Bassist Instinct (The Rocker Series #2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Other Titles by Vanessa Lennox

  Bassist Instinct – Tate Dylan - rock star bass player, rogue gentleman, and womanizer extraordinaire - is perhaps the only man able to steal a pretty lass after front man Connor Damon has set his sights. Now Connor's married, and the fan-girls have grown tiresome. Tate's not looking to settle down, exactly. He just wants...more.

  Fiona Brooks - music theory teacher, concert pianist - crashes her bicycle into Tate's car while avoiding a swerving SUV. Tate attends to her, and characteristically, asks for her number. Uncharacteristically, he fails to get it. Unaware of Tate's fame, or his reputation, Fiona is charmed nonetheless.

  Fiona's ex-fiance has been recently murdered. Fiona doesn't know the details of his business dealings, but she gets strong hints. Russian mobsters after "blood" diamonds menace her. Do the diamonds exist? Can she and Tate solve the riddle? More importantly, can Tate get her number?

  Tate’s tale in “Bassist Instinct” occurs after the events in book one of the series, “Between Rock n Roll and a Hard Place”, but the story stands on its own. Tate wouldn’t have it any other way.

  Also by Vanessa Lennox

  Notices

  Bassist Instinct, Copyright © 2014, Vanessa Lennox. Publisher Thistle Court Publishing, [email protected].

  Cover image “Portrait of young stylish male in a leather jacket.” Copyright: Druvo via istockphoto.com

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher.

  All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Bassist Instinct

  By Vanessa Lennox

  Chapter One

  The pub was crowded, Connor hoped there wouldn’t be a fire, or they’d all die well before their prime. The pub doors were wide and anyone passing heard them and lingered in the doorway until they ambled in. They had been playing in this particular pub every Friday night for 15 months; they were a fixture. “Let’s go round the pub, have a pint and see the Grungies,” people would say, and the pub was packed every Friday night, and the owner would smile for the first time all week, raking in the punts.

  They were like that, a good solid band. They played covers the first few months, but began writing their own stuff pretty quickly and with great success. The people loved them for some reason, Connor figured it was because the band loved the music and they loved the fans… particularly the female fans. As he gyrated on the small stage in his American jeans and artfully torn t-shirt showing tantalizing bits of his smooth broad chest, he eyed the crowd of beauties dancing before him, from which he only had to choose. He’d already picked one out. The trick was in maintaining eye contact for a bit while singing sexy words and Bob’s your uncle; enthusiastic company for the rest of the evening. It was no accident that Connor was the one writing the lyrics for their music. He loved his job.

  The final set ended and he took a long pull of his pint as the crowd cheered and clapped and he raised an arm to them smiling his big smile and watched amazed as his bass player jumped off the wee stage and swept the beauty Connor had chosen for the night up into his arms and practically carried her off. She looked over her shoulder at him and gave him a pretty shrug. Fecker! He thought angrily. Third time in a month Tate had poached his woman, it was getting old and starting to piss him off.

  He saw Tate’s sister, Christie, and sat next to her at the bar. Christie was a fixture with the band, a true child beauty, and a remarkably good friend for being so young. “Your brother is a pain in me arse,” he said to her. She looked at him and sighed.

  “Which one?” She asked him, having five brothers.

  “The one I’m sitting on, you daft wee thing,” he said and they both laughed. She caught sight of something over his shoulder and she sat up straighter in her seat and licked her pretty pink lips. Connor’s eyebrow went up and he turned to see his guitarist, Ryan, coming their way. Ryan gestured to the bar keep who began to pull a pint for him as Ryan came and stood between them.

  “All right tonight, Con, I think we’ll keep you around, at least until the next gig,” he winked at Christie who shivered. Connor grinned at her. How had he not noticed this until now? He wondered. He smiled even more robustly thinking of how this was really going to bother Tate. His little sister and Ryan O’Brian, the budding rock star; this was going to be fun.

  Connor stood up and backed a foot away from his stool. He caught his own reflection in the mirror behind the bar. His face morphed into one that was similar, yet different, a woman’s face. She mouthed a name and he was suddenly looking at his own face again. He backed away from the bar when a voice behind him stopped him.

  “Damon, is it?” The man said. Connor turned to look at the man behind him, half afraid he’d see the woman’s face.

  “Who’s askin’?” Connor said. The man extended his hand and Connor took it.

  “I’m Eammon Bell, with Belladonna Records,” he said and Christie gasped. “I understand you’re the man to talk to about getting the Grungies on our label.” Connor’s heart was pounding in his chest so hard he thought he might simply expire on the spot, but he somehow managed to speak.

  “Yes, yes I am.”

  Connor woke abruptly. “TATE!” He gasped, that’s what the woman in the mirror mouthed at him. Then he felt Genna’s hand was on his chest and all was right with the world.

  “Bad dream?” She asked, her voice sexy with sleep.

  “Good dream…for the most part. The waking’s better, though,” he turned and pulled the pillow she used to support her growing belly from in between them and moved closer to her lovely warm body. “I was dreaming of the night we signed with Eammon Bell, God knows how many years ago.” Genna chuckled.

