Undercover Rockstar: A Bad Girls novel Page 3

  “No ma’am. I mean yes, I understand the importance of this case, but no, I don’t want to see you and your family resorting to my couch.” Quite frankly, I’d be scared for my life.

  As I’m considering how to broach the subject of these questionable “leads” she keeps mentioning without providing actual evidence, her phone rings. She brings it to her ear, barking, Kendall,” as if her name’s a curse word.

  Monica arrives with my coffee—heavy on cream and sugar the way I like—and gives me this questionable look. I respond with a forced smile before she leaves.

  “Jesus Christ,” Sergeant mumbles, expression swimming with agitation. “I’ll be there in twenty.” She stabs a finger against her phone’s screen before letting it clatter on the table. “Dispatch just received a call about a man strung up behind a restaurant downtown, wrists tied with rope to the fire escapes in the alley. He had some kind of sign pinned to his chest. The caller was so freaked out that they didn’t stop to read it, but I’d bet my left tit it’s a message from our friends. The victim’s shook up, but appears to be unharmed.” Her lips curl with a snarl. “I want you to tail the shit out of this band until we find another way to get in. The captain’s convinced they killed Dean Matthews, and I won’t stop until those pricks are behind bars. Do whatever it takes to make this happen.”

  I gnaw on my bottom lip for a moment, debating my response. Despite getting intense vibes from the band, I didn’t get a sense that any of them may be capable of murder. Certainly nothing as diabolical as sticking a dead man with dozens of dirty needles, anyway. And there weren’t any hard facts in the file that tied them to the murder. Nothing beyond a hunch and a poorly timed song.

  “Sergeant, I just left them. I doubt they had enough time—”

  She leans forward, nostrils flaring as she stabs the table with her pointer finger. “This isn’t a debate. Screw this up, and I swear to God you’ll be demoted to desk duty for the rest of your goddamned career. We clear?”

  Once she slides out and leaves the diner, I drop my forehead on the table.

  Risotto could singly-handedly ruin my life.

  3

  Trent

  Fucking hot little drummer. With visions of Taya flashing through my mind, I toss and turn for hours. She was all woman—impressive tits, gloriously tight ass, pouty lips a guy could sink his teeth into, sexy braids in need of a good tug. There was a spark behind those oversized cappuccino-colored eyes, suggesting she’s tough as nails on the inside.

  But the way she looked at me when she claimed to be into women? I’ve seen it a hundred times. If I had demanded it, she would’ve dropped down and sucked me off right there in front of everyone. Lesbian, my ass.

  I finally give up the fight and beat one off to the memory of her sexy voice, the way she concentrated while destroying the drums, rosy little lips parting when I grabbed her arm. She smelled like some kind of vanilla, and her skin was silky smooth under my calloused fingertips. As I envision touching every last one of her soft curves, I release a white hot rope across my stomach, grunting at myself for being an idiot.

  Last thing I need is a hot chick fucking with my head. If I never see her again, it’ll be too fucking soon.

  When sleep no longer seems an option, I’m up before the sun. I walk in on Vaughn hunched over a bowl of cereal at the kitchen table, scrolling through his cell phone. For a split second, I’m able to see the young punk who moved in next-door well over a decade ago. Years before I started screwing up my life. A lifetime before I ever considered signing up for the Corp. Vaughn came from a mostly absent family that was a lot like mine in so many ways, except that he had a grandma around to make his meals and give a shit whether he lived or died.

  He claimed that teaching himself on bass was the only thing that kept him from getting into trouble and doing drugs like the other kids in our neighborhood. We learned our way around the strings together, only it didn't have the same effect on taming my delinquent side, and I started hanging with the wrong crowd.

  Years after high school, he looked into opening a tattoo place around the same time I joined the military. We both knew we had to take desperate measures or the South Side would swallow us up, and we’d spend the rest of our lives bouncing in and out of prison.

  Didn’t have to ask him if he wanted to start a band when the idea first came to mind. Fucker just showed up with his bass in hand after Cali’s funeral, and kept coming by to jam every day since. It was his way of helping me battle my darkest days without getting all mopey and shit.

