Page 27 of Painkiller (Sin Records #3)

“Right?” Angel laughs. “Let’s see. Ryder got arrested for fighting six times in one month on our last tour.

Not to mention the DUI. Maddox got arrested for possession.

Let’s not forget getting shot by his brother, and a practically public psychotic break.

Jake’s girlfriend and daughter were kidnapped by freaking human traffickers in Europe, and he was arrested a few months ago after he punched a photographer in the mouth when he wouldn’t get out of Cara’s face while they were at the zoo with the kids. I could keep going.”

“And you’ve made my life hell trying to handle the press,” Liam spits.

“Why did I agree to work here?” Graham presses his fingers into his temples while I press my lips together.

“Your ego,” I finally manage to add. How I’ve kept up with the conversation at all is beyond me. Graham glares at me, but his eyes are full of concern more than irritation.

“All right,” Angel says, pushing away from the table. “I’m done.”

“We haven’t finished, Angel,” Liam tells him, looking exasperated. “We need to finish going over the marketing plan, discuss artwork, promo…videos.”

“I have a plan for the video,” Maddox says. “The rest is in the memos. If it’s not, you’re the A&R guys. Get it done. We don’t need a conference for every artist.”

“Agreed,” Ryder says, standing as well. “I have a lunch date with my wife.”

“You don’t have a wife,” Maddox jokes.

“Just because you needed a piece of paper…”

Liam is the first out the door with Angel and Ryder close behind. Graham stands, but he doesn’t move, making my stomach twist.

But when Maddox lingers, the twist becomes knots. Many, many knots. Anxiety trickles down my spine when he turns to Maverick. “Those songs…brother, they’re gold.”

My attention snaps to Maddox, knowing I couldn’t possibly have heard right. “There’s a Grammy in there. How many more of those do you have in you?”

Maverick clears his throat, his eyes falling my way.

I can feel Graham’s into burning the side of my head.

Maddox looks at all of us, suspicion darkening his blue eyes as his mouth puckers.

The sound of his tongue clicking three times makes me break eye contact, dropping my attention back to the papers on the table.

“I—uh…That’s all I have right now, but I’m working on a few others.” Maverick offers, but fuck, even I can hear the nerves in his voice.

I watch them from my peripheral. Maddox slaps his back, nodding, but his eyes are on me. “Good. I want to see them. If you need help with them, let us know.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Maverick says as Maddox turns to leave, but pauses, turning his attention back to me, contemplation twisting his lips.

Fuck, I can see the damn wheels spinning in his head.

No one moves when the door clicks. Maverick shifts in discomfort, but all I hear is Graham’s silence. Even without looking, I know his arms are crossed and those dark, accusing eyes are lasered in on me. I wait, counting in my head: three, two…

“Why the hell is Maverick’s name on songs you wrote?” he blasts across the conference room.

“I didn’t write them,” I lie at the same time Maverick points at me like a snitching four-year-old. “He made me do it.”

“Fuck off.” I shake my head and face my brother. “This asshole found the songs on my laptop and liked them. They were mostly unfinished, so we finished them. He wasn’t supposed to fucking use them. But he wouldn’t shut up about it, so I told him fine—go ahead. Just leave me out of it.”

“Why would you do that, Jagger?”

“You have them in your hand. They’re shit. They will tank his whole fucking career.”

“I was right, asshole. They’re good. You heard Maddox. He wants those songs recorded.”

“We need to consider Maddox is having another episode,” I deadpan. A joke. Mostly.

Graham’s sharp inhale causes one of my own. “He’s not fucking wrong. Neither is Maverick. They’re good. My question is, why do you think they’re not? It’s literally your job to know if something will work.”

“Like you just said, it’s my job, and I know they’re not good. The arrangements are sloppy. The lyrics don’t flow. Nothing about those songs is marketable. They’re damn sure not Grammy-worthy.”

Graham’s head tilts to the side, his dark eyes assessing me. “What happened?”

“Come again?”

“What happened? I didn’t know you still played, but you obviously do. You just started hiding it. I want to know what caused that because you had so much fucking talent when you were younger…And your passion for music is practically unmatched. I want to know what made you stop. Was it…”

“Shut up, Graham.” My fist slams down on the table as I stand and glare at my brother.

He crosses the space separating us, getting close enough that only I can hear.

“That’s not what I was going to say,” he hisses, then relaxes his posture and softens his expression.

“I was going to ask, was it Mom? Because she didn’t mean it, Jagger.

You were so goddamn talented. It came as easily to you as breathing.

” He taps his finger on the papers. “Still does, apparently. You never belonged in an office or behind a desk.”

I want to argue with him, but he’s out of the room before I can think of anything to say.

When I look at Maverick, he’s glaring. “Don’t fucking start.” My voice quakes through gritted teeth. Every muscle in my body aches with the need to hit something. A line. A face.

“Fine. You want to be a little bitch and hide in an office or in the shadows of whatever slimy bar looking for talent when you know you are the talent? Be my fucking guest.”

“Why is everyone on my damn case? Why is it so hard to trust that I know what I’m talking about?”

