Текст книги "Rock Addiction"

Автор книги: Nalini Singh

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Текущая страница: 18 (всего у книги 21 страниц)

Molly understood in a way no one who hadn’t lived with an addict could. At some point, the emotional drain snapped something inside you. “The third time I found my mother in a pool of her own vomit,” she said, confessing a secret not even Charlotte knew, “I hesitated before calling an ambulance.” It had only been a matter of seconds, but Molly would never forget who she’d almost become as a result of her mother’s addiction.

The hesitation shamed her, but Molly had long since forgiven the worn-out and scared teenage girl who’d had to act the responsible adult at far too young an age. “I just couldn’t take the cycle of remorse and promises, the one or two days of normality before the inevitable slide back into the bottle.”

“Ah, baby.” Fox stood to wrap her in his arms, his cheek pressed against her temple. “It wears you down until you start to ask, what’s the fucking point?”

Molly nodded, tears choking up her throat. “With Abe, he can’t have been drinking all this time,” she said, soothing him with slow strokes of her hand down the rigid line of his spine. “Close as we have to travel together, we’d have noticed. You’d have noticed.”

 “I hope to hell you’re right.” Exhaling a ragged breath, he tightened his hold and they just stood there, taking strength from one another in a brutal world.

Chapter 35

Discharged after a night in the hospital, Abe was back onstage the next night. Tension lingered in the air, but the band stuck together as the shows continued to go by. When—out of nowhere—David was hit with news that threatened to tear down the foundations of his world, there was no doubt in anyone’s mind that Fox, Noah, and Abe had his back.

The laughter took longer to return, but it came in time, with Abe going cold turkey on the booze. “I don’t know if I’d be able to stop,” he said one night to Fox while Molly was in the room. “So better I don’t start.”

Molly was hopeful he was telling the truth—that the descent into alcohol had been a one-off thing and not the sign of a new addiction. Determined to help in a way she hadn’t been able to help her mother, she cornered Abe before the Manhattan concert. “Want to go shopping?”

He rolled his beautiful dark brown eyes at her, ridiculously gorgeous lashes throwing shadows on his cheeks. “Don’t you have Fox for that?”

“Yes, but I want to buy something for Fox.” He’d worn the leather cuff at several concerts, a silent symbol of his pleasure, and she wanted to find other small surprises. “You’re his friend, you know what he likes.”

“Take Noah. Fashion plate likes shopping.”

“You’re the fashion plate, not Noah,” Molly pointed out. “Anyway, he’s keeping Fox distracted while I go shopping. And David,” she said, cutting off his next excuse, “is with Thea.” Her sister had flown in this morning and disappeared into David’s room; the two had gone through a tough time over the past week, needed alone time.

“What’s up with David and Thea?” Abe narrowed his eyes. “They sort out the BS over that ridiculous claim?”

“Come with me and maybe I’ll share what I know.”

He still looked surly as he hauled himself out of the armchair he’d been sprawled in. “Now I have to put on my disguise.”

Curious, Molly watched as the usually sleekly dressed male disappeared into his room and returned wearing an honest-to-God one-piece jumpsuit in black fleece with yellow smiley faces. He’d paired the monstrosity with sheepskin boots and donned a wig with knotted dreads that hung about his face. Each dread was capped off with a tiny pink barrette shaped like a butterfly.

Her jaw fell open. “No, seriously? You’re going to walk out on the street in that?”

“People run when they see me coming. It’s a repeller disguise.” Grinning, he slipped his hands into the pockets of the one-piece no one should’ve ever made for a grown man. “Where’s your disguise?”

“I don’t need one.” Thankfully, her elevator-photo notoriety had faded quickly, especially with the gossip sites and magazines focusing on the “secret” Carina-Fox relationship. Grr… “Ponytail, sunglasses, cap, and I’m set.”

 “Then I dare you to walk with me.” Abe crooked his arm.

“I’m no chicken.” Sliding her arm into his, she headed out into the noise and color and vibrancy that was Manhattan.

Abe was the band member she’d spent the least amount of time with, but he proved good company, even when a bus full of international tourists swarmed him for photos. Posing patiently, he told them he was a clown on his day off, his expression deadpan, while Molly attempted not to collapse in a fit of giggles. The photos she took were priceless.

