Rock Steady (8 page)

“You’re right. And…not so right about starting the name game…” He crossed his arms over his chest and faced off with her, but she wasn’t done standing her ground. “Matthew Brimer. You looked adorable as an acolyte,” she said pointedly.

He winced but lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Three minutes for a phone call. Then chow. And I’ll have an official offer to present to you by the time we get back to pack you out of here. Jewel.”

He extended his hand. She took it. He closed his fingers around hers, pumping up and down two times in a formal handshake before he tugged her forward. She tumbled into his chest, a moment’s distraction becoming her downfall.

She was plastered against him because he’d stepped forward when he tugged her, ensuring she ended up flattened against his hard body. It felt like a thunderclap ricocheting through her system. Her senses were suddenly full of his scent. Her hands pressed against his skin where his vest ended and left his shoulders bare.

“And then…I’m going to kiss you, Jewel.”

* * *

His promise rang inside her head.

Maybe it was more of a threat.

Honestly, her system was in full anxiety mode as she tried to focus on packing up her gear and moving on. At least the fact that she had few possessions helped keep her from making a complete fool of herself. There wasn’t that much to forget.

Ramsey disappeared outside and made his call. It gave her time to call her landlord.

“You’re not getting your deposit back,” he sneered at her. “Not with a day’s notice.”

“I hear you already have the place rented.”

“Can’t prove it,” her landlord countered.

Jewel decided to cut her losses. “It’s been nice knowing you.”

She ended the call and found Ramsey back inside the loft, watching her. “He’ll get a surprise when he discovers the electricity is off. Bet his new tenant won’t be so thrilled about having to deal with that right off the cuff.”

She’d meant it as a strike back but winced when she realized how pathetic it made her circumstances appear.

“Getting started is tough,” Ramsey surprised her by saying. “There were a couple of times we all slept in the piece-of-crap van we had because we had to scrape together gas money. If I never eat another cold hot dog straight from the package, I’ll die happy. No one gets to the top without learning how to tough it out.”

There was a note of sincerity in his tone that warmed her. It made it so much easier to pull her two roller bags out of the closet and dump her clothes into them. She hadn’t lied to her mom. She really didn’t have much to speak of.

“You’ve been putting your money into your work gear.” Ramsey had pulled her roller case out from where she’d stashed it against the wall. It was a hard case with heavy latches.

“Of course,” she answered as she emerged from the closet. “That’s a no-brainer. Bet you had a top-of-the-line guitar before that van was replaced or you indulged in hot meals.”

He nodded. “Even a race-car driver is going to lose if he’s driving a three-cylinder rice-burner.” For a moment, she was envious of him, but in a good way. She saw in him confirmation of what she could accomplish if she stuck to her goals. There was a rap on the street-level gate.

“Troops are here.” Ramsey disappeared out into the hall as she plucked the few things from the kitchen that belonged to her.

She heard him returning, the sound of heavy footfalls on the ancient stairs bouncing up to fill the apartment.

“You remember Brenton?”

The road manager offered her a hand that she shook before he opened a folder and laid out several sheets of paper. “I’m looking forward to having you on the team, Ms. Ryan.”

The easygoing demeanor evaporated. Once again, she was struck by how sharp Ramsey was beneath his public image. The contract was general, but still tight enough to have her reading through the clauses with a critical eye.

Ramsey knew business as well as any tycoon wearing an Armani suit.

It was also a dream come true. The thing she’d set out to achieve. A job that centered around her art. The contract listed her salary, which made her mouth water, a private room clause, access to meals at the hotels they would be lodged at, and even a budget for supplies, based on how much work she did. They reserved the right to set a schedule for her with clients of their choosing. It curled her toes with excitement because somehow, she’d gone from expecting life to kick her ass to being a private artist with Toxsin. Four weeks wasn’t very long, but it was the lifeboat she needed to escape the ship that was sinking beneath her feet at the moment. And a damned fine lifeboat it was, too.

“What the fuck is all this?”

