JAKE
It turns out there’s no time to get to the bottom of any situation. Clearly these guys lied when they told Quinn she had three days to pull the money together. It’s hardly a surprise for two reasons: The first is that we’re dealing with criminals; relying on their word is the equivalent of making a fist and using it to punch your own face. The second reason I know they lied is because after our band finishes playing at the festival, we return to the hotel and see the evidence: a trashed hotel room shared by Mac and Quinn.
It looks nothing like it did when we left for the venue earlier in the afternoon. Bullet holes litter the wall. Smashed glassware and furniture cover the plush carpet. Picture frames hang crooked. Empty bottles of alcohol lie tipped over across the bar. And the worst of it, Mac’s gun, Polly, is calmly resting on the dining table.
Mac is seated in one of the remaining chairs, hair a little wild, calmly chugging a shot like it’s just another day in paradise. I scan her for injuries. When I find none, I survey the damage a second time. “What the fuck?”
She lets out a breath. “You know the guys who want that money from Quinn?”
I step inside the room, my shoes crunching over broken glass. “Uh huh.”
“Well they sent a guy to collect it a little early.”
“I see that,” I growl, even though I don’t see at all because my eyes are blinded by anger. “And you thought a gun fight and hand-to-hand combat would be the best way to inform this guy that Quinn doesn’t have the money?”
Mac’s lips purse in a pissy expression. It doesn’t make sense. If anyone has the right to be pissy, it’s me. “I took care of the situation.”
“Would you care to explain how you took care of the situation?”
“Well …” She draws in a breath. I’m expecting the explanation of a lifetime and know I need to brace accordingly, so I walk over to the table, pick up the vodka bottle, pour a shot, and down it fast. “It started when we got to our room and found three drunk guys partying by the corner bar.”
“Three drunk guys were …” I need another shot. I pour it. “How the hell did they get in your hotel room?”
“Jared is downstairs dealing with that particular issue right now.”
“Okay.” Good. I down the second shot. “And?”
“They were trying to meet the band. Mostly Evie. So we yelled at them to get out, but they wouldn’t go. Quinn threw a chair because in the self-defence training Travis gave us last month, he said to use whatever weapon we happened to have handy. They reciprocated and started throwing bottles of rum.”
“Just …” I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Where was Sean? Didn’t he check your room before letting you go in?”
Sean is the newly hired security with Jamieson and Valentine Consulting. He comes with high credentials, having been a bouncer at the Florence Bar for three years. It’s one of the best and most high profile venues in the city of Sydney.
“No, he didn’t check our room.”
My eyes flatten. “He’s fired.”
“Would you …” Mac sighs, clearly exasperated. “That’s not your call.”
“It seems you’ve forgotten, but I’m a part of this band too, Princess. That means I get a say in who handles our security, and I’m saying that Sean is no longer welcome.”
“Fine.” She pours another shot and lifts it to her lips. I snatch it from her hand and swallow it down. The burn of alcohol spreads swiftly through my chest and leaves my legs weak. I pull out the last remaining chair beside Mac and sit. “What happened after that?”
“One of them managed to tackle Quinn to the floor when the sound of a gunshot ricocheted through the room. That’s when we knew shit just got real.” Right, I think to myself irritably. Because drunk guys trashing your room and tackling you to the ground isn’t real enough. “There was this guy in the doorway wearing a hoodie and baseball cap with sunglasses covering his eyes. He had a gun and was demanding that Quinn leave with him. Well, I wasn’t having any of that, and I told him so. He pointed the gun at me, threatening to shoot me if Quinn didn’t go with him right that very second.”
“He pointed a gun at you?” Rage blinds me. I want to find this guy and throw his bloodied body into a cage of lions.
There’s no mistaking my fury and Mac nods, indignant. “He did.” She pours another vodka shot, and I notice the bottle shakes in her hand. My rage recedes. I take the bottle and set it on the table. Then I take both her hands in mine. They’re ice cold. “Are you okay?”
