Never Leave a Rockstar (Never Trust Book 4) Read online

  NEVER LEAVE A ROCKSTAR

  (The NEVER TRUST Series, Book 4)

  SARAH DARLINGTON

  NEVER LEAVE A ROCKSTAR

  Copyright © 2020 Sarah Darlington

  Cover Design by Alora Kate

  Editing by Kamaryn Kretz

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be used or 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 written permission from the author, except for the inclusion of brief quotations in a review.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, and events portrayed in this book are either a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced throughout this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 3 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 4 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 5 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 6 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 7 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 8 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 9 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 10 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 11 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 12 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 13 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 14 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 15 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 16 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 17 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 18 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 19 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 20 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 21 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 22 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 23 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 24 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 25 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 26 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 27 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 28 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 29 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 30 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 31 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 32 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 33 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 34 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 35 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 36 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 37 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 38 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 39 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 40 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 41 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 42 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 43 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 44 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 45 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 46 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 47 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 48 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 49 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 50 ~

  ~ EPILOGUE ~

  ~ Bonus chapter ~

  PREORDER: INKED (A Kill Devil Ink Novel)

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  To Krystal. My Alpha Reader. For helping me each step of the way through this entire series. I couldn’t have done it without you.

  ~ CHAPTER 1 ~

  LUCE

  “I hate you, Ollie Mills!” I screamed at the top of my lungs. “I fucking hate you!” I kicked at the sand, little specks flying through the air in the annoyingly handsome Rockstar’s direction.

  He flinched, even though not a single piece of sand hit him. “So this is my fault?”

  “Who the hell else should I blame? Yes, it’s your fault, Ollie!”

  “How about blame the girls who just deserted us?”

  I scrunched my face, so fighting-mad that I couldn’t even look at him straight. “Here’s how this is going to work...” I found a stick near me in the sand. I bent down, grabbed it, and I drew a line straight in front of me. “That’s your side of the island.” I pointed at his side. “And this is my side. Don’t cross it. Stay on your side, and I’ll stay on mine. Until someone figures out that we’re missing and comes to rescue us, I don’t want to even speak to you, let alone be near you.”

  “I can think of a better way we could occupy our time,” Ollie suggested. Then the bastard winked at me. He actually winked at me. Despite how terrible this entire day had gone, he had the nerve to wink at me.

  I growled. From the moment I first met Ollie Mills, I could read him like an open book.

  Narcissist. Check.

  Delusional. Check.

  Has never once taken personal responsibility for anything in his entire life. Check.

  I don’t know why, for one fleeting moment, I thought he might be different, that I might have been mistaken, that a good guy was buried under the layers and layers of jackassery. But nope. I’d been correct in my initial assessment. Ollie Mills was a lost cause.

  Screw him.

  I started storming up the pristine white sand beach, determined to go explore the island on which we’d just been left for dead. There had to be something here. Water, at the very least. Right?

  Dammit—Oliver followed me.

  He said nothing, still technically on his side of the island, but he walked in my same direction. I didn’t even have shoes. The girls who had left us here had grabbed me, pushing me off Ollie’s yacht without any shoes. The only thing I had on was my wet bikini. So I breathed in through my nose when the powdery sand ended and the brush began. It looked prickly and possibly snake-filled beyond where I stood.

  “I’ve got my shoes,” Ollie commented in his smooth-as-molasses voice as he came up beside me. I guess he was a mind reader now too.

  “Well that’s just so freaking convenient for you.”

  “There has to be something here.”

  “I saw nothing but sand and palm trees as we approached.”

  “We’re only about thirty miles from Nassau, if I had to guess, and these islands aren’t deserted. They’re privately owned. There’s going to be something here. Trust me. Probably some billionaire’s mansion complete with a telephone, cable TV, drinking water, and a swimming pool. Cool your jets because we are going to be just fine and resting in luxury in just a moment. This is just a little hiccup in an otherwise beautiful day. Now hop on my back so we can get through this jungle and see what’s here.”

  I wanted to shout at him again. His optimism was annoying. But because, truth be told, I was a little bit frightened at the moment, scared we might actually be stranded, I didn’t shout at him. I wanted to believe him—that we’d find everything we needed just on the other side of this jungle.

  I didn’t want to touch him, but I went to him. I broke my new rule and crossed the invisible line over to his side of the island.

  He knelt down so I could get on his back. He was muscular and strong, and picked me up easily. Then, when I was in place on his warm back, we set off together into the brush, moving very slowly because it was incredibly dense, and his ‘shoes’ were only flip-flops.

  After about two minutes and maybe three feet of jungle, he started back-tracking. “This isn’t working.”

  I squeezed my arms tighter around his hot, sweaty neck. “Ollie, keep going.” It was humiliating enough that I had to ride him like a camel. But I was willing to do it if it meant finding a way off this island.