Jewel looked up to find her landlord in the doorway. He looked between Ramsey and Brenton and then back to Ramsey. “I know you, dude.” Her prick of a landlord was suddenly grinning, offering Ramsey a hand to shake, trying to schmooze him.

“Yeah?” Ramsey said as he shook the hand, but there was a tightening to his body. “Glad you came over. It will save me the trouble of having one of our people bring the key by and pick up the security deposit.”

Her landlord didn’t miss the implied threat. He bristled. “I’ve got to check things out before returning the deposit.”

“Make sure you check the fire-code violations on the window,” Ramsey said pointedly. “How did you get the local inspector to sign off on this place? That window is painted shut.”

“The Bay Area weather just makes it look that way,” her landlord hedged.

Ramsey picked up the emergency hammer she had by the window.

“I’m just making ends meet,” her landlord defended himself. “Like everyone else in this town. It costs a fortune to keep these apartments rental-ready. Damned lawmakers are always passing some new law I have to deal with. She didn’t give me any notice, and now, I’ll get stuck with a rush fee if I don’t want to lose income on this place.”

Ramsey gestured around. “Take a good look and write her a check. Jewel is going on tour with Toxsin. She needs her business affairs here closed.”

“That right? Going on tour with Toxsin?” Her landlord offered her a smirk. “Not too bad.” The innuendo wasn’t lost on anyone in the room.

Her landlord had on designer sportswear, with a pair of insanely expensive sunglasses hanging from a leash around his neck. A Rolex watch winked at her from his wrist, and she knew his Lamborghini was double-parked on the street.

He was a prick who had inherited his property from his grandfather and lived off the fact that San Francisco was one of the highest rent districts in the nation.

“Are you done looking over the contracts, Jewel?” Ramsey had been watching her landlord, but he proved he was very aware of what she was doing. He snapped his attention toward her. “Anything we need to negotiate?”

“No. I’m satisfied.” She scrawled her legal name across the last page before Brenton gathered it up and pulled a phone from his jacket pocket. He pressed a couple of keys before there was another set of boots on her stairs.

Two polo-shirted crew members appeared. They looked at the three cases with questioning expressions.

“That’s it.” She bit back an explanation. They didn’t hesitate, but took the cases and disappeared. Ramsey exchanged a look with Brenton. The road manager of Toxsin proved his expertise by changing places with Ramsey and facing off with her landlord.

“I’ll be happy to go through the place with you and listen to any concerns you have that might impact the security deposit. My associates want Ms. Ryan’s affairs settled today.”

There was a slicing edge to Brenton’s words, along with a warning. Brenton reached into his suit jacket and withdrew a cream-colored business card. “Our lawyer.”

Her landlord didn’t care for the way he was being verbally strong-armed. His expression darkened before he shot her a hard look. Ramsey stepped between them.

“Yeah, yeah. Everything looks in order,” her landlord conceded. “Checkbook is down in the car.”

“I’ll follow you down,” Brenton said as he gestured toward the door. Ramsey tossed him the keys. Brenton caught them and kept them when her landlord opened his hand. There was a soft sputter from her landlord before he turned and disappeared, Brenton on his heels.

“I could have handled that.” It wasn’t the wisest thing she could have said. In fact, keeping her mouth shut would have been a really bright idea, all things considered. She needed the money and position with Toxsin. But her pride refused to let her stay silent.

Ramsey turned to face her. There was a look on his face that touched off a shiver in her, a reaction to the ruthlessness glittering in his eyes. Sensation rippled along the surface of her skin, his strength feeling like it was coating her and seeping into her very pores.

Still, she pushed her chin out and stood her ground. Ramsey’s lips curled, his expression menacing.

“I lied to you,” Ramsey said.

Her belly did a little flop as he stalked her across the floor.

“I said I was going to feed you…”

He stepped up close, lowering his arms around her and trapping her arms beneath his. “But I’m going to kiss you first.”

His voice was a raspy promise, setting off alarm bells as well as anticipation.

“Bad idea—” she managed to push past her lips before her brain fried.

“I’m all bad, Jewel,” he informed her a split second before he claimed her mouth.

