Page 97 of Crimson Desires

I tried to bite Arnold’s hand. He just laughed.

“Go ahead, Aster. Bite. As long as you don’t scream, we’re in business.”

Fear electrified my body. The sound of my own rushing blood thundered in my ears. I struggled to move, to shout—to do anything.

Suddenly, the door to the tour bus swung open.

“Aster?”

At the sound of Jack’s voice, I nearly sobbed.

Jack marched up the tour bus stairs. He didn’t say anything when he saw Arnold and me.

He just lunged forward, connecting his fist with the underside of Arnold’s jaw.

“Fuck!” Arnold released me, crashing hard and fast against the tour bus floor.

Jack jumped on top of Arnold, pinning him to the ground with his knees. His fists rained down on the old rock star like a hailstorm.

“You think you can fucking touch a woman like that? Piece. Of. Shit!” Jack snarled, punctuating each word with another brutal punch. After a few more swings, Jack rose from Arnold’s sniveling body. He glared at Arnold. “Consider any further collaboration between Killing Kiss and Wicked Crimson canceled.”

“Like we want to open for your queer little band anyways,” Arnold jeered.

“You were fucking lucky to open for us. Before Ava reached out to your band, you were going to be playing at a venue seating five hundred.” Jack shook his head. “Fucking pathetic. To think that Wicked Crimson looked up to you.”

Arnold barked a laugh. “Wicked Crimson’s not going to be worth anything once I sue the shit out of you for attacking me.”

“Go ahead. Then I can tell the world that you tried to sexually assault one of my employees.”

Arnold’s jaw clenched. Jack had him pinned, and he knew it.

Jack flipped Arnold off. “Have the life you deserve, dickbag.” He placed his hands protectively over my shoulders, his voice gentle as he murmured in my ear, “Come on, Aster. Let’s go.”

***

“I’m sorry for not listening to you,” I said. A ripped up napkin that once held Arnold Renner’s signature on it lay in pieces at my feet.

Jack and I sat on the rooftop patio of Bluegrass Bourbon & Lace. I was sipping a glass of Pepsi, and Jack was nursing a beer. The knuckles on his right hand were a bit bloody and bruised—but they hadn’t been left nearly as gruesome by the fight as Arnold’s face was.

The fear from my confrontation with Arnold was wearing off—but the aftershocks of it were still present in my system (and to be honest, I had a feeling that those aftershocks would continue to haunt me for a lot longer).

Jack had already talked to the other members of Killing Kiss to tell them what Arnold had done. Thankfully, Rick and Manny had taken him seriously. They even considered canceling their tour altogether. Ultimately, Jack had decided to leave their decisions in their hands.

He’d ordered us some drinks and had requested private access to the bar’s rooftop lounge.

“It’s not your fault,” Jack said. “It’s natural to be a little starstruck when you meet one of your idols. I’m sorry that Arnold betrayed your trust like that.” He cracked a weak grin. “So, do you still think I’m not intimidating?”

I blushed.

“I’m sorry about that, too,” I squeaked.

“I’m gentle with you because I choose to be, Aster,” Jack said, his blue eyes meeting mine. “But if anyone was to hurt you, I’d do whatever it took to bring you to safety.”

“It’s weird.” I sighed, leaning against him. I could hear his heart beating through his shirt, steady and soothing.

“What’s weird?”

“Having somebody who’s willing to fight for you. I can’t remember the last time anyone protected me. I can’t remember the last time I needed to be protected.” I felt my chest tighten. As stupid as it was, I felt a little embarrassed that I’d had to be saved by Jack. I wasn’t a damsel in distress—I was Aster Jennings. I was hyper-independent, self-sufficient, and capable of protecting myself.

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