Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  I decline.

  “Dude,” Maitland says, whistling as me, him, Adam and Quint stare at the exterior of the big bus, painted with swirls of black, red, and white. On the top is a phoenix with flames licking at it, as it rises from the inferno. Much like Georgie and I have. It would’ve been a pain in the ass on the sides of the bus, immediately identifiable as belonging to me.

  “May I show you the interior, sir?” the owner of the company, Lennox, asks.

  I nod, but stop the guys from going forward. “Make sure your fucking shoes are clean.”

  “I have runners on,” Quint calls.

  “I’m in boots, Sloane,” Adam replies.

  “Me, too,” Maitland adds.

  “You fucks know what I mean,” I snap. “If there’s one spot on her bus before she sees it, I’m breaking your fucking legs.” Not waiting for another smart ass comment, I stomp forward.

  Lennox hurries ahead and unlocks the door, walking to the middle of the bus so the others can board.

  “Fuck.”

  Proud, I smirk at Quint’s awe. Custom natural stone, maple hardwood, black shades with PR’s #1 Fan in curlicue, curtains with valences, an audio system, television, leather seating, booth-style dinette, a galley with refrigerator and freezer combo, microwave, dual burner stove, and so many other features and amenities in the living area and galley, I’ve forgotten everything. Leaving them, I walk to the next part where I check out the bathroom and the bedroom where Bryn and her nanny will sleep. As much as I know Georgie likes Abby being with her, my aunt has her own life to lead. Entering the master bedroom, I’m more than satisfied at the big bed, upholstered walls, television, lighting, and cabinets. The décor in the bus is cream, but in our room it’s gray and red, still with natural stone. Our private bathroom is a deep green. I think she’ll like it.

  In the living area, there are two pullout beds for Kiln and Jason. We’ve agreed that I don’t need to hire a driver until Kiln is no longer with us. Besides, the fucker who got into Dad’s house was never caught.

  “Georgie’s going to love this,” Maitland says from behind me.

  Facing him, I nod.

  “Instead of letting you have all the fun traveling the highways, we’re getting one for ourselves. We either fly together everywhere or we ride together everywhere.”

  I grin at him. “Wait until each of you fall for a girl. You’ll want a private bus for her.”

  “Love isn’t in my future,” Maitland says with a grunt, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

  “Living isn’t going to be in your future if you smoke in Georgie’s bus,” I growl.

  He snickers and rolls his eyes, but turns and leaves.

  Following behind him, I glare at his back. An alarm peals through the space, my phone vibrating against me. I frown at the signal that indicates someone has found a way onto the second floor at my house in Denver.

  Yanking my phone into my hand, I dial Kiln’s number, praying the warning was activated by accident.

  Once Sloane leaves, a cleaning crew arrives. I don’t remember scheduling them, but everything needs freshening up. I hang upstairs until they finish up, then escort them out. Just as I do the scanning to open the door one of the maids tells me she forgot her ID in the master bathroom. She’s an older woman with intense green eyes.

  “I’ll get it,” I grouch. As mistrustful as Sloane is of people on this floor, I know he wouldn’t want anyone in our bedroom for a stupid ID. Not sticking around to see who stays to wait with the woman or who leaves to wait outside, I hurry to my bathroom but find nothing. Though I do a quick search, I stomp back to the staircase, finding everyone gone with a little note taped to the door. My apologies. It was in my pocket.

  I go downstairs to the kitchen, finding Abby and Zelda have returned and are discussing a rare chicken with black meat. Listening without comment, I go to Bryn in her swing. Then the conversation turns to liver and onions. Hating liver as I do, the discussion turns my stomach and immediately takes my mind off the maid who sent me on a goose chase.

  “Morning, Georgie,” Zelda says cheerfully, unaware of my fragile belly.

  “Hey.” I take my daughter into my arms. We smile and communicate as only she and I can before I turn around. “Can we do away with talking about liver?” I grumble, plopping into a seat at the breakfast bar and kissing Bryn’s forehead.

  Abby breaks her silence. “Are you hungry, babe?”

  I haven’t told Sloane about our conversation and Abby and I haven’t regained the same ease we had around one another. Since Grandma “took care of it,” though I don’t know how because she won’t tell me, Sloane knowing will serve no purpose. And it may dampen his relationship with his aunt. He really loves Abby and his dickhole father has caused him enough pain.

