Savaged Dreams: Savaged Illusions Trilogy Book 1 Read online

  “Any other time I’d have grabbed some popcorn and pulled up a chair.” Happily. He shot Simon a hard look. “They’re going to use the footage. We can’t stop it.”

  “I know.”

  The quiet acceptance ripped a hole in Justice’s chest. Simon had watched all their backs time and again, loaning Justice the money to cover his grandmother’s funeral before he got the estate settled. God knows what he’d done for the others, and none of them could stop the pain train coming for him. Whatever had happened, Simon had loved his wife. “Look, maybe we can hire a real publicist.”

  “Can’t. In the contract, remember? No unfair advantages.”

  Damn it. “We’re up shit creek. Not only aren’t we getting a real publicist, but we have to babysit some sorority girl whose only experience at promotion is taking selfies.”

  “Or a groupie,” River added. “More interested in snagging a rock star than doing the job.”

  Justice fought a groan. He loved groupies, they needed them. But right now they needed an experienced publicist more.

  “Actually…” A voice came from the wings at the top of the stairs. “I’m not in a sorority, I’m a bit old for a babysitter, and I don’t even like rock stars.”

  Justice spun around to see a woman who was barely five and a half feet tall, wrapped up in jeans and a blue T-shirt with a long, dark open-front sweater over it. Her reddish-brown hair was scraped back into a low ponytail, and nerd glasses finished the look. She wore credentials around her neck, which explained how she’d gotten past the show’s security. There was only one person she could be.

  Their new publicist.

  * * *

  Liza tried not to laugh. Justice Cade pulled up short, his blue eyes going wide as he took her in.

  Surprise.

  Not a sorority girl or groupie. Nope, Liza rocked average so hard, people forgot her before she left a room. Exactly as she wanted it—for now anyway. The other band members were spread out on the stage with their instruments, or she guessed it was them. Liza was sure she’d recognize them from the hours she’d watched the show and videos—except she couldn’t drag her gaze away from Justice long enough to really look.

  The lead singer and front man for Savaged Illusions packed a lot of talent in his six-foot-plus frame. Sex-messy hair with surfer-blond streaks that stood out against darker strands. Black T-shirt and jeans molded to lean muscle.

  No wonder girls lost their minds for Justice Cade.

  Not her, she reminded herself harshly, and shifted her scrutiny away from him. She was immune to rockers and musicians in general. She’d learned that brutal lesson, and she wasn’t likely to forget. Ever.

  “You must be Liza.”

  The sound of his voice yanked her attention back to him. Smooth and rich with a hint of the deep resonance he sang with when he really opened up his vocals.

  “Yep, I’m Liza Glasner. I’ll be Savaged Illusions publicist for as long as you remain on the show.” She took in the grim mood. What was going on here? She’d figure it out, but right now, she had to establish her place. “Whether you want me or not.”

  She needed this gig. First, if her band won, she’d get the paid summer internship with Tangent, which she required for enough credits to graduate after the fall quarter. Second, her roommate was moving in with her boyfriend, and Liza had to be out of her apartment in three weeks. If she didn’t get the internship that came with the studio apartment, she’d be forced to go home for the summer. The thought of going back to her aunt and uncle’s house in Santa Barbara made her chest tighten. But the band didn’t need to know how desperate she was.

  Or who she was. For the three years she’d been in college, she’d been just Liza—an average college girl.

  Justice twisted his full lips. “Yeah, sorry. It’s not personal, Liza.”

  “I’m not taking it personally.” Nope, this wasn’t her first experience with rock-star arrogance. Of course they thought they deserved better than a student. “But here’s the deal. I met Karl and Nikki, the publicists who got the other two bands. Both are college students and go-getters. They’re each going to work hard to help their band win. But I’m going to make sure Savaged Illusions wins, so get used to the idea.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “How?”

  His doubt grated on her nerves, but she tried for a conciliatory tone. “I realize you don’t know me, but—”

  “You don’t know us either.”

