Action (Hollywood Nights (Book 7))

Action

Hollywood Nights

By

Cara North

www.musesandsirens.com

Please do not pirate this book!

Dedication

For my readers, you are the best and I am grateful for each one of you!

A special thank you to my Muse, Jake
Gyllenhaal for inspiring my stories. 

No Thanks

To the pirate websites and the people uploading my books to them. I guess the cost of cover art, editors, and the hours I spent writing this book means nothing to them. It means a lot to me. If you find this book listed for free, it is stolen.

Copyright

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Copyright© 2013 Cara North

Cover Artist: Stella Price

All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print
without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

Contact: [email protected]

Prologue to Action

             
“I’m here to see Dagney Scott,” Bruce King said to the ladies at the front desk.

             
“I swear I am wearing jeans tomorrow.” The blonde with a shirt that revealed practically everything from this angle said as she picked up the phone and called Dagney’s office. She was cute, but desperate, and that rack was likely as fake as some of her hair. He could see that from this angle too. 

             
He turned around in time to see the cause of his aggravation. Foster Scott, the man who was intending to take her away from him. “Hey. I need to talk to you.”

             
Bruce watched the guy frown as he tried to pinpoint how he recognized him. “Who are you, mate?”

             
“Dagney didn’t tell you?” Bruce had no patience for him or his accent. If he thought she was leaving this country for good, he had better think again. He didn’t care who he was.

             
“My Dagney?” He pointed to himself.

             
“Don’t you ever call her that again! She
belongs
to no one.” Bruce was going to strangle this guy. He was about the same height, maybe an inch shorter, but he was skinny. He wore hipster glasses, a t-shirt, and jeans.

             
“She belongs to me, mate.” He looked pretty pissed. “I saw your photo in her phone, you were younger. Yeah, that’s where I recognize you.
College
age.” There was something about the emphasis he placed on college that Bruce didn’t understand, but whatever college had to do with him and Dagney really fired the guy up. “I know you may have held some flame in the past, but that’s over. No one’s snogging Dagney but me.”

             
“Snogging. Did you just say you fucked her?” He was seeing red. Few things made him feel murderous, but this was one of them. He struggled to see Dagney as anything other than when had seen her last, when he was in college and she was twelve. They were eight years apart, had different fathers, and because their mother was young when she had him, he was raised by their grandmother. It didn’t matter.

             
Bruce punched him in the mouth. It busted the guy’s lip, but to his credit he staggered back a step and then swung his own punch. It landed on the side of Bruce’s face. He could hear the girls at the counter yelling for security. He tackled Foster to the ground and was about to punch him again when his elbow hit something and a woman screamed in pain.

             
He turned to see a female security guard holding her arm. She looked at him like she was going to murder him. Maybe it was because she was still standing after getting elbowed by a former pro-football player he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Until his baby sister emerged as a full grown woman!

Dagney raced over. She didn’t look like his sister. She was in jeans, yes, but they fit her. The top wasn’t two sizes two big. It was hugging her curves. He was trying to figure out how the hell she grew up so fast when a blast of pepper spray had him in a considerable amount of pain.

              “Harmony! Don’t!” Dagney yelled as she ran to them. “Oh my God! What is going on here? Let him go Bruce!”

             
Let him go. Let him go!
She was talking to him as though he were the bad guy here. He had let go of Foster so he could hold his eyes. The guard asked for a glass of water. He heard her tell him to, “Be still. Rinse your eyes with this.”

             
He still straddled the singer. Foster was holding his busted lip and looking at Dagney. Through blurry eyes he could see she was pleading with him not to do anything else. The voice of the owner, Bo Bliss cracked the lobby air. Everyone knew Bo by now. Everyone in Hollywood anyways. Bruce hoped this little scene didn’t ruin the part he was recently offered. Bo had that kind of clout.

             
“What the fuck is going on here?” Bo asked as he walked up. “Harmony, are you okay?”

             
“I didn’t know who they were, sir,” she said and winced as she touched her arm. “I think it may be broken.”

             
Bruce held his head in shame. He had done that to her, even if he didn’t mean to.

             
“Dagney was tending to Foster and asked, “Bruce, why did you hit him?”

             
“He said he was snogging you, Dags. You’re my little sister. You think I want some guy popping off at the mouth about you like that?” Bruce stood as he continued to wipe his eyes. “I’m sorry, Bo. Miss. I will pay for the medical bills. I…”

             
“Sister?” Foster asked. “That’s your brother? Not your last lover from college?”

             
“Of course it’s my brother. That’s why they are my favorite team and why I can’t let you talk trash about American football.” He could see her affection for the Irish man was more than just fucking. He knew in that instant he lost the only family he had left. Sadly, it was right when he could be close enough to actually get to know her.

              “Tell the cops it is under control here. No need for this to go public. Come on Harmony, I’ll take you to the hospital.” Bo Bliss escorted the guard away.

             
“Is lunch out of the question?” he asked his sister.

             
Foster stood up. The lip had almost stopped bleeding. It was swollen and would be for a while. He imagined the sting on his cheek wasn’t exactly pretty. He packed a bit of punch to be such a wiry guy.

***

Bruce was resigned to the fact that Dagney was in love with Foster and that she would leave soon to tour with him. He would have to steal as much time with her as he could. He had a ton of regrets about his family connection with her, but he was trying to make amends. She was so young and he was a kid trying to make his way in the world. What was he supposed to do?