“No! I’m angry! All I could remember was Jimmy shooting Evie and seeing her bleed out on the floor. There was no way in hell I was letting something like that happen again. Not on my watch.”
MAC
“So I grabbed my gun and threatened to shoot him if he took one more step toward Quinn.”
“You what?”
Jake’s high tone makes me wince, and his hands squeeze mine so hard they turn purple. It’s exactly like I told him before. I took care of the situation. “Was I supposed to dither about a bit before calling in the people with penises to handle the crazy gunman?”
“Jesus, Mac, will you let it go?” He drops my hands, eyeing me with aggravation. “It’s not because I thought you couldn’t take care of yourself. I’m freaked out because it’s you, and I happen to care about you a lot.”
It’s possible I believe him. Slightly. “Well, anyway, Sean must have heard the noise, and he came in from behind and tackled the guy to the floor. There was a scuffle and he ran.”
Jake rubs at the stubble on his chin. He looks weary, but it’s better than looking on the verge of a heart attack like he did earlier. I nudge the full shot glass along the table, pushing it in his line of sight. He takes it and tosses it back.
“There is good news.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Travis knows now,” I tell him. “So you don’t need to worry about going behind my back to tell him.”
“I wouldn’t have done that. Believe me, Mac. I’ve learned my lesson. But I’ll be honest and say I would’ve done everything to convince you to tell them. I know things are tense between all of you right now, but Quinn is in a dangerous situation, and evidenced by tonight, it’s put everyone close to her in danger as well. Keeping your brothers out of the loop just leaves them unprepared and vulnerable too.”
“I agree.”
“Good,” Jake says, sitting back in the chair. He’s wearing a sleeveless tee shirt, biceps bared and arm veins popping from a demanding night of pounding the drums. His muscles ripple with the simple movement, and my adrenaline must still be surging in the aftermath because my body heats.
Jake stands and swipes the bottle of vodka from the table. Then he takes my hand and pulls me from my seat in one easy jerk. Standing an inch apart, he lets go to grasp my chin, his eyes searching mine. “You need me to take care of you?”
And just like that, he reads me like a book.
Just a simple nod is all it takes before I’m being led toward the bedroom.
Jake seats me on the edge of the mattress and pushes my thighs apart. He sinks to his knees between them and my breath quickens. He takes the hem of my Jamieson band tee shirt and tugs the soft cotton upward. I raise my arms and his calloused hands skim up along my rib cage, leaving goose bumps in their wake.
A light chuckle escapes me. He knows I’m ticklish there. I see his answering grin before it’s hidden when the shirt comes over my head.
Jake tosses it behind him and his hands return to my hips. He leans in and presses a kiss to my bare belly, and I shiver. His fingers trace lazy, maddening circles along my skin. The touch is featherlike and reverent, as if I’m going to break. It turns what I thought would be something rough and fast into something delicious and sweet.
“Jake,” I say on a long moan when he unclasps my bra and takes a nipple inside his mouth. He sucks sharply and the deep pinch leaves an answering throb between my legs. My hips shift forward involuntarily and my fingers grasp his rounded shoulders tightly.
Jake sinks down, seated on his knees, as he reaches for the button on my jeans. He expels a short puff of air when it releases and the zipper slides slowly down. I lift my hips as he tugs them out from underneath me and down my legs, dragging my panties along with them. The action has drawn my legs back together. His large palms slide along my upper thighs until he’s nudging them apart again, leaving me bare to his gaze.
“Roll over,” he says in a low, gruff voice, surprising me, but I do it.
My boobs and belly are pushed into the mattress with my legs off the bed. He spreads them a little wider then his fingers find me. They slide through wet, slippery heat before rubbing over my clit and back. He repeats the action, over and over, until my ass rises instinctively in the air.
“Oh god,” I gasp when his mouth latches on to my clit and a thick finger slides inside me. In and out, in and out. And then another finger.
