Page 19 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Again, he wrenched off the radio with no warning. This time, I stopped singing. “Sorry,” I said automatically. “It’s habit.”

“Why are you apologizing?” His voice was pure grit. “I turned it off so I could hear you better.”

“I—what?”

“Why are you doing hair when you could be on a stage somewhere and not just shaking your fine ass?”

There was so much more to unpack than I could in the space of a few seconds. Then he started speaking again.

“You can do more, you know. You don’t have to settle.”

“Who’s settling?”

He didn’t answer, but it was clear he thought I was.

“I love my job. Do you think what I do isn’t important? That it’s not a skill? If you’d let me touch you, you’d see I could even do wonders with you.”

He slid me a long glance in the darkness of the front seat. Even without being able to decipher his expression, the heat from it enfolded me from head to toe. He was pissed.

Good. I was tired of being mad alone.

“You were going to college to get a degree. What happened there? Too much partying?”

His censure stung. “It’s none of your business.”

“You made it my business when you stole my keys and my truck.”

“I didn’t steal your truck. You’re sitting in it, aren’t you? And I wouldn’t have needed to if you hadn’t acted like such a self-important, immature jackass. Instead of just dealing with our past, you try to pretend it doesn’t exist. Sticking your tongue down any woman’s throat who wanders past at the afterparties any time I started walking your way, or picking nonsense fights with me when all I wanted to do was to remind the world she existed.” The backs of my eyes burned hot. “She matters and I still care, even if you don’t.”

“If you think I stuck my tongue down any woman’s throat because of you, you’re the one who’s self-important and immature.” He made a so

und that was part amusement and part derision. “As if you’re even in my sphere.”

“Oh, right. Stupid little hair and makeup girl can’t even talk to the big rockstar. You know what? Just let me off at the next rest station. I’ll find my way back.”

“Fuck that.”

“No, fuck you.” I yanked at my seatbelt and grabbed the door handle. I didn’t even know what I was doing right now. I couldn’t exactly jump from a moving vehicle at eighty miles an hour.

I also couldn’t sit in this confined space with him another moment longer.

“Goddammit, Daisy, if you open that door—”

Blind with frustration and pain, I opened it.

I reared back as his big arm shot in front of my chest, somehow yanking the door closed while we careened across the road. The truck rocked so wildly that the trees beyond the guardrail swerved frighteningly close. Brakes screeched as I shut my eyes and braced for the crash, every part of me clenched in preparation.

And then…nothing.

I opened my eyes as we swerved, regaining our forward momentum although I would’ve never been able to say how. The truck bounced around before finally stabilizing, a long breath whooshing out of me as I touched Oz’s arm, still banded across my chest. Holding me safe even though I’d nearly killed us both.

“I’m sorry.” The words sobbed out of me. “I’m so sorry.”

He was breathing hard, his features set like granite. He didn’t speak. Didn’t look at me. Just signaled into the texting pull off station we were passing and wrenched off the truck.

Then he unsnapped his belt and turned toward me, snapping out his hand to grasp my chin. “Don’t you ever try a stupid trick like that again, understand me?”

I wanted to rail at him, but fear had struck me mute. Or maybe it was the sheer panic coming from him, as potent as the seductive scent of him surrounding us. Making everything seem so hazy and secluded and…hot.

---