             
He was going to fix one mess right away. After lunch he had stopped back by Blissful Sound to apologize to the owner. He picked up some flowers and was at the door of Harmony Hernandez. Security guard slash actress. Everyone in Hollywood was some job slash some other performance related job.

             
She wasn’t difficult to find. She lived in the same building as his sister. Fortunately, he would be staying there. Unfortunately, Dagney was already moving out. He decided to finish out her lease and then hunt for another location. He wasn’t making millions anymore and though he wasn’t anywhere near poor, he knew he needed to be smarter about his money.

             
He debated knocking on the door to the point that a neighbor was walking slower down the hall in nosy wonder as to whether he was going to stand there all night or knock. He looked at the old woman who picked up her step upon being discovered. He knocked on the door.

             
He wasn’t stupid. He held the flowers up to the peep hole. She wasn’t stupid either. “Who are you?”

             
“Bruce King.” He pulled he flowers down so she could see it was him.

             
“I don’t think my lawyer would approve of me talking to you,” she said.

             
“You don’t have to talk to me. You could just listen.” He propped his hand up on the door frame and hoped she would open the door. He needed at least one thing to go right today, one thing to go his way. His sister was leaving. His career as an actor was starting off damn rocky. All he needed to sleep semi-peacefully tonight was to have this woman accept some flowers and an apology, even if she sued him into poverty tomorrow.

***

Harmony looked at the most gorgeous man she had ever seen and tried to remember she was mad at him. Not mad enough to call a lawyer because it was partly her fault she had a broken arm. She knew better than to try to pull a football player off a musician, but she was the only security guard in the area at the time.

The guys had teased her about being too pretty and girly for this job. Maybe they were right, but working at a relatively uneventful place locking doors and checking the perimeter wasn’t a bad gig for an aspiring actress.

              He stopped leaning in and she thought for sure he was going to leave. She turned the lock on her door and opened it. He had walked two paces by then. She looked out and he looked back. “Say what you need to say.”

             
He looked so relieved that she had opened the door she wondered exactly what he needed to say. An apology was more than sufficient. Blissful Sound had a good medical plan plus it was an accident on the job in the line of duty so the company insurance paid for it.

             
The brown hair, blue eyed Adonis stepped towards her. In the light she could see the bruise on his still puffy cheek from where Foster Scott had popped him. She smiled. Maybe he thought she was smiling at him and not his condition. He smiled at her and she was sure her heart jumped into her throat.

             
He walked into her home and said, “Wow. Dagney’s apartment is as plain as paper. This is so vibrant.”

             
“Is that what you came to say?” she asked with as much bravado as she could muster under the circumstances.

             
“Oh, no.” He turned and offered her the flowers. They were beautiful, she had to admit. “I didn’t know what kind you might like so I just asked for a variety.”

             
“Thank you.” She reached with her casted arm and then sighed with the frustration that she was going to have to get used to it.

             
“Tell me where to go.” He closed his eyes because he knew that was a bad suggestion at this moment. “I mean, tell me what to do with them.”

             
She wasn’t sure that was any better.

             
“I’m just going to set these on the counter, say I am sorry, I truly am, and go visit my sister’s empty apartment for the next two months.” By the time she opened her mouth he was next to her, placing the flowers on the counter. She could smell the sweet and warm scent of the cologne he wore, feel the heat from his body, and assess the sheer physical size of him. She wasn’t a petite woman. By most standards she was considered tall, voluptuous. She looked several of the guys at work eye to eye and had to look down at a few of them.

             
“Are you hungry?” It was the best she had to offer.

             
“I haven’t had dinner.” He turned his head the slightest bit and looked down at her.

             
The air sizzled dangerously between them. She was sure it was due to the pain meds and not the actual way he looked at her. He couldn’t be looking at her that way. He was the All American boy. She was a mixed Puerto Rican and white girl. “I wish I could cook something.”

             
She smiled and he smiled and before long they were laughing. He said, “Let me cook for you.”

             
“Get real.” She looked at that cowlick at the left corner of his hair right above his forehead. Damn he practically smelled like apple pie. In fact, he really did smell like apple pie. She leaned in, rationalizing she could blame it on the pain meds though she only took half of one and that was hours ago, and sniffed him. “Why do you smell like apple pie?”

             
“Dagney baked me a fresh one as a here’s my apartment, sorry I’m running off to Europe with a folk rock star apology.” He looked unhappy about it. “Is that even considered a rock star?”

             
She wasn’t about to say that Foster Scott was a hot piece of folk rock anything because that would not help her situation or his mood. “It’s crap music.”

             
She might have exacerbated a little bit but it made him happy. “Thank you! Someone agrees with me!”

             
“So what can you cook?” She noticed he had not moved out of her personal space. He noticed it too and took a step back.

             
“Anything. Everything. What do you want? If I can’t cook it I’ll go get it. Name it.”

             
“I was about to order Chinese when you knocked on the door.” She looked him over slowly.
Damn, damn, damn
. Why did he have to dress so nice? Why did he have such pouty, full lips?

“I can go get that.” He was eager to help. She wondered just how much help he would be willing to give her.

“They deliver.” Dagney was a lovely woman, but they looked nothing alike. “You and Dagney are blood related?”

             
He laughed and nodded. “We have different dads. Different last names. I guess we don’t really look a lot alike. I took after my father. She took after hers mostly. She suffers from the same vertical impairment our mother had.”