Snare (Falling Stars #3)

  Snare

  (a Falling Stars novel)

  Book 3

  Sadie Grubor

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Copyright 2016 Sadie Grubor

  Cover Art by VST

  This book may not be reproduced or used in whole or in part by any existing means without written permission from the publisher. Contact Author at sadie@sadiegrubor.com.

  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or actual events are purely coincidental. The characters are products of the author's imagination and used fictitiously. The locations, businesses are also fiction, and those that do exist are utilized in a purely fictitious manner. The music mentioned is owned by the original artist and employed in a purely fictitious method. No infringement or malice/ill will is intended by the author or publisher.

  Dedication:

  For my baby sister, my partner in crime, my source of inspiration for Sid.

  Here's to Black Friday shenanigans, random hair coloring nights, some of the most outrageous conversations imaginable, and for being one of the few people who not only gets me, but matches me every step of the way.

  I love you with lemons and crumbs on top.

  Special Thanks:

  I need to thank my family and friends who support my crazy aspiration to write these stories, while also providing endless character inspiration.

  A special thank you goes out to Mr. Grubor and our minions for letting me disappear into my imaginary worlds.

  To my mother, thanks for always supporting me.

  To my BETA team, thank you for the ego boosts and humbling moments you provide. Also, I want to mention each of them jumped on board for a cameo in this novella and the upcoming book. You are all so awesome!

  Thank you, Kara, Leeann, Marie, Bronwyn, Stephanie, Tracey, Michelle, Ruth, & Pam.

  Monica, girl, you make me sound so much better than I do in real life! You Mo'Nica fo'life shorty!

  HUGE shout outs to:

  Kim Ginsberg, your hawk eye and constant support astound me.

  Pam Brooks, DJ Extraordinaire, THANK YOU for interviewing my made up people. 

  My thanks also goes out to the BETA/ARC group who kindly offered their time and feedback to help make SNARE come to completion.

  Author's Note:

  Dear reader,

  Thank you for choosing to read Sid's story, because in truth she is a big part of me. So it's both therapeutic and terrifying to unleash her to the world.

  I wanted her to be real, but not in a 'poor me' kind of way. Or a feel sorry for her. I wanted her relatable. Even the bitchy defensive side, because it's often the ones who seem the strongest and the most confident that have the hardest battle.

  And while this story is fiction and attempted to be told with a healthy dose of humor, verbal and physical abuse is never okay. If you endure this, thinking you deserve it or you won't find better, please know YOU ARE THE BETTER and should never be made to feel less than worthy of love and kindness.

  For my fellow ladies out there with curves, bumps, and stretch marks, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL. We come in all shapes and sizes, have parts of ourselves – physical and emotional – we wish were different. But, if you were different, you wouldn't be you. I'm sure there are many people out there thankful for you, just the way you are. Why deny the world you?

  To my sexually adventurous peeps, keep doing you and/or whomever you want.

  With love,

  Sadie

  Blurb

  Sidra Campbell lives by a hump-him-and-dump-him rule. No love, no messy emotional strings, means no chance of losing control—again. She came to L.A. to support her cousin Liza, but she's also running from the vicious cycle she left behind in Pennsylvania.

  Unfortunately for her, two men aren't making life easy. One invokes the haunting nightmare of a past she's fought hard to be a survivor of, not a victim, and another is so tempting, so persuasive, she reinforces the wall around her heart and dons her mask to keep the behemoth out. To everyone else, she appears confident and happy, but inside, she's hiding the deepest pain.

  Xavier Stone, the former drummer to one of the greatest rock bands, Corrosive Velocity, has suffered loss after loss. Finding himself a full-time dad and in threat of losing once again, he's barely hanging on.

  There's one woman who creates a spark of interest so strong, he can't seem to keep his hands to himself. She hates him—at least, that's what the mask of insults and indifference she wears wants him to believe, but her kiss tells another story. Xavier has lost too much. She may not be happy about it and can run all she wants, but Xavier's done losing.

  When two explosive personalities collide, one runs and the other snares.

  Prologue

  Sidra Campbell

  "You don't have to do this." Liza furrows her brow, frustrated with my sudden decision to return to Pennsylvania.

  "I have an apartment and some business stuff to take care of." Shrugging, I inch forward in the ticket line at the airport.

  I love my cousin, but I also know her. There's something she's not saying, and the fact that she's holding back tells me all I need to know. It's the one and only subject that has ever really caused strife between us.

  Liza drops her arms and straightens her spine. I brace for the words.

  "I know this is about Paul."

  Taking a deep breath, I exhale loudly.

  "I saw the message from him on your phone," she confesses.

  "You went through my phone?" Before I even asked the question, I knew she hadn't. That's not Liza's style, but I couldn't hold back the accusation.

  "Of course not," she snaps. "I can't believe you think I would—"

  "I don't," I say with a sigh, rubbing my forehead. "It just slipped out."

  Some of the anger melts off her face and she reaches out, taking my biceps in her hands.

