Free Tough Luck (Hard Rock Roots) by C.M. Stunich

recognize me. Not that I really want him to. That would make things between Ronnie and me awkward as hell. Much harder to seduce a guy when he knows his mate's banged you. Brotherly man love and all that bullshit. Plus, I really, really don't want Naomi Knox to have any reason to pay extra attention to me. She's smart as hell, I can tell. If she starts gathering pieces of the puzzle, she'll have it together in no time.
    “Cohen Rose's ex,” Naomi says, sighing and shaking her head. She looks exhausted. I almost feel sorry for her, and force myself to shake it off. I'm already turning into a wet blanket when it comes to Ronnie McGuire and his sob stories. Don't need to be adding anymore to the anthology, thank you very much.
    “Who?”
    “Ugh,” Naomi groans, looking up at the ceiling like she's praying for help from some invisible god or goddess. I reach up and touch the ankh that's hanging around my neck. Wish I really believed in the deity it was attached to. Could use some help when it comes to men. So much trouble for six or so inches of pleasure, right? “You're impossible, Turner. Jesus.”
    “What the hell did I do now? Ever since you confessed your love to me, you've been getting all pissy at every little thing that comes out of my mouth. You don't have to take your embarrassment out on me. I'm not ashamed and you shouldn't be either.”
    “Oh, fuck,” Naomi moans, dropping her gaze to mine, giving me one of those special woman to woman looks. It's so universal, I can't help but smile. Turner's a handful. I certainly wouldn't want to deal with him. Good luck with the silly dumb fuck. “Can you just go? Don't you have a van to catch? Wichita is calling.”
    “You can't drive me away, no matter what you do.” Turner slams his hand into the wall by Naomi's head, leaning over so that his lips brush her ear. “You're stuck with me until the day your wrinkly ass falls out of a wheelchair and croaks.”
    “How romantic,” she says sarcastically, but her entire demeanor changes. I watch her lips twitch at the corners, her shoulders relax, the pulse in her neck fluttering. Jealousy surges through me hot and quick, tearing at the edges of my self-control and knocking the breath from my lungs. It's not Turner that I want though. Wouldn't ever want another woman's man, but it's the idea of having someone there by your side. I want that. I mean, who doesn't, right? But just seeing it flaunted and paraded in front of my face like that makes me sick to my stomach.
    Without waiting for another word from them, I spin on my heel and stomp down the hallway. Tears try to prick my eyes again, but I won't let 'em fall. Fuck 'em. I don't need to cry. I have the whole world ahead of me. I have the promise of power and fame and money. I won't ever need to worry another day in my life after this.
    But after seems so far away, and in my suitcase is a mask I wore to kill a woman. A mask I used to board Amatory Riot's bus and steal Naomi Knox away. A mask that's more my face than the one I'm wearing now. At least the mask shows the real me, the true person inside. At least the mask shows a monster.

    “We're leaving in about an hour,” my manager says, cornering me outside the door to my room. I have to curl my fists by my sides to keep from socking her right between her buggy, bulging eyes. They pop out of her face like one of those rubber toys, you know the ones they sell for overworked corporate cubical cage rats to squeeze so they won't just flip out and shoot people?
    I have no problem going to Wichita for the day. In fact, I'd probably hump a bitch just to get out of Oklahoma City. It isn't that I don't like the town. I just don't like the idea of staying in one place for too long. I've lived my whole life desperate to get out, make something of myself. Besides, tonight it'll just be Ice and Glass with Indecency. One step closer to taking over the world, right? Bye, bye Amatory Riot. But something about KK makes me want to