Bad Liar (The Reed Rivers Trilogy 1)

Nearing the greenroom, I hear female laughter, and my heart seizes.

Georgina.

I stop outside the doorway to catch my breath. Rake my fingers through my hair. Drag my palm over my stubble. And, finally, enter the room like I own the place. But, shit, I don’t see Georgina anywhere. Fuck!

“Reed!” my attorney, Leonard, calls to me. And I’m instantly trapped. Fuck, fuck, fuck!

Still glancing around for Georgina, I greet Leonard, and then his euphoric teenage daughter, and her equally excited friends. I say quick hellos to the guys of Red Card Riot, and clench my jaw when I realize only three of the four are here: Dean, Emmitt, and Clay. Caleb is nowhere to be found.

On any other day, I’d be thrilled to find Caleb Baumgarten—the drummer the world knows as “C-Bomb”—absent from a room I’m standing in, thanks to a longstanding beef between us. But this one time, Caleb being MIA, when Georgina is also nowhere to be found, is evoking near-panic inside me.

“Where’s Caleb?” I bark at Dean, the lead singer and guitarist.

“Whoa, chill, man,” Dean says, laughing. “We’ve got plenty of time before showtime.”

“Where is he?”

“He left a while ago with some newbie reporter for Rock ‘n’ Roll.” Dean flashes me a knowing look. “It’s her first day on the job, so Caleb gallantly offered to take her for a little pre-show ‘tour’ of the backstage area.”

Motherfucker. I knew Caleb would be all over Georgina like white on rice, sooner rather than later. But this fast? It’s a fucking record, even for him.

I say my quick goodbyes to everyone, bark at a shocked production assistant to take extra-good care of Leonard and his daughter’s party, and then I’m gone, out the door and racing down the cement hallway.

I poke my head through a series of doors, all while brushing off repeated requests for my attention. “Not now,” I bark at whoever. “Ask Owen about that.”

Finally, I hear it. The sound of Georgina’s laughter. It’s muffled. Coming from a distant dressing room. But it’s most definitely her.

I pick up my pace. Burst through a door. And there they are. Georgina and Caleb. Sitting mere inches from each other, face to face. Georgina’s on a couch, looking star-struck and flushed. Caleb looks like a bearded shark at feeding time, his jacked, tattooed body draped over an armchair, his green eyes on fire.

When I enter, the pair jolts in surprise. Georgina, God bless her, lurches back at my intrusion, her body conceding it’s mine, even if her brain doesn’t know it yet.

Caleb, on the other hand, smiles like a sniper and leans toward Georgina when he sees me, his ripped body staking its claim.

My gaze moves from Caleb’s bearded smile to Georgina’s panicked eyes. And when our gazes mingle, when Georgina’s hazel eyes meet mine, I feel the same explosion of chemistry, fire, and attraction I felt between us in that lecture hall—and then again, even more so, at the bar. And, yet again, when we walked outside Bernie’s Place, and I pinned her against the building and pushed my raging boner against her and kissed the living hell out of her, overwhelmed by the nuclear bomb exploding inside me—the powerful yearning I felt to claim, conquer, own, desecrate.

Georgina’s chest heaves at the sight of me. And, instantly, I know the same forest fire raging inside me at the sight of her is burning out of control inside her, as well.

“Time to go,” I bark at Caleb.

But Caleb only scoffs. “There’s plenty of time before we hit. The opening band hasn’t even—”

“You’re missing an important VIP meet and greet.”

Caleb waves his tattooed knuckles. “This is way more important than that. Georgie isn’t a groupie, man. She’s a writer for Rock ‘n’ Roll, assigned to do an interview of the band, and of me in particular. She’s joining the tour this whole week, starting tonight, so we can hang out and she can do a really cool in-depth interview of me.”

No.

Fuck no.

There’s so much “fuck no” about everything Caleb just said, I can barely keep myself from hurtling my body across the room like a missile, wrapping my hands around his tattooed neck, and squeezing the life out of him. Did Owen approve everything Caleb just said? If so, he’s fucking fired. For real, this time.

“Hi, Mr. Rivers,” Georgina says, rising from the couch, her hand extended. “I’m Georgina Ricci from Rock ‘n’ Roll.” She proudly holds up the press pass around her neck. “CeeCee told you about me, I hope? I’ll be working exclusively on the River Records special issue. I’m really, really excited about it, Mr. Rivers.”

Her eyes are pleading with me. Begging me not to throw her out, along with Caleb. And it suddenly occurs to me she has no idea how I fit into this new job opportunity of hers. Did I have a hand in her getting this assignment—or was it given to her against my will? Obviously, Georgina’s wondering where we stand after the other night. Am I going to help her during this summer internship... or fucking torture her?