Rock Reclaimed: Rockstar Romantic Suspense (Rock Revenge Trilogy Book 2)

by Cari Quinn

  “As fascinating as this is, let’s take it from the top again.” Deacon shifted away from the mixing board and nodded at me. “Simon will be here soon, so it’d be good if you had this part nailed before he arrives.”

  My amusement fled. Right. Simon would arrive, and I’d be even tenser than I was right now.

  I nodded and sucked in a breath. “From the top.”

  Deacon hit the acoustic track we’d put together before we called in the studio musicians to lay down the finals. I suspected this wasn’t the usual way of things, but I was so green they were letting me ride with training wheels just now. I appreciated it, even as I vowed to get better.

  Starting now.

  I cleared my head, letting the opening strings of Gray’s guitar fill my head. I popped in the other in-ear monitor, though I liked to leave one out to get a read on my pitch. That wasn’t what I needed now.

  I needed to get lost in the song I’d written with a little help from Rory and Gray, along with some grumbling and snark from my brother.

  Bring me to my knees

  I’ll be the sinner for you

  Broken, on my hands

  Crawling back

  Oh, you know I can’t stay away

  What you’ve got

  Is all I need

  Open a vein

  Make me bleed

  Oh, baby, make me bleed

  Your sweat is my poison

  My salvation

  Let it out, all out

  Magic mystery

  Bring me your pain

  Wrecked at your altar

  Aching to be yours

  Take what you need

  Make me bleed

  Oh, baby, make me bleed

  I bowed my head and repeated the last words over and over, ending with the broken whisper I’d fought for. I pulled out one of my in-ear monitors—then lifted my head again as another voice joined in, starting the song over as if I’d never sung at all.

  Deacon scrambled to reset the track, and I stared at my brother, still standing in the doorway of the studio, cordless mic in hand. He stared back at me and sang the words I’d slaved over.

  My words, sung by Simon Kagan.

  The Simon Kagan.

  It didn’t matter he was my brother. Right then, he was simply someone I’d idolized. No matter that I’d tried to pull him down to my level, to insinuate I was as good or better, the reality was that he was a god. And I was just a pretender to the throne.

  I wasn’t fully conscious of opening my mouth again. When the bystander became a participant. It wasn’t about doing another take or outdoing Simon. I couldn’t think about that. All I cared about was the simple pleasure of singing, of relaxing my throat and letting the words in my head free. My voice lifted up and joined with Simon’s. Tangling together, each somehow still distinct. Yet harmonizing in a way that made my shoulders buzz and an unwelcome heat build behind my eyes.

  Of all the dreams I’d harbored, this was the culmination of them.

  One I’d never dared to voice, even to myself.

  Getting to sing with my brother.

  My brother.

  I whispered the words at the end, repeating them as I had during the take before. Then I pulled out my other in-ear monitor and moved to the door on the opposite side of the booth, wrenching it open and crossing through the studio to get to the fresh air on the other side.

  Out in the hallway, I bent at the waist and fought to breathe. To get my ragged emotions back in line. Christ, my throat was so tight I could barely swallow. If someone saw me—

  My mobile buzzed in my pocket, and the tears did come then, hot and furious.

  At myself, most of all.

  I pulled out my phone and hit the button to accept the call. I couldn’t do this anymore. Couldn’t.

  “Ian? Are you there?”

  Her voice was so frail. I tried to swallow, darting a glance at the still-closed studio door. They couldn’t hear. They didn’t know.

  I walked down the first branch of the maze of hallways and gripped the phone until my fingers spasmed. “I’m here, Mum. He let you call?”

  I shut my eyes. That was where we were at, wasn’t it? Me running away from the specter of a man I’d eagerly gone into league with. My mother needing permission to use the phone to call me, because I wasn’t only saving my ass by robbing my brother blind. Maybe, just maybe I’d save hers. Perhaps if there was enough money, she’d finally leave.

  Maybe even be my mother for a change, instead of just some man’s lover.

  “I’ve tried to call before. You don’t answer. Why don’t you answer?”

  Guilt slammed into me, tearing through flesh and bone to where I was still so raw inside after singing with my brother.

  My goddamn brother.

  “How can you do this? He’s your son too. Why would you want me to ruin him? You left him to fend for himself, just like you left me. Only difference was your body was still there most nights. But you didn’t care.” I ripped back my sleeve and stared almost unseeingly at the bandage on my arm. I’d only wrapped it to hide the wound from Zoe, but she knew.