  “Morning, sunshine,” he snickers. He quirks a pierced eyebrow, grassy-green eyes sparked with hope. “Please tell me you slept on your bad decision and changed your mind. Taya could’ve been the best drummer we’ll ever come across in this lifetime. That jackass from the last audition didn’t know a single Nirvana tune.”

  I jerk the fridge door open. “Discussion was over yesterday.”

  The guys have been on my ass about Taya ever since I sent her away. What the hell’s it gonna take for them to drop it? There’s no question we need a new drummer, but it’s not like we’re on our way to signing with a record label. The band was meant to be a distraction so I wouldn’t go over the edge after Cali died. I’m not in a big enough hurry to make the mistake of bringing that blonde vixen into my world.

  The barbell on Vaughn’s tongue makes a dull clank against his teeth. “Be reasonable, man. Just this once.”

  “You jackasses won’t play worth a shit if you’re worried about getting your dicks wet.”

  “She said she’s a lesbian.”

  Huffing, I glance at him over my shoulder. “And you fuckin’ believed it?”

  “It'd only make her hotter.” His eyebrows raise. “Maybe we could talk her into letting us watch her and her girlfriend get it on.”

  Grunting, I rub a hand over my tired face. Why does the idea of Vaughn wanting to watch Taya have sex with anyone turn my insides to a river of lava? Even though Vaughn’s more like the brother I never had, it still wouldn’t stop me from bashing his head into the damn table. Wouldn’t be the first time shit went down between us, either.

  I need to get this woman out of my head. For good.

  “Why you up so early?” I ask before taking a pull from the orange juice jug.

  “Busy day,” he says, shoveling the last bite of his cereal into his mouth. He stands with the bowl in hand and chucks it into the sink. “I have to work on inventory and shit before my appointments start rolling in. I’m nearly booked solid through nine tonight.”

  “What happened to tailing Bentley this afternoon?”

  “You said we’re doing that tomorrow.”

  Fucking hell. Did I really take the wrong day off? I’ve been so damn stressed over this Bentley mess that I haven’t been thinking straight. I need a day away from everything. Better yet, I need to get laid.

  Declan strolls into the kitchen, eyes passing between me and Vaughn. “Doing what tomorrow?”

  “Following Bentley around to catch him doing something unsavory,” Vaughn answers. He reaches around me to snag an energy drink from the top shelf. “I’m guessing he’s shitting himself after his number two man was found dangling over the dumpsters last night. It was all over the six o’clock news this morning. They’re saying if he’d been dead when the cops got to him, it would’ve been a scene right out of Silence of the Lambs.” He pauses to suck air through his teeth with his tongue hitting the roof of his mouth repeatedly, making a weird as shit noise. I belatedly realize he’s mocking Anthony Hopkins’s character in the movie.

  “Fuckin’ clown.” I shake my head, fighting the urge to crack a smile. We’re dipping our toes in some serious business, and they need to remember what’s on the line. “The whole point was to get Bentley’s attention, not start a media circus. We can’t afford to draw more suspicion our way. The cops are already trying to pin us with murdering that POS Matthews.”

  Declan lifts one shoulder. “So we got a little creative th
is time. No one saw us. We used gloves, did everything just like you said.”

  On his way to the front door, Vaughn pauses to throw me a pointed look. “If you wanna finish that piece on your bicep for Cali, I have an opening at one.” Then he’s gone, leaving me alone with Declan.

  As I pour myself a bowl of cereal, I sense Declan watching my every move. Him and me didn’t always have a solid relationship. Shared a cell with him when I was eighteen, doing time for an aggravated assault, and somehow got off on the wrong foot. He didn’t trust anyone other than himself—wasn’t until later I learned it was with good reason. He grew up in the system, was abused a few times by foster parents.

  After I shut down a sex-offender who was giving Declan a hard time, he realized not everyone’s out to hurt him. Think I may have become his first real friend.