 It was on the way back to the hotel that he said, “You trying to become my friend, Molly?” A laid-back comment with a steely undertone.

“Yes.” He was too smart for anything but honesty. “I know the band is tight, but you’re guys. You’d rather shoot yourselves in the family jewels than talk about feelings, and sometimes even big, tough guys have feelings.” As with her mother, Abe’s problems seemed to result from an attempt to drown emotional pain.

 “You got balls. No wonder Fox likes you.” Slinging an arm around her shoulders, he held her to his side. “I had a shrink at the rehab center. Didn’t talk to him. What makes you think I’ll talk to you?”

 “You don’t have to talk to me, Abe. I just wanted you to know I’m here if you ever decide to acknowledge that you do in fact experience these mysterious things called feelings.”

“You think that’ll stop me ending up in the hospital?”

“Only you can do that,” she said bluntly. “If you manage to mess up in spite of a rock-solid support network, then you’re a self-destructive idiot.”

“Don’t hold back now.” A hard-eyed comment as they snuck into the hotel through a back entrance.

“Lies don’t help anyone.”

He walked with her to the suite she shared with Fox. “I’ll try not to be an idiot,” he said at the door, no humor on his face. “Hey, Moll.”

She stopped with the door partly open. “Yes?”

“Why bother?”

“Because you’re my family now.” She’d lost one already, couldn’t bear to see this one fall apart too. Last time, she’d been young and scared and alone. This time, she was an adult who was learning her own strength—and she had Fox.

A month into the tour and three weeks after Abe’s binge, all the tension had dissipated and Molly felt at home with the entire group. The crew teased her good-naturedly now and then about being an “intern” but said they’d have her back anytime. She did still pitch in around her own work—which was gathering steam, word of her skills spreading through the recommendations of satisfied clients.

It felt as if all was right with her world as she and Fox walked to their suite after the Chicago concert. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the feel of thousands of people singing along to the music, the thundering power of it indescribable. No wonder Fox remained wired up afterward, sometimes for hours.

“I want you naked the instant after we walk through the door,” he said, his body heat kissing her skin. “On your hands and knees.”

Her face flushed. Sex was always hard and fast the first time when he got like this. Then he’d go slow, every ounce of that untamed energy focused only on her as they explored one another and their fantasies. There’d been scarves involved last time, and he was playfully threatening to buy fur-lined handcuffs. But he was generous with his own body, too, letting her kiss and caress and pet to her heart’s content—just not at the start. Wired as he was, he didn’t have the patience.

Smiling hello at the private security guard assigned to monitor this floor, the other members of the band in suites just down from theirs, Molly walked inside. Fox paused for a second to say something to the guard.

Her fingers were on the hooks of her pretty, fitted black jacket embellished with lace panels on either side when she froze, the hairs standing up on the back of her neck. Having shut the door, Fox, his body primed as it pushed into her backside, went to reach for the button on the back of her skirt when he, too, went motionless.

“That’s not your perfume,” he said, pinpointing what had set her off.

It was too sweet for her, too opulent in its sensuality. “Maybe a housekeeper made a mistake?” The band had a standing order in all the hotels they used that no one was to enter their suites without a specific request.

“She’d have had to get past the guard.” Stepping in front of her, he headed to the bedroom. “Stay here.”

Molly followed at his heels, got a scowl, but he didn’t order her back. A second later, they were at the open bedroom door.

The girl inside couldn’t have been more than nineteen, every inch of her sleek and golden, her perky breasts tipped with pale pink nipples, the flesh between her thighs bare. Molly saw all that at a glance because the girl was reclining on the king-size bed on her elbows, her legs drawn up at the knees and thighs spread.

Black stilettos and a mane of glossy caramel-colored hair arranged artfully over one shoulder completed the look. “Hi,” she breathed, after dismissing Molly with a single, contemptuous glance. “I thought you might want some company.”

Jaw a vicious line, Fox’s hand fisted. Slipping past him before he could give free rein to his temper, Molly grabbed the scrap of sequined fabric that was apparently the groupie’s dress and threw it at her. “If you don’t want to be arrested and thrown in jail for the night, put that on and haul ass.” No way was she touching the G-string panties discarded on the carpet.

The girl pursed pouty lips painted a wet pink. “Fox wants me here, don’t you, honey?” Her eyes went to the zipper of his jeans.