Jake groans when I push back against his face, my entire body pulsing with the need to come—and come hard.
Then his fingers pull out. It leaves me achingly empty, but they don’t disappear. Instead, he glides a slick finger upward until he reaches the tight ring of my ass. He brushes over it gently, once, twice, and oh my god.
“Jake!” His name bursts from my lips when the illicit touch disappears.
“You like it?”
“More,” I beg, reduced to one-syllable words. “Please.”
“Give me one second,” he says, his voice gravelly.
I turn my head. Jake is bent over, searching through the toiletry bag in my suitcase, his jeans pulling tight against his rounded, muscular backside. When he finds what it is he’s searching for, he straightens and rips off his jeans.
My head sinks into the bed, and I’m gasping when he returns with his finger slicker and more insistent. Jake’s mouth finds my clit again, and he sucks hard as that thick digit slides over my ass, pressing more firmly each time, until it eventually breeches inside. The invasion feels wicked and delicious.
“Is that good?” he asks, drawing back.
“Just …”
It’s the only word I can manage. Just keep going, I beg silently, lifting up on my knees and pushing my ass back toward him.
Jake hears my silent plea and that thick finger returns, rubbing firm along my ass until it pops back inside.
It’s sensory overload. My eyes screw shut, white spots dot my eyelids, and I cry out—almost a scream—as I come so hard I fear I’ll break apart.
I barely catch a breath when my hips are seized in a vicelike grip and lifted. His cock slides inside me. “Mac,” he breathes, his voice tight like he’s barely holding on.
He draws out and my ass cheeks slam against his hips when he pulls me toward him at the same time he rams his cock in me. The force and the intensity steal my breath.
Jake doesn’t stop. His body heaves and his breath punches the air with every thrust. I’m gasping when he comes, my name on his lips and his cock pushing so hard inside me I collapse against the bed. He lands on top of me with a groan, his chest hot and slick with sweat.
Three weeks pass after the Melbourne incident and nothing has been resolved with Quinn’s situation. Travis keeps muttering things like, “It’s in the hands of the proper authorities,” and “Stay out of it, sweetheart.” The exclusion has my frustration levels at an all-time high. At least they arrange round-the-clock protection for Quinn, so wherever she goes she has either Casey or Travis attached to her side like Velcro.
Regardless, life has to go on and Evie’s birthday arrives. My miraculous assistant has managed to pull off an amazing birthday party. We’re at the Florence Bar with the private function room decorated in the theme of vintage glamour. Both Travis and Casey haven’t left Quinn for even a second, so we choose to forget the dark cloud hanging over us for the night. Drinks flow freely, laughter rings out, and my brother Jared takes to the stage, stealing the microphone to give Evie a birthday speech.
It turns out to be more than a speech. It’s a marriage proposal. He’s holding Evie’s hand, his eyes radiating love and hope. My vision blurs. I hate that I’m happy for him. I want to hold on to my anger but they make it so hard.
“… and it was then that I knew …”
I tune out Jared’s words as my eyes seek Jake across the room. He’s standing near the curved stage opposite me, his body encased in a tuxedo. You can see the hint of a tattoo peeking above the collar of his stiff, white shirt. I know the ink intimately. It reads Jamieson in beautiful cursive and underneath in small print says, “Family is more than blood.” It encapsulates everything we stand for. Whether right or wrong, we stand for each other.
My gaze lifts from the tattoo to his face. Jake is watching me so intensely my lungs constrict. My fingers tighten around the champagne glass in my left hand when he nods toward the exit. I don’t even need a moment to think about it. I hold up my right hand, mouthing, “Five minutes.”
His lips curve, a mixture of male satisfaction and heated anticipation.
“Be still my beating heart,” my mother mutters from beside me as I down the last mouthful of my champagne. I give her a quick glance. Her eyes have shifted from Jared and Evie. They’re now focused on Jake and the way he’s looking at me, as if I’m ice cream on a blistery hot day.
