Unstoppable

By Amity Cross

Rob Hancock was never the savior type.
No one came to save him when life beat him down. He had to save himself and one thing he'll never admit is joining rock 'n' roll band, Affliction, did just that.
When he unwittingly saves a young woman named Lilly from a nasty situation, he's about to get more than he bargained for. Now he's her savior and will do whatever it takes to make her safe. From whatever...or whoever...she's running from.
And when push comes to shove, he'll be unstoppable in his desire to deliver her from her demons.

Will Rob be able to save Lilly before it's too late? UNSTOPPABLE is the thrilling FINAL book in the Rock Star Affliction series by Amity Cross.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicole R. Taylor
• Release date: Jul 8, 2014
• ISBN: 9781311053985

Amity Cross

Find out more about Amity and her books by visiting:https://www.amitycrosswrites.com

Book preview

One

Rob

When I was sixteen, I had nobody.

One day you come home from school, the school that had just suspended you for fighting again, and you find an empty house. No furniture. No fridge. No TV. No Mum. What do you do?

Then one day you're sitting behind a drum kit in one of the hottest studios in LA wondering how you even got from there to here. Staring up at my mates, West, Joe, Mick…they had no idea what I went through. Life had been fine. I belonged for a while and for someone who'd never belonged anywhere, that shit was priceless. But right now, they were currently too wrapped up in their own little worlds to see into mine. Couldn't blame them, since I'd never mentioned my pre-Affliction bleakness. They wouldn't get it.

Rob Hancock was a reformed shithead of a kid who'd made good. I didn't need anyone to help me get through life because I was just fine on my own. I didn't need a girlfriend, I didn't need parental supervision and I sure as fuck didn't need to fall in love.

My band mates, or the only real family I'd ever had, had all gone and got themselves other halves and here I was sitting in the middle of another conversation about sex. Apparently sex with some bird you were in love with trumped every fuck ever. Like I'd know.

No random ever let me go near the back door, West was saying.

Mate, fucking bare back- Joe said, rubbing his dick.

"Amazing."

Mick was laughing like an idiot. No chick ever woke me up in the middle of the night with her hand around my dick.

"You never actually slept with a woman, Mick," Joe said.

B likes to sink her teeth in, West put in.

You don't know creative, mate, until you've been with a fucking writer.

I sat behind the drum kit, the vein in my forehead throbbing. They were all taken, all tied up in their own fuckin' worlds and it was like I didn't exist. I hadn't spoken a word for at least three hours and nobody had noticed.

Seventh fucking wheel.

There's only so much you can get away with with a groupie, Mick said.

Found some new limits huh, Savage? Joe said, suggestively.

A fucking synapse snapped in my brain and I took a drumstick and stabbed it with as much force as I could. It pierced the acrylic skin on the closest snare with a loud crack and everyone turned to stare in surprise, shock, confusion and all of the above. Scrambling to my feet, the stool fell over and I kicked the ruined drum over with surprising accuracy, cymbals and crap falling to the floor with a crash.

Rob, what the fuck? Mick exclaimed.

"What the fuck? What the fuck? I yelled, stepping over a dented cymbal. Fuck you."

West went to grab hold of me, but I shoved him away. I knew I was overreacting, but I'd had a gut full. I was the last one left and suddenly I was all alone. Forgotten. Left behind again. Fuck them.

Pushing through the sound booth, past a startled looking Sasha, I stormed out into the hall, searching for the nearest exit. I had to get the fuck outta there before I punched someone.

What, was I fucking jealous of them all of a sudden? Fuck, no. I didn't want that. I didn't need it and sure as fuck didn't want it shoved down my throat. Next they'd be talking about marriage and shit. I wanted to beat my head against a brick wall and feel the burn.

I was standing in the middle of the lane beside the studio, the orange glow of the streetlights tinting everything an unnatural color. We'd been recording late every day of the week, so it was dark, silent and empty. I didn't know why it got to me so much. It wasn't like I wanted what they had, did I? It all seemed so fuckin' easy for them, like they hadn't had to work a day in their lives, like they didn't know what Skid Row felt like. West had his problems, but shit, he grew up with a rich to-do Mummy and Daddy. If I had anything in common with anyone, it was Blair and she was busy letting West go near the back door apparently. Fuckin' puke.

