Falling Deep

Book 3: Nelson Island

by Diana Gardin

Genres: Coming of Age; Women's Fiction; Contemporary Romance; New Adult Romance

Synopsis

Reed Hopewell is a lot of things to a lot of people . . . To his parents, he's the son who needs to get serious. To his friends, he's the player they all want to be. And to his fans, he's the hottest rocker in Charleston. But never has Reed been anyone's hero-until the night he finds Hope. Hope Dawson can count the number of men she trusts on one hand. Definitely not the guys she goes out with or the stepfather who treats her like property. She'd be out of his house tomorrow if not for the need to protect her little sister. But when things at home go from bad to worse, Hope has to act fast-and Reed is the only person she can turn to . . . 70,000 words

Release date: April 7, 2015

Publisher: Forever Yours

Print pages: 322

Sample

One

How It All Began…


He tried not to squint against the harsh lights aimed at the stage. He was beginning to get used to the feeling of all eyes on him, the palpable waiting that came with being the center of attention. His heartbeat soared with anticipation as he looked out over the crowd standing before him. He rubbed a hand over the scruff dusting his angled chin, and the audience emitted a collective sigh. He grinned, and the women in attendance screamed in response.


“Thank y’all for coming out tonight,” he said, leaning into the microphone.

The crowd cheered, a swelling of sound that met his ears and pushed him to the limit of adrenaline that was currently pounding through his veins.

“I want to sing you one more before I go; would that be all right?”

Roars of approval consumed the club, and his grin grew. He clutched his guitar a little closer to his chest and strummed out a chord.

“One day, I hope to be singing this for someone special,” he continued over the crowd’s growing noise level. “But for now, I’d like to throw it out to all the gorgeous ladies here in the crowd tonight. This one’s called ‘Endless Fall.’”

The biggest yell yet vibrated the rafters; Reed opened his mouth and the lyrics of a new song he had recently written came pouring out.

The crowd became hushed, swaying in rhythm to the rough beauty that was Reed’s voice.

It was difficult for him to lay eyes on members of the crowd with the blinding lights in his eyes, but he scanned the faces to find his sister, Aston, and her fiancé, Sam. Her sparkling diamond glinted off of the light as she raised her arms above her head and swayed. One corner of Sam’s mouth turned up at Reed as he wrapped his arms around Aston from behind and nuzzled her neck.

The vigor and nourishment he got from the stage coursed through his body as he finished the song, and the audience erupted into applause and cheers as he thanked them. Grinning and tugging on the strap of his guitar, he exited the stage.

“Well done, little bro,” Aston said as he sat his burden in its case. “Amazing, as always.”

He grinned. “Thanks, A. I’m not sure if Sam saw it, though; he was too busy sucking on your neck to notice anything I was doing up there.”

Sam shrugged. “Have you seen this neck? No one would blame me.”

Reed slapped Sam so hard on the back of the head that Sam almost inhaled the longneck bottle he was sipping. “That’s my sister you’re talking about. Lay the fuck off.”

Aston waved her left hand in front of Reed’s nose. “That’s my fiancé you’re slapping around there, Reed. I swear I’ll pummel you senseless if you touch him again.”

Sam smiled smugly. “That’s my girl.”

Reed rolled his eyes and turned his attention to Sam’s other side. “What’d you think, Ash? You ready to leave your loser husband for me yet?”

Ashley smirked at Reed as the husband in question turned a full-wattage glare on him. “Nope. Still madly in love with Finn. Sorry, sweetie. But that redhead over there? She’s another story.”

Reed turned around, searching in the direction Ashley pointed. His sister’s childhood best friend could always spot the groupies, and her radar was as deadly accurate as usual. At the adjacent table, a handful of young women eyed Reed hungrily.

It was how these shows went. Reed was announced as a guest performer for the club’s entertainment, he sang, and panties dropped like leaves on a breezy fall day. It was a clockwork routine that Reed counted on.

He pulled out his chair and took a seat between Blaze and Tate. Looking his best friends over carefully, he frowned. “Where the fuck is the tequila?”

Tate Oliver slid a shot in Reed’s direction and grinned. “Had one waiting on you, man. You did good up there.”

Reed nodded, taking the small glass of golden liquid and tilting it up against his full lips. As he tipped it back and let the fire forge a trail down his throat, he hissed through his teeth and slammed the shot glass back down on the table. Glancing around him, he threw a dose of swagger at the table of gaping girls next door, letting them know that he’d be ready for business as soon as he oiled up his gears.

Blaze boomed out a laugh that seemed to ricochet through the rafters. “Take me as your wingman tonight! Please!” His gigantic body hunkered down over his own shot of tequila as he knocked it back.

