to find another way.”

She put her hands on her hips. “No. She can’t get a cab in this craziness. You’re just going to have to use your super ninja driving skills and get me to LAX.”

I had no time for recon to even figure out what the rally was.

“I figured we could grab dinner while we were out.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Look. I get it, bodyguard duty is paramount, but once we’re on tour, you’re going to have to ease up. You’re just going to have to use your skills and your brain because there’s no way you can keep me in a box once we’re on the road.” She started pulling the door shut. “Her flight comes in at seven. Practice. It’s good for you.”

“Faith—” She shut the damn door in my face. I tipped my head back. “Fuck,” I growled and pulled up a Google page to figure out just what kind of clusterfuck I was driving into.

Two hours later we were backing down the drive and heading for the highway. At least she’d warned me about the rally. And yes, it was worse than even I’d feared.

I couldn’t wait until the freaking election was over. I was tired of political agendas when I’d lived in DC, but now it was everywhere as November approached.

LAX was an absolute nightmare, and the only info I got out of Faith was that her flight had been delayed. So that meant we were going to be waiting at the observation area longer. More time for something to happen.

“I want to meet her inside.”

“Enjoy wanting. We can pick her up near her gate.”

“I haven’t seen her in two months, Warden.”

I ground my molars together. Back to warden. My fucking favorite. “You sprung this on me with no warning, you’re lucky I didn’t hire a car service to pick her up.”

Only because I hadn’t had time. I’d tried, but it had been too tight of a time frame. Which Faith knew, which is why she didn’t tell me until last minute. It took over an hour to get to the airport.

Because it had been a rough few days—and she was right, we were going to be in the wild soon—I took it as a sign to deal with our new reality. I pulled into the short-term parking structure to wait out the delay. She was grinning into her phone as her fingers flew over the keys.

“Her flight’s in?”

“Yes. She’s making her way through customs.”

“Great,” I muttered.

A twenty-something who had been in Ireland for weeks going through customs. That was going to go fast. Sure.

At least it was a Tuesday, and not a weekend. I was saved from making small talk with Faith thanks to her complete absorption in talking to her friend via text.

“The airport is the worst for reception.” She held up her phone. “I keep getting double texts back. Stupid hiccups.”

“You probably need to update your cell towers.”

She slanted me an incredulous look. “Does that actually work?”

“Yes, it actually does.”

“Huh. I’ll be damned. I thought it was something they said to shut people up about their plan.”

Half an hour later a leggy redhead came sprinting across the parking garage looking like an ad from Eastern Mountain Sports. From her well worn hikers to the tall backpack listing to the left, she looked like she’d seen the world.

Faith went for her door and I slapped the override locks.

“What the hell? You’re not going to let me go hug my friend?”

“Are you delusional? We’re in a parking garage that isn’t safe on a good day, let alone with your current background.”

She collapsed back against her seat. “You suck.”

“I know.” I got out, ducking my head back down to give her a stern look. “Do not make me regret this.”

“Did I mention I hate you?”

“Daily.” I slammed the door. “Hi. You must be Devon.”

She tilted her head, her smudged green eyes tired but friendly. “Guilty. And you must be the warden.”

“I see she filled you in.”

“Barely. I expect a full report on the long drive home.”

“I’m sure Faith will handle that.”

Her auburn brows shot up and a huge smile split her face. She tucked her tongue behind her front teeth. “Faith. This is interesting already.”

She was a redheaded version of Faith. I should just shoot myself now and get it over with. Then I’d be dead and I couldn’t feel guilty if Noah had to find someone else to do the job.

It would almost be worth it.

“May I take your bag?”

She gave a husky laugh. “Yes, you may.” She shrugged off her pack and shoved it at me. “If I get in the car, can I hug her?”

“You can do whatever you want with her in the confines of the car.”

Her laugh got even darker and bawdier. “You probably shouldn’t say that.”

She was probably right. I popped the trunk and stowed her gear.

Devon opened the back door. “Get over here, you slut!”

I rounded the car to my side again in time to see Faith reclining the seat and climbing into the back. The two women were talking so high and fast that I was pretty sure only dogs could hear them.

Faith had her arms around Devon’s neck and they busted into more of the suggestive giggles that were usually at my expense.

“Ladies, seatbelts please.”

“Oh my God, he is the warden.” Devon sat forward between the seats. “Do you have handcuffs?”

“Dev,” Faith said on a laugh.

“What? Does he have a big stick too? Have you played with his baton? Do you drop the soap every night? I know I would.”

“Are we done with the prison metaphors?” I asked.

Devon flicked her tongue over her eye tooth, perma-grin still in place. “Not hardly.”

I met Faith’s gaze in the rearview mirror. She arched one eyebrow and gave me a smile that promised retribution. It was going to be a very long drive.

The next hour included a singalong of Journey’s
Greatest Hits
in its entirety, twenty questions that I refused to even entertain answering, and a litany of food trucks that Devon wanted to find now that she was back in the States. The only good part of the entire ride was the last part of their conversation.

We ended up stopping at a food truck outside of Silver Lake to have fish tacos. I passed on tacos of unknown origin, and found the farthest picnic table in the quad to let the girls eat in peace. They each sat on the table and wound their legs together in this weird pretzel formation as they plowed through five tacos each.

