Page 84 of Play Fast (Brooklyn Dawn 2)

“Duchess, relax. I’ve got you.”

I sagged against Nash and turned into his arms. His hand came up to cup the back of my head as he hauled me out of there.

“Put me down.” Jamie’s husky voice boomed.

I glanced toward her and found her slung over Noah’s shoulder. Her shirt—lack of shirt—was twisted around her neck.

“If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was ask.”

The crowd laughed, and flashes went off.

Jamie lifted her head, her waterfall of near black hair tipped in ultraviolet falling forward around her face. She lifted her arm and flashed devil rocker horns. “We’ll see you in an hour.”

The security detail had tripled, and now they were playing sentry to make an aisle to get us out of the crowd.

“Thanks, everyone. We’re looking forward to the show.” I waved, adding a smile so people would know we didn’t want to leave. Even though that was very much a falsehood. I was more than done.

“Ever the frontwoman,” Alex muttered in my ear. “What the fuck were you thinking?”

I didn’t answer him. Obviously, I hadn’t been thinking, but the quick high of the fan adoration had melted damn fast. It had been awhile since Jamie had led me into temptation. And I was going to pay for it.

Great.

We made it inside the side door of the venue where security was far tighter. Nash’s hand was securely clamped around mine as we were herded inside.

“You can put me down now, Master Sergeant.”

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“You’re fucking naked.” Noah’s voice was flat and cold.

“So? Who hasn’t seen a pair of tits? It’s no big.”

If I wasn’t being manhandled by my own man, I’d have facepalmed. “Jamie, shut up.”

She wiggled against Noah. “Or maybe you’re enjoying my tits.”

Noah just kept walking.

“They’re spectacular tits.” She kept wiggling to get free.

“Jamie,” I snapped.

“What? Pretty sure you’ve seen them.”

The line of fans hadn’t been allowed into the main level yet. There were a few VIP fans clustered around the stage where Cooper and Zane were answering questions.

The Brooklyn Bowl wasn’t a large venue. The stage was intimate and shallow, leaving barely enough room for Cooper’s abbreviated kit. A trio of stools were set on the side for our acoustic set. Teagan’s dual keyboards were set up on a dais on the right side of the stage. Amps lined the edges like wings with colorful plumage in the form of guitars.

Our techs and stage crew were running around, and microphones were being tested.

The crash of pins on the side of the room caught my attention. Oz was standing in between two lanes with a bowling ball in each hand. One was a strike, one was very much a gutter ball.

“Balls.” He lifted a bottle sitting beside his boot.

I really wished it was beer.

He took a swig from the bottle of Jack and sauntered over to us. “‘Bout time you two showed up.”

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