  “I plan to—just without you.”

  He moved back in the direction of the sand. And when we got there, he dropped me off his back. The second I was on solid ground again, I shoved at his side, so he’d step away from me. I could not be close to him. “What the hell? Give me your shoes. I could carry you further than that!”

  “Look, Luce, calm down. I’m going to go back in there again. But you have to wait here. We have no idea what we’re walking into, or who might already be on this island. What if it isn’t deserted?”

  I laughed out loud. “Seriously?”

  “I’m serious. Stay here. Stay quiet. Let me check everythin
g out first.”

  I wanted to smack him. I didn’t like being told what to do. But the strained look on his face told me he was genuinely fearful.

  “Whatever.” I sat down in the sand.

  He knelt down beside me, making me recoil from his proximity. “Sorry, Luce. This is in fact my fault and I’m so sorry I got us into this mess.” His pretty brown eyes seemed sincere. “I will keep you safe. I will get you off this island. I promise. Just stay here for now. I’m not sure how deep these woods go.”

  He stood. And he left me.

  For a moment, I believed him—that he really would keep me safe. But then, five minutes and ten bug bites later, I decided Ollie probably had never done a single thing on his own in his Rockstar life. I bet he had people to wipe his own ass for him. I knew if I wanted off this island, I was going to have to figure this one out on my own. I left my spot on the sand and started walking left down the beach, parallel with the ocean. Because, after all, an island was just a big circle, and maybe I’d find something on the other side, besides the nothingness on this side.

  ~ CHAPTER 2 ~

  OLIVER

  Well, this was the world’s shittiest first date in history—if this disaster of a day could even be called a date. I’d done everything wrong with Luce up to this point. Including getting us kidnapped, robbed, and stranded on this island somewhere in the Bahamas.

  Luce hated me, probably rightfully so, and knowing so felt like a punch to the stomach. I needed to get her off this island and prove to her that I wasn’t as repulsive as she thought I was.

  Navigating through the jungle-like woods, I did my best to keep from getting a million-and-one cuts and scrapes on my legs. All I needed next was some kind of nasty, flesh-eating infection. Some of these palm bush things I kept running into were surprisingly sharp. Then I saw a small scorpion, and that trumped all else as my number one fear.

  With Luce a minute ago, I’d tried to sound optimistic about our safety and my ability to save us. But the truth was, I didn’t know how long we might be stuck on this random island. I didn’t know if the two girls who stole my boat and left us here for dead would ever come back.

  My guess—they wouldn’t.

  They probably wouldn’t send help either.

  On top of that, my family wouldn’t suspect me missing any time soon. I hadn’t mentioned I was coming here. Not even on social media. I often went AWOL for days, weeks, sometimes even months. So I knew it would take a good while for anyone to begin to notice my absence.

  Luce’s family might worry.

  I had to hope for that.

  Except, if there wasn’t water on this island—we’d both be dead long before that. So...

  Ouch! Fuck.

  I stepped too close to another one of those sharp plants, this one taller than me. It sliced my bicep, leaving a two-inch cut that immediately started to ooze blood. I didn’t touch it, too worried I’d only make it worse, and decided that my march through the woods hadn’t been very smart. It was getting me nowhere, fast. I began moving back toward the beach. All I’d done so far was sweat and waste valuable energy.

  As I re-emerged back on the sand, I found only an empty beach. “I should have known,” I said aloud. I should have known Luce wouldn’t wait patiently in the shade for me.

  I saw her footprints in the sand, leading down the beach. Wasting even more energy, I started to jog in the direction she’d gone. From here on out, I decided, we shouldn’t separate. This island was several acres, at least, and it was smarter to keep close to her.

  After a few minutes of running, I came up on her. Oh God, she was gorgeous in her blue string bikini, her round ass on full display, her tattoos threatening to make my dick hard, even in this blazing heat. I hadn’t been joking when I suggested we do ‘something else’ to occupy our time until help came.

  But that had been an hour ago. Now my optimism had begun to fade and worry had taken its place. I didn’t know the first thing about island survival. I’d been camping plenty of times as a kid. I’d even tried Boy Scouts for a couple of years. But the woods in Tennessee were a lot different than a jungle on an island in the Bahamas.

  “Luce!”

  She glanced over her shoulder, her eyes rolling to the sky at the sight of me. “Did you find a giant mansion with cable TV and a swimming pool yet?”

  “No.”

  She smacked a hand against one of her legs.

  “Mosquitoes?”

  “No, sand flies. And they’re biting the crap out of my legs.”

