Crazy Love Read online

  Crazy Love: A Rock Star Romance

  Book 1 in the Adrenaline Series

  Written by Calinda B

  Published by Sumner McKenzie, Inc.

  Ebook Edition

  Copyright ©2018 Calinda B

  All Rights Reserved.

  License Notes: This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people, but it can be lent according to the retailer’s coding. If you would like to give this book to another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to an online retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Dedication

  To animal whisperers everywhere, those dedicated souls who look beyond the beast to find the animal’s soul. To my editor, Tina Winograd, for her support and editing. To the Official Sweetie Pie, as always, for loving and supporting me. And to Ron, just because.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One - Dante

  Chapter Two – Kennedy

  Chapter Three – Dante

  Chapter Four – Kennedy

  Chapter Five - Dante

  Chapter Six – Kennedy

  Chapter Seven - Dante

  Chapter Eight - Dante

  Chapter Nine – Kennedy

  Chapter Ten – Dante

  Chapter Eleven – Kennedy

  Chapter Twelve – Dante

  Chapter Thirteen – Kennedy

  Chapter Fourteen – Dante

  Chapter Fifteen – Dante

  Chapter Sixteen – Kennedy

  Chapter Seventeen – Dante

  Chapter Eighteen – Kennedy

  Chapter Nineteen – Dante

  Chapter Twenty – Dante

  Chapter Twenty-One – Kennedy

  Chapter Twenty-Two – Dante

  Chapter Twenty-Three – Kennedy

  Chapter Twenty-Four – Dantes

  Chapter Twenty-Five – Kennedy

  Chapter Twenty-Six – Dante

  Chapter Twenty-Seven – Kennedy

  Chapter Twenty-Eight – Dante

  Chapter Twenty-Nine – Kennedy

  Chapter Thirty – Dante

  Chapter Thirty-One – Kennedy

  Chapter Thirty-Two – Dante

  Chapter Thirty-Three – Kennedy

  Chapter Thirty-Four – Dante

  Chapter Thirty-Five – Dante

  Chapter Thirty-Six – Kennedy

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Chapter One - Dante

  Dante Vega, musician extraordinaire, considered the predator’s cage before him, strangely empty of beasts of prey. He knew better. The tree-lined grassy enclosure, rimmed with a tall, faux stone wall, hid them. They were back there. Hiding. Lying in wait.

  The sturdy wire fence before him kept big cats in and onlookers out. A three-foot-high black bar ringed the fence, preventing onlookers from grasping the wire enclosed pen. That’s my life. Onstage entertainment lined with security. Offstage, wondering where the predators wait. Except there’s a woman in the cage – something that’s been missing from my life for a long time.

  “Is that supposed to be a tiger? They can do better than that.”

  Dante barely registered the words floating near his ear as he studied the spade-wielding woman working in the tiger enclosure at Heights Animal Sanctuary, a boutique, smallish animal exhibit near the sprawling Bronx Zoo.

  A huge, empty hole stood in the center. Dante wondered if it was supposed to be a pool of some kind. The brochure he’d picked up said this was a place of big cat rehab and conservation.

  I wonder where the tigers are, Dante mused, head cocked, as he watched the shovel break ground, propelled by the woman’s booted foot, the dirt tossed in a pile beside the hole.

  Something about the slender blond woman looked familiar, but he couldn’t quite place her, as he couldn’t see her face clearly. He’d been watching her, entranced, as she moved about the space meant for big cats, digging in the dirt, fiddling with some pipes, for about fifteen minutes.

  Her hair hung in a long ponytail down her back, causing his hands to itch to unbind it and let it fall free upon his chest and belly. His fingers flexed and unflexed, imagining running them through those long, silken tresses. His body, slick with sweat from the sweltering New York heat, wanted to slide against hers, pressed close, their skin fused like molten lava streams becoming one indistinguishable blur. Idiot. That’s creative. You haven’t been sexually active for months.

  Fingers snapped near his face. “Dante. Did you hear me? I said, they can do better.”