  “Don’t say it,” I warn, knowing he’s ready to beat this drummer discussion to death. Struck with the irony of my thoughts, I growl quietly to myself. “Already told you assholes it’s not happening.”

  He shakes his head repeatedly. “I know you get overly protective toward women because of what happened to your sister, but that chick was the best of the best, and you know it. You should reconsider. She seems like the real deal.”

  I only answer with a low grunt. Wanting to keep her away has nothing to do with Cali. Without a doubt, Taya’s big trouble. The way my cock swelled when I touched her was too raw, too fuckin’ desperate. Don’t remember responding to any other woman that way. Still don’t need that kind of temptation let into my life.

  * * *

  Vaughn’s shop is swarming with clients over the tail end of the noon hour. After checking in with the redheaded receptionist—whose name I can’t remember even though we fucked once—I sink into one of the leather chairs to wait for Vaughn. Across from me, a couple of hipster chicks in flannel shirts with extra-short shorts page through a design book, stopping every now and then to glance my way. When I catch them in the act, they whisper to each other before the cuter one with long straight hair starts for me.

  I release a quiet, amused chuckle. This should be good. I tend to turn a lot of heads, but usually scare the hell out of her type.

  “Aren’t you that guy in Blood Hands?” she asks with a shy smile.

  I narrow my eyes back at her. She’s too polished to know who the fuck we are. “You listen to metal?”

  “Hell yeah. I love that shit.” Bottom lip pulled into her mouth, she sucks on it a second before letting it go with a quiet pop. It’s sexy as hell, reminding me of the way Taya reacted when I grabbed her by the arm. “Will you autograph my tits? That way when you’re famous, I can brag about having a rockstar’s autograph inked somewhere intimate.”

  She can’t be serious. Gaze flickering downward, I decide she at least has a nice pair. I consider humoring her until the door sensor dings with a new visitor, and she walks in.

  The fucking drummer.

  Twinned pools of chocolate meet mine, more curious than surprised to see me. What the actual hell is she doing here? It’s like my thoughts somehow produced her out of thin air. When I scowl, she looks away and makes a bee-line for the receptionist’s desk. I dart to my feet, almost knocking the hipster brunette to the floor.

  “Hey!” the girl cries after me. “What about that autograph?”

  Before Taya reaches the receptionist, I step in her way. Irises so dark they blend in with her pupils pop wide as she pulls in a tight little breath, making her chest rise and a big blonde curl spill over one shoulder.

  My fingertips burn, itching to pluck her nipples from the lacy bra peeking from beneath her shirt. She’s even sexier today, and it’s not just because her hair’s down. Fitted little white top cropped above a smooth, narrow waist, itty bitty shorts—she’s beyond fuckable. My eyes catch on a floral tattoo that starts underneath her pierced bellybutton and disappears inside her shorts. I also notice a little script tattoo on her collarbone. What other parts of her are inked? My cock swells with the possibilities.

  “Why are you here?” I demand.

  “I’m getting my nails done,” she snaps, rolling her eyes. “What do you think?”

  Vaughn joins us with the kind of smirk he only uses on women. “Hey, drummer girl. Fancy seeing you here.”

  “You never mentioned you were a tattoo artist,” Taya replies, voice playful. “I swear I didn’t know it was you when I made the appointment, although I don’t know anyone else named Vaughn. I just figured it was a coincidence. Someone told me you’re the best.”

  “You bet your ass I am,” Vaughn replies, winking. “I was hoping maybe you came to give me your phone number. Are you sure you're into women?”

  “Maybe.” Taya giggles, batting her long eyelashes. The high sound of her giggle hits me right between the legs, gripping my balls like a vice. “I was hoping to get a set of sticks here,” she trails a finger along the edge of a perky breast, “along my ribs.”

  I mash my teeth together, jaw locked. He’ll have to remove her bra. He’ll have unhindered access to the side of her tit too. No way I’m letting him touch her there, even if it’s only to give her a tattoo. If I can’t have her, he sure as hell can’t either.

  Wondering if I’m losing my goddamn mind, I step in between them. “Not happening.”

