A Rocker's Melody (Dust and Bones) by Katie Mars Read Free Book Online Page A

Tank began with a grin, “what color are you wearing right now?”
    “Blue,” she said, forcing the rage down. They wanted to rile her up, and she would be damned if she let them. “That’s why you can’t find any in the bag.” She calmly walked to her bunk, snatching her underthings back and stuffing them into her suitcase. “They’re satin,” she added, glaring at Tank, as if daring him to ask a follow-up question.
    He glanced away, and almost, she thought, looked a teensy bit ashamed of himself. Then he grinned, and she was immediately relieved of that notion.
    “I bet they look more amazing on you than they do on my hand,” he teased.
    “Well, I guess you’ll never know,” Melody said. “And if you go through my underwear again, be sure to wash your hands first. I don’t need whatever cooties you’ve contracted rubbing all over my lady bits.”
    “Darlin’, you would love my cooties all over your lady bits if you gave ‘em a chance,”
    Tank bragged.
    “We’ll agree to disagree,” Melody said tightly. Her control was fraying. “I guess I’ll need to get some kind of padlock to keep your sticky little fingers away from where they don’t belong.”
    “Did you know I can pick locks?” Rip asked in a smug voice.
    Melody sighed. She actually had known that. It had been one of the factoids in the band’s bio. Rip and Snake had grown up in the same rough neighborhood, and lock picking had been common practice among their peers. It seemed that if she wanted to keep something private, she would have to keep it on her person at all times. Or possibly invest in some kind of ACME Booby Trap kit.
    Melody E. Coyote has a nice ring to it.
    “Aw, she looks mad,” Tank said.
    “Can’t imagine why,” Jesper said from where he lay on his bunk. He hadn’t joined in on the hazing ritual; he was busy swiping through images on his tablet.
    “Cheer up, Big Red,” Dylan soothed, in a low, teasing voice that went straight to her groin. Melody suppressed her body’s response to him and focused on keeping her face clear of any betraying emotion. She guessed that ‘Big Red’ was her unofficial nickname now. Since there were at least a dozen worse options out there, she would accept this one without a fight. “At least you’ve still got your heart attack special to comfort you.”
    “You shouldn’t be so concerned with what I put in my mouth,” she informed him, deliberately licking the corner of her mouth to mess with him.
    His eyes narrowed. “Careful,” he warned her softly. “You’re playing with the big boys now.”
    Melody rolled her eyes and stalked back over to her food. “I think I can handle you,” she called over her shoulder, grabbing her burger and taking a huge bite out of it to emphasize her point. It didn’t hit her right away; she had swallowed most of it before her eyes began to water and the slow burn began. Behind her, the guys were already doubled over, trying—and failing—to hold in their laughter.
    “Oh vou thons of bithes,” she muttered around her half-full, rapidly heating mouth. Whatever sauce they’d snuck into her meal felt like it was about fifty times hotter than sriracha.
    “Is that lard sandwich not quite as delicious anymore?” Dylan asked innocently.
    Melody threw open the mini fridge, sagging in relief when she spotted a carton of half and half on the bottom shelf. She grabbed it and guzzled the contents, though it didn’t bring her relief nearly as quickly as she would have liked. When you hated hot food, you learned how to counteract them; she had never been so grateful for that lesson that a waiter at a Mexican restaurant had taught her, after he’d saved her from a rogue Serrano pepper. No agua, Senorita, he had cautioned wisely. Leche.
    Oh, sweet, sweet leche.
    The burn began to fade from her tongue, and Melody slowly regained her senses. She took a deep breath and brought the back of her hand to her mouth, wiping away the residual milk mustache that