  “You know exactly how many years ago, you’re just afraid if you say it out loud I’ll scream ‘Dear God, I married the Crypt Keeper!’ And run away.” Connor burst out laughing.

  “But I look pretty good for being the Crypt Keeper, aye?”

  “Yes, you do. I’m just going out on a limb here, but I bet Eammon Bell still dreams about that night, too.” He chuckled and moved even closer to her and ran his fingers lightly up the smooth skin of her back to hear her sigh.

  The band, his band had made millions for the record company, but Bell had taken a chance on them, and he’d never forget it. “Why ‘for the most part,’ you guys always remember that night fondly? Except for Razz who left with Mary before the cheering stopped, but even Tate, who missed most of it, tears up.” He pulled back and looked at her lovely face in the dim light.

  “Bloody Tate missed most of it because he was making a habit of running off with the prettiest girls before I could, it was starting to irk me.” Genna laughed. Connor loved how she didn’t g
et jealous when the subject of past girls came up. Once she actually complained that he was pretty tame for a rock star, she almost sounded disappointed. Every once in a while a tale of his idiocy would escape from the vaults, that he wouldn’t have wanted her to hear about, but it always rolled right off her beautiful back. “These are all the things that made you who you are Connor, and I wouldn’t change that for all the world,” she once told him after Ryan regaled her with an especially ridiculous interpretation of their antics. How had he gotten so lucky?

  He kissed her forehead. “He even tried with you, I wondered at the time if you were attracted to him. Then how was I to woo you from prison after killing the bastard?” Genna laughed again. Even when she was laughing at him he loved the sound.

  “Tate’s very pretty, and when he pulled me into the elevator that morning I have to admit, I noticed. I noticed until I looked up and saw you, then everyone else simply disappeared.” She sighed.

  “Ah, my fragile ego will last through another day,” he said and she chuckled.

  “But you looked very angry…”

  “Because bloody Tate!” They both laughed. “I can’t help feeling like something’s coming for him, and it’s not entirely good.”

  “Don’t worry about Tate, he’s very capable.”

  “Mmm. Is that my daughter kicking me in the ribs?” He asked softly as he hugged her close.

  “It’s our daughter kicking me in the ribs. You’re just getting the aftershocks.” He chuckled.

  “Come here you beautiful vessel of our love,” he rolled her on top of him and ran his hands up her changing body. “I can barely contain my joy that you love me.”

  “Why do I feel a song coming on…?” Genna said rolling her eyes at him and he laughed again. God how he loved this woman.

  “I can’t help myself, I’m Irish. We’re a very musical people. Kiss me, Genna.”

  “Mmm, good idea, Connor,” she leaned forward and took his perfect lips with her own.

  ***

  Tess Du Pre sat slumped in a chair in her musical theory class trying, but failing, to concentrate. Her crossed leg jerked back and forth as she fidgeted, cataloguing the hundred things to do before her family showed up. She ran her hand through her long blonde hair which was chaotically escaping from her hair tie, partially obscuring her face, and she ripped out the tie impatiently and effortlessly redid her ponytail.

  She was very excited to see her family, it had been too long. She missed her brother Xav the most, they were, and had always been, extremely close. Family was descending from all directions. Xav and their little brother Alex, Connor’s son, were coming in a few hours, their mother and Connor were showing up Thanksgiving morning, and the extended family, the Irish contingent, was appearing at some point in between.

  Her mother and her mother’s rock star husband were constantly travelling, and she saw quite a bit of them as they passed through town, but her brother had high school to finish so he wasn’t as jet set. She missed her step-brother, too. Not having grown up with Alex, she didn’t know him as well, but he was very like his charming father, and he could befriend anyone because he genuinely liked everyone, another trait of his father’s. Neither of them had any prejudices; it was refreshing. But Connor was hyper aware of the danger he, as a celebrity, put his family in, and Tess was pretty sure it kept him up nights.

  Her mom and Connor were in New York right that minute after having been in Paris for the past ten days, and that particular trip had nothing to do with the rock star. Tess smiled at the thought that her unassuming mother was nearly as famous as her illustrious husband. Even after a few years, Tess still had to chuckle when she thought about her sudden association with one of the most well-known rock bands in the world, it was beyond bizarre.

  Tess’s musical theory professor said her name and she knew it wasn’t the first time by her tone of voice. Her head shot up.

  “Sorry,” Tess said. Being caught daydreaming would ordinarily be devastatingly embarrassing, but she knew most everyone in the small class and loved her professor. She smiled broadly. “Thinking about my mom’s cranapple pie.” Her classmates and her professor laughed with her.

  “You will be tested on this when you get back from break, and your original score is due on the 11th of December, I suggest you work on it over the break, it is worth 30% of your grade. Go on, get out of here and have a great Thanksgiving,” Dr. Fiona Brooks said. The class cheered her and moved out into the hall after saying their goodbyes to her. Tess lingered a little while she packed up her books.