  Vaughn shoves me hard, green eyes darkening. “You may have eighty-sixed her from the band, but you don’t get to do it at my shop too, jackass. You may as well go home. I’m giving her your time slot. Come back at three-thirty when I have another half hour.”

  Then he’s wrapping his inked hand around Taya’s toned bicep. He leads her back to his station, muttering something in a low voice. She tips her head back and giggles before throwing me a heated look over her shoulder. I almost groan aloud, remembering how I jerked off only hours ago with those massive eyes in mind. Ready to break every last one of Vaughn’s fingers, I stomp after them.

  “Fucking one of my crew won’t get you in,” I grind out through a clenched jaw.

  Vaughn whirls around so suddenly that I expect him to throw a fist. “Fuckin’ A, Trent! Stop being an asshole! The girl’s here to get ink done!”

  I meet Taya’s annoyed stare, hating her even more for not being offended…wanting to bend her over right here for standing up to an asshole like me. Wanting to slap her perky little ass before sinking into her balls deep.

  “I know how your kind works,” I snarl.

  “What kind are you referring to?” she spits back, taking a step closer. It’s hot as shit the way her body becomes tight, coiled for attack. “The kind that has more talent than you have in your little finger? I’m not here to fuck your friend, you idiot! I wouldn’t have to get a tattoo if I was only hoping to get laid!”

  Vaughn shoves me back a few steps, bumping his chest up against mine. “What’s your deal, man? I’m not gonna let you stand here and harass one of my clients! Get the hell out before I pummel your ass!”

  Can’t remember the last time I’ve seen him this fired up, but I’m not dumb enough to push him more. I shuffle back, hands jammed in my pockets. Throwing Taya one final warning glare, I return to the waiting room. Not sure why I can’t leave like he asked, but it’s not like I have anything better to do. Vaughn shakes his head as I plop into the seat, and Taya shoots me one last disgusted look.

  I have an unobscured view as she sits on the bench with her back to me, and pulls her shirt over her head. With the sight of her golden curls falling down over her bare shoulders, tumbling past her black bra and settling over her creamy white skin where another script tattoo crosses the small of her back, I have to shift around before my dick suffocates inside my jeans.

  The woman’s a walking wet dream.

  Reaching a hand around her back, she releases the clasp on her bra while holding the front against her chest with the other hand. I swear she’s purposely seducing me, wanting to give me a good show. My dick twitches, probably spewing pre-cum.

  Growling to myself, I imagine the s
weet view Vaughn’s getting as she once again shows him the placement for her new ink. When Vaughn’s fingers trail over her skin, I jump to my feet without knowing what the hell I plan to do about it. Can’t sit and watch him put his hands all over her while I’m on the verge of decorating the place in spooge.

  There’s no changing the fact that I want her—every goddamned beautiful inch.

  Christ, she’s all I’ve thought about since she slayed those drums. Spent half the morning envisioning ways I’d mark her body and claim her as mine. Maybe I could fuck her once, get her out of my system for good.

  Only one way to find out.

  The second Vaughn’s off to the drafting table, I storm back over to Taya. Once she catches sight of me in the mirror, her smooth neck dips with a hard swallow, and her grip tightens on her bra. She twists around to face me, plump little lips slightly parted, lust in her gorgeous big eyes unmistakable. Can’t hardly believe what I’m seeing.

  She wants me to touch her.

  So I do. Why deny myself any longer if she’s down with it?

  My fingertips graze against the small of her back where she’s inked. She gasps quietly, spine stiffening. She’s so damn vulnerable, sitting half naked in front of a dozen people. I can’t decide if I want to yank the bra off and take her tits in my mouth, or cover her with a blanket and get her the hell away from everyone’s prying eyes.

  The only thing I’m sure of is the fact that I want to read her body like a map with both my hands and my mouth. Fill her until she’s raw. Until she can’t move for days without thinking of me. I wanna mark her skin so she can’t look into a mirror without remembering how I touched her, brought her to a level of pleasure unlike anything she’s ever known. I wanna taste her golden skin, and suck the goodness out from between her legs until she’s screaming my name.