  "Your phone kept going off on the counter this morning. I didn't mean to see the messages, but I did." She bites her bottom lip, an act I know too well. Liza's trying not to say anything else. She doesn't want to fight, but she saw his texts.

  The texts repeatedly asking when I was coming home, did I get my flight arranged, and that he would be waiting at my apartment for me.

  "This isn't about him. I need to take care of my apartment and figure out some business things."

  It's not a complete lie. There are, in fact, business matters to attend. I may do mostly freelance work, but that doesn't mean it's any less of a business. The fact that I've based these companies out of my Pennsylvania home means I need to make an appearance after almost eight months in California.

  I don't regret one second of being in California. I mean, let's face it, the sunshine, half naked people, and being surrounded by rock royalty isn't a bad way to spend my time. Plus, Liza needed me.

  When Jackson Shaw, lead guitarist for The Forgotten, showed up in her life, he brought addiction, a shit storm of a media frenzy, and an ex-whore who deserved more than what she got. I would've made the tramp a celebrity porn viral sensation, but…that's just me.

  Living with them for the past eight months has been wonderful, and while I've been here, I've considered moving to L.A. There are swoon-worthy advantages to being in a house with six–foot-eight-inches of lickable body art. I may not be able to trace the designs with my tongue, but there have been many glimpses and glances of an almost naked Jackson.

  All accidents of course.

  Liza and Jackson are in a good place. They have each other, Liza's son, Lucas, her brother, Kel, and the newly adopted Sean—and they want me to be a part of it. Jackson even offered to help set up movers to get me relocated either with them or in a place in L.A. If it weren't for the media craziness, J
ackson's band reigning as rock gods, and Liza's rising burlesque career, it would all reek of Norman Rockwell.

  However, it's time for me to go home and figure my shit out.

  "Sid," Liza pulls me from my thoughts, "I just want—"

  "Don't finish," I part warn, part beg. "I don't want to fight before I get on a plane to leave."

  "I don't want to fight either." Liza releases my biceps and wraps her arms around her stomach. She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath, and says, "You are better than him."

  "Damn it, Liza. Just let it go," I snap, lifting my carry-on higher onto my shoulder. "I'm not going back for him, okay? I have other things in my life than the shit I do out here for you." My voice has risen, drawing attention from others waiting at the airport.

  She flinches back, a grimace on her face.

  "Fuck," I growl. "I'm sorry."

  Reaching out, I grasp her shoulder and pull her into my arms. Her arms come around my middle and we hold on tight.

  "I didn't mean that," I whisper beside her ear.

  "I know," she responds.

  We take a step back and stare at each other for a moment.

  "I really do have to go back for business reasons," I state, hoping she believes me.

  My businesses haven't suffered, yet, but they will if I don't get back. The web and graphic designs can be done from anywhere, my photography business would've suffered if Red, Liza's boss at the burlesque club, Lux Hedonica, hadn't hired me to do shots of the dancers, and the porn side of business ventures has stayed stable. Until now.

  Toy BoXXXTM is having some logistic issues. When I came up with the idea of a monthly delivery service full of other porn, sex toy, and sexual health items, no one else was doing it. It took a lot of work to get porn companies to initially donate free DVDs and subscriptions. The same with sex toy companies. However, the local Planned Parenthood and other sex health resource centers jumped on the opportunity to provide brochures, flyers, and contraceptives. Today, we get bombarded with donations and even earn enough to purchase items to go in the boxes. Imitation companies and services popped up, but could never recreate our success. Toy BoXXXTM has been steady for a year, and with orders increasing month after month, we needed to outsource box packaging before I came to L.A. with plans for future expansion. But recent messages from Paul, a co-investor and the one thing Liza and I argue over, tell of delays with shipments and damaged material complaints, and the increase in complaints is a concern.

  "I believe you, but I still hate that you're going back to him." There's an edge of anger when she references Paul. "He plays with you, Sid. It's not fair and I just don't understand how you can allow—"

  "Enough," I shout, drawing more attention and silencing my cousin. "I've gotta go."

  Stepping away from Liza, I approach the kiosk and tap the screen. I feel her presence behind me.

  "He's an asshole, Sidra," she continues. "He's a user and abuser."

  I spin around, coming face to face with a solemn Liza.

  Well, I guess not arguing is out of the question.

  "He's never touched me," I inform her, though she already knows.

  "You don't have to physically hurt someone to abuse them." She steps closer. "The fact that he's put his hands on you in a loving gesture only makes his choice in emotional abuse and neglect harsher."

  The words slice through me. I damn well know what she's saying, I've been through this with him so many times, but she just doesn't understand.

  "We aren't perfect. Not all of us can have tall, tatted, rich, and devoted, Liza."

  A statue of resolve, she doesn't move.

  "You don't understand our relationship, but it's mine and I'll handle it."

  Turning back to the screen, I slide my credit card, print my tickets, and start walking away. I don't look back until I've reached security check. When I do, Liza is right there, just a few feet from me.

  "Sid?" she calls.