  “Fiona, the other day you mentioned that you weren’t doing anything special for Thanksgiving, I wondered if you’d like to join my family,” Tess said. Fiona was the only professor she called by her first name, and never during class, but they had met several times off campus by accident at various functions, and had become very good friends. Tess could tell she was thinking of a nice way to turn her down and she tried to preempt her. “Come on, you won’t regret it, I promise. It’s within walking distance to your house, so if it gets to be too much, just make your excuses. I just ask that you don’t tell anyone about my family.” She set the bait.

  “They’re that bad?” She asked and they both laughed.

  “I’ll let you judge that for yourself. They’re just kind of famous, and I don’t want people to think of me differently because of who they are. They are remarkably cool though, not affected at all. Well, not much.”

  “Who are they?” Fiona asked. Tess smiled and shook her head.

  “You’ll find out when you come to dinner on Thursday. They are interesting, well-travelled and funny, what more could you ask for? My mom is a writer and her husband is a musician, and my grandmother orders dinner from the best caterers in town, and then there’s my mom’s pie…” Tess gave her a world class smile. Set the hook. “You won’t regret a second.”

  “A musician, huh? Now you’ve intrigued me, how can I refuse?” Fiona said. Reel her in.

  “Great! Here’s the address, it’s not far from you at all. Come at 3:00. Bring a nice bottle of white wine and you’ll have Amelia eating out of your hand,” Tess said. She’d been to Fiona’s house a few times, and knew it was close to her grandparent’s house in Georgetown.

  “Amelia? As in Earhart? That’s the famous family member?” Fiona asked mockingly.

  “You’re gonna love them, but sorry, not Amelia Earhart.”

  “Thanks, Tess. I thought I’d be fine, but as the actual day loomed closer I wondered how I was going to get through it,” Fiona said.

  “I’m so glad I talked you into it. My mom has always had unexpected people at her Thanksgiving table while I was growing up, it’s all about celebrating how much we have. At least until the next day when we try to buy all sorts of crap we don’t really need,” Tess said.

  “So young, yet so wise,” Fiona said smiling at her. She looked at the address in her hand. “Hey, you’re right, I can walk; this is only a few blocks from my house. And it’ll be downhill on the way home. Hoorah!” They walked out of the building and toward the bikes.

  “See you Thursday, then,” Tess called after her as she watched her favorite professor pedal home.

  ***

  Tate Dylan woke up when he heard someone moving around his hotel room. He glanced at the other side of the bed and then looked up to see the leggy brunette searching his trouser pockets.

  “Can I help you find something, love?” He’d startled her into standing up abruptly and dropping his trousers back on the floor.

  “I was just…I have to go,” she said scanning the room for her purse and shoes. “Call me next time you’re in town.” She smiled a little and walked out of the room.

  “Not bloody likely,” he said under his breath and flopped back into the soft bedding. He loved women, loved making them happy, but he was getting a little tired of the trophy hunters riffling his pockets for some kind of memento. Wasn’t a night of great sex with a rock star enough? Apparently not.


  He flung the covers away and sat up with his feet on the floor and his head in his hands. He rested his elbows on his thighs and scratched his scalp roughly. He heard a faint ringing sound and he stopped for a moment to remember where he’d hidden his phone. Under the mattress. The second time a trophy hunter slipped off with his phone, Connor and Ryan refused to give him their new numbers having gotten calls at all hours from some giggling girl. He reached under the mattress and answered the phone.

  “’Lo,” he said.

  “Has she left yet?” His sister Christie asked.

  “Yes,” he heard the twins gurgling in the background; it must be breakfast time at the O’Brian household; nothing else got those boys quiet like food did.

  “Then come down for some brekkie,” she said.

  “Christie, I’m nowhere near Dublin,” he said. Wait, am I? He stood and looked out the window. New York, he loved New York.

  “Neither am I, we’re in New York, you eejit,” she said sighing. He started to hear some screaming on her end of the phone, it sounded like her husband, Ryan. She giggled. “It’s on your ear, as well,” she said through her laughter. “Tate, are you still there?”

  “Aye,” he said.

  “Come down and eat, then,” she said. She had always been the bossiest of all his siblings, despite her diminutive size.

  “Give us five minutes,” he said and hung up. He turned from the window and pulled on his jeans and looked in the drawers for a t-shirt. He found one with the iconic Bigfoot screen print on it and he slipped it over his slender frame. He brushed his teeth and gave himself a close look in the mirror. His blond hair was its usual mess, and he left it as it was. Women seemed to love it. His blue eyes were beginning to show his age, he noticed, maybe it was the jet lag, he did just get into New York yesterday afternoon, it was not getting any easier.

  Still, he didn’t think he looked 47, he and Christie had always looked younger than they were, not so with their four darker siblings. He’d often wondered if his mother had gone off with the milkman, or if he and Christie were just genetic throwbacks. He’d seen pictures of his mother when she was young, she looked just like Christie. He would never judge, he enjoyed himself more than anyone had a right to.