Snared (Jaded Regret #1) Read Online Free PDF Page B

fool of myself. I hadn’t missed her watching me most of the night, but that wasn’t unusual. I was . . . different, and I was okay with that. Especially to a straight-laced doctor’s kid, I was probably as cool as any science experiment she’d ever seen. I was the most tatted member of Jaded Regret, not to mention my nose piercing and gauges.
    My head swam with everything, and I just needed a moment or two to unwind. I untied the tie and ripped it off, then shrugged the jacket off. Next up was the top buttons of my dress shirt, and then the sleeves were unbuttoned and pulled up.
    “Much fucking better,” I stepped off the elevator. I couldn’t wait to change into my Henley and jeans with my chucks. I’d heard there was an epic rooftop deck in this hotel, so I planned to grab a soda and unwind up there. I had to get my head right for the show tomorrow and being around all those people wasn’t going to do it.
    The hotel door slammed behind me, and I threw the tie as far as I could, kicking off the uncomfortable dress shoes. Within moments, I was changed and headed back out the door, leaving a note on the table for Natalie. I didn’t want to take my phone, but if I disappeared, she would worry. I hated that she was always worried about me, but it was par for the course. I’d accepted it a long time ago.
    I stepped back into the elevator, holding two cold sodas from our refrigerator in our room. I pressed the button to the rooftop deck and laid my head against the cool metal of the wall. What a day. At least tomorrow I could be in my element, behind my drums, banging the hell out of my frustrations. While I was still rather quiet on the stage, nowhere near some of the other rock drummers we knew, I was able to be a little more open while playing. As long as they never made me go up and talk to the audience. It was nice that I was more hidden than everyone else. If I concentrated hard, I could almost imagine I was alone on the stage.
    I opened the door to the rooftop deck and noticed it was empty. Thank God. I didn’t want to have to make small talk with anyone or be recognized and end up signing things. I settled on an outdoor couch and propped my feet on the wicker ottoman in front of it. A slight breeze ruffled my shirt despite the warm and humid Florida night. It was so peaceful out here.
    I popped open the tab to my soda and took a long pull. I didn’t drink alcohol; it just wasn’t a good idea with the meds I took. Unlike the rest of my band, which could put away drink after drink, I had to be careful.
    I hadn’t been there long when I heard the door open behind me. I closed my eyes, hoping whoever it was would see they weren’t alone and leave. When I heard footsteps approaching, I knew I wasn’t that lucky. Okay, at least make it be someone who doesn’t recognize me.
    If someone was a rock fan, I was very recognizable without trying to cover up. That’s what happened when you had tattoos as far as the eye could see and gauges in your ears. I didn’t do it for attention, though that was the assumption. Every one of my tattoos meant something to me. They helped me remember who I had been, who I was, and who I never wanted to be. Covering my skin in ink helped me keep my identity and not take on the one of my parents. I’d started getting ink right after meeting Robyn, and just got my latest one a few weeks ago. The gauges? Well, those were just because I thought they were fucking cool.
    Natalie didn’t. She’d wrinkled her nose at me when I’d gotten my starter one. The size I had them at now was where they were staying. They weren’t tiny, but they weren’t huge, either.
    “Beau?” A voice came from behind me, and I cringed. I turned my head and my eyes connected with April’s. Fucking hell . She had changed also, now wearing a pair of form-fitting jeans and a low cut tank top that accentuated her full breasts and ample cleavage. Her hair was down in soft curls around her shoulders and the light