  Fine, he wanted to challenge her? “Wrong. I did my research, Justice Noah Cade.” She took one step closer, keeping an arm’s length between them. “You’re the lead singer and front man of the band. You also write songs, have a juvie record, are quick-tempered, impulsive, stubborn and insanely talented. And you obviously like to prejudge people before meeting them.”

  He opened his mouth, but Liza turned away before she got sucked into those penetrating blue eyes. Something about his gaze unnerved her. She focused on the tall man holding the gorgeous guitar. “Simon Bender with the lion eyes. Although they look more brown than gold to me, at least in this lighting. You’re the lead guitarist, backing vocals, with enough talent to head up a song if you chose.”

  Simon held out his hand. “Liza. Nice to meet you.”

  After shaking his hand, she covered a few steps to the man with long dark hair leaning on the bass guitar. She could feel Justice’s stare on her, almost a weight on her skin. Which was ridiculous since she had on a shirt and cardigan covering it. She’d needed the extra layer of protection, even with the weather in the seventies. Focus. “River Donovan, the playboy charmer. You’re the bassist and can play anything with strings. And backing vocals too. You add a dark throb to the band’s savage sound. Think you can focus on winning for the next few weeks and not college girls?”

  “I can multitask. Don’t wanna disappoint the pretty chicks.”

  Time to shut this down with some bluntness. “The last thing I want to do is clean up one of your sexcapades gone bad. That stuff catches fire on social media.” She knew all too well how easy it was to twist facts. It was one of the reasons she’d been drawn to communications and publicity—learning to control the story.

  River laughed, regaining her attention. “I’ll try to be a good boy.”

  She stopped next at the keyboard rig. “Grayson Price, nice to meet you. You’re the newest member of the band, can play piano or any keyboard and some guitar. Went to Juilliard, impressive.” Curiosity propelled her to add, “You were a classical music prodigy. Interesting that you ended up in a rock band.”

  Gray stared back with zero expression in his piercing blue eyes. “Is it?”

  Right, he didn’t want to talk about it. She was the last person who would poke at old wounds. “I can barely eke out ‘Chopsticks,’ so yeah, talent and commitment like that are fascinating.” As she turned away, she noted that he could use some coaching in coming across as more accessible in interviews. He seemed to have an automatic shutdown that made him distant.

  “Liza?” Gray called out.

  Liza returned her attention to the pianist. “Yes?”

  “Most people call me Gray.”

  Awesome; she’d cracked the ice with him. She smiled. “Gray, then.” She headed to the drum kit. The percussionist watched her with the amused expression of a cat toying with a mouse.

  “Lynx Steele. I’m curious, where’d you come up with Lynx?” His real name was Aiden, which didn’t fit the hard-angled man.

  “Street name.”

  “Oh. Tough guy, huh?” Rather cliché for a drummer.

  “Like, a literal street name I saw once and thought was cool.”

  Liza blinked, then laughed. “Okay, that’s awesome. We’re so using that. But the name fits you.” The man definitely had an untamed edge to him. “So you and Justice started this band together. You’re not only the drummer, but under all those tats, leather and party attitude, you’re also a writer and composer. You’re driven in everything you do, including drinking.” Liza
glanced at his water bottle.

  Lynx scooped it up and held it out. “Wanna check?”

  A chill rippled down her spine, chasing out her earlier amusement. It wasn’t the drummer, but the sight of his hand holding out the drink. Stop. Don’t think about it. “Pass.” She had to swallow the sudden wave of nausea.

  That hadn’t happened in a while. Stress maybe? Didn’t matter, she had a job to do and ignored the queasy reaction.

  “Done showing off?” Justice said. “We’re burning practice time here.”

  Spinning to face him, she sensed confusing undercurrents, like she’d walked into the middle of something, but she had no idea what. Right now she needed to work on gaining their trust and cooperation. “I was making a point. I’ve prepared for this job, and you need to check your ego so we can work together. I want the same thing you do—to win.”

  “Ease up, Justice,” Simon cut in. “She’s all we have.”

