Escaped Artist (Untamed #3) by Victoria Green, Jinsey Reese Page B

better” was the motto around here. Listening to what I could only assume they’d call “research” for their Nailed to the Wall album was driving me nuts.
    Not because I cared that they were screwing their way through all of Amsterdam. And not even because Synner kept sending half-naked chicks to my bed in search of something I had no intention of giving them. It was the knowledge that the only girl in the entire city I wanted was out of reach.
    Today’s three mile run had to hold me over just until tomorrow.
    Tomorrow, when Ree returned to me.
    Finally.
    “Mind if I hit the shower first?” Leo asked as soon as we returned. “Indie is going to have my balls if I’m late to the studio again. She will literally chop them off, string them into a necklace, and wear them around her neck where Syn’s currently hang.”
    “Thanks for the unnecessary visual,” I said with a groan. “Yeah, go ahead. Defend your boys.”
    “Thanks, man. You’re a nut-saver.” He clapped me on the back as I headed over to the fridge in search of a bottle of water.
    I made it halfway across the living room before a muffled shout from Dash’s bedroom stopped me in my tracks.
    “What the hell is wrong with you?!” The woman’s voice was high-pitched and laced with a strong Irish accent. “Good lord. FINE! I’m getting out, you arse!”
    His door burst open and a tall, curvy chick in her mid-twenties tornadoed through the living room. Long, auburn hair whirled about her as she grabbed her leather jacket and shoes, then slammed the front door.
    Dash stumbled out of his room in just his black jeans—all six-feet three-inches of him looming in the doorway—looking like he’d just seen a ghost. “Fucking fuck!” He smashed the doorframe with his fist and stalked over to the kitchen.
    Following closely behind, I said, “What the hell did you do to her?”
    “Fuck, fuck, fuck...” He shook his head, and went straight for the coffee, the string of curses growing longer with each passing second.
    “Dash…what did you do?”
    He let out something that sounded like a half-groan, half-moan. “I crossed a boundary I shouldn’t have.”
    “Her ass?” I raised my eyebrows and leaned against the fridge door.
    “No,” he said, gripping the kitchen counter, his eyes fixed on the coffee pot. “Her hair .”
    I reached over and poured him a cup because he clearly needed one and wasn’t moving to do it himself. He just kept cursing and shaking his head as his knuckles turned whiter and whiter.
    “Her hair? What the hell did you do to her hair that had her running scared?”
    “Her hair was fucking red.” The words came out through clenched teeth.
    “Jesus.” I ran a hand over my face. “You’re making absolutely no sense.”
    Dash shook his head. “I thought her fucking hair was brown,” he said. “Last night at the club it looked dark brown. But this morning I woke up next to a redhead!” He lifted his head up. “FUUUUCK!”
    “Okay,” I said, frowning. “Sounds like an honest mistake.” I’d had some unfortunate beer-goggle incidents when I’d been trying to fuck Ree out of my head. I was glad I’d been drunk enough to forget most as soon as they were over. “Not sure what you’re getting so upset about. Shit happens, Dash.”
    “I don’t make mistakes.” His jaw tightened. “And I don’t DO redheads!”
    “Funny, I could’ve sworn you did anything and everything with a pulse.” I laughed, relaxing a little. Though, the more I thought about it, I realized that in the two months I’d been with the band not a single redhead had come out of my brother’s room. Dash shot me a look that could’ve cut through glass, so I raised my hands and backed off. “Okay, okay. No red-haired chicks. Got it.” More seriously, I added, “So you didn’t actually hurt her, right?”
    “Of course not. I just told her to get the fuck out.”
    “Because of her hair.” I started laughing again.
    He nodded.