Rock King

by Tara Leigh

  His hoarse cackle split the thick air. “Why?”

  For a fleeting moment, I was tempted to tell him everything. My truth. My pain. My lies.

  I opened my mouth, a confession at the tip of my tongue. Until I looked into Shane’s eyes and pushed it back down. It churned in my stomach, back where it belonged.

  Unlike the last time I’d been tempted to tell Shane the truth, I wasn’t holding back because I didn’t trust him.

  But this was Shane’s moment. He’d been brave enough to share his ugly truths with me. Unloading my own would only diminish the weight of his.

  For a man who lived in the spotlight, Shane kept so much of himself shrouded in darkness. Tonight he’d lifted a candle—just for me.

  I wanted to honor that.

  Or maybe I was just scrounging for an excuse to linger in the darkness myself.

  Because if he knew what I’d done, would he ever look at me the same way?

  Sliding my palms along Shane’s strong jaw, I cupped his face in my hands, wishing I could erase the skepticism staring back at me. “Because you’re real. And tonight you’re honest.” I dropped a kiss on his pursed lips. A kiss he didn’t quite return. My heart skipped, and I leaned back. “Let’s live, Shane. Just us, just tonight. Come alive with me.”

  The gold sparks in his eyes lit up. His hand curved around my skull, threading through my hair. “Anyone ever tell you you’re fucking irresistible?”

  “No,” I groaned as Shane held me a breath away from his lips.

  “Just me?”

  My chest heaved at the solemn rasp of his voice. “Yes. Just you, Shane. Only you.”

  A sensual smile tugged at his full lips, the sight more beautiful to me than even the sunrise. “That’s right,” Shane whispered. “My girl.”

  Shane

  Once the high of performing began to fade, it was tempting to keep it going with whatever inducements were on hand. Booze, pharmaceuticals, girls. They were all part of life on the road, and because of them, there were more than a few tours I barely remembered.

  Sex, drugs, and rock ’n’ roll.

  After I opened up to Delaney, the next few shows passed in a blur, and not because I was shit-faced the whole time. If I wasn’t at sound check, onstage, or sleeping, every minute was spent devouring Delaney. By the time I walked offstage and into her arms, I had no interest in anyone else, so I generally avoided the post-show parties that broke out after our performances, but tonight was Landon’s birthday.

  Reluctantly, I unwound myself from Delaney’s arms, pulled away from her sweet, sweet lips. “Come on, gotta go toast the birthday boy.”

  Catching sight of my face in the mirrored glass hanging above her head, I was startled by the expression on my face. Out of necessity, I’d perfected the kind of rock-star, pseudo-angry gaze I used during magazine shoots and the flattered but not necessarily interested look I used with fans. But at the moment I wore neither of those. I looked…happy.

  I turned away, scrubbing a palm over my face. Must have been a trick of the light.

  Still sweaty from the show, I took a quick shower before heading to the reception room with Delaney, where a post-show/birthday party was already in full swing.

  As soon as we stepped into the room, I knew it was a mistake. The acrid notes of cocaine floated on air already heady with exhilaration and laughter. Girls wearing more lipstick than clothing were sucking back champagne, guys fisting bottles of beer or tumblers brimming with Jack Daniel’s finest. My favorite. Landon and the guys were easy to spot. They were in the middle of the room, surrounded by an eager, boisterous throng.

  Three chicks were hanging off Landon, their stance possessive and imperious, winners of the groupie gauntlet claiming their prize. I snagged a flute for Delaney and a beer bottle for me, fighting Jack’s pull. Maybe I could have handled a few sips, but I knew it would make turning down a line of coke that much harder. One would lead to another, and half a dozen after that. Eventually some oxy to even things out.

  Knowing all three were within reach, I felt a tingle at the back of my neck. My throat was dry, my palms itching. “To the ugliest fucker to ever get behind a set of drums,” I said, clinking my beer with an array of bottles and glasses. “For your birthday I’m getting you a bigger set, to hide that mug from our fans before they stop coming to our shows.”

  Landon’s head tilted back, laughter booming out of him. “I’ll show you a bigger set, jackass.” An eager blonde hooked her fingers around the band of his jeans, Landon doing nothing to stop her.

