Free Pure Wicked: A Wicked Lovers Novella (1001 Dark Nights) by Shayla Black Page A

would you?”
    “I-I wasn’t thinking that. I…”
    Hayden’s seemingly perplexed expression was bullshit and told Jesse that sex with Bristol might not have been bobbing on the top of her ex’s frontal lobe, but it had been swimming somewhere in his brainpan.
    “The hell you weren’t.”
    “You don’t know me,” Hayden finally snarled. “Fuck you.”
    With that, he turned and pushed out the door. The bell rang with shrill violence. The heavy glass slammed behind him.
    “Good riddance,” Jesse murmured, locking up and killing the lights before flipping the sign on the door to read CLOSED.
    But the asshole brought up some really good points, namely that in a few days, Jesse would be gone. Right now, he didn’t dig the thought of leaving Bristol behind. Kimber was the only woman he’d felt any actual emotion for in the past, and at the time he hadn’t cared enough about her—or himself—to fly right. The punk he’d been years ago would probably have related to Hayden’s dilemma, still being hot for one girl while engaged to another. In fact, Jesse vividly remembered the night he’d been in that position. He’d chosen wrong, siding with booze and easy ass, rather than love or respect. The decision had haunted him ever since because he knew he’d fucked up and hurt someone special. He refused to let Hayden do the same to Bristol.
    While pondering ways to make the prick keep his distance, Jesse’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it free and saw Candia’s contact pop up on the display. A quick glance told him he was still alone in the little bakery.
    He pulled up a bistro chair and answered. “Hey.”
    “Where are you?” She sounded frazzled.
    “Did you already figure it out?” Had someone at the restaurant last night recognized him after all?
    “No. You’re so quiet it’s eerie.”
    With a grin, Jesse leaned back. “Told you I wouldn’t fuck it up.”
    “I’m actually impressed. It’s a good thing you disappeared for a while.”
    “So things are still ugly? Why aren’t the police releasing details?”
    She sighed, and he heard her exhaustion. “The investigation is still ongoing. The fact that Maddy Harris died in your hotel room was bad enough. Now I’ve learned that she’d helped herself to the T-shirt you wore at that night’s concert. She was wearing it when she died.”
    “Oh, shit.” He could only imagine what the press were saying about that.
    “Exactly. An anonymous source leaked pictures of her body at the scene. I’m betting on a cop looking to make a quick buck. Then some Photoshopping genius positioned an image of you singing that night and her lying dead in the same fucking shirt side by side. It’s circulating all over social media. ET and Huff Post aren’t exactly being kind in their speculation, either. But I have no doubt it’s helping their numbers.” She paused. “Ryan’s funeral is scheduled for Tuesday morning in Shreveport. His next of kin was his great aunt. She lives there.”
    “I’ll be there.”
    “Until the police conclude this investigation and some time goes by, I’m not sure you should do anything but lay low.”
    “I won’t miss his services, Candia. If I did, I’d look like an unfeeling prick. And I need to say good-bye. He might have had his flaws, but he was my friend.” He shook his head and struggled against tears. “I wish to fuck I’d been able to save him.”
    The rock star life looked like good-time glitz to outsiders. Living it was something else completely. Different countries, different hotel rooms, transient “friends.” Jesse’s schedule was never his. Indulging in his goofy side wasn’t good for the badass sex-god image he’d cultivated over the years. Yeah, it sold albums, but he never quite relaxed. Music critics and a changing industry complicated everything. And the really suck-ass part was the paparazzi hovering, just waiting to snap pictures if the temptation to dive into the ever-present girls, booze, and