  Dropping his crossed arms, Justice sighed. “Okay, I get it. What do you need, Liza? We really are short on time. Our practices are tightly scheduled.”

  Well that was marginally better. “I’m going to be with you guys for the next couple weeks. Pretty much everywhere you go, I’ll be tagging along.”

  “With all of us?” he asked.

  The suspicious note in his voice made her uneasy. What was he looking for? Attention all on him? Or was it something else—maybe the underlying tension she’d picked up on? It was unnerving the way all five band members seemed to be silently communicating with one another. “Specifically with you. Tangent wants me to focus on the front man. Both your professional and personal life.”

  “Oh hell no.” His shoulders swelled beneath his T-shirt, and his eyes narrowed. “That’s where I draw the line. Savaged Illusions is the five of us, not just me.”

  “They’re pulling more bullshit,” River snarled.

  “Fucking typical,” Lynx added. “We’re getting cut out.”

  Whoa. Justice was pissed, whereas she’d half-expected he’d just assume it was his due. But no, he was insisting that all the members of the band mattered. Gazing around, she noted that no one was surprised by his reaction. Huh.

  “Okay, hang on,” Simon said. “If we win, the deal is that Tangent has to sign the band, all five of us. There are no exceptions, no substitutions. We had the contract checked for exactly that.”

  Justice nodded. “With you so far.”

  “If that means you’re featured in our media campaign, big deal. As long as we win, we get the contract.”

  “I still don’t like it.” Justice compressed his mouth, his full lips whitening.

  “Look, man, it’s shitty, yeah.” Lynx snatched up his water bottle and strode over. “But what can we do? We gotta play the game.”

  These guys really had her interest now. It was the whole loyalty thing. The way they watched out for each other intrigued the hell out of her. That kind of allegiance had been scarce in her life. What was it like to trust like that?

  But she wasn’t there to answer a question about trust, she was there to do her job. Didn’t mean she couldn’t be creative about it though. Ideas began buzzing and taking shape. “I don’t have a lot of choice, but I can find a way to do both. Keep Justice front and center, while working in things that show the five of you together are the heart of the Savaged Illusions band.” The challenge of that fascinated her. She loved creating and controlling the story. “I’ll start with you, Justice, so I’m going to need an interview and see a bit of your daily life with the band and away from them to satisfy Tangent.” She swept her gaze over them. “Then I’ll figure out ways to do features on all of you that appear organic.”

  Justice turned the full force of his attention on her. “You’d do that?”

  “Well yeah. Look, I get that you don’t like me, or you’re pissed that I’m not a real publicist. But I’m here. Let me do my job, okay?” She hated having to beg. That old fear that if she said or did the wrong thing she’d be sent away crept up. But these guys were a job, not a life partner. “It’s two and a half weeks and you’ll never see me again.”

  Justice took a deep breath and closed his eyes, then opened them. “I’m sorry about being an ass to you. It was totally uncalled for.”

  The apology caught her off guard. “Uh, thanks.”

  He nodded. “We have a party tonight at Screech’s Nightclub. I assume you’ll want to go?”

  Tonight? Damn, that was jumping right into the fire. Nerves jangled her stomach, but she had to do it. “Just long enough to get some pictures. If you give me the address and time, I’ll stay an hour or so.” She’d be in the background, so no one would notice her.

  “Won’t work. Screech closed the club to the public. It’s invitation only. Meet me at my house, and I’ll get you in.”

  His house? “I’d rather meet you at the club.” She was stubborn on that point. Always.

  His gaze stayed level. “Do you want an interview? We could get started on that at my house before we leave.”

  “Why not now?”

  “Practice. We only get four-hour slots and then have to be out. Things like interviews have to be outside of practice time.”

  They were serious about their music. She was supposed to follow Justice, and getting a few pictures of him at home would be good. She could do this. “Okay.”

  Taking out her camera to grab some shots as they began warming up and playing, Liza told herself over and over that she could handle it.

  The last time she went to the house of a rock star had ended with her in the hospital, her dad dead and her mom under arrest.