  I pulled Delaney against me, knowing the only set she’d lay eyes on tonight was mine. “Yeah, yeah. You do that. I’m sure no one here would take a dick pic or anything.”

  Flashing his trademark wink, Landon tilted the neck of his beer bottle at me. “Don’t you worry there, brother. I’ll send one to your girl personally. Make sure she’s not missing out on anything.”

  If I didn’t love him, I would have ripped the jugular out of his neck. “You do that, Landy, and I’ll make sure you choke on it.” We had shared girls in the past, and he’d made his interest in Delaney perfectly clear.

  I didn’t blame Landon for his interest, but Delaney was off-limits.

  My eyes slid back to her, watching as her lips closed around the delicate glass and she took a small sip. “Let’s get out of here,” I growled.

  Delaney was all mine.

  * * *

  A car was waiting for us, not far from a small horde of fans clustered behind a few ropes. I heard their screams of “I love you, Shane! You rock my world, Shane!” through the walls as we walked along the underground tunnels leading to the exit. Disgust curled my lip. These girls, screaming things they thought I wanted to hear, pledging an emotion that should mean something, they didn’t know me. They listened to my songs without hearing them, looked at me without actually seeing me.

  They swallowed every single lie I fed them.

  And it was all part of the show. The facade I’d erected in place of a life. Trading my sneer for a smile, I ambled over to the ropes, signing autographs, taking selfies, giving just enough of myself to make them think I might love them back.

  By the time I got into the car with Delaney, she was staring dubiously through the window at the squealing pack of girls we were leaving behind. “I’m beginning to understand why you hire your girlfriends.”

  I still had that strange post-show energy buzzing inside my veins, and my hands crept up Delaney’s skirt. I needed to work it off. “Oh yeah?” I pulled her into my lap, settling her legs on either side of mine, reaching around to cup her perfectly sculpted ass.

  “We’ve been on tour for a few weeks, and so far the only women I’ve seen are the groupies, who look at you as if you’re their next meal or fans whose heads practically explode if you look their way.” She sucked in a breath, wide-eyed and guileless. “I had no idea.”

  My heart lurched. When Delaney looked at me, she really saw me. Me and my crazy, fucked-up life. “Now you’ve got a front-row seat.”

  Delaney traced my lips with her fingertips. “Yeah. I do.”

  Her touch sent a shudder rippling through me. I edged aside the strip of lace in my way, dragged my fingers through her wet center. “I’ve been missing this all day.” It was the truth. Sound check had run long, and then I’d called Travis to tell him about the shift in my relationship with Delaney. Even though Delaney and I had agreed to a contract in name only, I wasn’t sure I wanted even that.

  Maybe she still needed to believe that a set of rules defined our interaction, but I didn’t. Not anymore. I wanted Travis to tear up our contract. Wanted to know that the hold I had on her was body, mind, and soul. That it ran too deep to be contained by a sheet of paper.

  He’d kept me on the phone for an hour. Are you out of your fucking mind? What do you really know about Delaney? You sure she’s not playing you?

  Travis was more than just my attorney. He’d gotten me out of jail, gotten me sober, believed in me w
hen he shouldn’t have. I could understand his frustration, and I let him vent it. His biggest concern, that I would fall back into abusing drugs and alcohol, was a moot point. I was entirely confident that Delaney had my best interest at heart. Beyond that, I wasn’t willing to let anything dull the buzz I got just from being around her. In the end, he promised to shred the employment contract Delaney had signed, although of course she would still be paid the money she was promised.

  Maybe I didn’t know everything about Delaney Fraser, but I knew enough. Enough to take a chance on her. On us.

  I was ready to let go of the edge and dive deep.

  Bliss descended on Delaney as she broke apart in my arms, gripping my shoulders and groaning my name. And in that moment, I knew with one hundred percent certainty, only one thing mattered. Us.

  Delaney

  The phone rang before five. The one on the nightstand, not either of our cell phones.

  Shane pulled the covers over our heads, then wrapped his arms around me more tightly. “It’ll stop,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep.

