THE REDEMPTION SERIES
Blackbird
Firefly
Nightshade
THE THATCH SERIES
Letting Go
To The Stars
Show Me How
THE SHARING YOU SERIES
Capturing Peace (novella)
Sharing You
THE FORGIVING LIES SERIES
Forgiving Lies
Deceiving Lies
Changing Everything (novella)
THE FROM ASHES SERIES
From Ashes
Needing Her (novella)
THE TAKING CHANCES SERIES
Taking Chances
Stealing Harper (novella)
Trusting Liam
STAND-ALONE NOVELS
I See You
REBEL NOVELS STILL TO COME
Lock
Limit
Copyright © 2018 Molly McAdams
Published by Jester Creations, LLC.
First Edition
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without prior permission of the publisher.
Please protect this art form by not pirating.
Molly McAdams
www.mollysmcadams.com
Cover Design by RBA Designs
Photo by ©Regina Wamba
Editing by Making Manuscripts & Shannon
Interior Design & Formatting by Christine Borgford, Type A Formatting
Custom Illustrations by DeepFriedFreckles
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Names, characters, places, and plots are a product of the author’s imagination. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
Print ISBN: 9780998420073
eBook ISBN: 9780998420066
Disclaimer: A very small portion of this book was originally titled “Rebel” in the Once Upon A Rock Star anthology. If you supported the anthology and read my short story in there, I encourage you to still read that portion as alterations have been made that are key to the rest of the story.
Contents
LYRIC
Also by Molly McAdams
Dedication
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Potential Polaroid Assholes
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Potential Polaroid Assholes
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Potential Polaroid Assholes
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Potential Polaroid Assholes
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Potential Polaroid Assholes
Thirty-Four
Thirty-Five
Thirty-Six
Thirty-Seven
Thirty-Eight
Thirty-Nine
Forty
Forty-One
Forty-Two
Forty-Three
Forty-Four
Epilogue
The End
Acknowledgments
George and Donna, Johnny and Marjory . . .
Your extraordinary lives and enchanting stories fueled a passion that became a dream.
This is for you.
Libby
I WASN’T SEEING ANYTHING IN that room.
I was reliving last night over and over like a never-ending nightmare.
I ran to my room, intent on looking for something I prayed wasn’t there, and rushed for my bathroom at the last second. I only made it to the sink by the time my stomach lurched, ridding my body of bile.
A sob wrenched from my chest. I stumbled back to the wall and lowered myself to the floor.
Maxon settled next to me, his face a mask of worry and confusion. “Libby, what—what the hell’s going on? Are you okay?”
I nodded weakly.
It was all I could do.
I was the furthest thing from okay, but I couldn’t tell him the truth.
Deep down I think I’d known all along. But I’d wanted it to be anything else—anyone else.
Any real threat could be twisted into a prank when that’s what you wish for it to be.
After so many years of denying myself—denying us—I would’ve dismissed any threat to our relationship.
Because that’s what this was.
It wasn’t a simple claiming. It was an open threat to the man I loved.
It was a dark blanket on the happiness I only found with him.
It was mocking the future I wanted.
I’d worried over what might happen to Maxon and me when he found out.
Now, I knew that ending was inevitable. The one I’d agonized over.
We’d dealt with enemies before—faced assassins silent as the night.
But this family wasn’t silent. They were ghosts.
Maxon
I RAN A HAND THROUGH my hair repeatedly while the phone rang in my ear.
“Pick up,” I said through clenched teeth. “Pick up, pick up.”
Libby’s voice filtered through, happy and free . . . and recorded.
I fisted the phone in my hand, my arm shaking with the strength it took not to launch it across the room.
Six months of this bullshit. Six months of no response.
And I had no idea why.
The last day we talked was like any other. Better actually. The guys and I had just received our schedules for this tour. Tours meant seeing her.
Our conversation had been the same as always.
Teasing that made me ache for more. Left me counting down the hours until I could get home and call her.
Me: Gonna be busy for a while. Tour starting soon. But I’m coming back for you, Rebel.
I’d bit back a groan and shifted lower in the chair when she responded with a close-up picture of her biting on her bottom lip.
Me: Those are mine.
Libby: It’s cute how you think I’m waiting here for you or that you own any part of me.
The corners of my mouth had twitched up in a smirk as I tapped out another message to her.
Me: I do, and you are.
Libby: Is that so? Guess we’ll see . . .
But there was no answer when I called that night. There hadn’t been one since.