  She sighs. “Do you think we could study again?”

  “Yeah, sure. Maybe we can start after I eat breakfast.” I smile at Zelda. “Can I have country-fried steak with cream gravy and scrambled eggs with mushrooms and parsley?”

  Zelda’s brows draw together and I flush at her speculative look. “Anything else?”

  “No.”

  She nods and walks away, and I breathe a sigh of relief. For some reason, I’m not ready to openly share my pregnancy.

  “I have a date with Emory Lawson,” Abby announces, while Zelda digs in the refrigerator and then the freezer, gathering the food she needs.

  I bounce Bryn gently. “Tell him I said ‘hi’.”

  “I will. Uh, I’m waiting for a call to confirm another photo shoot for you for a layout that features you and the house.”

  “I appreciate that.” I shift my weight, disliking the awkwardness between us when we don’t discuss Bryn and photo shoots. “Um, have you picked out what you’re wearing for your date?”

  “Not really. We only hook up to fuck.”

  Oh. “He doesn’t take you out first?”

  “He’s escorted me to charity events and accompanied me on vacations. We always go places first. But we fuck afterward.”

  “You don’t sound real enthused.” She sounds as if she’s going to an execution.

  “It’s something to do.”

  Bryn is restless in my arms, so I return her to her swing. “Have you heard from Brenda anymore?” I ask when I sit next to Abby again.

  “No.”

  I heave in a breath. She looks so incredibly sad. “I’m not telling Sloane. It’s our secret. I don’t think he’d hate you, but he’d be angry and his opinion would be altered. Neither of you deserve that.”

  “Thank you.” She squeezes the bridge of her nose, her brown eyes tearing up. “What are you doing while Sloane’s gone?”

  “Since you’re going out tonight, do you want to watch movies together tomorrow night?”

  “I might cancel with Emory.” She scrapes her fingers through her blonde hair. “I’m not in the mood to suck dick or have him pound into me.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a lot of fun.”

  “Sometimes it is. Just not today.”

  “Why don’t we go for a spin in the Volante after I put Bryn down for a nap?” Horseback riding is my first choice, but I don’t want a freak accident to befall me and I lose the baby.

  Abby likes my suggestion just fine. For the first time since I walked in, her eyes light with interest and she nods. After I eat the food Zelda prepares for me and Bryn goes down for her afternoon rest, Abby and I take turns driving around the property in Sloane’s car. The outing seems to liven her spirits. Mine, too. I love that car. By the time we return to the house, Bryn is awake and not happy that I wasn’t there to greet her. Her little pokey lip breaks my heart.

  “Mommie’s here,” I promise. The moment I take her from Zelda, she gives her temper free reign and screams. All in all, she’s a good baby, though, so I calm her relatively easily.

  We’re having dinner when Kiln breezes in and my hope soars. I look behind him.

  “Sloane’s not back. I was just left b
ehind to watch over you, but I had business to attend to today. It’s done so I’m here.”

  Kiln joins Abby and I at the table, but doesn’t participate in the conversation.

  “I’m going up to change Bryn and I into our nightclothes, then we can meet in the media room,” I announce.

  “Am I invited?” Kiln calls.

  “If you like chick flicks,” I retort. “Not skin flicks, in case you didn’t pick up on that.”

  “Sure, I’ll get in touch with my inner femininity,” he says with sarcasm.

  Abby rolls her eyes. “Good fucking luck. It’s buried beneath tons of testosterone.”

  Giggling, I leave as Kiln tells us goodnight.

  “I have a fucking party to go to,” he grunts.

  “Have fun,” I call, reaching the door that leads to the second door a moment later.

  Scanning my fingerprint disengages the lock. Sloane once told me he had the CIA style security in place because of Kiln. Probably the reason why he isn’t allowed upstairs. Adam, Abby, Quint, and Maitland come up to sleep but once they’re down for the day, that’s it.

  Upstairs, in the master suite, Bryn and I go into the bedroom, where I place her in her cradle. She has a gorgeous nursery, but I still like to have her as close as possible to me. Sometimes, Sloane agrees and she sleeps in the room with us. He insists she needs her independence and I’ll thank him for his insight later.