  But it didn’t. Four rings, seven rings, ten. The air around my head was vibrating, not from the phone, but from Shane’s wrath. Finally, he bolted upright so violently, I expected him to grab the phone and hurl it across the room. I’d learned that touring was filled with early mornings, and this was one of the few we were able to sleep in. “Someone better be dead,” he growled.

  Tension coiled around his muscles, flexing and contracting as he held the phone to his ear. I waited, each passing second making it less likely we’d be going back to sleep anytime soon.

  After he hung up, Shane sank back into the mattress as if a heavy mantle had been dropped onto his shoulders. I rested a steadying hand on his thigh. “What is it?”

  He huffed, indignant. “That was Travis.”

  I didn’t pick up on the warning in his tone. “Let’s not talk about Travis right now,” I whispered, sliding my palm up his chest, the last of my sleepy fog swept away by the ripple of muscles beneath the surface of Shane’s skin.

  Catching my hand, Shane pressed it over his heart. “No, don’t.” Horror radiated from his expression as he turned to me, his pulse racing against my palm. “We have to talk.”

  I blinked, brows knitting over the bridge of my nose. Talk? Since when did Shane, or any red-blooded male, turn down sex to talk? Fear spiraled through me, sending tingles down my limbs.

  “Delaney.” He drew my name out, so sorrowful. An apology.

  My stomach knotted, turning over on itself. I lifted wide, questioning eyes to Shane, tears already starting to gather. “What happened?” Vulnerability bled from my words. I could hear it, hated it. Hated waiting to be told bad news, as if I hadn’t heard enough of it in my lifetime. Like I would somehow collapse under the weight of whatever Shane was holding back from me. I can take it, whatever it is. Just tell me, damn it.

  “Fuck. I’m so sorry.” Blazing eyes swept over my face, fierce shards of remorse scraping my skin.

  “What happened?” I repeated, feeling the kind of adrenaline rush I got from a Red Bull. But this wasn’t caffeine, just a double dose of anxiety. “Tell me, Shane.” What happened? I wanted to shake the answer out of him.

  “Travis was…” The Adam’s apple in Shane’s throat bobbed as he swallowed heavily. “He was reviewing your contract last night, and he thinks someone from his cleaning crew picked it up and sold it.” His jaw clenched, biting out the last two words. “It’s out.”

  The blood drained from my head. “What do you mean, it’s out? Where did it go?”

  Shane stared down at my face, looking at me as if these were our last few seconds together. Dread pricked the base of my skull, skittering down my spine. I grabbed my phone from my purse, pulling up the Internet browser. There, on the front page of my news feed, was the blaring headline GIRLFRIEND FOR HIRE: SHANE HAWTHORNE PAYS TO PLAY.

  A small shriek flew out of my mouth, too fast for my hand to hold it back. I pressed my fingers against my lips anyway, as if I could contain the panic spiraling inside my stomach like a tornado, swallowing me within its angry funnel.

  I was breathing, my heart pounding. Very much alive.

  Reading my obituary.

  The whole reason I’d signed that damn contract was to make a new life for myself. Go back to school, become someone my parents would be proud of.

  Lately I’d been thinking about changing my major from economics to prelaw. Since my father refused to hire an attorney on his own behalf, maybe I could help his case. Eventually, a law degree would allow me to help others, too.

  Where did it go? Shane didn’t have to answer my question, because I already knew the answer.

  Viral. This filthy, grossly exaggerated story that added prostitution to my résumé had gone viral.

  How many law firms welcomed former prostitutes into their ranks? No need for a pesky trial. I’d been convicted by a tabloid that would probably show up on the first page in any Google search of my name. Had my future career been cut short before it even began?

  A wave of loathing crashed into me. So many lies, I couldn’t escape them.

  My father would see it. Read it.

  Would he believe it, too?

  Chapter Seventeen

  Shane

  Unfuckingbelievable.

  Actually, no. This was my life. I tried to do something good, something right…and just wound up making things worse.

  Needing to see Delaney’s face, I swept aside the curtain of hair that had fallen over her cheek. “Travis is working on it. He’ll fix it.” My voice was a tortured growl, spewing an empty promise.

