Stolen: A Bad Boy Romance Read Online Free PDF Page A

collective row house, but had an apartment above the studio. It’s where I showered normally, where a lot of us did.
    “Had some family matters to attend to,” I said. “You bring my fiddle?”
    “Yeah, I’ve got it.” He sipped his coffee then ran his hand through his beard. It came out about two inches from his face and was impeccably groomed. They called him Moose because of his slight Canadian accent and his lumberjack feel. I just went along with it. “So, you going to play with me tonight?” he asked as he looked me over.
    He always gave me that same creepy look, like he wanted to eat me or some shit. Thank god he never approached me.
    He was asking me to play with him down in the arts district. He was an expert at finding a spot, playing it, avoiding the beat cops. I’d gone down a couple of times with him and the group. In fact, that was how he found me. I was staying in Chicago with some friends from high school, playing music on a street corner, when he came upon me.
    I got to know him and eventually I moved into the damn co-op. My friends were all in college, they’d been too busy to hang, and I knew couch surfing could only last for so long.
    “What pieces do you want to do?” I asked. I could use a cut of the money. Might be enough to get me a bus ticket to the next city over. Moose said he had friends in Indianapolis.
    Why in the hell are you thinking about bailing? He’ll find you. They’ll always find you. I waved the thought away as I listened to Moose ramble off a bunch of pieces he thought the tourists would love. College kids were coming in this time of year, setting up their housing and getting started with classes, so they would make good targets. Not to mention all the people who visited the windy city.
    It was so different from Baltimore. Sometimes, I missed the smell of the Bay, the humidity of the ocean that hung over us, and the feel of a city that had so much grit it was coming out of my ears. But Chicago was beautiful, and it had its fair share of grit.
    It was a good second home.
    “Let’s do a rehearsal of the music and then get in there.”
    I’d written a few original songs for the compilation tape he was doing. It was meant to be my audition album. The kind of thing I could use in order to get gig after gig. At first, when he offered me the chance, I thought he was full of shit. But I had to hand it to Moose, he really seemed like the kind of guy who could get shit done. He had his own little studio, a group of people who were as dedicated to music as we were, and he hadn’t lied to me about giving me practice time and studio time.
    I ran through the first song one time with him and then hopped into the studio. It was a little room he’d prepped himself with material to soundproof it.
    As soon as I stepped into that room, I felt like myself. I opened my case and got my violin out, my fingers touching the soft, silky wood of it. I knew as soon as I started playing I would lose myself. Lose all the drama of last night and all the memories of him touching my body.
    I could just be in the moment. I didn’t have to think. Didn’t have to figure anything out.
    This was why I was here. Why I stayed in Chicago.
    “All right, start whenever you are ready.” Moose sat back and watched me through the glass.
    As soon as I started, I felt the pull of the strings, the vibrations of the music right into my jaw, and I was lost.
    Completely and entirely lost to my music. The feel of my fingers on the strings, the lack of frets there making it so much smoother than guitars or mandolins. It was my personal heaven.
    Until I looked up and saw Janson storming towards me.
     
     

 
     
     
     
     
    Chapter Four
     
    Janson
     
    “No, you can’t come-” I pushed my way past a tiny little fuckwad and into the studio.
    “What the hell?” Kathryn was less than happy to see me.
    “You know, that’s a fucking question I’d love to ask you,” I said as I grabbed her by the arm and pulled