Wicked Bad Boys (75 page)

“
S
top it
! Get off me, bitch!” The girl screamed, struggling under my weight. “All I want is a lock of Johnny’s hair!”

I straddled her legs to keep her from kicking out of my grasp, and saw the shiny object that she had held flat against her chest. It was a pair of craft scissors. The damned thing nicked me on my arm when I took her down. I wrenched them out of her hand. In my periphery, I saw four of the private security staff huddled around Johnny.

“Amanda—” Fred and Larry were at my side in a moment, and took over. Larry slipped zip-tie cuffs around her wrists, and Fred helped me to my feet while Larry hauled her up. He ended up having to carry her offstage kicking and screaming.

“You’re bleeding,” Fred said. “Let me take a look at that arm.”

“I think it’s okay,” I told him. I held up the pair of scissors. “These are pretty dull. It’s probably the force of getting her down to the ground that made it break the skin. It barely hurts. I don’t think it’s that deep.”

“How on earth was she able to get that past the security search at the entrance?”

“I don’t know. We need to talk to the location manager.”

“Definitely. Let’s get you backstage and someone can check it out.”

I whirled around again to check on whether Johnny was okay. His eyes were wide with alarm, but he could not get close enough to talk—the four massive guards would not let him move an inch, and no one could get near him. In spite of my minor injury, protecting Johnny was my priority, so I waited for him to be brought off stage. Kevin rushed in as Fred led me off. He seemed just as shocked to see me bleeding as we crossed paths. Still, he said nothing to me. He took the microphone and had the guards bring Johnny off stage.

“Ladies. Gentlemen. Let’s hear it for Johnny Q Venom!” Kevin’s voice boomed across the frenzied crowd. “We’re going to have a quick break and get you some more of Johnny’s top hits very shortly.”

Seconds later, the lights around us dimmed, and just a spotlight at the front of the stage remained on. Kevin and the backup performers left the stage. The band played an instrumental piece until the sound crew was able to put on some of Johnny’s pre-recorded songs. It was a smart move to have them carry on; otherwise people in the audience would have panicked.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Don’t worry about me. Look at you! Your arm is cut!” He looked toward the greenroom far off stage. “Someone get us one of those medics!”

“It’s not that bad, Johnny,” I told him, hoping he would calm down.

“Johnny, are you all right?” Kevin asked, as soon as he stepped backstage.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Look, nothing happened to me, okay? Get some help for Amanda! Look at her. She’s bleeding, for Christ’s sake.”

Despite my objection, Fred made me go to the greenroom, and Johnny anxiously followed behind with the four guards. Someone got one of the first responder staff to look at my wound. Just as I thought, it was not serious. It didn’t need stitches either—a large square adhesive bandage did the trick, and I was good to go.

Johnny was relieved, and at first, did not want to leave my side.

“I’m fine. Really. It’s a little scratch. Don’t worry about it, Johnny. You should get back out there.”

He reached out to smooth a stray lock of hair from my forehead, not saying anything.

“I’m okay,” I said again.

“She’s right, Johnny,” Kevin concurred, gesturing out to the stage area. “Let’s get this show back on track. Your fans want you.”

Kevin didn’t look directly at me; he seemed nervous and edgy, which was understandable. My guess was he viewed me as the reason for the interruption.

“Okay. I’ll grab a drink and get started in a couple minutes,” he said to Kevin, then turned back to me. “You’re going to take it easy the rest of the show, right?”

“No,” I told him firmly. “I’m perfectly fine, Johnny. I was doing my job. Things like this happen all the time.”

“Shit. Okay fine.” With that, he went back onstage, looking back at me with concern every few steps he took.

“I’ll get everyone else together,” Kevin told us, and started rounding up the band and backup girls. He walked back over to me and said, “You might want to fix your dress before you go back out.”

I stood up and swept my hands over my dress. To my horror, it was several inches shorter than intended, which was super-short to begin with. The flesh colored shapewear the wardrobe people made me wear was also showing. In the tussle, I hadn’t noticed it had been pushed far up my legs. My cheeks were warm with mild embarrassment, but I straightened myself out and went back to the stage.

T
he rest
of the show went off without a hitch. I stayed onstage and did my part. I made an extra effort to keep up the backup-singer act, although I was sure my cover had been blown. It was hard to stay focused on the rest of the performance with all the unanswered questions going through my mind. I knew Fred and his team would look into whether the girl was actually dangerous, or more importantly, if she could be Johnny’s stalker. They would have a piece of her identification by now, and could determine why she did it.

For the rest of the performance, I mouthed the words of the songs, missed lines and clumsily botched my way through the freestyle dance portion I had been so worried about. I hardly noticed, though, and the singers beside me paid even less attention to me after my fan-tackle move. My guess was they felt I was not to be messed with. If that were the case, I would not mind being perceived as Johnny’s badass girlfriend who threw down with anyone who so much as looked at him the wrong way.