Molly felt Fox snap. Striding across the room, he would’ve taken the girl’s arm and dragged her out if Molly hadn’t stepped in front of him. “She’s not worth the aggravation,” she whispered, one hand on his cheek to force him to meet her gaze. “Touch her and she’ll sue or sell her story to the tabloids.”

Fox’s eyes glittered but he didn’t push past her. Reaching into his pocket, he grabbed his phone and made a call, barking a single order. “In here now!”

The security guard entered the room less than three seconds later, his face going ashen at the sight of the intruder. “I threw you off the floor.”

The groupie, apparently understanding she truly was unwanted at long last, grabbed her dress and pulled it over her head. “A real man let me in.” Her eyes slanted to Fox again as she picked up her purse. “Anytime, Fox darling. Just call me.” She brazenly threw her panties and a scrap of paper holding a phone number on the bedside table.

“Sir, do you want me to contact the police?” the security guard asked as the intruder began to saunter out.

 “Yes.”

The girl spun around. “Fox!”

“Get the fuck out.” With that, he turned his back on the guard and the groupie both, his breathing low and uneven.

Shaking her head at the guard when it appeared the other man might say something, Molly waved him and the screeching girl out. Not until she heard the front door close, locking out the sounds of the girl’s continued disbelief, did she speak. “Fox,” she said softly, “if you have her arrested, the story will—”

“I don’t care.” Reaching out, he began to tug open the hooks that held the lace-paneled jacket tight to her body. “Let them talk about it. We don’t press charges, next time some woman’s going to figure she has the right to walk into our home and our bedroom. They must think I’m a goddamn lowlife—that all a groupie has to do is flash her pussy at me and I’ll cheat.”

Molly realized he wasn’t going to listen in this mood. She grabbed his wrists. “Not in this bed.” No way was she about to lie on those sheets. “Take me bent over the sofa.”

Fox’s fingers halted in the act of undoing the final hook, the jacket having parted to expose the scarlet-and-black bustier she’d worn underneath for his eyes only, the pale globes of her breasts exposed by the half cups. “You liked it when I did that before?” he asked, the anger smoldering into passion.

Molly pressed her thighs together at the gritty sin of his voice, but she was aware he wasn’t calm yet, the smoky green holding a hard edge. “Yes.” Undoing the final hook herself, she shrugged off the jacket. “I really liked it.”

Grabbing her hand, Fox pulled her into the living room and had her bend over the low sofa, hands braced on the back. The position made her arch her back, her butt higher than her head. “Don’t move.” With that harsh order, he went to the main door and threw the dead bolt.

Fox knew he was in the grip of a vicious temper, but he also knew he would never hurt a hair on Molly’s head—and he needed to touch her. Brand her.

Stripping away her skinny black skirt but leaving her red heels on, he ripped off her panties to reveal the creamy curves of her body. The contrast of the silk bustier against her skin was so erotic he knew he’d make her ride him one day while dressed just like this. Not today. Today, he needed to be the one in charge, needed to know she’d accept him after the bullshit that had just gone down.

Hot with a combination of rage and lust, he tore off his own clothes without taking his eyes from the luscious sight of her bent over waiting for him, a flush of heat beneath the cream. At any other time, he’d have talked, have teased, further jacking up their arousal. Tonight, he gripped her hips and nudged at her with his cock.

Scalding heat, honey slickness.

Plunging in to the hilt to her gasp, he shifted one hand to her nape, holding her in position as he thrust hard and deep, his balls slapping against her with every stroke. It wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her pleasure, needed to know she was his on this most elemental level, that her trust in him hadn’t been damaged. Sliding his hand to her navel, he reached down and squeezed the succulent nub of her clit between thumb and forefinger.

“Fox!” It was a soft scream, her orgasm sweet and hot around him.

Bottoming out, he gritted his teeth as she squeezed him in possessive clenches, his own orgasm tearing down his spine. He hauled her up against him while his cock still twitched inside her. Breath jagged, he wrapped one arm around her waist, the hand of the other around her throat. “I will never fuck around on you.”

Chapter 36

Chest heaving, Molly reached back to cup the side of his face. “I know,” she whispered, her voice breathless. “Baby, I know.”