Once the beep sounded on her voicemail, I growled, “Just played the last show. Closing out at The Jack in two nights. But I guess you know that.” I laughed, the sound bitter and pleading at once. “But I don’t know if you’ll be there. I don’t know if you’ll be backstage before it begins. I don’t even know why you’ve ignored every one of my fucking calls.”
A strangled groan got caught in my throat when I dropped to the hotel bed, and I let my head hang between my shoulders.
My eyes slipped shut when a memory crept into my mind, taunting and torturing me.
She lifted the shirt teasingly, revealing her bare ass. Glancing over her shoulder, she twisted her full lips into a smirk. “Catch me, and you can have me.”
“Just . . . just be there, Rebel.”
I fell back on the bed and calculated the hours until I got to The Jack. I?
??d been counting down to this night since the last day I talked to Libby.
Our manager, Nate, had just dropped the tour schedule in our laps. The other members of my band were going over it while he looked on silently. I tuned them out.
Because I didn’t care that he’d gotten us bigger venues.
Or that he wanted us to play more shows in the same amount of time.
And I sure as hell didn’t give a fuck about how fast he’d scheduled us to move from city to city.
All that mattered was the tiny bar in an even tinier town at the bottom of the list, closing out the tour.
Every tour closed out in that bar.
The Jack.
The place where we’d first started out—sometimes playing for drinks or barely enough cash to keep our shitty apartment—and where Nate found us. Shortly after, he’d signed on as our manager and introduced us to a life we’d only ever dreamed about. He also became the only father figure any of us had ever had.
With our only family being each other, we’d left that town with no ties.
Except one. Mine.
A girl who was as wild as they come.
There wasn’t a man alive who could lay claim to her heart. Not like that stopped me from telling her for most our lives that one day I would—from planning a future with her again and again.
And then we left.
Whenever I made it back to our hometown, I tortured myself by claiming her body for a night or two, knowing that was all we could offer each other then. Knowing no one else would ever compare.
Every time, I told her that one day I would come back for her and not leave without her.
And every time, she smiled that damn smile like she was enjoying the game we always played—that wild, free spirit shining bright and reminding me exactly what girl I was trying to hold on to.
For the first time, I was terrified she’d slipped from my grasp.
Him
A CRUEL GRIN CROSSED MY face as I watched the man sluggishly come to.
“Wha—” He tried to move, his face morphing into panic when he realized he was chained to the chair. “What the—what’s—who’re you?”
I didn’t respond. I stayed a few feet from him, arms folded over my chest, coaxing his panic to increase.
I wanted his fear.
I wanted his adrenaline to negate the effect of the drugs in his system.
I wanted him to know exactly what was about to happen.
Because I’d been waiting for this night for a very long time.
“Where the hell am I?” he demanded on a roar, his voice now clear.
“Thought that was obvious,” I finally responded after watching him struggle with the chains for another minute.
“I asked where the fuck am I?”
I let my eyes touch on the exposed metal beams and metal siding. “Looks like a warehouse.”
“What do you want, you sick fuck?”
My only response was the slight widening of my grin.
I knew to wait.
I knew exactly what would come next. It always came.
These men were all the same.
So I stood there, watching in amusement while he thrashed and tried to escape.
And then it happened.
A strangled sob burst from the man a few minutes later and his body sagged. The adrenaline fading from him just as quickly as it had come.
Before he had a chance to look at me again, my cousin slipped up beside him and yanked his head up by his hair.
“This girl,” I demanded, my tone filled with rage and possession as I held a picture in front of him.
“W-w-what the—what about her?”
“Tell me about her.”
“I don’t know her, man,” he cried out.
My grin turned into a sneer. “You sure about that?”
“I mean, I-I-I hooked up with her. Like once—”
“Twice.”
“Fuck, man, I don’t remember. It was a long time ago.” Tears rolled down his face. “I don’t even remember her name.”
I nodded at my cousin to release him and slowly backed away. “Doubt she remembers yours either.”
His face fell, leaving only terror and confusion warring in his eyes. “What?”
“Her name’s Elizabeth Borello,” I said as my cousin took aim. Before the gunshot rang out in the warehouse, I dropped my voice to a snarl. “And she’s mine.”
Libby
PICTURES FLASHED BEHIND MY EYELIDS like unwelcome reminders of my grief. Little snippets of everything I lost.
I flinched and automatically tried to push them from my mind but stopped and clung to them instead. Used them to fuel my anger.
Anger was good. It was better than what I’d been drowning in. It was necessary to get through the coming days.