There was another short scheduled break, with very little time to check in with Fred, given the wardrobe change before the second half. By then the crowd was slightly less amped up, Johnny was in his element and things moved fast. I was thankful when he sang his final encore, took a bow, and waved goodbye to the audience. The lights faded out, and we exited the stage.

Johnny made a beeline to me, followed closely by the four extra private security guys waiting off stage. He hooked his arm around my waist and practically dragged me toward his dressing room, not stopping to talk with anyone. I didn’t try to resist—it seemed like he would pick me up and carry me if I had. He kept looking over at me with a worried expression. I swept my gaze back and forth as I looked for Fred, desperate to get the scoop on what had happened after Larry had dragged the girl away.

He told the men to wait at the door, and pulled me inside.

“Amanda, come on. Talk to me,” he said as he shut and locked the door behind me. “Are you sure you’re fine?”

I looked up at him and nodded. “Positive. Nothing to worry about.”

He looked at the bandage on my arm. “Christ!” he shouted, raking a hand through his hair as he began to pace around the small room. “This is all my fault.”

“No it’s not. You can’t stop crazed fans from loving your music, or from showing up at your concerts.”

“I know,” he said apprehensively. “I should not have brought you…um, I mean I should not have let them put you out in front like this. You’re too exposed.”

“That’s the whole point of my being up there, Johnny. She could have gotten to you.”

“Yes I understand all that. I…I couldn’t forgive myself if something happened to you.”

“Look at me,” I said, reaching up to his shoulders to get him to stop pacing and focus on me. “I’m perfectly fine. I was trained for this kind of work. And I’m really strong. This little nick on the arm was nothing compared to my MMA days. So don’t worry about me, okay?”

He let out a breath and kissed my forehead. “I’m still going to worry about you, but okay. I’m glad it wasn’t serious.”

He pulled me into his arms and was about to kiss me when someone knocked on the door.

“
I
’ll get it
,” I told him, pulling away. Fred was waiting outside when I propped the door, so I let him in.

“What the hell was that?” Johnny demanded of Fred. The burst of anger caught me off guard. “Who was that? And how did she manage to get onto my stage? I mean holy shit! That was insane! What if she had been holding a more dangerous weapon or something?” He began to pace again, and we looked on as he unraveled. “Shit!”

“Johnny, calm down,” I whispered.

I got a glimpse of the blazing look in his eyes and placed a hand on his forearm. Finally, he gave a nod. The fire in his eyes subsided and his breathing seemed to release.

“Was she the stalker?” Johnny asked.

“It doesn’t look that way. She’s a minor. We questioned her, and had the field office run her ID through the available young offender databases. She’s clean. It seems she’s just an overzealous fan. Other than her wallet, the pair of scissors and a sandwich bag, she had nothing on her. Just to be safe, we contacted her parents. We will also follow up tomorrow about her whereabouts and computer activity over the last few weeks.”

I had expected as much. The cyber-stalker Fred’s men were after would not show up with scissors and a Ziploc bag for Johnny’s lock of hair.

Johnny however, seemed disappointed. “Well that sucks. If it had been the stalker, this nightmare would be over for all of us.”

“True, but until she surfaces, we have to expect incidents like this.”

“I still think it could have been avoided, Fred. What the hell were the guards in the audience doing? None of them even made an effort to stop her from climbing up on stage like that.”

Fred nodded, but did not respond. He was not to blame, in my view. The security in the audience was provided by the location, with a spattering of guards from the private security team Kevin had hired.

“Do you need anything from us?” Johnny asked.

He shook his head. “No. Wait here with Amanda. I’ll find Kevin and brief him. We’ll be ready to leave whenever you are.”

“Thank you,” I said to Fred.

Johnny immediately crossed the room and sank into a chair after Fred left. “What a nightmare,” he said, leaning forward to brace his elbows on his knees.

I locked the dressing room door and leaned back against it. “Come on, now. You can’t be suggesting this is the worst thing that’s happened on stage since you’ve been in the music business. Is it?”

“No. Not at all,” he said, staring down at the floor in front of him. “I…I didn’t think anything would happen to you.”

“Tackling that girl was not half as bad as when you flashed my butt to the crowd,” I teased, trying to cheer him up.

Johnny smiled. “They enjoyed it. They know a fine piece of ass when they see it.”

I smiled. His tension was starting to break. I crossed the room and sat in the chair across from him, my ankles protesting against standing any longer in these stiletto heels. I slipped off the shoes and reached down to massage my foot, twisting and stretching it back and forth along the arches.

“Here,” Johnny said, gesturing for my foot.

I looked up and met his eyes. “It’s okay. I’m good.”

“I’m not taking no for an answer, Amanda. I insist.”