She wasn’t sure Fox was calm enough to hear her even now, so she waited until after, when she was in his arms on the sofa, her bustier discarded beside her skirt and her body flush with his. Then, rising up on her elbow, she ran her fingers gently through his hair, petting him until he was no longer so on edge.

“I know you won’t cheat,” she said, looking into his eyes to make sure she had his attention, that he’d hear every word she said. “I might’ve worried at the start, before I truly knew you, but I haven’t for a long time.” He was too blunt, too honest to go behind her back. “You’d tell me to my face if you wanted out.”

“Never going to happen.” An unyielding statement, his arm steel around her back. “You’re stuck with me.”

“I like being stuck with you.” Continuing to run her fingers through his hair, she leaned down to kiss him, sips and licks that were more about being with one another than sex. “You don’t have to worry that things like this will make me doubt you.”

“There’ll be lies,” he told her, one hand rising to curve around the side of her neck, his thumb grazing her jaw, “in the tabloids and magazines and online. I won’t always have a way to prove I didn’t do something.”

“Fox, I trust you.”‘ She turned her face to kiss his palm. Never had she thought she’d feel this kind of trust in a man, but Fox had taught her how—by being the man that he was. Temper, talent, and an unflinching loyalty. “As long as you talk to me, we’ll be okay.” Her lips curved. “Or you can sex me silly, then talk. I’m good either way.”

The sinew and muscle and strength of him seemed to fully ease at last. “I like that last option.” Shifting her so she lay on top of him, their bodies rubbing against one another, he pushed back her hair from her face, held her gaze. “Your trust means everything, Molly. I won’t let you down.”

“I know,” she said, so content and safe in his arms that she couldn’t imagine anyone or anything tearing them apart.

The world, however, had other ideas.

Molly woke with a jerk when Fox’s cell phone went off in what felt like the middle of the night. Swearing, he let go of her to turn and reach for his discarded jeans. “Sorry”—a sleepy rumble—“I’ll turn it off.”

“’S ’kay.” Already sliding back into sleep, Molly snuggled to his back… and felt the instant his muscles locked. She came immediately awake. “Who is it?”

“Thea.” Turning to wrap his arm around her, he put the call on speaker. “Go, Thea.”

“Is Molly with you?”

 “Yes, I’m here,” Molly said, knowing it couldn’t be good news if her sister was calling at what the phone told her was four in the morning. “Has something happened?”

“Yes, and it’s bad.” Her tone made ice form in Molly’s bones, her heart in her throat. “Before I tell you,” Thea continued, “I want to say I’m so sorry, Moll. I’ll do whatever it takes to bury this.”

“Just spit it out,” Fox ordered.

“Some sick fuck managed to sneak in and set up a video camera in one of your previous hotel suites.” Thea’s words were bullets in the silence. “It might’ve been motion activated, or just started and left to run until the digital card was full. From the angle on the still photos posted from the video, it looks like it was on a shelf.”

Nausea swirled in Molly’s stomach, skin flushing hot, then cold. She had a horrible feeling she knew exactly where the camera must’ve been—their last hotel suite had had an antique shelf against one wall of the bedroom, set up with old books in a way she’d found charming at the time.

“Where?” Fox demanded.

“Bedroom.”

Molly jumped from the sofa and ran for the toilet, barely making it there before her stomach revolted. Throwing up so hard it felt as if her entire digestive tract was being peeled with a grater, she was barely aware of Fox coming after her and pulling her hair back so it was no longer in her face, his voice a low, rough murmur as he stroked his hand down her back.

When there was simply nothing inside her any longer, he carried her shivering body into the shower and, setting the water temp close to boiling, held her until she’d stopped shaking. “I’m sorry,” he said, his tone raw. “I’m so sorry, Molly. I’ll kill the bastard who did this. I pr—”

Snapping out of the shock, she pressed her fingers to his lips. “No, don’t make that promise.” Because Fox had never once broken a promise to her… and in that reminder, her world tilted back on the correct axis.

She had no illusions, knew the coming days and weeks would be brutal, even knew there was a high chance she’d fall apart again, but if and when she did, Fox would be there. He was always there and he was the most important person in her world, the one for whom she’d do anything. Even walk back into her worst nightmare.

Cradling his face in her hands, she said, “I won’t allow this ugliness to destroy you, destroy us.”

