Wicked Force Kobo Read online

  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.

  “Kynan is taking me home,” I tell him.

  Michel smirks at me. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

  Rolling my eyes, I tell him, “That’s not helpful at all since you would do almost anything and everything.”

  Michel gives a sideways glance at the bouncer, who is listening carefully to our exchange, and runs his eyes up and down. “Girl, you know that’s true.”

  The corners of the bouncer’s mouth curve up in a sly way as he realizes he’s getting laid tonight.

  Michel and I air kiss each other’s cheeks good-bye and I turn to make my way back across the dance floor to Kynan. I get no more than three steps before a hand is grabbing my upper arm and I’m being whipped around so fast my head spins. Then I’m pulled hard into a man’s body and a hand goes to my ass.

  Brushing my hair out of my eyes, I don’t even have the time to see who my aggressor is or even be offended before the guy just disappears. It takes me a moment to realize he’s flat on his back in the middle of the dance floor with Kynan crouched over him. One hand is wrapped around the front of the guy’s throat and the other is just casually loose near his hip. He doesn’t seem to be expending any energy whatsoever but the guy on the floor is clawing at Kynan with both hands and writhing around as his face turns purple.

  Then Kynan lets him go and stands up.

  It all happens so fast, the bouncer nearest us—Michel’s date tonight—doesn’t even have a chance to move. Kynan doesn’t give the man who grabbed me another look nor does he care about all the people gawking at us.

  He takes me by the elbow and steers me across the dance floor. People scramble to get out of the way of the huge man that just laid that jerk out in about a nanosecond without breaking a sweat.

  Kynan’s strides are long so I have to trot to stay at pace with him. In moments I’m outside of the club and we’re making our way across the parking lot. I dare a glance up at him and he looks incredibly pissed.

  When we reach his vehicle—a black Suburban with tinted windows—he lets me go. “Are you hurt?”

  I shake my head rapidly and venture a question of my own. “Are you mad at me?”

  “Fuck no,” he growls and then rubs the back of his neck in what seems to be frustration. “I just... lost my shit in there when he grabbed you like that. I could have fucking killed him.”

  I’m not sure what meaning he places behind his actions, but I know the reaction of my body to them. He got mad on a personal level that someone touched me and that does something incredibly disturbing to my body. My lower belly tingles, a cramp hits me between the legs, and I feel a rush of wetness against my panties. I squeeze my legs together and that makes the ache worse.

  I groan and Kynan’s eyes snap to me. “What?”

  “Nothing,” I mutter.

  “Are you sure you’re not hurt?” he demands, his head swinging back to the club and I can tell he’s considering going back in there to finish the job.

  “I’m fine,” I assure him, reaching out a hand to touch his arm.

  Kynan’s body locks tight and his gaze swings back to me before descending to look at me touching him. I snatch my hand back, feeling as if I’ve been burned not by the touch but by some untold condemnation from him. He doesn’t like me touching him.

  His expression is troubled for a moment—as if I’ve crossed a line—then goes blank. Leaning past me, he opens the passenger door and holds it open for me to get in. “Let’s get you home.”

  “Okay,” I murmur, unsure of what the hell just happened but with a sneaking suspicion that my attraction to Kynan may not be reciprocated after all.

  Chapter 7

  Kynan

  I don’t let Joslyn mesmerize me too much. I’m on duty and she’s on stage, and while she’s captivating in a way I’ve never known, I am more interested right now in making sure she’s safe. I’ve changed the shift schedule to just two twelve-hour shifts. Jayce was moved to cover 6AM to 6PM and I cover the other 12 hours. I chose the evening shift so I could watch over Joslyn when she’s at her most vulnerable—which is anywhere away from the apartment but most importantly when she’s performing.

  Selfishly, I also chose this shift because after her shows or the nights she has off, we come back to the apartment and hang out. I’m still on duty and most properly, I should probably be standing outside the door in the hallway, but sitting in the living room with her is just as good. I have line of sight of the door, a security system someone would have to bust through, and a 9mm gun on my hip.

