Savage Vandal (82 Street Vandals Book 1) Read online

  Guns weren’t always an option in venues like this. Anyone coming in the front door would go through the metal detectors. Another reason I got the union to cover me being here for the day. An itch between my shoulder blades nagged at me.

  Me: Send the new guy. What are you doing?

  Rome: Already sent. And how did you put it? None of your fucking business.

  I groaned and blew smoke straight up. Goddammit. Rome needed to get his head out of his ass.

  Me: Don’t do anything stupid.

  Rome: Fuck off.

  I thought about sending him another text, but fuck it. Rome was gonna be a jackass until he got over me telling him he couldn’t come. He was too damn hotheaded, more inclined to impulsive actions.

  And he’d have already painted that fucking stage in blood.

  We needed cooler heads for this. I’d have some time backstage. I also had a key to the new lock I’d just installed.

  The door behind me shoved open, and I pivoted easily. The faint sneer on my face froze as she pushed outside. Sweat dripped from her forehead and down her arms. She was dressed in nothing but a dark leotard that molded to her body so tightly, there was no missing the shape of her hips or her breasts.

  Or the fucking bruises visible through the near sheer material. Something kept her nipples from peeking through.

  “When you’re done checking me out, could I hit you up for one of those?” She had slipped around to hide behind the door as it swung closed as though she didn’t want anyone to see her. All that dark gorgeous hair was pulled up and away from her face, but I’d seen the lush waves earlier. The flush to her pale cheeks had added a definite warmth.

  Fuck me. Those lips though.

  Puffy. Full. And…

  Fingers snapped in my face, and I raised both brows.

  “What?” I grunted.

  “Sorry to interrupt your ogling,” Emersyn Sharpe said in a near lyrical voice, her sharp intonations far more amused than arrogant. “But do you mind if I bum one of those? I’ll turn around and let you get a good eyeful of ass if that’s your thing?”

  I stared at her. I got hit by a baseball once. It slammed into the side of my skull. This was kind of like the same thing. The offer entertained me for all of about thirty seconds before I scowled. “You’re not a slut, don’t act like one.”

  Her perfectly manicured eyebrows rose. The honey-colored eyes lost every ounce of their warmth. “Never mind.” She pivoted on those impossibly thin slipper-like shoes that had no business in this trashy alley, but I caught her arm before she could escape. Only to lose my own cigarette when I had to catch the swing of her free hand aiming for my face. “Let. Me. Go.”

  “Keep your panties on, princess.” Not that she could be wearing panties in that get up. “You didn’t get your smoke yet.”

  Tugging her back a step, I crushed the cigarette that had fallen under my boot. Then I let her go and shook out two fresh ones. The heat licking through her eyes promised she was not amused. Yeah, well, I wasn’t here to entertain her. I put both in my lips and lit them, then I removed the second and held it out to her.

  Yeah, I wanted her to have a little of me on her lips. Her nostrils flared, but she took it and pressed it to her mouth, and I tried not to think about her lips wrapping around my dick as she sucked in a deep breath. The cherry flared, and I withdrew a couple of paces to give her some air. When she exhaled with such emphatic force, I found myself studying her.

  The bruises visible through the leotard were not the only ones. She had bruises on her thighs. Up close, there was no mistaking one was a handprint. Probably the big fucker on stage.

  Well that was one hand that would be broken. I did a mental inventory, cataloguing every mark.

  “Did I do something to piss you off since you installed the lock on my door?”

  I shrugged. “No.”

  She frowned, but I wasn’t going to elaborate. I wasn’t even supposed to be having a conversation with her. I’d gone for the new lock after I got into her dressing room without even trying. Fuck that. Not in my town…

  After a beat, she skipped her gaze away, and that irritated me. There was nothing out in this alley. Just a cold breeze and damp air. The sweat on her had begun to dry, leaving only some dark patches on the leotard.

  When she finished the cigarette, she glanced around, and I lifted my chin. “Just drop it, I’ll put it out.”