Get through the next forty-eight hours.
Feel nothing.
Get through—
I blinked quickly and looked at the table to see what had hit my face.
A sugar packet. Assholes.
My gaze drifted up and around. Everyone in our group was staring at me from where they were all piled into one of the booths at Brooks Street Café.
I didn’t react to their expectant looks. I couldn’t.
I was treading a fine line between anger and agony and blissful nothingness.
My heart raced and it felt difficult to breathe.
Shit. I don’t have time to panic.
Feel noth—
“Libby,” my brother pressed, as though he’d been saying my name for a while.
“I’m not hungry,” I responded automatically.
“Yeah. No. We got that when you didn’t order.”
I glanced at the table again—to the empty plates there—and wondered when everyone had ordered and eaten.
How long have we been here?
“Libby.”
“What?” I snapped, and immediately regretted it when Dare’s face fell into a look of understanding.
“Have you heard anything we’ve said?”
“Yeah, that’s not likely,” my best friend, Einstein, murmured from beside me.
When I didn’t respond, Dare said, “I asked if you’re working the Henley show.”
My chest hitched and throat tightened.
Einstein gave me a knowing look before turning back to her conversation with the twins.
Feel nothing. Feel nothing. Feel nothing.
“No,” I wheezed. “No, I’m not.”
Dare’s stare shifted to his wife before settling on me again. “Are you going?”
Everyone except Einstein went still.
She already knew the answer.
It felt like a bubble was suddenly surrounding our booth, encasing us in deafening silence while they waited for my answer.
And I couldn’t breathe.
He pressed his body close to mine and framed my face with his hands.
“This,” he said softly. The word was almost lost in the roar of screaming fans waiting for Henley to take the stage of The Jack. “This is what’s missing from every day and night. From every show. You here with me.”
Funny. All that was missing from my life was him here with me.
I smiled coyly and let my eyes drift to the door of the room. “Your fans are waiting for you. Go play so I can have you to myself for the night.”
“For always.” He kissed me soundly, dragging my bottom lip through his teeth when he pulled away. “It’s gonna be you and me forever, Libby.”
My chest ached so badly it felt like my heart was literally breaking.
I struggled to find the anger I’d been grasping like a lifeline, but that brief memory had ripped open my wounds, making them feel so fresh and so raw. My pain was consuming and blinding, and it was impossible to feel anything else in that moment.
“No,” I said on a shallow breath.
The twins shifted uncomfortably while Dare and his wife, Lily, shared another quick look.
“Do you .
. .” Lily cleared her throat. “Do you want to talk about it?”
No. Because then it would be real.
I tried to stand even though I was farthest in the booth, then hurried to press against Einstein in a silent and frantic plea for her to move.
She settled in deeper to her seat.
She’d bribed me with caffeine from our favorite coffee shop to get me in the car after literally dragging me out of bed this morning . . . and brought me here instead. Considering we all ate together a few times a week, and my family owned this café, I hadn’t known why she’d lied about the coffee.
I got it now.
I should’ve known an ambush was waiting for me since Henley’s show was tonight at the bar where I worked.
“Libby,” Dare said gently. “He’ll be back tonight.”
“I know,” I said through clenched teeth.
Feel nothing.
Get through the next forty-eight hours.
Dare gripped my wrist to stop me from leaving. As if he knew I was about to crawl over everyone to get out of the booth.
He was younger by a few years, but he’d always seen me as his responsibility. At a young age, he’d been forced into a role no one outside our life would ever understand.
He’d taken care of an entire family. Become a father figure and boss to many and kept us together no matter the threat we faced. He’d kept me with the family no matter how many times I’d tried to rebel and run.
“I know you’re hurting, Libby,” he said. “Jesus Christ, I know. We’ve given you time, but it’s gone on long enough. This isn’t you.”
“What does it matter? They’ll be headed back to LA in a couple days anyway, and I’ll be fine.”
“It matters because this won’t change when they leave.” Dare gestured to me with his free hand, his eyes a wild mixture of worry and anger. “You’re a goddamn zombie. You barely talk. We hardly see you. When we do, you pick up Beckham and walk into another room to hold him and cry.”
I glanced at the wriggling baby in his wife’s lap, then looked away.
“We just want you back,” Lily said. “We’re worried about you.”
“You’re faking every smile and word to get through work,” Dare continued. “You’re forcing movements to get through days. But life is going on around you, and you aren’t seeing any of it. And now you want to hide because fucking Ma—”