“Because when it comes to yourself, you are fucking blind. Willfully so.”

“Whoa! What are we arguing about?” Thad asks, looking between us as he removes earbuds from his ears. I forgot the asshole was still here.

I narrow my gaze at Maverick as my need to deflect and make light of the situation changes to irritation. If he’d just drop it… “That you’re an epic douche,” I say, turning my attention to Thad. “He says you’re just an ordinary one.”

Thad drags his thumb over his chin as his dark eyes flick between Maverick and me.

“Yeah, sure.” He sees the bullshit, but he’s not the type to call it out until he gets ready.

Usually, after he’s done some snooping and digging of his own.

Fortunately, there’s nothing to dig. “We’re going out,” he tells us, changing the subject.

“Fuck no,” Maverick spits, his mouth curling with disgust.

I chuckle at his reaction while shaking my head at Thad because I agree. “I’m not crashing girls’ night with you. Why do you even go?”

Girls’ night was once a month when Casey and her friends went out.

For years, if I was in town, I’d pop up where they were because my brother asked me to keep an eye on Casey while he was off doing God knows what, waiting for her to get a little older.

I did it for him, but I did it for her too, because Casey was so withdrawn, I worried about her.

But since Graham came back and staked his claim months ago, I avoid girls’ night. It’s nothing more than a headache.

Thad rolls his eyes. “First, because Lily is my best friend,” he says, holding up a finger as he mentions Liam’s fiancée and Casey’s best friend. “Two, because I keep hoping Casey will bring that hot dancer friend of hers around again.”

Maverick’s head tilts to the side as his mouth puckers. “She was fucking hot.”

My jaw locks, knowing with every fiber of my being that they’re talking about Poppy because in the years she’s been dancing, Casey hasn’t had any other dancer friends.

I’m annoyed as fuck they met her first, and my neck tenses that they called her hot.

I mean, of course, they did. They’d have to be blind not to notice, but fuck.

I miss her. The morning after my last fight—after I woke from the fucking nightmare with her as a witness—I had to fly to Miami for a week. And in all my stupidity, I spent that week without calling or texting her. I thought it would cure this need, but it only made it worse.

Both of them toss me curious looks, no doubt noticing the way my jaw ticks, so I force myself to relax. “When the hell did you start crashing girls’ night with dipshit?” I ask Maverick with a smirk.

Maverick snorts while Thad glares. “I don’t crash. I’m invited. Also, I might be a lot of things, but a dipshit is not one of them.”

“Fine,” I concede. “Asshole.”

“Better.” His head jerks with approval. The man is a piece of work. I’ve known him only a little longer than Maverick. He’s entitled, arrogant, and a manwhore to the nth degree. But he’s also reliable, trustworthy, and loyal as hell.

“I crashed one girls’ night and swore never again. They are too much work.” He points at Thad. “He failed to inform me that he goes to babysit.”

I laugh, grabbing my bag hanging over the chair. “You should’ve called me. I could’ve told you exactly why we crash girls’ night.”

“But that friend of hers was hot. Wonder if that red hair is natural?”

Dammit, Maverick.

The tension threatens to make a fierce reappearance. I do a mental count to ten. Then twenty. By one hundred, I’m still pissed.

But they’re wrong. She’s not hot. She’s absolutely stunning. Those full, pretty lips, high cheekbones, and those dimples…

But the urge to plant my fist in the wall—or better, their faces—is strong.

“Of course it was. And damn if she didn’t have a sassy mouth. I’m curious how Casey keeps surrounding herself with these mouthy women when she’s anything but.”

I’ve also wondered about that. Often.

I wrap my fingers around the doorknob and walk out of the room with Thad calling after me. I don’t stop until we’re at the elevator. “You’re coming with us.”

“Am I now? What makes you think I don’t have plans?” I had plans for tonight the moment I opened my eyes. It’s more than need. It’s desperation.

We step into the elevator and hold the door for Maverick, who’s slowly making his way toward us, his eyes darting nervously. “She isn’t here,” I call out, so he’ll move his ass.

Relief lights in his wary eyes, and he picks up the pace.

He’s always dodging Callie, Maddox’s sister, part of the PR team.

There are explicit instructions that she and Maverick are never to work together.

No clue why. I don’t think anything is going on there.

Honestly, I’m almost positive the guy is celibate.

I never see him with women, and I get the impression he doesn’t trust them.

I can relate. Except for the celibate part.

“To answer your question,” Thad says once Mav is in the elevator. “I’m sure you have plans. My plans are better.” I snort because I know they’re not. “Don’t argue with me. You can go to your vampire lair and brood another night.”

“I don’t fucking brood.”

“Whatever. Tonight, you’re with us.”

“Who said I was going with you?” Maverick asks as the doors slide shut, but he knows just like I do. Arguing with Thad is pointless.

But it does give me an idea. “Fine. I’ll go as long as I can pick the place.” I don’t actually want them around Poppy, but it makes it look less suspicious since I never show up at The 7th Circle unless it’s to fight.

He makes a face, then waves his hand when the elevator doors open. “Lead the way. ”