  At her side-glance, I shrugged and she nodded, then flicked it to the ground at my feet. Red ash flared against the damp ground. It was half-extinguished already. I put my foot on it to crush it the rest of the way.

  The door jostled and she backed right up to the wall, and I narrowed my eyes as it shoved open and the brute from the stage stood there. I met his gaze as I sucked on the cigarette. He towered over her on that stage. Then again, so did I. But the fucker wasn’t that big up close.

  He glared at me, and I just gave him a bored look. If he took another step out of that door, he wouldn’t be walking back inside. The fact Emersyn had plastered herself to the wall like that filled me with rage.

  I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but it was going to stop.

  “You alone out here?”

  I made a point of taking a long drag and exhaling it straight into his face before I said, “Do you see anyone else?”

  He scowled, then glared at me before he turned around and stomped inside. The door slammed behind him, and I slid my gaze to Emersyn. She blew out a breath so relieved, I flicked my cigarette down and stepped on it. The fucker couldn’t have gone that far. I could start with breaking his smug fucking face and work my way through the other two hundred plus bones.

  “Thank you,” she said, then ran a hand over her hair like she had to straighten it. I didn’t miss the way her gaze slid back to the door, and I could almost see her counting off the time since the asshole left.

  “You want to tell me what the fuck that was about?”

  “Not particularly,” she murmured, then gave me the first real smile I’d seen on her face, and it slammed into me like a fucking truck. “Thank you though. For that, the lock, and the smoke…” She reached for the door, and I stood there like some moron as she vanished back inside.

  Fuck me.

  My phone buzzed, and I glanced down at the screen as I raked a hand through my hair, the crisp scent of burnt tobacco lingering in my nose along with a far sweeter scent tangled with the muskier scent of sweat. I didn’t know what she used, but I was never going to forget it.

  I had to focus. Work before pleasure.

  But I’d be seeing her again, real soon.

  That was a promise.

  Chapter 2

  Emersyn

  The knock at the door alerted me to my driver’s arrival. My shoulders slumped, and I tilted my head back as I took a deep breath, held it for four seconds, and then released it. Shaking off the discomfort and unease, I schooled my features to reveal nothing. I double-checked my reflection, particularly after waking so sore this morning. It had taken everything I had to even roll out of the bed. A hot bath and Epsom salts had helped, but I stank of liniment.

  I’d rubbed it on every inch of me. It hadn’t helped as much as I hoped. Tonight was our very last show. We’d be leaving the next day. A second knock jerked me out of the reverie. Dammit. So much for composing myself. Blowing out a breath more exasperated with myself than the driver, who insisted on picking me up at my room and dropping me off here each evening no matter how late I ran at the theatre, I strode for the door and checked before I opened it.

  It was Kestrel, my driver. Dark hair curled over his forehead, framing a pair of perfectly bright blue-green eyes. The square shape of his jaw could have given him too blocky a look, but he had a full and generous mouth and a perfectly tapered nose. The symmetry of his face was just…

  What the hell was I doing? He had just lifted his hand to knock, a frown rippling across his brow, and the lift of his arm betrayed the gun he had on in an under th
e shoulder holster.

  Fuck.

  I jerked the door open, half-worried about letting him in, but that was ridiculous. He’d been here every night for the last four nights since he’d started driving me. And not once had he been inappropriate. Just because I noticed the gun didn’t mean he didn’t have it all along.

  Hand still raised to knock, Kestrel gave me a careful once over and then shot his glance past me to the room. “You good in here, Sparrow?”

  Leaning against the door, I searched for a plausible answer beyond I was exhausted and wished I didn’t have to leave tomorrow among other things… Before the words could even begin to form, the scent of hot French fries and meat hit me like a sucker punch, and I swore I drooled.

  A grin curved his lips as he lowered his hand and raised the bag of takeout. “Hungry?”