  “Hey, now. Be nice.” He drew his gaze from the enclosure and turned to look at his companion, Gia “Ms. Styx” Swain, kick-ass drummer for his band, Marked Love, a play on Shakespeare’s Death-Marked-Love alliteration. The name came from his own preconceptions and experience about true love—it mostly sucked, ending in tragedy, same as Romeo and Juliet.

  Today, lanky Gia, skinny everywhere except her solid biceps and forearms, sported blue hair, a gold nose hoop and matching eyebrow piercing, and a tattoo of a spider crawling along her neck. Tomorrow her hair might be green, her jewelry might be onyx, and a new tattoo might appear next to one of the many coloring her skin. And she might be over her hangover if she doesn’t top it off tonight at dinner with Zander, Dante thought ruefully. Getting tired of watching her back.

  “I am being nice. I’m also bored. You said we’d do something fun today, not simply watch the ‘wild game,’ aka, the girl in an animal pen.” She made air quotes and then plucked at his fawn-colored shirt with long, elegant fingers, tugging him away from the tiger pen. She hooked a finger underneath the gold chains he always wore. One—the chain his little brother had given him eight years ago when the kid was only twelve and barely learning math. It had been a source of pride that he picked it out and paid for it all by himself, counting out the right amount. The other? That came from a memory of love better left buried. Far too painful.

  Gia gave the metal strands a gentle twist, causing the chains to chafe against his neck. “Let’s find a bar.”

  Dante groaned, pushing her hand away. “And you said you’d stop with the drink, Gia. Give it a rest, why don’t you?”

  “Whatever,” she said, waving her hand breezily. “Ready for the concert at the end of next month? Fucking Madison Square Garden. Followed by the Marked Love Global Seduction World Tour. Can you believe?” She twirled in a circle like a fangirl, then made rapid movements with her hands imitating striking her drum kit with her sticks.

  And that’s the reason her alcohol consumption has increased, he guessed. She was as scared of stardom as he was. “Yeah. Who knew?” Known as the Magic Mouth of Marked Love, a stupid nickname if he ever heard one, the lead guitarist and vocalist could scream out a rock song or croon sweet enough to put a baby to sleep. The band had been a rapidly rising star, with him as the cover model, bad boy persona, over the past couple years. When their agent landed them the Garden, he had to pinch himself a few times to make sure this was real. But then his terror and excitement over the upcoming event assured him–his band was a Grammy award-winning giant, and now they had the gig to prove it.

  His attention snapped back to the pen, as a large, beautiful, orange and black-striped tiger bolted from an opening in the wall. Like being shot from a cannon, it barreled across the dirt and grass in a blur, straight for the woman.

  “Holy shit,” he said, the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention. He gripped the black bar so hard his knuckles turned white.

  The female yelled, stiffened, and waved the shovel at the beast like a weapon.

  Mirac
ulously, the ginormous feline skidded to a stop.

  As if some kind of odd, wild animal martial arts training kicked in, the beige uniform-clad woman visibly relaxed, yet held her stance as if prepared for battle.

  It could be her last battle, Dante thought, silently cheering her. His stomach tensed as he watched, not wanting anything to happen to her. In his twenty-nine years, he’d already seen far too much shit go down.

  The animal let out a ferocious snarl, fangs bared, and swiped at the spade, its four-inch claws unsheathed.

  “Easy, Raja. Easy. I’m only fixing the water pipes in your pen,” the woman cooed.

  The tiger crouched and hissed, his yellow-gold eyes glinting.

  “Easy. Easy.” The blond held her hands out, taking a step toward the animal, as she eyed the cat and glanced at the wall.

  Sensing excitement, a crowd gathered to watch. An electric tension crackled through the air.

  An onlooker pressed a phone to his ear, presumably to call for help. Another concerned citizen took off in a sprint, perhaps in search of sanctuary staff. Others snapped photos, no doubt to be uploaded to social media.

  Dante pulled his Yankees ball cap lower and pushed his Oliver Peoples sunglasses up his nose, trying to avoid recognition. He wanted to shout, “How can we help?” but then, all hell would break loose next to him. Someone, or several someone’s would recognize him. Better to lay low.

