Keeping Jahleel (Loving All Wrong #1.5) (14 page)

Getting on the elevator with these chicks was probably a bad idea, but he was dog-tired from working and partying the night till dawn broke, then getting on a plane. He needed some sleep, missed his woman, and every damn thing about this morning was irritating him. This whole ‘fans’ thing drove him up the fucking wall.

The ride was quiet enough, and Jahleel thought he would get away without an incident until one broke the awkward silence.

“I’m a
huge
JK Babe, you know,” she whispered in his ear.

“Nice,” he said, spiritless. “Engaged.”

Silence.

The other two whispered something to each other, and then they all cackled. As if him being engaged was so fucking hilarious, they couldn’t help it.

The world seemed to have this off prediction that his and Saskia’s relationship wouldn’t last because
he
would fuck it up. But he wouldn’t. He loved her, and there wasn’t a thing in the world he wouldn’t do for her.

Saskia Day was his life. His new life. His forever life.

And not another chance in hell was he going to do anything to hurt her again. So let the world doubt him. He didn’t really care.

The girl who proclaimed to be a “JK’s Babe” took out a pen and a minuscule notepad from her purse and started jotting down her name and number while she spoke, “We went to Club ZIP last night because it was advertised you’d be there. Like I said, we’re JK Babes. You didn’t show up. But someone else did…”

The elevator doors opened on his floor.

Before he could get off, the girl tore the paper from her notepad and stuffed it into his back pocket at the same time she licked her tongue up the side of his neck.

He jerked away and wiped his neck, but that’s what the fuck he got for getting in there with the vultures in the first place. He’d been sexually harassed quite a lot since he judged on that dance show. And it had only gotten worse. Hence his bodyguard.

Gripping the straps of his holdall to fight himself from wounding one of these women, he stepped off the elevator.

As the doors began to close, the girl called out, “Trust me, baby, you won’t be engaged for much longer. Be sure to call me. I’ll be more than happy to lend you these to cry on.”—She cupped her tits and squeezed them together—”They’re not fake. I promise!”

The doors closed, locking the crazies in, and Jahleel shook his head before progressing to his room.

As he neared room 409, a smile tugging at his lips at the short prospect of seeing Saskia after four long, agonizing days, the room door across from Saskia’s opened and Thomas strolled out in gym wear, towel tossed around his neck.

When he saw Jahleel, he stopped dead, looking as if he’d seen an apparition.

Halting in front of Saskia’s room door, Jahleel gave him a chin lift. “Hey, man.”

Thomas just stared at him like a deer in the headlights, which Jahleel found strange, since Thomas wasn’t a man who showed emotions. Let alone nervousness as his gaze shifted between Jahleel and Saskia’s room door.

Finally finding his tongue, Thomas said, “Hey. I was just about to grab some coffee, and I’m sure Miss Day’s still snoozing. Why don’t you come with?”

Jahleel arched a quizzical brow.

Firstly, Thomas looked more like he was going to the hotel gym, not for coffee. Second, Jahleel didn’t drink coffee, and they all knew that by now. Third, when the fuck did he ever hang out with Thomas for him to even suggest grabbing coffee together?

“Nah,” Jahleel declined politely, though suspicious. “I’m crashed. What I need is some sleep, and Sassy.”

Thomas still didn’t move a muscle, and from the corner of his eye, Jahleel noticed the big guy was watching his every movement as he swiped the key card in the door. And when the light on the door beeped green, the man literally winced.

The fuck was this man’s problem?

Without sparing Thomas’ uncharacteristic behavior a second thought, Jahleel pushed the door open and went in, where he was greeted with the obnoxious blaring of Jack White’s
Sixteen Saltines
.

Jesus fuck. The hell was she doing up listening to rock music so loudly at 8:30 in the goddamn morning?

Dropping his holdall on the floor at the door, Jahleel took a few cautious steps into the suite, wondering if Saskia had something planned. She knew well and good that he hated surprises. All he needed was to make love to her, come inside her, then fall asleep on top of her with his cock still inside her. Not surprises.

“In no mood for games, Sassy,” he called out, moving farther into the suite, waiting to see her jump out from behind somewhere. She was good for it.

