Page 1 of Unstable

CHAPTER

ONE

He was seriously not cut out for this. The bar crowd had never been his scene, and it was even less so now that he was surrounded by a bunch of immature, entitled twenty-somethings who thought they were untouchable.

Roman fought to keep his expression neutral as he watched the scantily clad bodies grinding against each other on the dance floor. Ripping his eyes away from Rina, he glanced around the hole-in-the-wall bar. Louie’s was a favorite post-show hangout, but for the life of him, Roman couldn’t figure out why. The place reeked of booze, sweat, and perfume, and a sticky substance that he hoped was alcohol coated the floor in spots.

His boots made a disgusting sound as he shifted, returning his gaze to Rina. His principal—the woman currently under his protection—was on the dance floor shaking her bottom to some country pop song one of her friends had released a few months ago, and the guy behind her was doing his best to get his hand up her extremely short shorts.

Rina Sterling’s band members were scattered around the small club, each scouting a new piece of tail to take home for the evening—or the morning, in this case, considering it was past midnight. He had spent the last ten hours at the venue playing babysitter for her during the final show of her tour. As if that wasn’t bad enough, he had been obligated to accompany her to Louie’s when she decided she wanted to come out and unwind with the rest of the band.

It was fairly local, so he was only about an hour from home. All he wanted to do was herd Rina out the door, drop her off at her house, then pour himself into bed for a couple of hours before he had to be back at her place. It was already creeping close to one o’clock, and he was supposed to be back over there by eight to take her to the studio.

The guy plastered to Rina’s back was getting bolder, his hand moving between her thighs, and he wondered if she was stupid enough to let him feel her up on the dance floor. Rina was the chosen poster child for Stargazer Records and a supposed role model for little girls. He snorted. She wouldn’t be much of a role model for long if one of the people standing around the floor waving their cell phones got a picture at just the right angle.

Unfortunately, it was his job to keep her safe, both from the person sending her threatening letters and from herself, so he stomped across the dance floor and wedged himself between them. “Time to go.”

Big blue eyes glared up at him. “Seriously, Roman?”

He tipped his head toward the door. “Let’s go before you get in trouble.”

Her face fell into a petulant expression. “I wasn’t doing anything wrong.”

“Yeah, come on, man,” the drunk kid wheedled. “We was just havin’ fun. Right, babe?”

They both ignored the drunken idiot, and Roman focused on Rina. “You were practically humping him on the dance floor. Unless you want to end up a headline on tomorrow’s tabloids, I suggest you get your stuff and go.”

She rolled her eyes and stomped away, but not in the direction of the front door as he’d hoped. He followed her to the bar where one of her fellow bandmates sat with a beautiful brunette draped over his lap, her tongue currently trailing up the side of his neck. A tumbler of what appeared to be whiskey sat on the bar in front of Colt, and he lifted a hand, signaling for the bartender to deliver another as he watched Rina approach.

The bartender slid the glass her way, and she slammed it back, then wiped the back of her wrist across her mouth, all the while glaring at him.

Colt smirked, his gaze bouncing from Roman then back to Rina. “Bodyguard cracking down again?”

Rina threw back another shot as soon as the bartender placed it in front of her, then turned her attention to Colt. “I think I’m up for a ride.”

Colt chuckled around the woman trying to suck his face off. “Suit yourself.”

Rina pinned Roman with her brilliant blue eyes, one eyebrow lifting toward her hairline. “What about you?”

He clenched his molars together, barely managing to rein in his irritation. “No.”

One corner of her mouth kicked up. “What? Don’t think you can last eight seconds?”

He stared down at her, unwilling to rise to the bait. A couple silence-filled seconds later, she let out an irritated little huff and spun on her heel, then stomped toward the mechanical bull in the corner.

He closed his eyes and released a long exhalation through his nostrils as a loud—and very familiar—“Hey, y’all, watch this!” split the air.

Great. This night just kept getting better and better.

Turning toward the small padded arena, he watched with dismay as Rina lifted one arm high over her head, the other hand fisted around the reins of the fake bull as it began to rock back and forth. He had to give the girl credit. She was actually pretty coordinated, even half-intoxicated.

A small crowd gathered around, and hoots and hollers filled the air as the bull bucked wildly and Rina did her best to hold on. Her tiny denim cutoffs bunched up around her hips with each rocking motion, exposing the curve of her bottom.

Resigned to let this play out, he folded his arms over his chest. If she wanted to make a spectacle of herself, that was her choice. Her PR person made way more money to put up with her antics than he did. Almost as soon as the thought crossed his mind, Rina was thrown off the bull’s back and landed with a giggle on the inflatable floor surrounding the contraption.

Roman pushed off the bar and strode toward her, then hooked one hand around her elbow as she stumbled to her feet. “Fun’s over, trouble.”

Snatching up the fringed cowgirl boots on the floor, he hauled Rina across the bar and out the door.