  “I should absolutely tell you no,” I informed him as I reached for the bag, almost unable to help myself. He must have had a burger and fries in the car the night I’d finished our opening performance. Bone aching weariness and sore from head to toe, I’d almost given in to the urge to cry for the food. All I could smell was the meat and the French fries and the salt… Those people who say salt doesn’t have a real scent have never been on a low sodium diet and monitored every single calorie that passed their lips.

  It had been years since I’d been allowed to cry. As it was, only the fact I hadn’t been alone staved off the desire then and now. I swallowed as he pressed the bag into my hand. “Your secret is safe with me.” He glanced at his watch, then lifted his chin. “You have time to eat. I came early. I’ll wait out here for you.”

  Just like that, he withdrew a step, and I gripped the bag a little tighter. “That’s ridiculous, Kestrel, just come on in.”

  “You sure?” What might’ve come across as condescending from someone else seemed almost genuine from him. “I don’t mind waiting. There’s a guy down the hall that keeps shooting looks this way, and I wouldn’t mind making life unpleasant for him.”

  Okay, maybe that shouldn’t make me curious, but I leaned forward to peer around the doorframe at the man who stood in front of another door, keycard in hand but not going in. He was glaring at Kestrel like he wanted to report him.

  Yeah. The hotel was fairly expensive and catered to a certain clientele. Part of the reason I’d booked here, even if most of the company was staying at a different hotel.

  That, and Eric didn’t have any access to my room here.

  Win-win in my book.

  “Yeah, you should definitely come in.” I made the mistake of clasping his arm, and at his sharp look, I released him, even as I backed up. “Or not… I just don’t want you to have to deal with hotel security that guy is likely to send up here.”

  When in doubt, fall back on manners, grace, and privilege. My mother drilled that into me from the day I could learn to talk. It didn’t matter what I thought or wanted, they expected me to demonstrate a certain level of confidence and behavior, particularly in public. That included not making scenes or causing a disturbance of any kind. It also meant taking control of any situation.

  And fuck it, I didn’t want to think about either of my parents right now.

  Kestrel eyed me from the doorframe, the warmth leaching from his eyes to be replaced by something far colder and infinitely more dangerous. With one glance to his left, he got rid of the man eyeing him. I didn’t even need the sound of the door closing echoing down the hallway to know the man had fled that look.

  I should probably want to flee that look. But I preferred it.

  While Kestrel had been unfailingly polite to me, he hadn’t hidden the darker side of him, and I preferred to see it on display. It reminded me that everyone was dangerous and I knew better than to trust them. But I’d invited him into my suite, and I intended to go with it.

  If he was going to attack me, he’d have done it by now. Most of the predators I’d contended with didn’t give me days to get used to them.

  My stomach rolled at the thought, and I turned away, the paper bag filled with sinful delight clutched in my hands. The suite wasn’t much more than a little sitting room with a sofa that turned out into a bed and a separate bedroom with an oversized queen bed in it. Both rooms had huge televisions, and there was a little kitchen type area that I barely used except to make tea when I got back here at night.

  By the time I sat back on the sofa, Kestrel had actually come inside and he closed the door, then threw the security bar over the top and checked the bolt. I caught him prowling the room, checking the bathroom then the bedroom, like he expected someone to jump out at him.

  “I’m by myself,” I reminded him, not that it was any of his business if I hadn’t been. But ugh, no thank you. The only one likely to have tried to be in here was Eric, and I’d worked hard to make sure he had no idea what hotel I was at.

  Between the new lock on my dressing room door, the tech running interference for me at the theatre, and Kestrel making sure he didn’t let anyone hitch a ride in my car, I’d had probably the best four days on this whole damn tour. Cross-legged, I bit into the burger and closed my eyes at the meat explosion in my mouth.

  I was pretty sure I moaned.

  Also pretty damn sure I wasn’t remotely going to be embarrassed about it. He had no idea how long it had been since the last time someone smuggled me real food. The only concession I made was to chew it really slowly. I made sure to make every single bite count. I would fill up fast, but I could save at least half or more for after the show and just gorge on fries now.

