Keeping Jahleel (Loving All Wrong #1.5) (13 page)

The waitress smiled again and left, and I warily took up the cigarette case and flipped the little latch on the side. The top opened with a smooth swing, and the rich, soothing scent of Davidoff cigarettes hit me. Yeah, I was in love with it. No way on earth he was getting it back.

Tucked neatly between two cigarettes was a note. I pulled it out and unfolded it:

Just because…I still know what you like.
I’m calling a TRUCE.
Come party with us.
If you don’t come, we’re coming over there to crash your booth.

Okay, so he
didn’t
hate me then. He was calling a truce. Thank Christ for that. Because I was just about to bolt. And then it would make the news that my ex came in and chased me out of the club because I was afraid I still had feelings for him, or some falsity like that. Entertainment news wrote the craziest stuff sometimes.

“Ohmigod, Kia, he wants you back, doesn’t he?” Jamie asked, practically bouncing in her seat.

I shot her a glare. “No. And have you forgotten I’m engaged?”

She opened her mouth to answer, but Amy spoke first to save her. “We mean no disrespect to JK. We’re just excited because, well, it’s
Tex Laklin
. This guy is, like,
always
touring. An unexpected appearance like this? Not likely in the least.”

“Could you at least get his autograph for us, Kia?” Jamie begged. “I’m not sure when we’re going to get another opportunity like this. He’s like the most elusive rock star ever.”

These two girls have been around me since I first moved to the states, and I never even had a clue they were such huge fans of my ex. And strangely enough, in that moment, I actually
wanted
to help them out.

Crushing the note in my hand, I snapped the cigarette case close and stood up. “Forget autographs. We’re going to
party
with the rock stars.”

Jamie and Amy squealed in delight, bolting ahead of me.

Thomas caught my wrist as I was about to leave and stared me down, his expression grave. “Are you
positive
about going over there, Miss Day?”

“Sure, why not?” I shrugged. “I’m bored as shite anyway…”

Shifting uncomfortably, Thomas kept a hold on my wrist with his big hand, looking worried now. “I know it’s not my place, but I do consider you more than just another job. You care about us, all of us around you, and I feel the compulsion to protect you not just because you pay me to, but because I
care
for you—”

I shuffled, impatient, wanting him to spit out whatever was in his throat. “What exactly is the problem, Thomas?”

“I do not trust that man,” he said bluntly. “I feel I need to remind you how black and irate he was when you broke it off with him. So speaking frankly, I do not think partying with him is prudent, Miss Day.”

“I do remember how angry he was, Thomas,” I said. “But that was
three years
ago, and he’s called a truce. Besides”—I freed my wrist from his grasp—”you’ll be there to protect me, won’t you?”

Without waiting for his answer, I walked off, leaving him to follow.

Ninety Miles’ band members got on wild with hoots and cheers as I approached their booth on the opposite side of the club. Jamie and Amy went in ahead of me, and Tex himself stepped out and came forward to meet me, locking me into an extremely tight hug, spinning me, then lifting me into the booth.

“Reunited and it feels soooooo gooooooooddd!!!!!!” the rest of the band members sang out in a
very
loud jeer.

I punched Tex’s shoulder and he set me back down on my feet, grinning at me.

“Don’t ever do that again, yeah?” I hissed at him.

Holding his hands up, he stepped back a foot. “Okay, Raven. Meant no disrespect. Just that, it’s been so long since I’ve held you…”

I looked up into his ice-blue eyes, lined thickly with black eyeliner. His lips full and kissable as they’ve always been. Eyebrow piercing, septum ring, choker around his neck, a black wife beater, a black tee tossed over his shoulder, black studded belt looped through his close-fitted black leather pants, and black fingerless gloves. With fourteen inches of jet-black hair flowing down the sides of his face, he towered over me at six foot two. Tattoos covering every visible skin from his neck down.

We stood there staring at each other wordlessly, as unbidden memories flooded in, of all the amazing sex we used to have, anywhere, anytime, on any occasion.

There was a time when I was so insanely attracted to him, that he almost knocked all thoughts of Jahleel out of my head. But that was
almost
. Because I could never fully get Jahleel out of my head, and in the end, Tex was selfishly and unfairly mistreated by me.

It’d been over three years since I’d seen him face to face like this. And he was no different. The same Tex. The same rock god who used to rock my fucking world.

Finally getting my mouth to work, I scolded, “You can’t call me that anymore either, because I’m not
your
raven.” I wiggled my ring finger at him.

“Oh, right.” He looked away and took a sip of his drink. “So where is he, then? I got the impression both of you were gonna be here tonight?”

His tone seemed causal enough, no detection of hostility or jealousy, so I answered, “Missed his flight.”

He snorted. “That’s why you, my Raven, need a man who can afford his own jet.” He brought his drink to his lips again, but did it so his thumb was conspicuously pointing at himself.

When I just ignored his jab, he made a derisive laugh and went in for the kill. “A dancer? C’mon, Raven, sure you can do better than
that
.”

“Right.” I nodded once, lips pressed together. “This isn’t a truce. This is a chance for you to talk smack about my fiancé so you can feel better about yourself. Goodbye, Tex.”

When I turned and made to leave, he grabbed me around the waist to stop me, his front pressed up against my back. And he was hard. Typical Tex. He had the sex drive of a lion.