He crushed her to him, the water pounding over them until steam filled the small enclosure. Warm through and through, not from the heat but from Fox’s embrace, she turned it off. Drying off and shrugging into a thick hotel robe while Fox stepped out to pull on his jeans over bare skin, she brushed her teeth to get rid of the last faint traces of her nausea.

“Come on.” She took Fox’s hand, her rock star having returned to lean in the doorway. “We need to talk to Thea and find out how bad it is, what she can do about it.”

Fox pulled her back against him, his eyes furious but his voice gentle as he said, “This person will pay. I promise you that.”

“As long as it’s legal,” Molly reminded him. “I don’t ever want to visit you behind bars.”

A grim nod. Instead of calling Thea back on the phone once they’d returned to the sofa, Molly used her tablet to connect face-to-face with her sister. Thea looked angrier than Molly had ever seen her, her cheekbones slicing against the smooth honey of her skin.

Her sister didn’t waste time asking how Molly was feeling. Instead, she gave them the cold, hard facts. “The major news organizations aren’t reprinting the still photos lifted from the videos, given that the images were taken in a place where you had an expectation of privacy. The blogs and online fan sites are also staying clear.”

Still grim, she continued, “However, one extra skeevy tabloid has printed two stills with a promise of more, with the video to be uploaded on their site in just over twenty-four hours, and the publicity’s gaining steam. Several other sites have scraped the photos for their own pages. It’s trending on all the main social media platforms, and even the places that haven’t printed the stills are carrying stories about them, so people are going looking.”

Able to feel Fox’s body vibrating with the rigid control he had over himself, Molly put her hand on his knee. “So,” she said, “there’s no way to close the gate, is there?”

“Fox’s legal team can hit every single site that reprinted the stills with a lawsuit, but that horse has bolted.” Her sister checked an incoming call on her phone, didn’t answer. “I’ve already been in touch with them about getting an injunction to block the video, but the tabloid is based in another jurisdiction and I have a feeling they’ll just move up the upload deadline the instant they get a whiff of legal action.” She thrust a hand through her hair. “Only reason they haven’t already uploaded is to maximize the publicity.”

Molly wondered if she was in shock, she was so calm, but now that the first horror had passed, she didn’t feel numb. No, she was becoming angrier with every second that elapsed—because this was hurting Fox, her protective, possessive lover, and no one got to hurt her man. “I want to see what they’ve already posted,” she said. “I need to know how bad this is.”

Thea didn’t argue, just forwarded her the articles, then waited as she and Fox opened the file. It made Molly’s nails dig into her palms to see an image of herself sitting up on her knees with Fox behind her, both of them nude. They were laughing, and he had his hands on her breasts. The tabloid hadn’t blacked out that part, probably because Fox’s fingers covered her nipples, but they’d put a rectangular block over her genital region, with the word “Explicit!” across it.

The second published still was a back view of Fox, nothing blocked out. In the background, she could be seen lying nude in the tumbled bed, her hair a wild mass around her head. In this one, they’d blacked out her breasts.

The text of the “article” was a collection of exclamation points: Think these images are tame?! Well they are!! We have access to incredibly hot and explicit pictures of Fox and his current squeeze getting down and dirty!! Check back in two hours for a fresh fix as we count down to our upload of the original sex tape!! Exclusive!!

 “Only those two so far?” she managed to ask her sister through her fury, her mind filled with memories of that night, of the things they’d done. She was ashamed of none of it, would do it again, but only with Fox. The world had no right to violate the privacy of their bedroom.

“Yes.” Thea guzzled what was probably tar-thick coffee. “It looks like the tabloid must’ve bought exclusive rights to the video and they’re getting as much mileage out of it as they can.”

“Shut the fucking company down.” Fox’s voice was so cold Molly felt her skin prickle. “I don’t care how it’s done—tell legal to throw everything we have at the bastards.”

There was a knock on the hotel room door at that instant. Getting up, Fox walked over to open it. “You heard,” he said to Noah as the other man walked in. He’d clearly been pulled out of bed and wore only low-slung jeans, his blond hair a mess and his eyes chips of ice.

“Yeah. Let’s fuck the vultures up.” Coming to sit next to Molly on the sofa, he reached up to rub his knuckles over her cheek. “You holding up okay, Moll?”