  They were less than tasty after they got cold.

  On my third fry, I glanced over to find Kestrel leaning against the door to the suite, arms folded, staring at me with a frown.

  “You could sit down,” I offered around a mouthful of fries. Well, that was attractive.

  “I’m good right here,” he told me. The friendliness from earlier seemed to have disappeared behind a chilly façade. Yeah. Typical.

  I stuffed my disappointment down with another French fry, then wrapped up the remains of the food. I hadn’t eaten near enough, but I didn’t want to throw up before I performed. I’d rather hold onto the burger for a little while longer.

  Rising, I carried the food to the little kitchen and hid it away in the microwave. Housekeeping usually came after I went to the theatre, so hopefully, they wouldn’t throw it away. My phone buzzed as I padded toward the bedroom.

  A picture of my parents flashed on the screen.

  Yeah. Pass.

  I never wanted to talk to them when I had a show to put on.

  I stripped out of the comfier pajama shorts and tank top I’d been wearing and pulled on the clothes I could wear like armor. Hair gathered into a messy bun and boots on, I snagged my dance bag and headed back out.

  Kestrel was right where I left him.

  “You should take the food with you.”

  “I should have left you to stand in the hall too,” I reminded him. I didn’t need him or anyone else ordering me around. I had my fill of keepers and taskmasters.

  “You want your phone?”

  I glanced back at it and then shrugged. “Not tonight. I won’t have time to talk to anyone, anyway. It’s our last performance, which means I’ll have to stay after for an appearance at the afterparty.”

  He nodded, then said nothing as he walked me to the elevator. We were silent all the way to the parking garage. Kestrel towered over me, which was nice. It was nicer when he wasn’t so ice cold and distant. I knew better than to take anyone at face value. Fuck, I’d gotten pathetic on this trip. Looking for friendship or interest in someone whose only job was to see me from point A to point B?

  The screech of tires on pavement made me wince, and I turned just in time to catch the flash of headlights before a body plowed into mine and I hit the concrete. Every drop of air whooshed out of me, my layers of bruises let loose with a shriek of their own, and my stomach rebelled.

  Dammit.

  I nearly threw u
p the burger, but I managed to keep it down.

  Barely.

  “What…the…fuck?”

  Kestrel was already hauling me up to my feet, and I glanced from him to the empty parking garage around us and then back to him. “That asshole was probably drunk,” he snarled, and I swallowed back any response as he turned that icy gaze on me.

  He ran his hands over me while I stood there, jaw clamped shut, staring at him.

  “You okay?”

  No. No I wasn’t. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  But I limped with my first step, and I scowled. Another limp.

  “Fuck,” Kestrel swore.

  “I’ll be fine,” I told him. “Just a little bruise.”

  The next step, I didn’t limp. Not for anything in the world.

  I had danced on broken toes and flown in the silk with cracked ribs.

  The show always went on.

  My body could handle it.

  Kestrel glared at me for a long moment as he held the door open, and I slid inside but leaned my head back and kept my expression calm. Finally, he slammed the door and moved around to the driver’s seat.

  The silence in the car weighed on me, but I concentrated on doing my own physical assessment of the aches and pains. Tonight would cost me on that stage, but I had never missed a performance in my life and I wouldn’t start now.

  It could have been worse. If Kestrel hadn’t acted so swiftly, I might be riding in an ambulance now. When we reached the theatre, he glanced back at me. “Stay there.”

  Then he was out and stalking around to open the door for me. I met his gaze as I slid out. “Thank you. I should have said it in the garage…”

  “Thank me by watching your back, Sparrow,” he told me in a gruff voice. Then he lifted his chin toward the doors. “I’ll wait here until you’re inside. Don’t leave with anyone else. Don’t even step outside until you see me. I’ll be here after the show.”

  I hesitated. This was a terrible idea. But he had saved me, right? And I liked his smile earlier. “Do you want to come to the show?”