“Saskia, wait. I’m sorry, okay?” he said huskily in my ear. “You know I can’t help being a dick sometimes. The honest truth is, I’m really happy for you.”

“Yeah, right.” I tried to get free from him—and his hardness—but he held me tight to him, and I could see Thomas shaking his head outside the booth.

Amy and Jamie were busy flirting and dancing with the rest of the rowdy, crude-talking band members.

“It’s the truth, Saskia,” he said, spinning me around to face him. “I
am
happy for you. I know exactly how you feel because…” He looked away for a minute, then back to me. “I’ve met someone.”

“Tex,” I hissed out, “you’re
hard
.”

His lips pulled up in a lopsided grin as he glanced between us, his brow arching at his arousal. “Because you’re sexy as fuck, Raven. And the amazing smell of your hair is fucking with my senses. You can’t blame my dick for getting hard for you.” He brought his ice-blue gaze back to me now. “But my dick doesn’t control me. Because this girl I met, I think I’m in love with her.”

“In love?
Really
?” I grinned, relaxing again. “The mighty Tex. Shot down! Ohhhh, you have to tell me all about her.”

With a small shake of his head, Tex stared at me for a long, long while with an intense expression. He studied me for so long that I started to grow uncomfortable.

As if noticing this, he abruptly turned and nabbed a bottle of Nuvo from one of the many ice-buckets on a long, rectangular table behind him. He screwed off the cap and handed it to me. “Straight from the bottle, just the way you like it.”

Taking the bottle from him, I took a long sip, and he watched me for a beat longer before taking my hand and leading me over to the seats on the other end.

“Why don’t we kick back over here?” he said, his voice a slow drag. “And lemme tell you all about
her
.”

S
uffering from impatience, Jahleel rapped his knuckles on the pretty blonde receptionist’s desk. Unless she was fucking inept, he couldn’t understand what was taking her so long to hand over the key card and info for his and Saskia’s room.

He was fresh off a flight he hadn’t wanted to be on in the first place, and he was shit tired. But there was a three-day rule he had to adhere to, and because he missed his flight the night before, it was now four days.

Truth was, he hadn’t really
missed
the flight; he just didn’t get on it.

A last minute job offer came in to host a dance-off competition thrown by the producer of Dancin’ 2da beat, and he took it, because, to be honest, doing what he did—dancing—excited him a fuck of a lot more than making a lame appearance at some club just so people could stare at him like he was damn effigy or something.

He preferred to be known for his talent, not because he had a certain look or because he was engaged to the most erotically beautiful, fucking irresistible, lift-his-cock-on-the-spot woman in the world. So he took the last minute job—which paid more, incidentally—and left his girl hanging.

Then lied to her about it.

She would find out the truth eventually, though. ‘Cause even though the competition was aired live, the turnout had been huge what with all the big names being there, so it was bound to hit the entertainment news…and she was going to eat his fucking head off for lying to her.

But he’d deal with that when the time came.

Right now, he missed the fuck out of her and just wanted to sneak into their room and wake her up with cock.

Now if this blonde would just hurry the fuck up….

This tactic happened much too often for him to
not
know her game. She was deliberately being a snail to keep him there so she could “discreetly” eyeball him.

Chicks
.
They’re so fucking obvious, even when they aren’t.

Adjusting his holdall, Jahleel rapped his knuckles on the counter with a little more force this time. “Anytime this year, blondie?”

Blondie peeked up at him from beneath her mascara lengthened lashes and bit one side of her bottom lip. She was trying to be sexy. Except the lip biting, peek-up-under-the-lash thing didn’t work for every girl. She was pretty alright, but her face was a little chubby, no bone structure, and the lip biting just wasn’t working in her favor. At all.

“Sorry about that, Mr. Kingston,” she said in a voice less professional and more flirtatious. “I had a bit of technical difficulties here.”

Jahleel couldn’t help the choked laugh that came out. “Technical difficulties to pass me a fuckin’ key card? What’re you, an automaton?”

Blondie’s cheeks reddened. Passing him the key card, she confessed, “Okay, you got me. I’m sorry. It’s just…you’re
so
intense in person and…
hot
and I got a bit flustered when you came through the door and now I’m being unprofessional, but please don’t report me or anything and—ohmigod I’m babbling, I’m so sorry. I’m not even single or anything, I have a boyfriend. But yo—”

“S’okay, Jessica,” he assured her, giving her a wink and a smile to ease her flustering state.

Her eyes widened a fraction, then fluttered a million miles a minute. “How do you know my name?” she breathed out.

Leaning over the counter, Jahleel flicked a finger at her name-tag, then walked off.

As he got over to elevator, the doors pinged open, revealing three Vegas vultures inside. All short, tight dresses, overnight hair and make-up and tired faces, like they’d just woken up from a night of hard partying.

And instead of getting off, they just stood there, gawking at him.

“Getting off?” he asked.

No one moved.

“Ohhhh my gawwwd, I think I just
came
,” said one of the girls in a sweet southern drawl.

Clearly, as long he was standing there, they weren’t going to move, and he really didn’t have time for this shit.

Against his better judgment, he got into the elevator and hit the number for his floor. His bodyguard was having breakfast in the hotel restaurant. Jahleel had told him he didn’t need him to follow him up to his room. The mere fact he even needed a bodyguard annoyed him.

But in occasions such as this one, he knew it was sage. ‘Cause fans could be complete sickos.