  “Now we’re talking,” said Gia, eyes bright, her hands gripping the black bar ringing the enclosure. “This is exciting.”

  Dante wanted to strangle her slender neck. This was not exciting. It reminded him how he felt, trapped in his star status, always on edge, raging at the demands placed on him. Come on, honey, you’ve got to make it, he thought, sending support to the woman below. His adrenaline surged like he was embarking on an adventure with his buddy, Zander King.

  Zander was at the top of his game. A world-class climber, adrenaline junkie, and billionaire founder of EXcape, adventure gear for adrenaline enthusiasts, he was also one of the nicest guys Dante knew.

  Dante had gone on a few hair-raising outdoor quests with Zander when he was off the tour circuit. Only in the adventure before him, the stakes were higher – much higher. A woman’s life was on the line – a woman he felt certain he knew.

  The shorts-clad female slowly lowered the work tool and removed her ball cap, wiping her face with her forearm.

  “Do you honestly think that’s a bright idea, honey?” Dante muttered.

  “I know, right?” Gia added. “She’s really upping the ante.”

  A youngish sounding man shouted from the place where the tiger had emerged. “I’m so sorry, I...I didn’t...I...I’m sorry,” he blubbered.

  “Shut up,” the woman yelled. “Quiet. Get security to get everyone up there away.” Her hand swept toward the growing crowd of onlookers. “And get Big Jim and his tranq gun just in case, stat. I’m hoping our training has kicked in.” She continued to glance at the big cat, then looked away. Her eyes grazed about like an antelope scanning the herd, then looked at the predator.

  Come on, baby, you can do it, Dante silently urged, not knowing what “it” was.

  The big cat snarled and bared its dagger teeth.

  Keeping her awareness on the animal, the female slowly crouched and cranked a faucet near the hole she had dug. She seemed to visibly sigh with relief as water gushed from the spout, temporarily catching the attention of the tiger. “There’s your water, Raja. There’s your pool.” She held her hand under the streaming water. Flicked a handful in the big cat’s direction.

  It pulled its lips back and tongued at the water.

  “You like that, don’t you?” She took another step toward the beast. Then she did something remarkable. She reached out a hand and scratched the huge feline’s cheek while inclining her head toward him. “Thatta boy. That’s it, Raja.” Her other hand caressed the opposite side of his face.

  The cat licked the top of her head, mussing her long, golden hair, much to the onlookers’ amazement.

  “Whoa, what’s she doing?” someone murmured.

  “Would you believe that?” another added.

  Whatever the hell it was, it was the most beautiful act of courage Dante had ever witnessed. More than ever, he wanted to find out more about this amazing woman.

  The tiger stopped its ministrations of her head. Eyed the waterfall streaming into the huge gaping hole. Turned to the woman and hissed.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed. “This water’s for you.” She scooped another handful of water and tossed it at the tiger.

  Then to everyone’s relief, the tiger padded toward the water and leaped into the rapidly filling pool.

  The crowd cheered and whooped.

  Dante let out a huge sigh, grateful he didn’t have to watch another tragedy unfold. He kept up his comparisons between the tiger and himself. Yeah, I can be a real son of a bitch in this industry, snarling and snapping. And yeah, maybe all I want is to get some time in the pool, by myself. He let out a chuckle. “I’m with you, big guy,” he said in the tiger’s direction.

  The blond woman picked up her hat and positioned it atop her head. Her face in long shadows from her ball cap, she turned to the crowd and said, in a loud, clear voice, “Hold your commentary and laughter, please. I’m still in here.”

  Dante stiffened, feeling personally implicated.

  A hush fell, along with a few nervous titters.

  Dante gripped the grimy black bar, realizing, yeah, she wasn’t out of danger yet. He removed his shades to wipe the sweat from his face. He watched as she casually backed away from the great beast, keeping her eyes on the tiger as it slurped water and batted like a kitten at the translucent stream pouring from the pipes.

