Page 81 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

The little lines between his brows eased.

“Noah’s team is as professional as it gets. He won’t let anything happen to us—to me.”

The last bit was to reassure me as much as it was for him. Watching the security guards flank us like we were the boys from One Direction was messing with all of us. The more isolation we endured, the more ramped up all of us were getting.

Jamie was dangerously close to getting locked in a storage locker by Noah between cities. She kept disappearing from her security detail only to show up five minutes before soundcheck with a flask and a smile.

Cooper, Teagan, and Zane were turning to workouts and yoga to keep sane. Master Zen—aka Zane—was responsible for the yoga. I’d even been joining them for their sessions. It helped calm my nerves, and my abs were phenomenal because of it.

Oz had been retreating with a notebook and his guitar instead of hanging out with the band during down times. He’d been on auto pilot the last few shows. We usually gave him space this time of year. Grief didn’t always have a timetable, but his sister’s anniversary was like a hard reset.

He usually went away to his cabin and came back a little more hollow, but a lot more himself. This year was not going the same way. He was being even more of a prick than usual, and as an added bonus, he’d decided to punch a photog and get his stupid ass arrested. Even Daisy had gotten caught up in Oz’s undertow.

The paps had run with it, splashing our names all over the damn tabloid blogs. Dredging up the shit Nash and I had dealt with months ago. Oz’s sister’s overdose years ago.

Were Brooklyn Dawn cursed?

How many times did I have to read that in a notification?

How was I supposed to convince Nash we were safe when I didn’t really believe it? The law of averages could not account for all the bullshit that had happened the last few days. Not with the vandalism at the fan club secret show venue and a break-in at Oz’s off-the-grid cabin.

Lila was trying to keep all of us in line, but instead of easing our fears, she was locking us out, and I didn’t like it.

I was exhausted, and Nash was picking up on it, damn him. I could only handle one volatile personality at a time, and my band had a couple of them. Between them and the love of my life, only one of them could be soothed with sex.

I went onto my toes so Nash and I were eye to eye. “I know you don’t like it, but you believe in me and trust me, so trust my team.”

“That’s a big ask, duchess.”

“Please.”

His gaze dropped to my mouth then came back up to meet mine. “I’ll be in the crowd.”

My eyebrows shot up. “Really?”

“Backstage isn’t close enough. Not when I’m tripping over your fucking crew. And I don’t want to hear shit when I’m standing near you during the meet and greet.”

I rolled my eyes. “At least the fans will get a show. They like when you growl.”

“Then they’ll be thrilled tonight.”

“Goodie.”

He gripped my ass and dragged me even closer. His kiss was a little wild and very hungry. Enough that I dragged at the tails of his black button-down shirt.

The discreet knock on my door was easy enough to ignore. Especially when Alex did that thing with his tongue. Jesus, he had some crazy key to my damn lock. Even when he wasn’t between my thighs. Still worked damn well.

“Miss York?”

“Fuck off, mate.”

I laughed into his mouth. “I have to go to work.”

“In a minute.” He dragged my skirt up enough that he could wedge his wicked fingers between my thighs.

“Alex,” I moaned into his mouth. The sexual side of me that Nash had unearthed wanted to say to hell with schedules and professionalism. Unfortunately, my life had been ruled by my work ethic for too long. Our fans had given us their time, and tonight’s show was particularly special.

The fan club had members in it since the beginning. Our roots in Brooklyn gave a little more meaning to everything. While I might be considered the little rich girl of the band, we all had a special bond with Brooklyn.

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