  The sun was starting to sink in the sky. Some clouds on the horizon looked awfully threatening. My guess—we’d be seeing some evening rainstorms soon. I knew because I kept my boat docked in the Bahamas year-round. I came to this part of the world frequently when my band, Sunset Revival, wasn’t touring. Setting aside all my dirty fantasies of Luce in that bikini, I knew hypothermia was a real danger to a scantily dressed body. Frankly, mine too. I had only swim trunks on.

  We needed shelter.

  We also needed coconuts. I had no other ideas for collecting water. A few Boy Scout tricks, maybe, but there was no time for that.

  “Come on.” I tried to touch her arm and she swatted at me like I was one of the flies. “I’m serious,” I warned. “We need to work together now if we want to make it through the night and the rain that’s probably coming after such a hot day. No ‘your side of the island verses my side of the island’ bullshit for the moment. Can you shimmy a coconut tree?”

  She stared at me.

  “I’m going to take that as ‘sure, Ollie, I’d love to give climbing a palm tree a try’.” I touched her arm again, and this time she let me pull her in the direction of the woods. I wasn’t getting bit by flies during my short time in the woods, which made me think it was a better place for a shelter. Away from open spaces was always a better place for safety.

  Luckily, compared to the first area I’d tried, things were less dense in this part of the jungle. We moved a few yards inside the tree line, and I decided this would work.

  I guess I’d seen enough episodes of the show Survivor to know that I needed to make a shelter off the ground, followed by a roof of some kind. So, I got to work, clearing away debris in a level spot I liked.

  “What should I do?” Luce muttered. There was a drastic change in her voice from the way she’d been talking to me earlier.

  “Watch every step you take. I saw a scorpion earlier. And help me clear the ground.”

  “Okay.” She knelt down beside me.

  After that we worked silently and diligently together. We cleared a space. Then I started to look for fallen bamboo logs—because bamboo was plentiful like someone had planted it once and it had spread like the weed that it could be. We made a make-shift floor. Which was just logs side-by-side. It wasn’t great, but it would work for tonight. Next came our roof. It was simply one big log propped against a palm tree in a 45-degree angle. More logs propped up against the big one came next, followed by dozens of palm prawns piled on top to make our roof.

  It began to rain as we were finishing. “Get inside,” I commanded. I wanted her to remain dry while I put on the final touches to our very shoddy shelter. She listened, while I kept moving. I had to finish. By the time it was done, I was soaking wet. I felt nauseated, hungry, and exhausted. Our shelter didn’t provide enough room to lay down. The two of use barely fit sitting side by side. I pulled my legs to my chest, propping my arms on my knees, resting my head on my forearms, trying to take up as little space as possible.

  “How did you know what to do?” she asked to my right, her voice softer than the rain.

  “I didn’t.”

  “We never got any coconuts.”

  “I know. Tomorrow we will,” I muttered. I stuck my hands out from our shelter, into the rain. I tried to catch some water in my cupped hands, but it just wasn’t raining hard enough. More like a steady mist. I’d try again in another minute.

  My arm that I’d cut earlier had stopped
bleeding. The blood was now dried and gross, and it still kind of stung. But I didn’t touch it. I didn’t really know what to do about that; I had no medical skills. Luce was a bartender—I assumed she wouldn’t know either, so I didn’t comment on it.

  We sat silently as minutes turned to hours. We watched the slow, steady fall of the rain as the world around us changed from gray to black. I took a breath, closing my eyes, wishing I hadn’t invited Luce to come join me on my boat this weekend. She should be at home right this moment, safely in her own bed, and instead her life was in jeopardy because of my stupid actions. Because of my addiction to sex. Because of the way I desperately wanted inside her. I’d been wanting to spend the night with her from the first moment I laid eyes on her through a video phone call meant for her niece, Emma.

  I guess tonight I’d get my wish.

  I’d get her all to myself. I just never pictured it quite like this.

  ONE WEEK EARLIER…

  ~ CHAPTER 3 ~

  OLIVER

  “Hi ya’ll. I’m Ollie Mills, and I’m addicted to sex.”

  Slapping my hands on my thighs, I stood up. Finally, my turn to share. I’d been wanting to shove cotton in my ears listening to these fools for the last hour of my life. Talking fast, doing my thing, I went right into it. “I like to fuck. I like to fuck when I’m sober. I like to fuck when I’m drunk. In the bed. In the shower. The backseat of a limo. One woman at a time. Multiple women at a time. I’m not picky.” I winked at one of girls in group who was practically drooling down her chin as I spoke.

  She swallowed hard, crossing her legs tightly as I kept speaking.

  “I like sex. Is that really a crime? Someone told me I have a problem; that’s why I’m here. But hey, if sex is a problem, it’s a really freaking fantastic problem to have.”

  That got a few laughs out of the small circle of my fellow sex-addict celebrities.

  I thought I was funny. But the therapist leading the group didn’t find the humor in my comments. “Have you always used jokes as a defense mechanism, Mr. Mills?”