  We’ve taken to playing board games, which usually ends up being about 90 percent talking with each other and only about 10 percent of gameplay. The first time Madeline witnessed this, she gave me a funny look. Not quite disapproving but definitely uneasy with the way Joslyn and I were sitting on opposite sides of the table as we discussed our favorite classic rock songs. Joslyn has an amazing variety of music that she listens to, which is something we have in common.

  I don’t care what Madeline thinks. I’m protecting her daughter and fulfilling my secret crush at the same time. I could no more stay away from Joslyn out in that hallway than I could decide to give up oxygen. In just a little over a week, she’s become that important to me.

  Or I’ve become that obsessed with her.

  My gaze sweeps the audience, cuts to Joslyn for just a minute as she croons a love song while sitting on a stool center stage with a spotlight illuminating all of that gorgeous silvery hair.

  Back to the audience for only a moment as I feel someone step up beside me at the edge of the stage. I twist my neck and see Jerico standing there. He’s dressed in a business suit and lifts his chin in greeting.

  “You’re back,” I say as my gaze returns to the crowd.

  “Got in a few hours ago but thought I’d come catch our first personal client’s show,” he explains to me. “Also wanted to meet her mother.”

  “She’s in Joslyn’s dressing room,” I tell him.

  “Yeah... already been there and introduced myself.” Jerico slips his hands casually into his pockets and adds, “She’s an um... intense woman.”

  “She’s dedicated to Joslyn’s career,” I mutter, wondering sometimes what’s more important to her. Being a mother or being a manager.

  My eyes slide to Joslyn. It’s something she struggles with understanding as well. Late at night and long after Madeline retires, Joslyn stays up and keeps me company until the wee hours of the morning before I have to leave. We’ll push the board game aside. She settles back onto the couch while I stay perched on the edge of the guest chair, always facing the front door. Over the last four evenings I’ve been with her, we’ve probably wracked up a good twenty hours of one-on-one conversation.

  Let me tell you... you can learn a lot about a person in that amount of time.

  On the flip side, I opened up to her, which is incredibly odd. I’m not overly close with my family but there’s no drama there. I spend most of my time telling her about my military service, and although I know it distresses her to learn some of the harrowing things that have happened to me, I can’t seem to stop myself from sharing. She’s the only person in this world that knows I almost pissed my pants one night when I was out on a patrol and a grenade got tossed over my head, landing just about twenty feet from me. It landed in the middle of some of my closest friends, killing three of them and throwing me several feet away from the force of the explosion.

  When I told her that story, her eyes got a little misty and she made a move to get off the couch.

  To come to me.

  I gave a slight shake of my head, not because I didn’t want her touch or comfort, but because I was afraid I wanted it too much.

  “So I was thinking about hitting a
strip club after the show,” Jerico says and it startles me because I was so lost in my memories.

  “Huh?” I ask, snapping my gaze from Joslyn to him.

  “Strip club,” he reiterates. “I’ll get someone to come cover the rest of your shift. I want to get drunk tonight, ogle some tits, and then hopefully take a beauty home to fuck. And you’ve always been up for that type of fun, so let’s do it. We’ve been working our asses off and deserve it.”

  Yeah, I love a good titty bar. Love good pussy too.

  My eyes drift back to Joslyn and I know that I would have better with her.

  “No, thanks,” I tell him and then straighten my spine a little more, letting my attention turn to the crowd again.

  Doing my job.

  “You need to cut that shit out right now,” Jerico growls and I turn to face him.

  “What do you mean?”

  Jerico’s eyes cut to Joslyn out on stage and he merely nods at her. “I can see it. You might be hiding it from everyone else but not from me. You can’t get involved with her.”

  “I’m not,” I grit out.

  “She’s a job,” he tells me pointedly. As if I didn’t understand what he had just said.

  “I get that.”