Reed smiled and signaled the short-skirted girl with a revolving tray of drinks for another round. “Sam? You in?”

“Nope,” he answered promptly. “I’ve got the princess on the bike tonight, Reed.”

Reed grunted in response. He loved Sam like a brother, but he was shit for company on a night when all Reed wanted to do was find a warm body to celebrate with after a good night at the mic.

Tate scanned the room, clearly uncomfortable.

“Next weekend you’ll be back at Sunny’s, right?” he grumbled.

“Yeah,” Reed answered, amused. “What, you don’t like it when we’re in Charleston, Tate?”

Tate and his twin sister, Tamara, had stayed behind in Nelson Island while the rest of them had attended the University of Charleston after high school. Tate never felt comfortable being off of the island, even when he was just right across the bridge in the Holy City.

“Don’t worry, Tate,” Reed said dryly. “Back in good ole N.I. next weekend. Sunny’s as usual.”

“Good.” Tate nodded in relief. He sipped his beer and glanced over at the table of women, basking in the lustful glow that Reed cast over the female population of the club.

Reed glanced impatiently up at the bar in search of the drink runner. He scanned the crowd pressing against the current and stopped on a curvy figure with a short, sparkly dress and the longest hair he’d seen on a girl since middle school. He appraised her as she leaned into the bar, indicating to the bartender the drink that she wanted. Her back was facing Reed as he eyed her, and he took the time to drink in her shapely legs, the curve of her hips, and the glowing olive complexion. He whistled low under his breath, and glanced back at his present company.

“What?” Blaze rumbled, on high alert. “You spot another bad chick?”

Ashley exchanged an eye roll with Aston. “Ugh. Are you guys ready to get outta here?”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that was our cue,” Aston agreed. She bent over Reed’s head to kiss his cheek, rubbing off her lipstick as she pulled away. “Love you, Reed. Don’t do anything Sam wouldn’t do.”

Tate choked on his Coors. “Yeah, right. Everything Reed does is something Sam wouldn’t do. I think it’s a rule.”


Reed grinned. “Y’all be safe. Don’t knock my sister up before the wedding, Waters.”

“No promises,” Sam answered, bumping Blaze’s fist as they followed Finn and Ashley toward the exit.

When Reed moved his gaze once more toward the mystery girl at the bar, she was gone. He hadn’t even gotten to see her face. Somehow, he knew that was probably for the better. Judging from the back of that woman, the front of her was likely to be a game changer.

Reed worked hard every day. He worked on his craft, and his music was what kept him moving through the motions of life. At night, after a show, he liked things to be easy. Nothing too complicated. Nothing he had to think too hard about.

Reed scanned the club again, and then shrugged. He rolled his shoulders once, loosening the muscles that tended to tighten while he performed.

With a half-grin, he refocused on the table full of very willing participants to a hell of a good night.

  

“Thanks, baby,” he purred, grabbing the drink from her along with a handful of her curved backside as she eased around the edge of his chair. “You know just how I like it.”

Hope somehow refrained from retching inside of her mouth and took her seat next to him. She crossed her legs and dug her nails into her thighs to prevent the crossing of her arms. Crossing her arms would be against the rules.

Slapping him across his smug, entitled face would also be against the rules. Hope itched to break those damn rules.

There had never been a date in her life where she appreciated the man she was with calling her “baby.” She had never been anyone’s baby, especially not the men she spent her time with. Trying hard not to curl her lip in disgust, she pulled them into a taut smile instead.

“You’re welcome, baby.”


He smiled indulgently and nodded. She looked away quickly. It wasn’t that he was an ogre to look at; in fact, most women would consider him handsome with his broad shoulders, thick, corded arms, and lush head of wavy blond hair. The success that rolled off of him with his expensive suit didn’t hurt, either.

But to Hope? He may as well have been a monster.

She glanced back up toward the front of the club and stifled a groan. The performer for the night was making an idiot of himself. She frequented this club with a date, and the singer-songwriters the club owner hired were nearly always the same. Man-whores with guitars strapped to their chests, all of them.

This one was no different. He was attractive, like they all were. He could sing, like they all could. She ignored the fact that his singing style may have appealed to her more than most, and that rough-around-the-edges voice snuck up inside of her skin the way some of the others hadn’t. As he sang, she had been lulled into a peace she hadn’t felt in so long. But that didn’t matter. He was still the same. Slobbering all over a table of classless bitches at the moment.

Just like the rest of them.