  But she knew better now. She’d never again trust the wrong person like she had that horrible night.

  Chapter 2

  Liza found the address easy enough. Streetlights illuminated an older house set on a large piece of property. Someone had mowed the weeds in the front. Had it been grass once? A couple rosebushes beneath a window were overgrown and sad.

  As she walked to the door, a band formed around her chest, and her pulse pounded. Don’t back down now. Do it. Knock on the door. And look confident, you’re not a scared teenager. Before she could lose her courage, she rang the bell.

  One minute passed. Then two. Liza peered around. Did she have the right—?

  The door opened.

  She started to speak and froze. Despite a screen door between them, she had a clear view of Justice wearing nothing but a pair of dark jeans riding low on his hipbones, several tats and a few drops of water sliding over his collarbone from wet hair. Her gaze snagged on the ink of a blue jay with wings spread over his heart. The image had a tenderness to it that didn’t seem to match the rest of Justice.

  “Hey, you caught me just out of the shower. Come in.” He pushed open the screen and stepped back.

  She hesitated, thrown by his half-dressed appearance. “You said eight o’clock, right?”

  “Yeah, sorry. I crashed for a couple hours and woke late.” He studied her while holding the door wide open. “I’ll grab a shirt. Wait here or come in, whatever you like.” Pivoting, he strode away.

  Spread over his back was a lion wearing a ferocious expression, one paw raised as if he were stalking prey. Then Justice vanished from view.

  Well crap. What should she do? Curiosity tugged her into a living room with a chocolate-brown couch and love seat on the right. Ahead of her was a dining room with a dark oval table and a matching hutch filled with flowered dishes. “What guy has flowered dishes?”

  “They came with the house.” Justice leaned one shoulder against the wall of what looked like a hallway. He’d pulled on a shirt, and his hair was drying in casual, sexy waves.

  “You rent it?” she asked.

  “Nope. It’s mine.”

  He owned a house? “Uh, are the other guys staying here with you?” This Justice seemed very different from the man she’d met earlier today. That guy had been angry and sharp-edged. This man was easier going, softening her unease.
<
br />   “Simon has a house. The other guys can crash here if they want, but after weeks on the road, we all like our own space for at least a few days. Everyone needs to decompress.” He headed toward her and stopped before getting into her personal space. “I’m starved, how about you? Want a sandwich?”

  “Uh, don’t we need to do the interview and…?” She glanced at the opened door. Since she’d only closed the screen when she came in, she didn’t feel trapped. Justice wasn’t scaring her, but she wasn’t entirely comfortable either.

  “Liza.”

  His voice compelled her to look at him. Three feet separated them, which was wide enough to make her feel safe, but close enough to get the full impact of Justice. His hair begged for a woman’s fingers, and those eyes, blue with gray flecks, were captivating. A flutter touched her stomach. Not attraction, he wasn’t her type. Maybe appreciation?

  “We don’t need to be at the club until around ten. I have some things I really want to talk to you about. But we can go out to a restaurant if you’ll be more relaxed in public.” He sighed, his mouth tightening. “This morning was a total clusterfuck, and you walked into the aftermath. I wasn’t thinking, or I wouldn’t have insisted you come to my house if you’re uncomfortable.”

  There was a ring of truth to that, especially since she’d sensed a lot of tense undercurrents with the whole band. “You wanted to talk in private?”

  “I did, yeah. Restaurants can be tricky if people happen to watch the show.”

  His frankness tugged out her bravery. She had to get used to him if she was going to be working with him for a few weeks. “Here’s fine. Want me to shut the door?”

  “Leave it if you want. Kitchen’s this way.” He headed through the doorway.

  Open worked for her. She set her camera bag on the big dining table. Gathering her courage, she followed him into a square kitchen and stopped in surprise. Linoleum floors, old antique green cabinets, cracked tile countertop and chickens? Copper and ceramic-shaped chickens hung on the walls and lounged by the sink and stove. “You must like chickens.”