  His expression turns hard. “She’s too young anyway.”

  Not really. “I know.”

  But he is right. I can’t get involved with her.

  My ears train onto the sound of her voice, which is just as good as looking at her. The timbre and the huskiness drive deep into me. I get joy listening to the raucous applause after every song she finishes. That moment on her face after her last number when she realizes she killed it out there and can breathe easy again.

  Yeah, even her fucking insecurities are a turn-on to me.

  But I can’t have her. Someone can’t shine that bright and not be noticed. I know when that happens, Vegas will not be big enough to contain her.

  A sense of loss hits me deep in my gut, and I wonder how I can miss something that I never even had.

  “Everything set for your trip to Montana?”

  His abrupt change of subject relieves me. “Yeah. It’s all good.”

  Joslyn and I leave in a few days for her charity concert event. We’ll be in Cunningham Falls for two nights as she wanted to relax a little and see some local friends.

  “How many men are you taking?” he asks me.

  I turn and regard Jerico curiously, wondering if he’s going to be this up in my business on every single case I handle. “Just me and Jayce. It’s a very small event and the sheriff there seems to have pretty tight security protocols in place. There is a high tourist population in the summer months so there will be a lot of people to watch, but between the sheriff’s department and Jayce and me sticking close to her, she’ll be fully covered.”

  “Is her mother going?” he asks. “Does she need some protection?”

  I shake my head. “She’s going to New York on a shopping trip but I think it’s in protest.”

  “How do you mean?”

  I give him a quick glance and turn back to the stage. “Madeline didn’t want Joslyn to take this job. It interfered with a big deal she was putting together and it pissed her off.”

  “And you know that how?” he asks with a raised eyebrow.

  My voice is too damn tight and defensive when I reply, “Because Madeline told me. She asked me to convince Joslyn not to do the concert because of security concerns, but I couldn’t do it. It would be lying.”

  That was a completely awkward conversation two days ago. Madeline was waiting for me out in the hallway when I came on duty. After Jayce left, she told me point blank that she had a better deal for Joslyn just there for the taking if she’d forgo the Cunningham Falls concert. She didn’t think I had any sway over her daughter, which meant she wasn’t as observant of us as I had surmised, but rather wanted me to come up with some bogus security concerns. I apologized profusely because I just couldn’t do it. We’d sent a guy to Cunningham Falls to scope it out and meet with Sheriff Hull to ensure Joslyn’s safety. It would be tight and well-run, so I had no qualms about her going.

  Moreover, I’m glad I could deny Madeline because this concert was important to Joslyn on an incredibly personal level. I wasn’t about to dash her dreams to participate in this as a means to connect with her father’s spirit wherever it may be.

  “She wasn’t happy I wouldn’t go to bat for her,” I tell Jerico, because I need to disclose to him that I pissed her off. “She tried to remind me she was the client, and not Joslyn, but sorry, mate... I don’t agree with it and wasn’t about to cow to her.”

  “Tread careful,” Jerico warns. “Because Madeline Meyers is the client in that she controls everything. If she wants to fire us, she can easily and hire someone else. Don’t make it easy for her to do so.”

  That makes me feel like shit. That I’d put Jerico’s business in jeopardy, and yet, I can’t be fully abashed.

  “The concert has deep personal meaning for Joslyn,” I tell him, knowing that it does nothing but reveal that I know Joslyn better than I have a right to and everything he suspects about me is true.

  Jerico stares at me with worry in his expression.

  I dig my grave deeper as I continue to defend Joslyn. “I’m just saying... she told me about her dad dying of cancer and this is going to benefit a memorial wing of the hospital named after him. He was a beloved town doctor. I guess I can’t understand how her mother doesn’t get that. Or how she thinks something else should be more important.”

  “She’s a business manager as much as a mom,” Jerico says in a low tone. “Her job is to focus on career, money, and opportunity.”