Said the girl with the minidress and mile-high heels. She tried to mentally shake herself for being so judgmental. The last thing she should be doing is placing the other women around her into a box and lashing out at them because of class. At least they were honest about what they were doing. They wanted a rock star. They wanted to see if the way he rocked the stage would be the same way he rocked them between the sheets. They made no game about it, implicating their desires like a neon sign blinking in a shop window.


“You ready to skedaddle?” Tyler asked suddenly, eyeing her over the top of his glass.

His eyes narrowed as he studied her face, and she realized he had followed her gaze and misread the reason for her focus on the singer. She tore her eyes away from the head of thick, dark hair and the stupid dimple appearing in the square chin and met the muddy eyes of her date.

“Uh, yeah. Sure. Do you have an early morning tomorrow?”

He smirked. “Something like that. Shall we?”

My, aren’t we in a hurry tonight, she though wryly as they stood. For whatever reason, she threw one last glance at the front table again before allowing Tyler to place his hand on her lower back and guide her out of the club’s front exit.


She nodded to the bouncer, whom she knew from school and from her frequent visits to the club, one of Charleston’s hottest, and walked beside Tyler down the still-bustling street.

This part of downtown didn’t settle down until well after 2:00 a.m., and as Hope glanced at her watch she noted that it was scarcely past midnight. She’d never been out with Tyler before, but she’d expected their date to last longer than this.

It was an uneventful evening. Dinner at a fancy restaurant with some of Tyler’s colleagues and then out to the club to listen to some music and dance. Only Tyler seemed in a hurry to leave, before they’d even had a chance to make it to the dance floor.

Strange.

It was better for Hope, of course, to end the date as soon as possible. She was tired of pretending. Her whole life was a play, and she was always anxious for the curtain to close on another show.

She didn’t need a jacket, as June nights in this southern, ocean-side city were nearly as balmy as the days. She was accustomed to the steaminess of the air; she’d spent her entire life here. Despite the cloying heat, Tyler slid a heavy arm around Hope’s shoulders and yanked her closer to him. She was so tempted to tell him that the date was over, therefore so was the touching, the words just at the tips of her lips, but all she had to do was make it to the fancy limo they’d arrived in and she’d put some definite distance between them once inside.

But when Tyler turned her down an empty alley off of the populated street they had been traveling and pulled her closer still, she skidded to a halt and twisted her way out from under his arm.

“Wait, Tyler,” she said. “I don’t think this is where the limo is waiting. Let’s head back onto the street.”

She turned to go, her long hair flying out around her, and he grabbed her wrist hard enough to send a jolt of pain up her arm. She stared down at his hand and then scowled up at his face. Time suddenly slowed.

“Hands off.” She’d meant the words as a warning, but they exited her mouth as a breath.

“Hands off? I don’t think so, sweetheart. This is a date, right? Don’t you know how dates end?”

The sneer plastered to his face was more frightening than she would have expected, than she liked to admit, because its ugly twist couldn’t be blamed on alcohol. She knew Tyler wasn’t drunk when they left the club. He was alert, bright-eyed, and walking a steady line.

“No, Tyler,” she said, forcing an air of calm into her voice she didn’t truly feel. “A date with me ends with maybe a kiss on the cheek and a sweet good night.”

She turned once again to head back toward the busier street.

This time, Tyler wrapped an arm around her waist and wrenched Hope backward. His hot breath tickled her neck as he whispered loudly into her ear from behind.

“Oh, it’ll be sweet, all right.”

His voice had been kind of slimy all night. She’d noticed it and chalked it up to the fact that he was in the same category as all of the other older men she dated.

Sleazy.

A man who needed someone like her on his arm in order to make himself look more powerful, hotter, younger. It was a trait they all shared, and one Hope had learned to handle, manipulate to her advantage, as much as she detested herself for it daily.

But now, in the darkness of the alley, she realized she should have been paying more attention to the murky undertones in his voice, which would have indicated a much darker man beneath the glossy exterior.

With his free hand, he pushed Hope’s head to one side and pulled her long hair away from her face. His fingers lingered at the nearly blond ends hanging past her waist. “I’ve been looking at this succulent neck all night, baby. Just waiting for a taste of it. I couldn’t wait ’til the limo. So we’ll just have an appetizer here, and the main course later, when we’re all alone.”

To Hope’s disgust, he licked the side of her neck. One long swipe of his tongue sent the vomit accumulating in her throat hurtling toward fresh air.

“Don’t! Get off me right now, you sick bastard! This shit won’t fly. You’ll be spitting out your teeth for months if you don’t get your dirty hands off of me.”

In response to her words, he merely pulled Hope closer and slid a hand up her inner thigh. When it disappeared under her dress, she screamed. She couldn’t help it; it was her natural response. She screamed because his greedy fingers had turned to claws, and they were raking desperately at her underwear. Hot, angry tears stung her naturally long lashes as she tried to blink them back and fight.