The aroma of buttery popcorn traveled on the air. His foot hit something hard, and he stopped walking to look down. A black biker boot with buckles and chains. Saskia loved wearing those kind of boots.

But what sent the alarm off in his head was that the boot was too big to be hers. She was a size seven. That boot was a size ten, at least.

Men’s
size ten.

The fuck was going on?

Slowly raising his head, Jahleel swept his gaze around the suite, and it landed on a coffee table that had three big bowls of popcorn, and a bottle of Silver Patrón.

Okay, that wasn’t weird. At all. Sure, people drank Patrón and ate popcorn for breakfast.

Not.

Something was up. Something was definitely up. And not a good something either.

But before Jahleel could move another muscle, the music went off and a familiar famous face popped into his line of sight.

Tex Laklin.

He was shirtless, wearing only a tight, unbelted, black leather pants. But tats clothed his skin from the neck down, a shit ton of long black hair falling down around him like he was fucking Samson or something.

Why the fuck was this cumstain in his fiancée’s hotel room again? Unless he was in the wrong room? Yeah, he had to be in the wrong fucking room because this couldn’t possibly be real…

As Jahleel continued on that thought process, about to walk out and punch that dumb receptionist for giving him the wrong room key, the walking tattoo opened his mouth, saying, “Shit, man. Are you always such a tardy bastard? First you missed an important flight, then you turn up here an hour later than you said you would. Late is dangerous, dude. But not as bad as absence. Crazy fucktastic shit happens when people are late, or don’t show up at all…”

A lot
confused about what the hell was transpiring here, Jahleel asked, “Why’re you talkin’ to me again?”

“I’m just maki—”

“And why the fuck are you in my woman’s room?”

The fuckwad gave him a cocky grin, and Jahleel itched to punch it right off his face. “Because the
real
rock stars always wins.”

“I’m givin’ you one last chance to explain yourself before I rip your fuckin’ tongue out, motherfucker,” Jahleel growled out, prowling forward.

But the coward skipped back a few paces, running from a fight.

“No, not yet,” Tex said, looking half-fearful, half-mocking. “Asskicking comes last. We got breakfast and a movie to get through first. Do, take a seat, a bowl of popcorn. The Patrón’s for you, dancer boy. You gonna need it.”

Tex withdrew a remote from his back pocket and powered on the TV at the same time Jahleel heard her voice.

“JK?”

Turning to the right, from where her voice traveled, he stopped breathing when he saw the woman he loved. The woman whom he’d asked to marry him and give him a new life. The woman who, before now, before this very moment, he’d considered as his future.

There she was, standing in the bedroom doorway. Naked. Completely naked.

Her eyes were still droopy with sleep, her hair a wild overnight mess of raven curls and purple ends.

She looked hungover and half-asleep. And though he was in the most confused state he’d ever been in, in his entire fucking life, he had to take one selfish second to appreciate her in all her natural beauty. She was totally fuckable and arousing just like that. And if circumstances were different, he’d be fucking her right there on that door post.

But all Jahleel could do was stand there and stare at her.

Why was this fucker, her ex to be exact, in her hotel room? Why was he half-naked and her nude? The answer was easy. He wasn’t an idiot. But he was fighting not to acknowledge it. He was waiting to see Ashton Kutcher jump out from behind a sofa and shout, “
you’ve been punk’d!!
” because this couldn’t,
couldn’t
possibly be real.

“Finally, Raven. You’re up,” Tex said, setting up a camcorder to the smart TV. “Go cover my goods and come grab a bowl. Breakfast and a movie.”

His
goods? His fucking goods?

Still, as pissed as he was on the inside, Jahleel stood completely immobile on the outside. Couldn’t even blink. Shocked to the fucking core. He was in fucking shock.

As if realizing for the first time that she was naked, and that Tex was in the room, Saskia glanced down at herself and let out a little scream, covering her body as best as she could with her hands as she scurried back into the bedroom.

A minute later she reemerged, tying her robe with a wide-eyed, confused expression. Looking as lost as he felt.

“What in the bloody hell are you doing in here?” she asked the assfuck, who by now had finished setting up God knows what and was grinning his dickface off.

When Tex didn’t answer, she turned to Jahleel. “What’s he doing in my suite, JK?”

She was asking him.

He came into their suite and found her naked, with her ex, and she was fucking asking
him
.

