Slash and Burn

  Slash and Burn

  (Bullet #5)

  Jade C. Jamison

  Slash and Burn

  Is theirs a match made in heaven…or hell?

  Nick Channing, drummer for Fully Automatic, has never taken relationships seriously. He’s had fun and met dozens of women—mostly one-night stands—and he prefers it that way. From his parents to his friends, he’s witnessed love and relationships firsthand and believes women are nothing but a headache.

  Nick, Brad, and Val team up again to launch her new band Val Hella. There’s one problem, though: they still need a bassist. They audition dozens of women, trying to find the perfect one, and settle on Sabrina, known onstage simply as Sinna, a bad ass metal head who’s perfect for the band: pierced, tattooed, dressed in black from head to toe, and she handles her bass with precision. She is a force to be reckoned with and Nick is smitten.

  When Nick gets her alone the first time to lay on the charm, he’s met with a coolness he’s never experienced. Sabrina is mysterious and thoroughly unimpressed with Nick and his behavior, and that’s when he decides he has to have her. As he falls headlong for her, he discovers her secrets, one dark shadow at a time. He thinks she loves him back, but he can’t be sure. By the time he’s completely down the rabbit hole, his heart’s so entangled, he fears he might not be able to save himself. Can she save him or will she wreck him for all time?

  “What tricks you got, babycakes?”

  Brina’s voice was low, almost derisive. “I don’t need tricks. My playing speaks for itself.”

  He couldn’t let that one go. “Yeah, and how many personal fans do you have, Sinna?”

  She sneered—actually sneered—and, for some strange reason, Nick felt a twitch in his cock at the sight. He stopped himself from bursting into laughter, because that would have made her angrier. While he didn’t mind her angry, he hoped to be able to enjoy a real conversation. She took two steps closer to him and said, “I don’t count how many personal fans I have, if I even have any. It’s not about me, Nick, any more than it’s about you.” Her voice wrapped around his name like honey, but it oozed disgust. He still wasn’t sure if he found it hot or not. She continued, not giving him a chance to evaluate his emotions. “It’s about us as a group, as a band, and until we gel, there will be division, and if we’re not cohesive, what the hell kind of music are we gonna make?”

  “I see your point, but I have a counterpoint. If you are all about the band and don’t give a shit about yourself, then where’s your pride? Your personal responsibility?” He stood up. He’d been joking before, but now he was dead serious. Some small part of himself felt like she might be questioning his integrity, and that pissed him off. “When you fuck up onstage—and you will—will you blame all of us? We’re a band, after all.” He couldn’t help the tone in his voice. There would be no way for her to mistake how irritated he was becoming. It had been cute before, but now she was pushing some button that set him off. He wasn’t sure if he was angrier with her for pissing him off or himself for getting mad at her in the first place.

  She rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on, Nick. You know that’s not what I meant.” She got closer to him.

  He closed the gap, so close that their noses almost touched. “How the fuck should I know that?” His eyes searched hers, trying to decide if she was wanting to start a war. But then, as he continued looking back and forth between those blue orbs, he saw them soften ever so slightly. He let his jaw relax a little then, but he still couldn’t quite read her.

  Her words, however, were still acerbic. “Because you’re a smart fucking guy.” She cocked an eyebrow again. He couldn’t decide if he fucking loved the way she did that or if it was just another irritant. “Or so I thought.”

  Nick tried once more to assess her and fell short. He could feel some kind of weird electricity sparking between them. At first, he’d thought it was the anger, but then he realized that maybe there was something more. He moved his head a few centimeters closer and she didn’t budge. His voice was barely a whisper when he said, “I am a smart fucking guy. I’m so goddamned smart that I figured out what this is all about.”

  She furrowed her previously cocked brow, but he barely saw it as he brought his mouth down on hers. He knew that had to be the issue at hand—the sexual attraction between them both was interfering with their ability to communicate. It was making them angry, accusatory, and they weren’t acting like bandmates or even acquaintances. They were spitting at each other like they were mortal enemies. That might have been okay, but Nick definitely had other ideas about which way their relationship was heading.

  He heard her mumble, “What the—?” Then he expected her to fight, based on her initial stance, but she let go and gave in, kissing him back.