  Our eyes lock, her beautiful crystal blue holding my overcast-day kind of blue. For just a moment, the little girl so jealous of her sunshine blonde cousin surfaces from deep inside. A muscle in my cheek twitches and tears sting the back of my eyes.

  Christ, she's always been beautiful and held the attention of everyone who meets her. She'll never understand how hard it is to be accepted, to find someone who has real feelings for you.

  Mentally shaking myself, I rebury the feelings, the hurt, and focus on Liza, who's now a foot in front of me.

  "I feel like I won't see you again." Liza breaks our silence with whimpered words.

  "That would never happen," I assure adamantly.

  Closing the distance, she wraps her arms around me, pulls me close, and hugs me so tight, it's almost painful. I swallow the emotions and return the embrace.

  We pull away from each other and Liza backs up a step, tears streaming over her cheeks.

  "Call me when you land." She wipes the wetness with the back of her hand.

  "Of course." I smile.

  Liza's phone rings and she slips it from her back pocket. A swipe of her finger and she answers.

  "Hey, I'm still—" Her eyes shoot to mine.

  I grin. Finally!

  "Wait, calm down—"

  Laughter escapes my mouth and I cover it with my hand.

  "She didn't," Liza says, exasperated, her eyes narrowing on me.

  Twisting the phone away, she purses her lips before saying, "Glitter? Really?"

  I release my mouth and bend at the waist, gasping for air.

  "Do you have any idea how hard glitter is to clean off the floor?" she whines.

  Jackson's voice rises loud enough, I can hear him through the phone. Liza pulls it away, wincing.

  I straighten and take a deep breath.

  "That's what he gets for selling me out to Xavier," I taunt.

  Xavier and I had a small misunderstanding one evening at Lux Hedonica, which may have ended with him handcuffed in a closet with a random bra shoved in his mouth. In my defense, he was being annoying, following me around and flirting with the "you're so sexy" and "we could just introduce our belly buttons and see what happens from there". He deserved to be closeted.

  "Xavier took the number from Jack's phone," Liza says, defending the oversized coloring book. "It's not his fault Xave—"

  I put up my hand to silence her.

  "He gave him my number the first time," I remind her. "I went through all the trouble of changing the number, so he should've kept my digits locked down. That is unacceptable." I drop my hand. "Tell him to be happy he got glitter and not his personal cell number publicly posted to his entire screaming fan base."

  Liza closes her eyes, drops her shoulders, and shakes her head.

  "Now, hang up on the jolly inked giant so we can smoosh boobs and I can get on a plane." I open my arms for her to enter and grin wide enough to cover the uncomfortable emotions lingering just beneath my skin.

  Chapter One

  Sidra

  Using my shoulder to hold my cell to my ear, I dig to the bottom of my bag for my keys.

  "Are you listening to me?" My mother stops mid-lecture to ensure I'm paying full attention to her guilt trip.

  She's been laying it on thick since I got into a cab and texted to tell her I landed. From that point, she turned to rapid fire texts until I caved, did what she wanted, and called her.

  "Uh huh," I respond, placing the key into the deadbolt.

  "Sidra Pauline Campbell," she growls, causing me to cringe.

  Damn woman knows I hate that bullshit.

  "I haven't seen you for over eight months. The least you can do is pretend to be interested in speaking to me. It's not like you called me while you were off in California."

  Sliding the key in the lock, I twist until I hear the click of the bolt.

  "Don't act all put out," I call her out. "Liza offered to fly you out to visit."

  "I didn't want to intrude," she defends. "She needed time to adjust to all the changes in her
life. I didn't mean to be in the way."

  Rolling my eyes, I pull the key out and slide it into the knob. Just as I turn, the door flies open.

  With a gasp escaping my mouth, I jump back. My carry-on bag drops to the floor and my phone slides from my shoulder, landing on top of it with a soft thud.

  "You're home."

  "Wow, you figure that out all on your own, Paul?"

  "Sid? Sidra? Is everything okay?" my mother shrieks through my phone.

  Bending, I pick it up and put it back to my ear.

  "Sid!" she shouts, and I flinch.

  "Lower the pipes, Mom," I tease. "I dropped my phone. Everything is fine."

  "I heard another voice," she says in her trademark I'm-just-stating-a-fact-not-trying-to-be-nosy way.

  Taking a deep breath, I look up into dark brown eyes.

  "Paul surprised me," I mumble, knowing what's coming.

  "Why's he there?" I don't have to see her to know she's looking pretty sour-faced.

  "I don't know. Let me call you back after I find out," I respond, picking up my bags from the floor.

  She sighs. "Fine, but if I don't hear from you by tomorrow, I will show up on your doorstep bright and early."

  "Threat understood." I shove by Paul and walk into my apartment.

  The door closes behind me.

  "Can I help that I've missed you?" The real hurt in her question tugs at me.

  "I'm sorry, Mom. Really, I promise to call you tomorrow. Let me get settled in and then we can get together, okay?"

  "Okay. I love you." She sounds appeased.

  "I love you, too."

  We disconnect and I toss the phone onto a nearby chair and look around.