Bad Things (Tristan & Danika #1) (45 page)

I was nearly close enough to touch him when he started singing, and I loved that.
 
He’d never sing for me off stage, and I’d asked a lot.
 
This was the next best thing, and I swayed to the beat, my eyes glued to the man I loved.
 
The man I adored.
 
The man I’d become completely obsessed with.
 

The downside to being that close to the stage was that it was also the most crowded part of the room, bodies that I didn’t know pressing up against me.
 

The band was on their second song when I felt big hands grip my hips, and a hot, hard body press against me from behind.
 

I stiffened.
 
The bump and grind was a familiar element to the Vegas dance scene, but I usually managed to steer away from it, since I did
actual
dancing, and not the stand-up humping that some people
called
dancing.

The whole thing couldn’t have lasted more than thirty seconds.
 

A greasy, unfamiliar voice whispered something suggestive in my ear, and I felt a strange erection poke into my behind.
 
I didn’t even have time to react, or even consider how I wanted to react.
 

My eyes shot to the stage as the singing stopped, though the music kept going.
 

“Get the fuck off of her!” Tristan shouted into the mic about a millisecond before he was jumping off the stage.
 

The creeper behind me was ripped away, and I did my best ‘get the fuck out of the way’ move, backing up three steps
fast
.
 

I saw Tristan gripping the man’s shirt, saw him knee him in the groin hard, and saw him yell into his face.
 

That was as far as it got before security became involved, tearing the two men apart, but I saw the murder in Tristan’s eyes, and wondered just how far he would have gone.
 

It was pure chaos after that.
 
I don’t think anyone knew quite what to do when the lead singer started the fight in the crowd, but needless to say, the performance was over after that.
 

Me, Frankie, and all of the guys ended up in the green room, and the strange perv from the crowd in another room, for obvious reasons.
 

It was a mess.
 

I was mad at Tristan, because it was a fact that he had overreacted.
 

Dean, the prick, was mad at me, even going so far as to tell me that it was all
my
fault.
 

That had Jared, Frankie, and Tristan all furious at Dean, though in all fairness, Tristan seemed to be mad at everyone in the world just then.
 

Tristan was in a state.
 
He stood as far away from us all as he could get, staring at the wall, rage coming off him in waves of nearly visible hostility.
 
He was a huge man, and when he was angry, he was scary to behold.
 
Even the security guards gave him a wide berth the second we got into the room, and they were big men themselves.

We were waiting a good twenty minutes when I just couldn’t stand it anymore.
 
I strode up to the security guard, asking, “What’s going on?
 
Are we waiting for the police?
 
Are they going to arrest him?
 
Is that what’s going on?
 
How long are we going to have to wait here before we know what’s going on?”
 

“We are waiting for answers, as well,” the one closest to me said, sounding calm and reasonable.
 
“All we were told was to sit tight while this thing is figured out.
 
No police were called, as far as I know.”
 
The man put a hand on my shoulder as he said it.
 
It was an innocent gesture.
 
I knew that.
 
Any sane person would have assumed that, as well.
 

But Tristan was not feeling sane.
 
Sanity had left the building and he was striding across the room, shouting at the man to get his hands off me.
 

I watched him lose his mind, feeling a shot of fear at the sight, even knowing that it wasn’t directed at me.
 

Thank God he didn’t hit the man, just got in his face and started yelling like a maniac.
 

I had no clue what to do with him like this, so I just walked across the room to get away.
   

“Yoko Ono over there doesn’t want to deal with all of this, even though she started the whole fucking mess,” Dean said, his voice low and mean, but loud enough for me to hear.
 

I shot him a glare, but I wasn’t the only one that heard him, and Tristan stopped yelling at the security guard mid-sentence, striding across the room, a finger pointed at his roommate, his eyes wild with his fury.
 
“What did I tell you, Dean?
 
What did I fucking tell you?
 
Not one word.
 
That’s what I told you.
 
Not one more fucking diss on my girl!”

I gasped, then covered my eyes when Tristan’s huge fist made solid contact with Dean’s face.
 
I heard two more sickeningly fleshy thuds that meant a fist was hitting flesh, and then it stopped.
 

“I fucking warned you, you little prick!” Tristan shouted at him.
 

I was on the ground, curled into a little ball against the wall, not letting myself look.
 
I hated fighting.
 
I didn’t understand it, and I never knew how to deal with it.
 

I felt Frankie sliding down next to me, her arm going around my shoulder in a comforting hug.
 

“It’s okay.
 
The guys pulled him off Dean.”

“It’s not okay.
 
It’s so not okay that he’s acting like this.
 
What’s wrong with him?”

“I don’t know,” she said quietly.
 
“But I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t kind of fun to see him punch Dean in the face.
 
The prick deserved it…”

I opened my mouth to respond, when the door opened, and James Cavendish walked in.
 

It was the strangest thing, how all of the chaos seemed to just calm in his wake.
 
He walked directly to Frankie and me, nodding to the men as he passed, and giving Dean, who was holding his jaw and glaring at Tristan, a puzzled look.
 

He was wearing a dark suit and looking spectacular and polished, as ever.
 

He nodded at us, studying me intently.
 
“Are you all right, Danika?”
 

I nodded automatically, though I wasn’t quite sure what I was, just then.
 

“I heard you’d been assaulted again, and in my establishment, again.
 