  A voice clears behind me and I spin to see a well-dressed older woman standing a few feet away. In my bedroom. Where she shouldn’t be and shouldn’t have access to. Strands of dark hair intermix with the gray, but her green eyes are sharp, alert and recognizable anywhere.

  The maid from earlier. Only, she isn’t a maid.

  “Georgie, very nice to meet you,” she sneers.

  I stiffen and ease my body in front of Bryn.

  “I’m Alexia, by the way,” she introduces tightly.

  Alexia? Alexia. As in Steffie, Jaeger, and Kiln’s mother? Fear dries my mouth and I lick my lips, my pulse pounding. “What do you want?”

  Bryn’s coo increases my fright. If I move and try to get help, she might hurt my baby.

  “You know who I am.” The statement falls between us in hard tones.

  “Yes.”

  Alexia glares at me. “Your husband killed my daughter,” she spits, her eyes cold and flat.

  My protest is immediate. She isn’t in my house for anything good, so I have to reason with her. “No, Rand killed your daughter. Your ex-husband,” I counter. “He’s already confessed.”

  She waves an imperious hand. “Rand would take the blame for anything to save his precious Sloane.” Hatred contorts her face. “Brenda and I planned Sloane’s reckoning. He needs to answer for all he’s done. Brenda kept in contact with my boys. Jaeger trusted her. This could’ve been so damned easy if Sloane had cooperated. But what did he do? Made Kiln keep watch over you. Brenda just had no luck. Not in the hotel room the night you woke up screaming.”

  The night I’d had my nightmare. When Sloane swore he’d left a note and left the lights on for me because he knew I hated the dark. The next morning, Sam sent me to Jaeger’s room for an envelope he’d forgotten there the previous day.

  “Kiln didn’t stay in my room. Brenda could’ve—”

  “She didn’t want to die. Had she harmed you, he certainly would’ve retaliated.”

  “So she hid,” I guess. “Until Sam arrived and got me to leave so she could escape.”

  Nodding, Alexia sighs and I squint. Her hands are free. As far as I can tell, I see no telltale bulges that might reveal a weapon. If I can keep her talking, I can get away. Maybe, escort her downstairs. “In the hospital she came, but a nurse walked in and it spooked her. She was at the house—”

  “She took Bryn and hid her,” I breathe.

  “She had access to the house thanks to a night out with Abby,” Alexia admits with a shrug. “Luckily, Abby has such a strong sex drive. Abby was too busy fucking to keep track of time. I don’t think the window of opportunity Brenda had to terrorize you ever dawned on Abby.” She gives me an ugly look. “Abigail is rather like you. Even with Brenda blackmailing her, she would never believe Brenda would be capable of harming your baby or shooting you.”

  It takes a moment for her insinuation that Brenda shot me, to register.

  “He just had to bring you out to LA. Brenda was there, waiting for Rand’s call so she could join Sloane. When she heard nothing, she called Jaeger early that morning and he let slip your itinerary.”

  “Jaeger helped her when I got shot—"

  “Aren’t you listening to me?” she snarls. “My son did nothing more than usual. Answered her seemingly innocent questions. With

  Rand’s help, she, Sam, and Stuart Jackson got to the hotel.”

  “No,” I insist, my mind unable to accept this story. “Sloane didn’t have time to bring me back to the house before the band’s press conference.”

  Alexia snorts. “Please. In case you haven’t noticed, Sloane doesn’t like you out of his sight. If he hadn’t used his lack of time to take you with him, he would’ve found another excuse.”

  “Alexia—"

  “Don’t!”

  My life is just coming together and now she wants to take me away. Sloane always says I’m a survivor and I can make it with or without him. I think of him and Bryn. Dad, Josh, and Cash. Abby and Grandma. Kiln, always so bitter, which I understand completely now. The witch in front of me helped him along. I think of Mom. Mom taught me girl power, so I reach deep into myself and stand my ground. My husband and child need me.

  “Rand swore, he swore,” Alexia emphasizes on a broken sob, “you were the reason Sloane wasn’t cooperating with the plan to acknowledge Brenda’s son as his own.”