  Her eyes swept the crowd again, pausing as her gaze tangled with Dante’s.

  For a brief second, Dante’s heart lurched as they stared at one another. The intensity of the gaze blasted through the walls of his fortified chest like a welder’s torch. Kennedy Swift? Is that you?

  He’d had a crazy, lunatic kind of crush on Kennedy his senior year of high school. It made him sort of a brain dead idiot. He fantasized about her hot, lithe body in his room at night while he pumped his shaft in a frenzy.

  His friends teased him, constantly. But, his stupidity as one of the school’s A-listers kept any real discovery from happening. She wasn’t in his circle of friends. She was more of a loner since she landed at that private, clique driven school in her senior year. She kept to herself. Had only one or two friends, while he had an entire posse, all dancing to his beck and call.

  A single searing kiss—more like several kisses rolled into one long make-out session - had been shared graduation night, at a party somewhere, with him having to resort to liquid courage to get up the nerve to approach her. And, man, what a kissing marathon. It held the promise of everything he longed for. Everything he feared.

  It spoke to a crazy kind of love that might be able to endure his wild life. Afterward, they spent the entire night chatting and laughing, getting to know one another before clawing into the dawn of obligation. It was a rare moment of sexual restraint on Dante’s part, one he wished he’d never followed. Because then he’d been whisked into the last family summer European vacation he’d ever taken, interrupted by his little brother’s endless medical visits, and Kennedy had vanished, like a haunting apparition tormenting his thoughts.

  The summer was followed by an extremely brief stint at a college in Massachusetts—his father’s lame attempt to get him into a civilized profession. His exit from that reality landed him in the hard-sucking vacuum of rising stardom. His talent as a musician was off the charts. He couldn’t be denied. He’d slummed it for a while before landing in a couple of decent bands, but two years ago, when he formed Marked Love, all the stars aligned into this stellar four-person band.

  Dante grabbed Gia’s hand. “I’ve got to find her. Let’s go.”

  She tugged in the opposite directi
on. “I want to get going. I’m done. Let’s get out of here.”

  “Look, it’s the Magic Mouth,” a young woman squealed. “It’s Dante Vega!”

  “Oooh,” another cried. “Put your magic mouth on me.”

  Security guards stormed around the corner, too late to move the crowd away from the enclosure, just in time to offer assistance.

  Female fans surged around Dante, while Gia made a swift departure, in keeping with her usual MO.

  “Gia, wait!” Dante called, pissed at her for leaving.

  “Sign my boob, Dante,” a woman yelled. She waved a marker at him and lifted her shirt, revealing her impressive globes, encased in a lacy bra.

  “I’ll let you sign something far more intimate,” another called, unbuttoning her pants.

  “No, stop, wait,” Dante said, not wanting to see a strip show in the middle of an animal park...not caring to see a strip show, ever again. Not his thing. His hands got busy preventing clothing removal, signing cards, receipts, checkbooks, or whatever they could find in their purses, scanning for Gia and searching for Kennedy.

  The security guards did their best, but when fans got a whiff of him, they turned into their own version of a wild beast. Dante hated it. His agent had to constantly coach him to be nice to the fans, people who didn’t know a thing about him other than what was written in the tabloids, People, and Rolling Stone magazine. So, reluctantly, he played the part.

  His hand lifted from an autograph, to see the back of Kennedy marching in the opposite direction, her hand clutched around the arm of a tall, tall man and a shorter teen. He tried to escape the crowd, but a crazed fan grabbed his shirt, and pulled hard, tearing it. “Goddamn it, I liked this shirt,” he snarled.

  The fan began to cry. “I’m so sorry, Dante, I’ll buy you a new one. I love you!”

  He sure didn’t need her to buy a new shirt — not with his wealth — and he also doubted she was old enough to know what love meant. Frantic to get to Kennedy, he broke away and raced after her, leaving a scrap of fabric in the fan’s hands. She’d probably sell it on eBay. Whatever. Pieces of him were constantly being fought over, bartered, sold and treasured.