  Funny. I thought her job was first and foremost to be a mother, but apparently not. I hold my tongue, though, as I’ve painted myself in a bad enough light with Jerico already.

  Jerico places a hand on my shoulder and I’m forced to give him my attention. “Joslyn is business, not pleasure.”

  I shrug his hand off but lean in closer to him so he can hear me clearly. “If you don’t trust me to do the job, then by all means... put someone else on it.”

  Jerico stares at me a moment before replying, “I trust you.”

  “Then let me do my job.” I turn away from him and look back out over the crowd. Joslyn has two more songs to go and then we’ll be able to wrap things up for the night.

  “I’m headed out,” Jerico says and I throw a hand up in acknowledgment.

  He leaves me with one last pearl of wisdom though. “She’s not going to be in Vegas long. You know that, right?”

  I don’t reply but watch Joslyn strut around on the stage, having moved to a high energy pop song with a slight techno beat to it.

  “Her trajectory is upward,” Jerico continues on and I just wish he’d shut the fuck up. “It will take her away from here. Mark my word.”

  He’s right, of course, and I hate him for it.

  So all I can say is, “I know, and that’s good. She deserves it.”

  Chapter 8

  Joslyn

  “Are you sure you don’t need me to stick around?” Michel asks as I change out of my costume. After a show, nothing feels better than a pair of sweat pants and a T-shirt after wearing such uncomfortable clothing.

  Well, a shower is better, but there isn’t one in my dressing room so that has to wait for when I get home.

  Still, Michel normally brushes out my hair, displacing the tangle of teased poufs and hair product, as well as my thick stage makeup.

  “I’m good,” I tell him as I pull my T-shirt down to my hips and come out from behind the screen. My mother wasn’t here after the show, which is highly unusual, and she didn’t even leave me a nasty kale smoothie to drink. I think I’ll ask Kynan to run me through a McDonald’s on the way home. I’d kill for some of their french fries.

  Right now, he’s standing just outside my dressing room door, patiently waiting for me to get back into my street clothes. He stopped coming
in here after that first time I invited him, which amuses me somewhat. Once we get to the apartment, we easily lapse into friendly conversation, teasing, and secret sharing. But here at the venue, he’s all business.

  Which is hot.

  “Okay, I’m out of here,” Michel says before pressing a kiss to my cheek. “See you tomorrow.”

  “Have fun,” I call out to him as he opens the door to leave.

  “You know it,” he chirps back at me. Seems that the bouncer he met the night we went out is intriguing Michel in a way that no man has in a long time. They’ve seen each other almost every night since.

  I get a brief glimpse of Kynan standing outside and smile to myself as I sit down at the vanity table. The mirror is surrounded by round, frosted bulbs that reflect back to me a woman that looks nothing like the real Joslyn Meyers. My makeup is heavy, my hair outrageously wild, and my lips shiny with thick gloss.

  I wrinkle my nose and grab a few makeup removal towelettes from a box on the table. I start wiping the gunk off and then dab oil across the tops of my eyelids to free the heavy and incredibly sticky false eyelashes. I dump them in the trash beside me and pull out some more wipes to remove the rest of the eye makeup.

  Someone gives a sharp rap to my door and I call, “Come in,” thinking it’s Kynan.

  Instead, I see my mom poke her head in the door through the reflection of the vanity mirror. “You dressed?” she asks.

  “Yeah,” I reply and she pushes the door wide open to step inside. Behind follows a man that I’ve never met before. He closes the door after they cross the threshold.

  I turn halfway in my chair, putting one arm around the back to look at them straight on.

  “Joslyn,” my mom says in a gracious voice with an underlying vibration of excitement. “I want to introduce to you Ian McMichaels.”

  My eyes flare wide. I recognize him now that I know his name and I pop off my chair to face him fully.

  He’s of average height and looks, with reddish blond hair that is longish but styled. His eyes are green and his face ruddy, covered in freckles and Irish genealogy. If I remember correctly, he’s in his early forties but he looks younger than that.