Wicked Force Read online

  “Is that what you want? Bigger and better?”

  My shrug is slow and without indifference, more of an indication that sometimes I’m not sure I know what I really want. Except for one thing. “I just want to sing. That’s all.”

  Kynan smiles at me and my heart skips a beat. “It’s a good priority, Joslyn.”

  Hearing him say my name makes my skin prickle, or maybe it’s the way he’s staring at me so intently from across the table. He makes me feel completely stripped and bare, causing me to self-consciously wrap my arms around my stomach.

  Not because he makes me feel afraid or threatened, but because he induces what feels like a million fluttering butterflies in my stomach.

  Chapter 5

  Kynan

  I have no business being here. I went off duty over three hours ago and Jayce has watch over Joslyn tonight. But apparently spending eight hours with her today wasn’t enough for me, so I stayed on, using the excuse that I wanted to check out the venue where she performs and assess how our security protocol is working during a live show.

  Bunch of bullshit but Jayce didn’t question it.

  Wouldn’t have mattered if he had.

  Frankly, I can’t stand the guy, although I could never quite put my finger on why before tonight. Call it a vibe or a gut instinct, but from the moment Jerico introduced us, I sensed he was bad news. I didn’t say anything to Jerico, though, because it wasn’t my place. Plus, Jerico felt obligated to Jayce because he saved his life once.

  I grudgingly admit that might count for something.

  At any rate, tonight I figured out why I don’t like him and it’s because I’ve caught him several times openly leering at Joslyn. Never when she’s looking though. He puts on the front of a dedicated security professional. When he stands near her, he’s alert and watching his surroundings.

  But every once in a while, when her attention is elsewhere, his eyes will drop to her arse or her breasts, and I want to rip his head off. I spent all day with her today—playing Scrabble, taking her to the grocery store for Chia seeds which I don’t even want to know what that shit is—and otherwise engaged in conversation so perfect that my eight-hour shift was seemingly over in a nanosecond. After just a day with her, I’m feeling all kinds of proprietary and yes, I know that shit is whack.

  She’s a job.

  A client.

  I can’t be feeling anything for her other than a dedication to my job to protect her life.

  My hands ball into fists as I stand beside Jayce just at the edge of the stage, and we watch her final song. She’s wearing a black body suit with sparkling crystals sewn all over. Chunks of the unitard are cut out in strategic places, revealing parts of her body.

  Right across her breasts.

  Her lower back.

  Outer thigh.

  One entire arm.

  Hints of flesh and sexiness as she struts across the stage. The song has a hip-hop vibe to it and her backup dancers are really good. But Joslyn is amazing, particularly performing some of the moves in four-inch stiletto heeled boots in black patent leather.

  What I love most about her look tonight though is her hair. It’s long, loose, flowing. It seems to have way more volume than normal and I’m not sure how that’s accomplished, but when she dances it bounces and sways in almost a mesmerizing fashion. I met her stylist, Michel, tonight when I followed Jayce and Joslyn to the theater inside The Blue Diamond Casino. I would have rather brought her in my vehicle so we could continue to talk, but I was technically off duty and Jayce was on. Besides, I didn’t want anyone to even hazard a guess that I might be a little crazy over this girl, especially since it’s inappropriate as hell.

  I sure as hell don’t want anyone to know that half of those thoughts about her are dirty as fuck, because as much as I like her mind and her personality, I like her exterior package a hell of a lot too. Images of me holding her hair while I’m in her from behind threaten to make my cock go rogue, so I think of something else.

  Like the way Jayce has a look in his eye right now as he watches her. The kind of look that makes me want to sneak into his apartment tonight and slit his throat.

  Leaning in toward him, I say, “She’s finishing up. Go and do a sweep of her dressing room.”

  Jayce startles and looks at me for a moment as if he doesn’t understand what I just said. But I am his superior and he’s a military man so he knows how to take orders. “Sure thing.”