I scanned the handful of people around as dusk settled. I started to get itchy as the foot traffic increased. There were a number of bars in the area, as well as eateries, which equaled far too many variables, especially with limited visibility.

“Time to go, girls.”

“I’m so tired of being stuck in that house.” Faith collapsed against the table.

“We can stop and get wine. I miss a good Moscato. There’s only so much Guinness and Harp that a woman can drink.”

“Speak for yourself,” I muttered.

“You’re a woman?” Devon’s eyes widened and snapped to Faith. “That explains so much.”

I walked into that one.

“Up. We have plenty of wine at the house.”

Faith sat up. “Since when? Owen tried to drink me dry.”

“I called in an order.”

“Is that where we keep getting food from? I thought it was a food fairy.”

Roth Defense had a Los Angeles branch and I used one of the couriers we trusted to pick up food. The kid had a crush on Faith, probably why I didn’t allow him to see her.

And definitely why I didn’t tell her about him. She’d have him inside, making lunch and playing checkers or something.

“I got three of all the kinds I saw in your wine fridge.”

“Will you look at this guy?” Devon waggled her eyebrows. “We should keep him.”

“You keep him.”

“Only if he has handcuffs and a healthy baton.”

I held an arm out toward the car. “Okay. Time to go.”

Both girls laughed, but they didn’t give me any more trouble.

They both piled into the backseat again. The conversation calmed to more of a play-by-play of Devon’s trip and my shoulders relaxed the closer we got to the house.

I pulled into the garage and gathered up Devon’s gear from the trunk. Thankfully, Faith stayed in the backseat. Probably because they were too busy talking, but it gave me enough time to check the security.

I’d done a scan on my phone using her cameras while they’d been eating, but I liked to be the first through the door. I held the door open and they loaded out arm in arm.

Devon went right to the wine fridge, grabbed a bottle of white, and two glasses. Faith made sure to give me a wide berth.

I’d had her to myself for ten days, and having her ignore me for the last three had stung more than I thought it would. I missed my solitary time. When I’d worked for the ambassador, I had plenty of hours down in my apartment off the main house.

He hadn’t been a huge security risk. It had been more of a hands-on assignment when he went into DC for meetings and parties.

Faith was much different. She filled the room and couldn’t be ignored no matter how hard I tried. I left the girls to continue their catch up and logged into the main system in the office.

I frowned at the package I saw on the porch in the camera. That hadn’t been there before we’d left. And it was rare for the mail to come that late. Not unheard of, but rare.

“Faith,” I called out.

“Yes, Warden?” she hollered back.

“Have you been shopping?”

She peeked around the corner from the great room into the dining room. “No, why?”

“You have a package.”

She shrugged. “I get them all the time.”

I frowned. “You haven’t since I’ve been here.”

“No, which is kinda rare actually. I usually get a box once a month. What’s today?”

“Thirtieth, duh?” Devon elbowed her. “Actually that’s about the time you get them. End of the month.”

“And you didn’t see fit to inform me that you get a package every month?” Frustration sharpened my voice.

“I’m a little famous, Quinn. I get packages.”

“Why do they know where you live?”

“People figure it out. Google Earth has pretty much killed any and all privacy when it comes to the paparazzi figuring out where I live. That and paying off the DMV.”

“Remember that guy who came right up to the door of our old apartment?” Devon asked.

“Right? He was harmless, but man was he bold.”

The bands between my shoulder blades were tight again. This is why I didn’t like to deal with famous people.
Damn you, Noah.
“I don’t want to know.”

Faith shrugged. “I’ve been getting a box from this fan for…wow. Probably five years now. I wonder what he got me this time.”

“You know it’s a man?”

She tipped her head and chewed the inside of her cheek. “No. I just assumed. Some of them are a little off-color.”

“Oh, and your sense of humor is white as the snow?” Devon said with a snort.

“That’s true.”

“And you had these boxes checked out?” I asked.

Faith sighed. “Before this all happened my life was very boring. Actually, these packages have been some of the most entertaining of my rock star life.”

I frowned. “Stay there.” I went to the front door and looked around. The box was small and unadorned, save for her address on a sticker and the postage marker from New York City.

Part of me wanted to have it x-rayed. The other, more insidious part of me wondered if the person who had been focused on Faith had been around a lot longer than any of us thought.

I unclipped my utility knife off my belt and flicked out the blade. I shook the box, then sliced open the packing tape. A small leather-bound novel was inside and a single sheet of paper.

“
Y
ou don't find love
, it finds you. It's got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what's written in the stars.”

“
Y
ou’re killing me
, Quinn.”

I spun on my heels and stood. “Get back inside.”

She tipped her head back and stomped down the hall. Christ, that woman was going to be the death of me. I folded the box to check the post office mark. It wouldn’t lead anywhere. The person who sent it probably dropped the box in one of a thousand boxes around the city.

I took the sheet of paper and novel inside, reengaging the security system.

I met the girls in the dining room. “It’s time for you to tell me a bit about this guy.” I read the spine. “Anais Nin?”

“Really?” Faith snatched the book, then opened to the title page. “Wow. First library edition.” She smoothed her palm over the leather. “Frances outdid himself this time.”

“Frances? I thought you didn’t know who it was.”

She shrugged. “We call him Frances the Fan. Gets a little weird to call him ‘unknown’.”

“The weird part is that you don’t know who it is.”