I can’t tell you how much that displeases me.”

“I’m perfectly fine.
 
I’m more worried about what’s going to happen to Tristan.”

“That’s what I’m here to work out.
 
You see, I tend to think that men who assault women on the dance floor deserve a hard knee to the balls.”

Those words, coming out of the most sophisticated man I’d ever met, surprised a giggle out of me, which drew a small smile out of James.
 

“We’ve spoken to the man.
 
He won’t be pressing charges, though the downside to that is that we also will not be pressing charges against him.
 
I wanted to get your approval before we go ahead with this decision, since you were clearly the wronged party.”
 

I wanted to kiss him, I was so relieved.
 
“So Tristan won’t be arrested?” I asked hopefully.
 

“If this resolution works for you, then no.”
 

“Yes, yes, it definitely works for me.
 
Thank you thank you thank you.”
 

He just nodded, smiling.
 
He tilted his head toward Dean.
 
“What happened there?”
 

I grimaced, and Frankie answered.
 
“The band is having issues.
 
Largely, that Dean is an ass.
 
Don’t worry about them, though.
 
They’ve been friends forever.
 
They’ll be best buds again within twenty-four hours, I guarantee it.”

James didn’t look convinced.
 
“I hope so.
 
They have a good career ahead of them, if they can just keep it together.”

“They will,” Frankie assured him, squeezing my shoulder.
 
“How bad was the aftermath?
 
How big is the mess out there?”

James hitched up an elegant shoulder in a careless shrug.
 
“It’s manageable.
 
They certainly made an impression.
 
Don’t think they won’t have twice as big of a crowd for the next performance, though I wouldn’t make a habit of kneeing people in the crowd, if they want to keep the place packed, and the record people interested.
 
Excuse me, ladies, I need to go speak to Tristan.”
 

My eyes widened as he strode right up to the walking powder keg, as though he had no fear at all.
 
I wanted to shout, ‘No, stop, he’s liable to blow’, but I just watched as James spoke quietly to Tristan, somehow, miraculously, managing to calm the other man in a few short minutes.
 

After James worked that little miracle, Tristan came over to me almost instantly, crouching down in front of me, his eyes concerned.
 
He touched my knee.
 
“I’m sorry about that.
 
Are you okay?
 
Did I scare you?”
 

I eyed him narrowly.
 
“What on earth did James say to you to get you to calm down so fast?”

His brows drew together, another storm gathering in his eyes.
 
“James?
 
It’s James, is it?
 
When did you two get so close?”
 

“Tristan!
 
Focus!” Frankie snapped.

He grimaced, his hand rubbing my knee comfortingly.
 
“Sorry.
 
He just told me that I was scaring you, and asked me if that was my intent.”

“That was crazy back there, Tristan.
 
You
were crazy.
 
I don’t like this.
 
It’s not okay that you’re attacking people, and I’m throwing plates, and shoes.
 
I’m starting to think we aren’t good for each other.”
 
Even as I said the words, I couldn’t believe that they were leaving my mouth.
 
I couldn’t imagine ever letting go of him willingly, let alone encouraging the idea.
   

“Amen to that,” Dean muttered from across the room.
 

Tristan started to turn, his golden eyes getting scary again.
 

“Tristan!
 
Focus!” Frankie barked.
 
It actually worked.
 
Again.
 

I was watching him carefully when a slow smile transformed his face.
 
It was evil.
 
His sweetest smile, all for me.
 
I was utterly powerless to resist.
 

He leaned forward until our foreheads were touching, and his smile was the center of my universe.

“Hey, now, boo,” he said softly, rubbing my knee.
 
“We both know that’s not true.
 
We
are
good for each other.
 
In fact, I think we’re just about perfect together.
 
I’m sorry I lost my temper like that.
 
I just saw him touching you, and the look on your face…I couldn’t stand it.
 
You looked frightened.
 
I’d do a lot of things to keep you from having to endure someone’s touch on you that you don’t want.
 
In fact, I think I’d do anything on earth to prevent that from happening.”

I blinked rapidly, my eyes getting teary.
 
It was just such a sweet feeling, to have someone looking out for me like that, even if I did know that it was crazy how far out of hand things had gotten as a result.
 

“Forgive me?” he whispered, still giving me that sweet, evil, irresistible smile.
 
I felt like I was the most important thing in the world to him on the other end of that smile.
 
The feeling was addictive.
 

I caved in a heartbeat, propelling myself forward, and throwing my arms around his neck.
 
“I love you,” I said into his neck.
 

His big, warm, perfect arms squeezed me tight, and in that moment, it was all that I needed.
   

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

The guys didn’t only stick to gigs at Decadence.
 
Unfortunately, there was no place to go but down from a place like that.
 
Dean wound up setting up a few extra performances for them.
 
I thought that he was only doing this to try show how they didn’t need Jerry to manage them, but of course it only proved the opposite.
 
Still, the guys were good sports, performing wherever they needed to, to try to drum up attention.

We wound up in a real dump of a club on a Tuesday night.
 
It was one of those off the strip locations that probably wouldn’t last a year.
 
Frankie and I watched them play from the bar, since I’d learned my lesson about going anywhere near the stage, though this place was hardly packed.
 
Tristan insisted that I was too much of a distraction when he was performing, and though I could have wished that it was otherwise, because I ached to be close to him when he was singing like that—I respected his wishes.