Leaning against the wall, I rubbed my eyes. It wasn't their fault I had fucked up abandonment issues, but it sure as fuck didn't help to have it rubbed in my face like their shit don't stink.

A scream pierced the silence and my head snapped up. What the fuck? Suddenly, my mood shifted and I stood up straight.

Shit, I mean there was screaming, then there was screaming. The kind filled with blind fear and I knew all about that. Someone, a woman, was in trouble and if I was going to hit something, then it may as well be in the name of fighting crime, like I was fuckin' Batman or some shit. I jogged down the street like a wannabe hero, looking for the source. Really, what kind of douche would I be if I ignored this?

Another scream split the air and this time it was cut short, but not before I caught sight of a dark opening up ahead. Mugging one-oh-one.

Where is it bitch? a rough male voice said as I stopped at the mouth of the alley.

Just inside the darkness, a man was holding a woman against the brick wall, his body pressed up against hers. She was struggling against him, but couldn't break free. Fucking asshole scumbag.

"No, no, no, no," the woman was pleading.

That's when I saw the glint of metal. The fucker had a knife to her throat, his free hand groping her, looking for money...looking to assault her in the worst possible way. I'd already snapped all the pathways in my brain labeled 'sane' and before I could think twice, I strode forward into the alley and curled my fist into the back of the man's jacket. Without blinking, I hauled him backward off the woman like he weighed nothing.

He stumbled in surprise at my silent appearance, but like it was an ingrained reflex, he turned and swiped the knife with an annoyed roar. I easily evaded him and grabbed his wrist, twisting with all my strength to make him let go before he actually managed to get in a good shot. He was a total meth head. Junkie scum. Looked like he hadn't washed for days or weeks or ever.

Feel big threatening a defenseless woman, huh? I snarled. Need five bucks for your next hit? Fuckin' scumbag.

Eat shit, asshole, the man hissed, trying to pull his arm free.

Wrong answer. I drew my hand back and punched the fucker right in the face. It startled him enough that he dropped the knife and it clattered to the footpath, glinting in the darkness. I let him go, but he started to run like a fucking coward. I fully intended to chase the cunt down and smash him one, but I felt a hand on my arm.

Don't, the woman said. It's not worth it.

Staring at her, I'd almost forgotten she was there at all and now that I was looking right at her, I didn't want to look anywhere else. Her hair was bright fuckin' purple and I think her eyes were blue. I couldn't really see. She was staring at me with an expression I couldn't read, her lip quivering.

Are you okay? I asked, snapping out of it.

She shrugged and I couldn't really blame her.

I'm calling the cops.

The woman leaned back against the wall, starting to shiver like it wasn't a balmy summers night. I'd been around enough of these kinds of scenarios to know that shock was setting in because having a knife at your throat wasn't anyone’s idea of a good time.

Hey, what's your name? I asked, putting my hands on her shoulders. She flinched at the contact, but I didn't let go.

Her gaze finally met mine, tears spilling down her flushed cheeks. Lilly.

Lilly, I'm going to call the cops. We'll get someone to make sure you're okay.

I went to move off, to call 911, but she grasped my forearm, a frightened expression on her pretty face. You're not going to leave me are you?

Startled, I shook my head. No one had ever counted on me before - not like this.

Fingers trailed down my bare arm and curled around my hand and for a moment I stared at the purple-haired woman who'd suddenly placed so much trust in me and didn't know what to do. I reckon there was something I should've said right then, but I was too dumb to know what it was. I wasn't good at comfort. I didn't know what that shit was.

Instead, I pulled out my phone and called the cops, tightening my grip on hers.

I didn't mind the color red. Or blue, for that matter. What I didn't like was the two mixed together, flashing in my face.

Two LAPD cop cars were parked by the footpath and an ambulance had pulled up in the