  Jayce leaves and I give my attention not to Joslyn, but to the surroundings. My eyes roam the theater, looking for that one crazy who might want to rush the stage. It’s happened during a few of her performances before, usually by a drunk, horny teenager. I don’t look back at Joslyn now that Jayce is gone as right now it’s my full job to protect her.

  * * * *

  I hang back a few steps while Joslyn and Michel walk toward her dressing room with their arms linked together. As she walked off the stage and straight toward me, she was still smiling and waving to her fans. The minute she was out of their sight, her entire body seemed to almost sag and I started to reach out for her. But then Michel was there, putting an arm around her waist and giving praise for her performance. She looked unsure about his compliments but then her smile returned. It was a clear moment of self-doubt she was having and it surprised me. She’s fucking fantastic and I don’t understand how she could even have a moment’s hesitation in owning that.

  It’s gone now though. She’s all smiles and laughter with Michel as we approach her dressing room. Jayce is standing outside in the classic security guard stance—legs spread, hands clasped together at his lower back and spine ramrod straight.

  Michel opens the door and disappears inside. I move to stand on the other side of Jayce but Joslyn touches my arm. “Please come in.”

  I don’t know what to say to that. She wants me in her dressing room. Why? Michel is in there and so is her mother, who chooses to wait there during the performances.

  She doesn’t wait for me to acknowledge her request but steps over the threshold. I follow her in and shut the door behind me.

  Madeline Meyers—dressed in a chic white pantsuit with wide legs—is sitting on the loveseat set against a short wall of the cramped little room. She’s got a magazine on her lap, one leg crossed over the other.

  Without glancing up, she asks no one in particular, “How did it go?”

  Michel responds. “She slayed it, of course. As usual.”

  “Wonderful,” Madeline says and shoots a proud but short smile at Joslyn. She then nods at a large glass filled with a green liquid sitting on the vanity table where Michel styles Joslyn up before a show. “Drink your smoothie.”

  Joslyn wrinkles her nose but picks the glass up. I’m not crazy about vegetables to begin with—corn and maybe potatoes are okay—so I have a sympathy gag reflex when she takes a large swallow, struggling to get it down.

  Madeline goes back to reading her magazine.

  Joslyn watchers her mom a moment, perhaps wondering what would happen if she dumped the drink in the garbage. The expression on her face is definitely calculating, like she’s mentally weighing odds about something.

  She seems to come to a decision, if the resolved look in her eyes is any indication, and she takes another large swallow of the drink. Turning her back to Michel, she says, “Unzip me.”

  My entire body goes taut, as I realize she’s going to undress in front of me. Madeline pays no attention and Michel doesn’t think twice. He steps up and takes the zipper at the top of her neck, dragging it slowly down until it stops just above the crack of her butt. I try not to look—honestly, I do—but the bare skin being revealed is too irresistible and the fact I don’t see a scrap of lace or silk at the bottom tells me she’s not wearing panties under that skintight suit.

  Fuck.

  Joslyn looks at me, one corner of her mouth lifting up as she breezes by me to a three-panel privacy screen in the corner. She disappears behind it and I hear the sound of her glass
being set down upon something. Michel goes to the vanity and busies himself organizing, and Madeline is absorbed in her magazine.

  From the corner of my eye, the black, sparkly outfit is tossed over the top of the screen, and my cock actually thumps from the knowledge the Joslyn is completely naked on the other side.

  “Michel,” she says in a blasé voice. “Let’s go out dancing tonight.”

  At this, Madeline’s head pops up. She looks at Michel, who freezes in place, looking at Madeline through the reflection of the vanity mirror. Dropping her gaze to her magazine, she says in a stern voice, “That’s not a good idea.”

  Michel ducks his head and pretends he’s ignoring everything, but his body tenses. I get the feeling he’s witnessed some awkward conversations between mother and daughter over the last several months.

  “It’s a great idea,” Joslyn says in a pleasant voice.