  It was an incredible explosion in his head, the sparks he felt because of the way their tongues danced together and the warmth of her body close to his. Feeling more in control then, he slid his hands around her waist and pulled her close…

  BOOKS BY JADE C. JAMISON

  Substitute Boyfriend

  Finger Bang

  Quickies: Sexy Short Stories and Other Stuff

  Old House

  Then Kiss Me

  MADversary

  Worst Mother

  Fabric of Night

  Stating His Case

  TANGLED WEB SERIES

  1 Tangled Web: A Steamy Heavy Metal Novella

  2 Everything But

  Punctured, Bruised, and Barely Tattooed (companion novel)

  3 Seal All Exits

  BULLET SERIES

  1 Bullet: An Epic Rock Star Novel

  2 Rock Bottom

  3 Feverish

  4 Fully Automatic

  4.5 Christmas Stalkings

  5 Slash and Burn

  NICKI SOSEBEE SERIES

  1 Got the Life

  2 Dead

  3 No Place to Hide

  4 Right Now

  5 One More Time

  6 Lost

  7 Innocent Bystander

  8 Blind

  9 Fake

  WISHES SERIES

  1 Be Careful What You Wish For

  Copyright

  Copyright © 2015 by Jade C. Jamison

  Cover image © Jetrel via Shutterstock

  All rights reserved.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author. Characters and names of real persons who appear in the book are used fictitiously.

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  This book is dedicated to three awesome readers who helped me choose the female bassist’s name (for more info, please see the Acknowledgements at the end of the book).

  Those wonderful readers are

  Laura Myers

  Jen Oreto

  and

  Vickie Carter

  Ladies, my sincere thanks!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven
>
  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Acknowledgements

  Sneak peak at Savage

  Also by Jade C. Jamison

  Chapter One

  NICK CHANNING GRIPPED the pencil in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t sure why this whole fucking process stressed him out, but it did. He looked over to his right—first to Brad and then to Val. They were being polite. They sat quietly, listening to the guy in front of them fumble and stumble all over his bass guitar, trying to do God-knew-what.

  Maybe that was what was making him feel like he was sitting on a chair full of needles. They were giving each person five minutes to impress them, but Nick knew in the first thirty seconds if they were any good or not. This guy? Well, he definitely had the look. Long, wavy black hair, some seriously cool ink, even a nose piercing. His clothes were spot on. Hell, the guy could have been a stand-in for Brad. But his playing? Well, the sad fact of the matter was it sucked. The guy not only could barely find his way around the four strings on his piece, but he was making Nick feel like the bass should be a banned instrument. What this guy was doing was a crime to mankind.

  And Val and Brad just sat there, neutral looks on their faces. He hoped they weren’t seriously entertaining this guy.

  What really stressed Nick out was that this was the tenth person today, and none of them had been impressive. He supposed they didn’t need impressive; they merely needed competent. But this was Val they were talking about. She was finally getting her own band, and he wanted it to be perfect. He knew she and Brad did too. If it had been up to Nick, he would have demanded that Zane step in. That guy could play a mean bass with just his thumb—Nick was convinced of that. But Zane and Ethan had decided to create their own side project, a super hardcore heavier-than-heavy metal band that verged on the edge of death metal…or some shit like that. Fully Automatic would always be their main priority, and it was hard and heavy—but they wanted to go even darker and deeper, and Brad had mentioned one time—just one time—that they needed to make sure their band’s music was commercially viable. Ethan had blown up at that and spouted off that maybe he needed to break away and do his own thing. Well, it had led to hard feelings for a while until Brad asked them all to sit down and have a real chat…and he suggested that a side project might not be a bad idea.

  Ethan and Zane ran with it.

  And then Brad started thinking some more and talked to Val about starting a new band as well as an outlet for herself. It had been way too long since she’d been onstage and created something out of nothing. Val latched onto it and began writing—both lyrics and some music, since she’d started playing the guitar in her hiatus. Brad asked Nick if he’d be interested in playing the drums for her band, and he jumped on the chance. He loved Brad and Val and considered them great friends—family, even—so why wouldn’t he want to help?

  Now, though, he was questioning his state of mind. He understood the need for tryouts, but he was beginning to wonder why they hadn’t just put out a general call to people already in the biz. They knew a shitload of guys in bands. Surely one of them would love to work with them. Val was looking for something specific, but they didn’t know what, and maybe hiring an unknown was part of her game plan.

  Nick grabbed Brad’s pencil and, combined with his own, began tapping out a drum beat. He needed something to distract him from the awful shit in front of them. The one good thing about the whole deal? Brad had called a local hotel and rented out a conference room for the auditions. There was a restaurant and bar in the joint, so Nick could fetch refreshments now and then. They also wouldn’t have to worry about any of these losers knowing where Brad and Val lived. It was win-win.

  Val had said she wanted someone good, but she was hoping to hire a woman. She’d take a male bassist if she had to, but she was wanting a female. That was part of why they had done the open call and invited musicians to Denver, but the problem was that lots of locals, some of whom Nick was pretty sure had never played live before, had answered the call, and they were having to listen to those people’s pathetic attempts at making music.

