Page 61 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

Raising her arm, she lifted her hair, letting it fall as she turned back toward me. I literally could not breathe.

“All I need is a sports car and I can spread out on the hood like that girl in the Whitesnake video.”

I spoke without thinking. “We can borrow Noah’s.”

Too late, I realized she wasn’t saying it as something she wanted to do. Blame it on all the blood rerouting beneath my waist.

“Oh, goodie. Why dance in a cage at the show when I can do it for your entertainment?” She gave me a shallow smile. “Hope you have your dollar bills ready.” She whirled around to head back into the dressing room.

“Daisy,” I began, taking two steps toward her. Christ, I was being a colossal ass. “Daze, I’m sorry—” I broke off at a quick tapping sound against the front window.

Turning, I stared in shock at the asshole crouched near the side of the big plate glass window fronting the shop. He was far enough down that he was disguised by some of the racks between us and the windows, but he’d had a clear view between them at the dressing area and mirrors where Daisy had just been.

Fucker.

I took off running, ignoring the calls and admonitions from the concierge and her team. I yanked open the door just as the guy realized he’d been spotted. He smiled wide as I burst onto the sidewalk, and dimly, I realized there were more of his kind congregating around him. Guess I shouldn’t have skipped the sunglasses while I was in the store.

Stupid. I was stupid in so many ways.

I held out my hand to the photographer. “Give me the camera. Now.”

His smile stretched across his face. “You’re fucking joking, right? I’m not giving you my equipment.”

“Hey, Oz, pretty girl you got with you. Daisy works with you, doesn’t she?”

“Daisy Flannigan’s a hairdresser, isn’t she? Do you give her extra tips?”

“You’ve known Daisy a long time. Have you been seeing her in secret all this time?”

More questions pelted me as I flexed my fists and tried to lock down my rage. I hated, absolutely hated, that they knew her name. Her face. That she’d become a soundbite as I was. I’d chosen that life. Chose it every day. She’d had no say.

“Give me your camera. Those pictures are private.”

His smile turned lecherous at the edges. “She’s a hot piece. You should add her to your collection of band babes. Gotta tell you, I always figured you were fucking that wild guitarist—what’s her name? A dude’s name, right? James? Jamie? She’s gorgeous.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Noah crossing the street toward the congregation of photogs and paps. I was surrounded by them, but I didn’t feel overwhelmed. Their questions and shouts fueled me like a tornado gathering strength. I’d been on edge all weekend, and I didn’t have an amp to kick to shreds.

As a rule, I would’ve said I wasn’t violent with people. Today was going to prove me wrong.

Some of the questions were tamer. Almost polite. I ignored those. Through all of it was the relentless click-click-click of flashes going off.

One.

Two.

Three.

Building the fire inside me to an inferno.

“Yeah, yeah, Jamie,” another of them called out. “Guess you aren’t as much of a bad ass as you think if you haven’t tapped that. Or did—”

He didn’t get the rest of the sentence out because Noah picked him up as if he was a plastic doll and clamped his arms at an awkward angle behind him. The photog’s camera clattered to the pavement with a crash. He howled as Noah did something behind his back and spoke low into his ear.

The photographer paled and shut the fuck up.

“Give me the camera,” I said to the dude in front of me. I hadn’t missed how he’d started snapping me again while my attention had briefly been diverted by Noah. “This is your last fucking chance.”

More questions flew at me. I heard my sister’s name, then Daisy’s and mine. Tangled up. The word druggie stampeded through my brain as if someone had express sent it right to all my pressure centers. I could practically feel my blood boiling in my veins.

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