  Madeline’s eyes raise and pin hard against the privacy screen, as if she could bore holes through it to reach her daughter. “I don’t want you—”

  “To what?” Joslyn cuts in and her head pops out from the side of the screen. Her shoulders are bare and I wonder if she had time to put on panties yet. Her expression is defensive. “Don’t want me partying? Making a bad name for myself? Hanging out with the wrong people? Embarrassing you? Myself? Tanking my career?”

  I blink in surprise at the vehemence in her voice. All indications so far lead me to believe that Joslyn definitely defers to her mother in most things. Clearly, this is an age-old argument between the two of them.

  Madeline softens her voice to a placating tone. “I don’t want you to be in danger.”

  Joslyn’s face also goes soft and her voice sweetens. “You don’t have to worry about that. I now have a bodyguard.”

  I get a side-eyed glance from Joslyn and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

  “I’m not paying them to babysit you while you party,” Madeline replies tightly.

  “First,” Joslyn says with heat returning to her voice, “I don’t party. But I do like to dance. And second, the casino is paying for Jameson Group, not you.”

  Madeline opens her mouth but I find myself intervening in a place I should absolutely keep my fucking mouth shut. “Ma’am... it’s part of our job. To watch Joslyn wherever she goes, twenty-four hours a day. It’s something we routinely do... attending social events with our clients for their protection.”

  I have no clue if this is true. This is my first personal security detail but we have it set up for three separate shifts in a twenty-four-hour period, which includes overnight protection. So I’m going to assume my job is to watch over Joslyn wherever she may be.

  Or rather, it’s Jameson’s job and my job if I’m on duty.

  Madeline glares at me, her jaw locked tight, then lets her gaze fall back down to the magazine. She tries to go for easygoing but her voice is clipped and offended. “Fine. Have a good time and be careful.”

  “I will,” Joslyn says, her voice truly gentling so that her mom won’t worry.

  Madeline doesn’t acknowledge her at all and Joslyn sighs as she disappears behind the privacy screen once again.

  Chapter 6

  Joslyn

  I’m an excellent dancer. Singing is definitely where my passion lies, but I’m glad I sing stuff that is conducive to dancing. Anyone who is anyone at the top of the pop charts has to be able to entertain the masses with what’s below their shoulders. So my mom made sure to put me in dance when I was a kid to hone the natural talent I already possessed.

  When I’m on stage, it’s different. It’s a job and perfection is my goal. Those moves are choreographed, rehearsed, and then drilled into my muscle memory show after show. I can perform without much thought.

  Here on the dance floor, the liberating freedom to move to the beat the way I want to almost makes me giddy.

  Also, it might have something to do with the fact that Kynan’s watching me.

  I’m so glad he’s not being obvious in his security duty to me. While both he and Jayce are dressed the same in the black cargo utilities, tight T-shirts with the Jameson logo, and ass-stomping boots, they’re doing their best to blend. Jayce is on an open, upper dance floor balcony, with his forearms casually resting on the top rail that surrounds it. I’ve glanced up at him a few times and each time, he’s just slowly glancing around the club, looking for potential danger.

  I’m happily surprised that Kynan came, as it was my deep hope that he would. He’s off duty technically but he’s still watching things carefully from the bar area. He’s got an arm propped on the top and is nursing a club soda. While he too looks around, keeping an alert eye on my surroundings, I have several times caught him just watching me.

  Dance.

  Rotate my hips.

  Stretch my arms high above my head so my halter top rides up and exposes my stomach.

  My cheeks heat a little as I realize I’m actually putting on a show just for him.

  But so be it. I can’t deny the intense attraction I have to him, nor can I deny that talking to him and hanging out with him today has been the most genuinely spent time that I’ve had in ages. It was actually refreshing.

  Michel grins at me as he moves to the same beat as I am. He’s a pretty damn good dancer too and he’s putting on a show of his own for one of the bouncers. A big burly guy that has had his eye right back on Michel. He’ll probably get lucky tonight, but that’s all Michel will be interested in. Since he had his heart broken by his first love, he’s not willing to put it back out there again to get stomped on.