  “Sloane knew nothing—"

  “Shut up!”

  Despite her vicious tone, I need to keep her talking. Not caring how, I blurt the first thing that comes to my mind. “Why are you here?” To kill you, Georgie.

  A shiver seizes me at the idea.

  “Brenda has suffered,” Alexia continues, her eyes red and puffy from the furious tears streaming down her face. “I have suffered. All because of Sloane. Now, she only wants compensation and to live the life she deserves without having to get it piece-by-piece.” She looks me up and down as if I’m dirt. “We’ll give up our quest to repay Sloane for all he took from us individually and jointly. Steffie was my only daughter. I loved her dearly. Brenda loved her, too.” Tears glisten from her eyes. “Rand hated what they were. If Steffie had to be the way she was, he wanted her to like men, too. Like Brenda. After Steffie’s death, Rand seduced Brenda. Made all types of promises to her, but every effort she made to have him follow through…even when she told him she was expecting. He made her believe Sloane would take care of it. He strung her along and Sloane became more and more famous. Then you came along. Jaeger, more than Kiln, took her into his confidence. Rand swore as soon as you went away, Sloane would take Brenda. We both vowed we’d make his life hell for what he did. He’s a fame whore,” she sneers. “Couldn’t have a gay sister staining his status in life.”

  While she’s lost in her story, I shove Alexia with all my might. She crashes to the floor. Grabbing Bryn, I barrel past Alexia as glass shatters down the hallway. Bryn’s bouncing is upsetting her, but I can’t stop to offer her comfort. Praying I don’t tumble down the staircase, I run as fast as possible. Footsteps pound behind me. When I reach the panel, my hand almost trembles too much to do the scan, but somehow I manage it. Both Bryn and I are screaming like banshees, drawing Jason and Abby to the hallway.

  He only has time to widen his eyes before gunfire erupts and he staggers back, blood blooming on his shirt.

  Bryn screams. Abby grips my arm and jerks me backward, more gunfire flares and her grip slackens as she falls to the floor, too.

  “Kill her!” Alexia shouts.

  I turn, horrified to find my old tutor and Detective Jackson standing ther
e. I tighten my hold on my daughter.

  Both Sam and Stu have guns trained on me.

  Shots ring out and Stu falls to the ground, blood gushing from his neck.

  “Oh my God!” I cry as a voice says, “Hands up.”

  Kiln. I’ve never been so glad to hear his voice in my life.

  “Son!” Alexia says and her eyes widen. It’s all happening so fast, I think she’s just realized Detective Jackson was shot.

  “Stay back, Mother,” Kiln orders her, his gun trained at Sam’s head.

  She stands still, not caring Jason lays at her feet, bleeding and unmoving, whereas my heart is hammering and my stomach is turning at the coppery smell and abundance of blood.

  “We aren’t going to hurt her,” Sam offers his familiar and charming manner. “Georgie, honey, you and the kid just come with us.”

  “Sam,” Kiln grits out, cocking the barrel. “Put your fucking gun down.”

  When Sam doesn’t comply, Kiln scowls, aiming his gun at Sam’s head. Before he pulls the trigger, I close my eyes.

  Warm wetness sprays onto me, and bodies drop, hitting the floor with a thud.

  “Georgiana,” he calls in a restrained voice. “Don’t open your eyes until you turn around. When you do, take Bryn and get upstairs.”

  “Abby’s shot,” I shriek though I do as instructed and take my daughter into my arms, keeping my back to the gore behind me. “You have to help her. Jason, too.”

  “I will,” he soothes. “Right now, I have to get you and Sloane’s children to safety. Upstairs.”

  Another thought occurs to me and I can’t move. “Brenda. She’s unaccounted for.”

  “No,” he says with soft menace. “She’s in the dining room.”

  “Alive?” Alexia asks, the hope in her voice hard to miss.

  “She’s as dead as her husband and his friend,” Kiln says coldly.

  “No, please! She was all I had left of Steffie.”

  “Georgiana, get the fuck upstairs now,” he snarls at me, not responding to his mother.

  Not wasting any more time, I stumble upstairs and find my phone. The first number I dial is 911. I want to talk to Sloane, but if there’s a chance for Abby and Jason, I have to get them help.