If I was the type to melt in a dreamy puddle, I’d be covering the entire dance floor. Instead, I clear my throat and offer an “excuse me” to my mother before heading for the coatroom. The champagne has made me lightheaded.
Jake stands waiting for me just outside the exit. He’s holding a white glossy box in his hand. After a quick glance behind me, we begin the walk to the parking lot. I nod at the package. “What’s that?”
He lifts the lid. It’s an enormous slice of birthday cake. The soft, fluffy sponge is layered with thick white cream. Rivers of salted caramel ooze from the sides. “That is dessert.”
I arch a brow as Jake unlocks his car—a piece of junk dodge-something-or-other that he’s slowly restoring with Casey. “I thought I was dessert.”
He opens the passenger door. His eyes travel over me as I slide inside. My hair had been set in rollers and then pinned to create glossy 1920’s waves. My body is encased in a strapless, floor-length gold gown that glitters with every step I take, and my bared shoulders sparkle with shimmery, gold dust. I’m basically a walking Oscar award.
He shuts the car door behind me and climbs in the driver’s side, placing the cake box on my lap. “Princess, you are dessert. Ever since I saw that cake, all I’ve wanted to do is lick cream and caramel from those golden tits of yours.”
Heat floods my body and a powerful sense of urgency hits like a tsunami. “Plant your foot, Romero,” I bark. “Otherwise, I’m going to start without you.”
Jake floors it. We squeal out of the parking lot as if the hounds of Hell are chasing us, the back end of the car fishtailing wildly.
His mouth fuses to mine the second we step inside the empty duplex. The cake box I’m holding crumples between us. Jake puts his hands on my hips and walks backward, pulling me toward the kitchen as he kisses me.
It’s not until I’m lifted and set on the counter that he breaks his lips from mine. I glance down and find the cake has oozed from the crumpled box and now decorates my dress. I squawk a loud curse that has Jake laughing.
“Fuck you,” I mutter and lift the broken lid. I scoop out a fistful of cake, and before he gets a chance to escape, I smush it in his face.
Jake gasps, his mouth dropping open. Bits of cake and cream fall from his face and splatter the floor. I erupt with laughter. His eyes flatten with serious intent and my merriment dies clean away.
“Oh no, Princess,” Jake growls. “Fuck you.”
He grabs the edges of my strapless dress and yanks down, baring me to the waist. He loads his finger with cream and covers my nipples with it. It clings in thick, cold clumps as he tosses the ruined cake box to the side.
He’s not done. Jake grabs the hem of my dress and tugs it upward, leaving it to bunch around my hips. My lacy red panties are grabbed too. Jake wrenches them down my legs and shoves them inside the pocket of his pants.
Then he spreads my legs and steps back to stare. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “That is the sexiest goddamn thing I have ever seen.”
“Jake,” I breathe.
His steps back between my open legs. My breath catches as love wells inside me, the emotion so strong I feel it will literally break me apart.
Then Jake ducks his head and takes a nipple deep in his mouth. He sucks fiercely, forcing a painful jolt of pleasure to spike through me. My hands grasp his head as my own tips back. A deep moan leaves my throat.
“Everyone’s eyes were on you tonight.” Jake’s voice is rough as his mouth shifts to my other nipple. “But they don’t get to see this.” His hand gropes the abandoned breast, his fingers curling and digging in with a strong grip. “No one gets to see you the way I do.”
Jake speaks the truth. There’s no one who sees me the way he does. There’s no one who touches me the way he does. There’s no one who exists for me the way he does.
He’s the only person who taught me how to let go. Who allowed me to let go. He’s the only man who makes me ache with just a single glance. His is the only smile that will stay with me until the earth is nothing but dust.
Jake is the man who rages for me. And at me. The man who gives me everything that he is and demands everything in return.
And he’s mine.