If that was a kiss, then she’d never been kissed before.

Nope.

Never.

Ramsey sealed her lips beneath his, clamping her arms to her sides with a hug as he pressed his lips against hers. It was hard but not brutal, skimming that border and pushing her into a realm of dark desires that lay beyond the controlled, safe dating she’d participated in before. Civilization faded into the distance as he moved his lips over hers with a touch of savagery no one had been bold enough to try on her before. She moved away, pulling back out of a need to maintain some sort of sense of herself.

He didn’t allow her to keep the distance between them. Ramsey reclaimed her mouth, pressing a kiss against her lips that stole her breath. A soft sound escaped her, betraying how deeply she was affected. He lifted his head, just an inch, watching her as she forced her eyelids up. She felt unmasked, every weakness on display. His eyes shimmered with the promise of so many things, her mind reeled as she tried to take it all in. She tried to squirm free. He held her for a long moment, his eyes narrowing as he made sure she felt his strength. It was more than brawn; it was his will he was trying to press on her.

That sparked a need to rebel. She snapped her jaw closed, her chin jutting out in defiance. “Back off.”

His lips twitched, a glow of enjoyment lighting his dark eyes. It was savage, primitive, and completely in tune with his nature.

She pulled her hand up, found the silver bar piercing his nipple, and twisted.

He snorted before lifting his hands in mock surrender. But it was only play, because there was nothing even close to submission in him. He was just enjoying her spunk.

Playing with his food.

The air felt cool as it rushed between them, frustrating her with just how much she wanted to be back against him. It was wrong, or had to be. Where was the modern woman who wanted to follow her dream quest into a future that involved art and being the captain of her own ship?

At the moment, she was a quivering mass of nerves, all because of the man standing in front of her.

“Let’s roll, Ramsey!” Brenton called up the stairs. “Portland awaits.”

Ramsey curled his lips back and flashed his teeth at her through a grin of victory. “Ready?”

She looked around the apartment, and it was just as depressing as always. Everything in it was threadbare, just holding on as it struggled to squeeze one more day out of life. She wanted more than that.

Ramsey was pulsing with life. She could feel it in the air between them. Like heat coming through a front door on a frozen winter day. Getting wrapped up in it was the only thing on her mind once she felt it.

“Ready,” she replied, turning her back on the apartment.

It was time to stretch her wings and see what was over the next hill. Ramsey stood there, looking like a massive challenge between her and the wide-open expanse of opportunity.

Well, no guts…no glory.

Chapter 3

Toxsin traveled in style.

The band also proved why it was topping the charts and selling out arenas. Beneath the spiked hair, leather, and party-animal personas were professionals.

The sedan Brenton had arrived in took them through the streets of San Francisco and back across the bay to the location of the concert. It was a very different scene by daylight. Two big rigs were being loaded. The members of the crew Ramsey had talked about all performed their duties like well-trained soldiers, moving pallets into the trucks while supervisors watched through mirrored shades with headphones on and microphones sitting in front of their lips.

There were also three huge motor homes. As in bus-sized.

“That’s the music coach.” Ramsey pointed at one. “Band members only. It’s a work zone.”

Kate Braden was standing near the door to the second coach. She looked up as Ramsey brought Jewel into the loading area. The afternoon sun lit up her head of red hair. She had on a leather corset top and a skirt that had her hallmark of superior leather workmanship. Jewel couldn’t help but admire them.

“It’s going to be nice having some female company,” Kate offered. “We can have corset parties.”

Ramsey made a low sound under his breath and smacked his lips. Jewel itched to ram her elbow into his side, but she wasn’t close enough to land the blow. She settled for a narrow-eyed look.

“Don’t mind him,” Kate said. “We used to keep him leashed, but he was costing us a fortune when he chewed through the leather.”

Ramsey leaned down and set his teeth into the side of Kate’s corset. She squealed and shoved at him. Her husband turned around from where he’d been conferring with a polo-shirted crew member.

“My wife”—Syon Braden stressed the word “wife”—“isn’t
your
chew toy, Rams.” He grinned.