  That makes me so sad, but what do I really know about it? I’ve never been in love before. I dated in high school and while touring the year my album came out. I lost my virginity to one of my backup dancers about six months ago and it’s part of the reason my mom doesn’t fully trust me. She caught him sneaking out of my bedroom that night, which was a terribly awkward situation.

  I gyrate my hips, almost lewdly, and glance back over at Kynan. It’s one of the times he’s looking directly at me and his stare is intense. I’m not purposely trying to tease him and I’m not leading him on. I totally want him for reasons I still can’t fathom outside of his unholy attractiveness. I’ve never been this bowled over by a guy before. But I feel compelled to make him watch me and I’m not going to apologize for it, or for the hunger that I think I see glittering in his eyes.

  Michel moves in close to me, puts his mouth by my ear, and has to speak a bit loudly to be heard over the music. “You’re so bad.”

  I jerk my chin in and look at him with pure innocence. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re going to get yourself fucked up against a wall in the back alley if you don’t quit dancing that way in front of tall, blond, and British,” he replies.

  I roll my eyes and pretend that I have no clue what he’s talking about, all the while wondering what that would be like. Sadly, my one experience with sex was not overly thrilling. Still, I’m not stupid enough to believe that’s the way it always is. In fact, I’d bet my contract here in Vegas that Kynan would be a phenomenal lover.

  A small shiver runs up my spine. I glance at him again and I’m disappointed to find Jayce at his side. He’s listening intently to something that Kynan says, then nods and pulls his phone out of his pocket. He dials someone and puts it up to his ear, pivoting away from Kynan and walking to the exit doors.

  “Girlfriend,” Michel calls in my ear again and I’m startled. I give him my attention while we dance in place. “I’m making my move. It’s getting late and if I’m going to get that bouncer to take me home when the club closes, I’m going to need to start some serious face-to-face flirting with him.”

  Grinning, I put my hands to Michel’s shoulders and go up on tiptoes to feather a kiss on his cheek. “Good luck and thank you for being such a good friend to me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  “I had fun tonight,” he says. “Let’s do this on all your nigh
ts off.”

  “Agreed,” I say with a laugh and I finish out the song on the dance floor while Michel engages himself in conversation with the bouncer.

  When a new beat starts, I turn toward the bar and find Kynan watching me again. He jerks his chin in an indication he wants to talk to me and so I head his way. I had a bottled water resting on the bar near his club soda and I grab it when I reach him.

  “What’s up?” I ask him.

  “Jayce’s shift is almost up,” he says. “I told him I’d get you and Michel home and he’s having the next guy on duty just head over to your house.”

  “Well, Michel has his own ride home,” I say as I turn to look at him over my shoulder. When I look back to Kynan, I see him staring at Michel and the big bouncer with a grin.

  His eyes come back to mine, filled with amusement. “Looks like it’s just you and me then.”

  The words were in jest, but they pack a punch.

  Just me and him.

  Together.

  Alone.

  Late at night.

  I’m not sure what the expression on my face says, or if it reveals exactly what’s bouncing around in my brain, but the smile slides off Kynan’s face. In this moment, I know he can read me very clearly.

  A tiny muscle tightens at the corner of his jaw and his eyes move over my face, almost as if he’s trying to find something other than what he suspects I’m thinking.

  Disappointed, because I can think of nothing else and it must show, Kynan looks away from me and back across the club to where Michel is standing. When he looks back to me, his face is impassive and his voice bland. “You sure Michel doesn’t need a ride?”

  I shake my head. “He’s going to stay here and he can always Uber home if need be.”

  “Are you ready to leave?” he asks me. “Or do you want to dance some more?”

  I want to dance some more. With him. Slow and close. “I’m ready to go. Let me just go tell Michel good-bye.”

  Crossing the dance floor, I weave my way in and out of gyrating bodies. When I reach Michel—who is in heavy duty flirtation mode with the bouncer—I tap him on the shoulder. He turns with an annoyed expression on his face which melts away when he sees it’s me.