What had she learned in that class she had secretly been taking? He was behind her; she raised her high heel and used her foot to stomp hard into the instep of his foot. When he groaned as a result, she jabbed backward with her elbow with as much force as she could, catching him in the rib. Jerking with all of her might away from his stumbling form, she discovered it wasn’t enough.

It’s not enough. Her heart nearly stopped beating at the realization.


He kept a firm grip on the small of her back, and she was locked in an unwilling embrace.

She was pleading now, unintelligible words of fear leaving her lips, flying unnoticed into the heavy, still air around them.

Useless.


Until a new set of arms deftly reached in between them to wrench Hope free, pushing her behind a tall, muscular body and shoving Tyler away from her with amazing force.

The newcomer stood between them, and as much as she hated to do it, she gratefully cowered behind him as she peered around his tall frame at Tyler. Little gasps were leaving her throat as she stood there; her eyes were wild with fear and disbelief at what had almost just happened to her.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Tyler snapped at the intruder.

He shifted from side to side, clearly trying to figure out how to maneuver around Hope’s human shield.

“That’s funny,” the tall man snarled—snarled!—back at him. “Who the fuck are you, and why didn’t you listen when the lady asked you to let her go?”


The voice was simultaneously as smooth as satin and as rough as grainy sand, and it made Hope settle closer into his back. The voice was safety, and she held on as if it were a lifeline. Her heart was pounding much faster than it should; she could feel the blood pulsating in her temples as she sucked in harsh, ragged breaths. The humiliation of the attack was beginning to settle into her bones with a deep ache.

How could I have allowed this to happen? I’m smarter than this. I know better!


“Look, man. She’s my date, okay? I wasn’t roughing her up. She likes it like that, trust me.” Tyler spread his arms wide and placed his most charming grin firmly in place.

The newcomer wasn’t buying any of it. Tall and solid, he stood his ground, shaking his head. “She didn’t like it. I heard her. You should have heard her, too.”

Tyler took a step toward them, and the man standing in front of Hope reached behind him, grabbing hold of her and nudging her farther back. She swallowed her gasp when Tyler pulled out a pocketknife and flicked it open.

“Oh, are we doing this?” the man said in response to Tyler’s forward progression. In the hush of the alley, his voice was flat and hollow. “Because if it’s going down, I’m all about it.”

He took a step to meet Tyler halfway. “You like to rough women up? I will handle your ass right here in this alley. You won’t walk away from it, but I’ll make sure and call an ambulance to pick up the pieces.”

There was no mistaking his southern drawl, and although Hope couldn’t yet see his face, she recognized his confident demeanor and unmistakable voice.

Tyler hesitated, clearly considering whether or not Hope was worth the risk of getting his ass beaten in a dark alley. She watched him shake his head angrily, and then throw his hands in the air.

“Find your own way home, bitch,” he spat. As he turned to go, her saving grace rushed him from behind, whirling him around to face her and placing the blade of his knife firmly against the tender skin of Tyler’s throat. Tyler probably soiled his pants at that moment; his face was a mask of terror and he actually whimpered when the cool metal bit harder against his neck.

And that was the moment Hope saw his face, under the glow of a bare bulb attached to the brick alley wall. The man who had leaped in between her and Tyler, had pulled a knife on a man for a woman he didn’t know, and was now baring it against a monster’s neck, all for her, was the rocker from the club.


She didn’t even remember his name.

“Apologize,” he growled into Tyler’s ear. “Tell the lady you’re sorry for calling her a bitch, and I’ll let you go. Against my better judgment.”

Tyler whimpered again, and the blade was pressed harder against his sweaty skin.

“Say. It.”

“I-I’m sorry, Hope,” spluttered Tyler. “There! Let me go, you psycho!”

The rocker turned Tyler loose and shoved him toward the end of the alley. They both watched him stumble his way out of the dark and disappear around the corner at the end of the street.

She studied the singer as he watched the end of the alley a moment longer. His broad chest was heaving, and his jaw, etched in scruff, clenched repeatedly, like a throbbing heartbeat. He wiped the blade of the knife on the thigh of his black jeans and snapped it closed, placing it back into his pocket.

When Hope realized she was still standing, the immediate danger gone but not forgotten, an animal-like noise escaped her throat, and her hand flew to her face in response.

He turned to face her, moving into the shimmer from the overhead light attached to the brick wall. She was met with eyes so darkly blue they glittered like jewels. Fascinated, she wondered stupidly what made them glimmer that way. Was it anger? Or were they always. . .