Riffs That Ruin (Survival Records #2)

5. Raina

S ome behaviors you can’t change, no matter how hard you try. I wish with every fiber of my being that I could stand up to Dickless like I did with the assholes of Napalm Delights, but I can’t. Even with my pep talk and giving him a new nickname, it took me less than a minute before I dropped my head to stare at the floor and began to fidget with my fingers.

At least the floor is better than staring at his face. I can’t stop the flashbacks when his features are looming over me. I forget how to breathe when I’m forced to look at him, my body struggling to perform the most basic function to live. It’s no wonder I found it so easy to embrace death.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” he asks in a calm voice that feels like ice freezing around me. It was my worst nightmare when I came looking for Alyssa to admit Tristan is MIA and found her standing next to the man who started abusing me when I was sixteen, the owner of the label I’m signed with. “You’re supposed to be on stage in thirty minutes.”

I flinch as he moves. I’m not sure why, it’s not like I think he’d touch me with so many people around, at least not in a way my body would react that way to. My lips feel chapped as they crack open to respond, but nothing comes out. Fear holds me in a tight grip, and I’m not even sure why I’m acting this way.

“Jesus, Raina,” Alyssa snaps. “He asked you a question. Do you even have any brain cells left, or did the drugs fry them all?”

Dickless laughs, making me squeeze my eyes closed. I hate that sound so much. “Nick,” he calls out. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“No,” I squeak. But I’m not sure if he even hears me.

“What’s up, boss man?” Nick asks, his voice growing louder with each word, like he’s closing the distance between us.

Please don’t. Please don’t. Please don’t.

“I need you to play as Raina’s lead tonight. She seems to have misplaced hers. Doesn’t take her long to run them off, hey?” he jokes at my expense, and my heart throbs from how deep it hits. Did I scare him off? Is he not coming back?

“I’ll do my best. Let me go refresh myself on the music with the time I have.” Nick’s footsteps fade, and I tighten my eyelids so hard I see white spots dancing.

Dickless’ hand grips my chin and tilts my head up. “Look at me, Angel.” I might open my eyes, but they don’t instantly focus, giving me a small reprieve. “I wouldn’t do this for anyone else. Only for you, Niece, since I love you so much. But you do owe me. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Yes,” I somehow whisper. I think my body learned to respond as an automated reaction. It knows better than to not answer when he asks something.

“I’ll be generous. You give me four more shows, and I’ll call it even for what I’ll have to pay Nick.” He pats my cheek. “Now go be a good girl and give me a good show. I don’t think I need to tell you the consequences of what will happen if you don’t have someone ready to perform at your next show, do I?”

This time he doesn’t expect an answer from me, he simply walks away. It feels like I’ve been punched in the gut. I want to cry and throw up at the same time. My hands shake so badly I can’t hide it, and I’m not sure my legs will hold me up if I try to take a step.

A baggy of pills is suddenly in my face. It shakes around so the little tablets make a clicking sound. “Want one?” Brad asks. I blink in shock. They’ll never stop with the same fucking moves. Always wanting to tempt me with drugs when I’m at my lowest.

Before I can react or even think of a response, someone is standing in front of me. All I can see is his broad back, but as my gaze travels up, I find the familiar ice gray tips of Keaton’s fohawk. Peeking around his muscular form, I find him with his arms crossed, a menacing scowl tugging at his lips, so terrifying I almost flinch back.

The moment he shows his teeth in a growl, Brad backs away slowly, his hands held up like he thinks Keaton might attack at any time. Which is probably a valid reaction…

In the back of my mind, the news article begs me to keep my distance, but the fury rolling off him says he needs me more than any possible rumors that can start. I rest my hand on the back of his shoulder and soothe my thumb back and forth.

“Hey big guy. You okay?” I don’t do anything else, simply wait for him to respond. He growls, staring at where Brad sits on the couch, his head ducked, trying to shake the attention of my protector.

Keaton turns to me, his eyes traveling over my form, searching for any signs of injury even though nobody touched me. I’m not sure if he was here long enough to catch Dickless holding on to my chin, but his eyes stare at the spot like he can see the residual destructive energy clinging to my skin.

His anger is slow to melt from his features, but eventually he’s simply frowning instead of appearing as if he’s a split second from being a feral beast. “I don’t like the way they treat you.”

The smooth as silk texture of his voice warms me from the inside out. It’s like melted chocolate on my tongue. It reminds me how he didn’t even say a single word to Brad, simply intimidated the fuck out of him with a simple look. It’s a skill I could use.

I wonder if he’ll share his ways with me.

“I know. I don’t either. Come on, we need to get ready to perform.” I nod my head in the direction of where our dressing room is as my hand lands on my stomach. It clenches with the thought of having Nick join us. I don’t want him anywhere near my music, especially not any songs that I wrote with Tris, not when I’m so worried about him.

Pictures flash in my mind of the joy I had writing the songs with my best friend, then to Nick standing on stage playing them, morphing into the way Nick would hold me down and twist my nipples until I wish they’d fall off.

Already it feels like he’s tainting the songs that came straight from my soul. He raped my body first, now he’s raping the only thing that’s kept me alive. I’m not sure I’m strong enough to survive it. I haven’t had enough time to recover for something like this. It feels like I need to protect this one untouched area of myself, or else I’ll lose the only untainted part of myself that’s remaining. What will I have left to give to my men?

My stomach rolls, feeling like it did a move that would capsize a boat. Fuck. Where’s the nearest bathroom?

“I got to go.” I barely get the words out before I’m dashing for the restroom sign. I wave my hand in the direction of the dressing room, hoping Keaton will understand I’ll meet him there. I can only hope I’ll make it to the stage…