If Jahleel could’ve gotten his body to function, to shake out of that jarring juncture, he’d be chuckling hard at that question.

“Come, come,” Assface Tex said, moving forward to take Saskia’s hand and lead her to the sofa.

She looked up at him, baffled, as Tex pushed her down to sit and put a bowl of popcorn in her lap.

Saskia turned her head to look at him, her eyebrows drawn together. “What’s happening?”

Jahleel just watched her.

He couldn’t even formulate words, let alone answer an unanswerable question.

Tex took up the bottle of Patrón and started toward him, but whatever he saw on Jahleel’s face or body posture, made him stop and retreated, putting the Patron back on the coffee table.

Tex was afraid of him.

And the fucker had a right to be. Because if there was one thing Jahleel could do better than dancing, it was fight. And he meant
fight to kill
. The only person who had ever defeated him was Chad, his best friend. And that’s because Chad’s the one who trained him. Chad was a trained-from-childhood expert. At fighting, and at killing. And when they first became friends, Chad had trained him to fight, teaching him all the innocent, inconspicuous little tricks to kill easily in a fist to fist fight.

So if this son-of-bitch wanted it, he’d have it.

Just fucking try me, motherfucker,
Jahleel told him with his eyes, since he was incapable of speech at the moment.

Eying Jahleel warily, Tex defiantly sat down beside Saskia and swung one tatted arm around her shoulders.

Saskia shrugged him off disdainfully, hissing out a “What in the world do you think you’re doing?”

But that only served to make Tex lean in and kiss her.

The popcorn bowl flew from her lap as she fought out of the kiss and launched a punch straight to his jaw.

“Jesus Christ,” Tex roared, rubbing his jaw. “I said asskicking comes
last
!”

“Try anything like that again and I’ll cut your bloody bellend off, you stinking scoundrel!” Saskia screamed at him.

Tex flashed her a smile, but Jahleel saw right through it. The tough rock star was hurt by her reaction, but aimed to hide his hurt with arrogance. Whatever he and Saskia agreed on the night before, Tex was getting a rude awakening now from her scornfulness toward him.

“I just love it when you go all crazy British on me,” Tex said. “And, Raven?”

“What?” Saskia growled.

“We did a fuck of a lot more than kissing last night.”

Throughout all this, Jahleel was still standing there in the room like a spare part or piece of furniture. Any other man would’ve been bashing that asshole’s face in harder than Muhammad Ali, fighting for his woman. But Jahleel’s body wouldn’t let him. And to be honest, he was in agreement with his body’s stubbornness at the moment, because he had no idea what Tex wanted him to see on that TV, and he’d be damned if he wasn’t overcurious.

All he knew was that he’d hopped on a plane to come see his soon-to-be-wife, and next the thing he knew, he was in a hotel suite with her, her ex, and implications that she cheated on him with the tattooed shitface.

And there he was, standing off like a fucking wallflower, watching it all unfurl before his very eyes. Speechless. Mindless. Inert. Confuckingfused.

“Wha-what the hell are you talking about?” Saskia asked Tex, then turned her head to shoot Jahleel a questioning glare as though hoping he could provide the answers for her.

Probably also wondering why the fuck he was just standing there, immobile, like a cardboard cutout of himself.

“Why don’t I just show you?” Tex grinned, kicking his feet up on the coffee table, then hitting a button on the remote. “Act one of ‘Rockstars Always Wins.’”

Jahleel’s curious, narrowed gaze drifted to the television screen. It was dark, with hardly any visuals, but there was audio. Moans. Mostly of a man’s. Tex’s. Moaning a lot of “ohhh” and “God, yes.”

Was this dark, obscure shit supposed to trick Jahleel into thinking it was a sex tape of Tex and Saskia? What a fucking clown.

Just as Jahleel’s shoulders relaxed in relief, and he was about to call out Tex’s bullshit, clear visual came on the television screen. And there was Saskia, on her knees, in what looked to be the back of a limo, sucking off someone’s cock.

Tex’s cock.

Her bright gray eyes stared up into the camera. She
knew
she was being recorded. And she was doing her best for the fucking camera.

“Oh my
God
!!” Saskia shrieked, jolting up from the couch, glancing over to Jahleel with a panicked expression.