“I’m tough,” she said, and it was, she was discovering, true.

Fox wrapped his arm around her waist again when he sat back down on her other side, his rage no less violent. “We’re talking about how to take the tabloid down.”

The guitarist nodded. “I might hate my old man, but the bastard is a shark,” he said, a mix of admiration and anger in his tone. “I called him as soon as I found out about this. He says for you to file a criminal complaint as fast as possible.”

“Right.” Thea nodded. “So anyone who does anything with the video risks falling foul of the criminal justice system, not just civil law. I don’t know if it’ll work with the tabloid based outside the country, but it’s better than nothing.”

They filed the complaint. Meanwhile, Noah tapped his father’s contacts to put a crack private investigator on the trail of the piece of scum who’d decided to use Fox and Molly to land a big payday.

“Someone in the security company either did this or was in on it,” Fox gritted out. “Maybe the same ‘real man’ who let in the groupie, probably for a fucking blow job.” Calling the head of the security firm, a former Green Beret he knew personally, Fox made no effort to hide his fury.

Apparently, that fury was shared—they had a name within the hour, after a check of the corridor surveillance footage from the hotel in question showed one of the guards walking into their suite during a concert. He was spotted going back inside minutes after Fox and Molly checked out, probably to retrieve the camera.

He hadn’t been behind the groupie however; that was traced to a newly promoted guard whom his livid boss had just busted back down to mall patrol. The only people now in the band’s security team had been with the firm for years, and all had also worked more than once for Schoolboy Choir. As for the man behind the video, he’d disappeared, but Molly knew he’d be found—greed this ugly didn’t make for intelligence.

 “This is your nightmare, isn’t it?” Fox said hours later, once they were alone again, the suite having been swept for any surveillance equipment in the interim.

“Who does that?” she said, blood hot where she stood by the window. “Who thinks it’s all right to spy on people in their most private space?” She fisted her hands on the sweatpants she’d pulled on—along with a zipped hoodie—for the visit by the cops. “Who thinks that way?”

“Scum.” Fox walked over, eyes shadowed and voice taut as he said, “You gonna run?”

“No, I’m going to fight.” Running out on Fox was simply not, and wouldn’t ever be, an option. “Never again is anyone going to turn me into prey—and I refuse to allow them to hurt you. We’ll kick their butts.”

Fox’s arms locked so tight around her that she couldn’t breathe for a second. Tugging back her head after easing his hold a fraction, he claimed her mouth. His kiss was wild possessiveness, unrelenting demand… but his body, it shuddered. Running her hands down his back, she held him close.

If she ever came face-to-face with the man responsible for putting that look in Fox’s eyes, as if he was readying himself to lose her, Molly would beat the bastard bloody. “No running away,” she said when their lips parted. “Not today, not tomorrow, not any day to come.”

“My tough, beautiful Molly.” His body shuddered again, his eyes dark. “I’m so fucking glad you’re mine.”

Molly held Fox’s words bang against her heart, her fingers locked bloodlessly tight with his as they stood ready to walk out the hotel’s main door midmorning. She’d been running on anger and adrenaline since four a.m., had, until a few minutes ago, believed she had the tools to deal with the media mauling about to happen. Now, with the horde only meters away, she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach churned, her chest painful beneath the peach top that she loved, the one with the softly tied bow at the throat.

“You sure we have to do this?” she asked Fox.

A squeeze of her hand. “We take the offensive,” he said, his confidence and determination a powerful force. “We control the situation, and we damn well stand proud.”

It was the same thing Charlotte had said when Molly called her best friend.

“Don’t you dare let them shame you.” Charlie’s voice had been fierce. “Go out there and show the world that Molly Webster is a force to be reckoned with. Also, try not to smack anyone—you sound like you’d really like to.”

Molly realized the anger was still there, embers burning beneath the nerves. “Charlie told me not to smack anyone,” she said to Fox, “but I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself if a reporter gets out of line with you.” Fox had focused only on her pain, shrugging off the exposure of his own body, but Molly was fuming over the way this incident had torn open his scars. “Don’t let me do anything dumb.”

His dimple appeared, her Fox back with a vengeance. “Follow my lead,” he said, and hauled her in for a deep kiss, his free hand covering the side of her face in the hold that always made her feel cherished. “Ready?”