Slowly, I extended my leg, and he grasped my foot. He slid his hands over the smoothness of the nude-colored stockings, and ran his thumbs along the arch of my foot. I let my head drop to the headrest, moaning as he massaged my aching sole. I relaxed in the chair and closed my eyes for a few minutes as he worked out the sore muscles. He placed my foot back on the floor and took the other, continuing to knead. It was heavenly. He paused, and I opened my eyes to see if he was finished. His eyes were studying me, dark with a familiar expression—pure, unapologetic lust.

In one move, he leaned forward and gripped my chair, almost lifting it to pull me in closer. A hand lifted to my neck and weaved through my hair, pulling my lips to his. His lips were firm and insistent as they pressed over mine, and his tongue effortlessly parted my lips to explore my mouth, tangling with my tongue, sending waves of heat down my back and into my belly. A burst of carnal need crashed over me, and all that was left in its wake was an urgency to get much, much closer.

He tugged at my waist and I followed his silent command, rising from my chair to straddle his lap. My dress slid up around my hips as I sank down onto him. He held my hips, rocking me back and forth against the bulge forming under his jeans, matching the movements with the frantic pace of our kisses. My neck and back tingled from the way his fingers were lost in my hair. He gently cradled the back of my head, pulling down as he moved from my lips to kiss and nip at my neck.

I moaned with pleasure at each kiss, and pressed harder against him. I rolled my hips and ground into his lap, wishing he wasn’t still fully clothed. My thin scrap of panties and his jeans were the only barrier to piquing my arousal. His hands ran up my ass, pressing my cheeks apart as he tilted his hips up for more contact. I gasped when he moved his hands up my back and toyed with the zipper on the dress. I wanted his hands on my skin, but became thoroughly aware of where we still were.

“I think we should stop now,” I told him, pulling slightly away.

“I want you now,” he growled into my ear, before nibbling at it with his lips.

“Not a good idea,” I finally got out.

I was barely able to stop myself. Holding on to his shoulders, I forced my aching body to stand, putting some much needed distance between my burning hot pussy and his raging erection.

He ran his hands up my legs, tracing along the back seam of my stockings. He rounded the curve behind my knee, and pressed into the back of my thighs. My stomach clenched at his touch and my body tensed up. It seemed to only excite him further.

“Amanda,” he said, looking up at me. “You looked so hot out on that stage.”

“You just liked watching me shake my ass.”

He flashed me a playful smile. “You were very distracting. Did I distract you too?”

“You mean from my pretend singing?” I asked, laughing. “I was terrible. I messed up the words pretty badly.”

He smiled and kept inching his fingers higher up my thighs. His eyes were still dark, flooded with predatory desire, even with his smile. He straightened up enough to place his lips above my collarbone, keeping them still against my racing pulse.

“Thank you,” he hummed against my skin, eyes closed, his tone more serious.

“For what?” I asked.

“For going all out to protect me out there.”

“That’s still my job, Johnny. No need to thank me.”

He looked me in the eye. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“Don’t do it again. Let Fred’s team and Kevin’s goons get physical with the audience if they need to.”

I didn’t know what to say at first. His words were unexpected, and I struggled to find the right response. After I thought about it for a moment, I told him the truth. “I’m not going to hesitate in doing my job.”

“I understand, but there’s enough of them around. And I’m going to hold them accountable.”

“Look. You and Kevin hired me. Not to be a pretend girlfriend or a lip-syncing back-up singer, but to protect you. I can’t keep a promise like that and still live up to the demands of this job, Johnny.”

He seemed anxious again, so in the end, I nodded an acknowledgment and hoped he would change the subject. The silence that settled between us felt too intimate, with his lips on my neck, my hands resting on his shoulders, and our upper bodies pressed together. I opened my mouth to speak, not knowing what to say, desperate to break the spell between us.

He waited for a beat before pulling his head away slightly. “I mean, obviously, I could have taken her down too. But…you know…I probably would have hurt her.”

I smiled, grateful he had backed us out of that intense moment. “Naturally,” I said. I squeezed his firm biceps. “That’s what these guns are for, right?”

“Exactly. They’re the fourth and fifth lines of defense,” he joked.

He laughed, and I joined in, finding our natural friendship the easy place to land.

“I’m starving,” he announced after a moment. He stood up and pressed me close to him again. “Go to dinner with me.”

“It’s almost midnight, you know.”

“Come on. I know all the obscure little spots where no one cares who I am.”

My hesitation dragged out. His voice was still playful, but his eyes were not asking—they silently appealed for me to say yes.

I almost did, but knew better. “Not tonight, Johnny. We need to get you back home. It’s been a long evening.”

I backed away to gather my shoes, and slipped back into them, not wanting to acknowledge his disappointment.

“Ready?” he asked as I turned back to face him. He seemed to have packed his feelings back up more quickly this time. He held out a hand and I let him lead me from the room.