  Nick was pretty sure he was gonna need therapy after this guy.

  Yeah, some vodka therapy.

  He tried to distract himself by going over the candidates thus far in his head. What was sad was that none of them were great. None stood out…and the few women he could call competent enough to do the job if push came to shove weren’t anything to write home about. They had one more day after this and then that was it, and if all the bassists trying out later were like what they’d had so far, he was ready to throw in the towel and tell them they didn’t need one.

  He knew this guy was coloring his feelings about the whole process. They could probably take one of the more competent people and train her well enough that she would work, so they’d have to let Val choose someone she’d be happy working with.

  Please don’t let it be this guy.

  The man finally put them out of their misery, hitting his last note. A clean bass line could be a beautiful thing, but what this guy had done was a travesty.

  And he must have known it. The look on his face mirrored what Nick was feeling inside. “Dudes, sorry about that. I know you have to get the next person, but I totally fucked that shit up. I just got over the flu, and I’m feeling kinda washed out.” Val smiled—one that Nick could tell was forced—and Brad nodded. “Any way I could maybe try again after everyone else has gone?”

  Val looked down at her notes and then back up. “We have your number. I can’t make any promises, but I’m willing to consider it. We just really need to get through all these auditions we have scheduled.”

  “I totally understand.” The guy pulled a black leather wallet out of his back pocket—yeah, it was attached to a wallet chain—and whipped out some cards which he promptly handed to each one of them. His bass was draped down his back—again, the guy had cool metal moves down to a T—but his playing ruined his bad ass image. “Just call if you could do me that solid and, if not, maybe something else will come up?”

  “Yeah,” Brad said and stood, shaking the guy’s hand. How Brad managed to always come off as cool and diplomatic, Nick would never know. He and Brad hadn’t always been friends, but he now considered the man one of his best. He’d trust the guy with his life. “Thanks for coming out today. We appreciate it.”

  Yep, the guy left feeling good about himself. Not that Nick thought he should. Nick felt like he should be lectured into never leaving the house until he’d practiced the shit out of his bass. That, or he should be told to give up and go wash dishes at Village Inn. He really shouldn’t have been allowed to touch a musical instrument. Nick was gonna have nightmares about the guy’s playing for months. He just knew it.

  Nah…there was always vodka therapy.

  The door closed and Val looked at both of them, her eyebrows raised. As much as Nick could tell they all wanted to talk about it, they’d agreed not to discuss any of the candidates while they were at the hotel. They didn’t know how tight the walls were and didn’t want to either hurt any feelings or get anyone’s hopes up falsely…but he felt a huge sense of relief when he saw the looks on their faces. Between Brad’s raised eyebrows and the frown on Val’s features, Nick knew that neither of them was seriously considering this guy anymore than he was. So he said, “Who’s next?”

  Val looked down at the clipboard next to her arm. “A woman named Sabrina Moreno. Says she’s played with a couple of local bands for a few years. One of ‘em’s called Scar Tissue. Either of you guys watch them play?”

  Brad shook his head. “No.”

  “Heard good things
about them, though.” That was the one thing that bummed Nick out. Since becoming famous, they didn’t spend much time at the local scene anymore, and it had been their life when they’d first started out. It wasn’t that they didn’t like indie music. No, it was that—with the local metal crowd—he and his bandmates were easily recognizable. It wasn’t fair to the bands playing, the way the Fully Automatic gang would attract crowds, but it also detracted from any enjoyment they themselves would have had watching the show. There was no fun to be had anymore. Most concerts he watched on DVD or online anymore. It sucked. It was still good watching the bands, but it wasn’t the same. There was nothing like the feel of the crowd.

  He wasn’t going to bitch, though, because the feeling of being onstage feeling that energy and love live trumped anything he could have ever felt in the audience.

  “Well, at least it’s a woman.”

  Brad chuckled. “Yeah, I thought you’d say that. Are you adding all their phone numbers to your contacts?”

  Nick shook his head. “Oh, yeah. I’ve hit a dry spell. Need to start scouting out fresh pussy.” He rolled his eyes. “Now that you mention it, this is a brilliant way to do that.”

  Brad laughed again and then ran his hand through his long, dark hair, pulling it behind his head. Nick cleared his throat and took out a fresh sheet of paper. He’d already written notes evaluating the last guy and was ready to move on. He was glad the next candidate was a woman, though, because Val wanted a female on bass if at all possible. No sense wasting time with guys, especially bad players.

  There was a rap on the door, loud and demanding. Maybe it was a hotel employee. He wondered, because none of the other women they’d auditioned had knocked like that. That was a man’s knock. Val said, “Come on in,” and stood.