  Delaney looked up from her phone. “They’re calling me a prostitute,” she whispered, horror leaching from her words, slashing at my eardrums like razor blades. Even worse was the misery and embarrassment vandalizing her beautiful features. The past few years hadn’t been easy for Delaney, but she’d never been through the meat grinder of public persecution. Until today. Until this.

  Until me.

  “You should go see your father.”

  “I know.” Her answer was a hesitant whisper.

  I waited a minute. “Does that mean you’re going to go, or that you know you should but haven’t made up your mind yet?”

  She lifted sheepish eyes to mine. “I don’t know. It would mean leaving you.”

  A sigh shuddered through me. “Don’t do that, Delaney.”

  She broke our gaze, tucking her head into my shoulder, laying a hand flat across my chest. “Do what?”

  I reached for it, planting a kiss at the center of her palm. “Don’t hide behind me. You’re braver than that.”

  She dipped her head, but not before I saw the fading glory of crushed hope staining her gaze. “I guess I’d just always envisioned striding into the prison like some kind of filial Joan of Arc, keys to my father’s cell in one hand and a pardon in the other.” She lifted her head, tears brimming. “What do I say to him? Hey, Dad, just driving by to apologize for this little story you may have read—the one calling me a whore. Hope your new digs are worth it.”

  Guilt slammed into me, churning and twisting in my gut like a virus. “I know. It sucks. But you still have to do it.”

  She choked out a sob. “What a fucking mess, huh?”

  My entire life was a fucking mess.

  I pulled Delaney into me, holding her tight. She shook, and I absorbed every tremor, wrapping my arms around her waist like an iron band. Tight. Secure. Unbreakable.

  “I’ll go with you, if you want me to.” I’d go to the seventh circle of hell if she asked. Had spent years there already. Might be time for a return trip.

  Delaney’s head rocked against my neck. “No. You’re right. I do have to see him. But if you come with me…” Her voice trailed off.

  “I know. It will be a damn circus. Like always.” I spat out the words as if they were venom. Didn’t make them any less true.

  Dark hair swished back and forth along my col
larbone. “It’s not your fault you have fans everywhere.”

  I practically choked on the excuse Delaney was spoon-feeding me, her light tone only making it worse. Had this damn story taught her nothing?

  Everything was my fault.

  I swallowed, hard. I was used to all kinds of things being said about me in the press. Some of it was the truth. Most of it was lies.

  My skin had hardened over the years. And when it came to downloads and ticket sales, I’d learned that it didn’t really matter what was said about me. If people were talking, it worked in my favor. Even so, I paid Travis and a PR team a hell of a lot of money to spin bad press into good.

  I glanced at the phone, hoping, for Delaney’s sake, they could handle this. Knowing they couldn’t. This story was too salacious, too juicy. A bag of catnip to a den of lions.

  My chest squeezed tight. Not for me. I could take it. But Delaney…she was about to get mauled. And there wasn’t much I could do about it.

  “I’m so sorry. For all of this.” I meant it with every ounce of my soul. The black cloud that followed me, I’d dragged Delaney under it, too.

  She stared at me in stunned silence, absorbing the blow that had come out of nowhere. Disillusionment twisted her lips as she offered a somber nod. “Okay,” she choked out.

  I didn’t know what was worse—causing Delaney any pain…or that she’d so easily accepted it as a by-product of life with me.

  Now she knew exactly how much bullshit would be thrown her way if she continued to stand at my side. When was she going to realize what I knew already? What I’d known for more than a decade.

  That I wasn’t worth it. Nothing but Trouble. That wasn’t just the name of my band. It was my fucking motto.

  The voice that had warned me to leave Delaney alone before I ruined her, I should have listened to it.

  I studied Delaney’s tortured expression, feeling like I’d just slain an angel. My angel. Ruined.

  Reaching for her phone, I put it facedown on the bed and swept Delaney into my chest. Maybe I should walk away now. Tell Travis to deny everything and chalk it up to a breakup gone bad. If we weren’t together, the story might shrivel up and die on its own. Without us, there would be no fuel.