  Everyone saw my scars, though I spent all my time trying to cover them up.

  “You know that isn’t true. He’s the one who didn’t care. He burned down our home! You went to see it for yourself. That’s how much he cared. He tried to erase me, just like he erased your father.”

  “Because he was smart—far smarter than me. If something hurts you, you should rip it out. Not sit there and nurse the pain until it’s part of you.” I yanked down my sleeve and punched the wall. I barely felt the agony that sang up my arm.

  That was the only way I could think.

  Make it hurt.

  Make it bleed.

  I was amazed I couldn’t feel the blood congealing around my feet, sealing me to the floor. It was coming out of every goddamn pore.

  “You know how much we’ve struggled. He would never care to help us. Would never lift a finger—”

  “He didn’t know where you were or even if you were still alive! You wanted everyone to think you were dead. Just vanished into the ether so when I pulled off this ridiculous scam, it would seem more real. But it’s not reality. You know what’s reality? I’m a fool. A puppet. Because even if I do this, even if I steal from your son—your own goddamn son—you still won’t love me. You don’t love me any more than you ever loved him.”

  “You don’t know how I felt. Or how I feel.”

  Was it my imagination or had her voice grown in strength? That note of feeble woe-is-me she adopted so readily nowadays gone in a flash.

  “No, you’re right. I just know what you told me. You said he was your favorite. That it hurt you so much to leave him, but you’d done it for love. And then the man left you because of me. Because you were pregnant with me. I was the cause of the loss of all your great loves…your son, the man you wanted to be with. But I was always there, wasn’t I, Mum? I always kept fucking trying.”

  “You owe us this.” Her voice dropped a decibel. “I don’t know what’s happened to you and why you’ve changed, but you owe us this money. It’s your fault we’re in debt. That Jerry has to—” She stopped and exhaled. “Your fault.”

  “You’re right. It’s my fault I agreed to any of this.” Swallowing hard, I ducked into a conference room and shut the door when a Ripper executive and someone who was clearly a rockstar on his roster walked past. God knows who might’ve heard me already.

  Jesus, I was losing it. Having conversations like this in hearing range of anyone who wandered by.

  Maybe I wanted to get caught.

  Fuck, maybe I needed to be caught so all of this ended—now.

  “It’s my fault I didn’t just do my time,” I continued quietly when silence reigned across the phone line. “I should’ve just taken my sentence. At least I’d be free now. At this rate, I’ll never be free. You’ll both see to that, won’t you?” I laughed and rubbed my fist over the burn in my chest. “And
I still won’t have a mother who gives a shit about me.”

  “You promised me. Promised us. It’s just money. He won’t even care if he loses it. You’re all snuggled up with him now, aren’t you? Going to cut us out entirely. That was always your plan.”

  “I didn’t have a fucking plan! Except to somehow come here and make the impossible work. He was never going to pay for your return, and I was the idiot who couldn’t see how flawed this thing was from the start. He would never throw good money after bad. Wiser than me, he is. But I can learn.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice turned sharp, the way it used to right before fire seared into my flesh.

  The searing pain that bloomed into an ache that I now craved.

  I wouldn’t allow myself to forget.

  Not again.

  “It means I’m done. I’ll pay Jerry back every cent I owe him, and I’ll do it as fast as I can. But I’m not going to be his toy any longer. Or yours.” I dropped back my head and shut my eyes. “I’m not going to lie to my brother. Not any more than I already have.”

  “You can’t do this!”

  “I already am. If Jerry wants to talk to me, he knows how to find me.”

  I knew what I was saying. I understood full well I was putting a target on my back. If I wouldn’t play their game, I was expendable.

  I always had been. Now it was just out in the open.

  “Not just you. Do you know what you’re doing? You have others you care about. Others who can be harmed—”

  “No!” The word ripped from my chest as if it was a physical thing. My heart being torn through flesh and bone. “You fucking stay away from her. I’ll fucking kill you. Kill him too. If you even think about—”

  The line went dead in my hand.

  I threw my phone, going into a crouch as it shattered against the wall.

  I drove my hands through my hair and stared blurrily at the large circular table and plush chairs that had held countless fancy arses over the years. I’d aspired to be here, and now I was. And it didn’t matter one fucking bit if anything happened to Zoe.

  Because of me.

  They had to know she was the only person who mattered to me. Christ, this was exactly why I’d grown so wary of having our pictures out there. The longer it had gone on with her, the deeper I’d fallen, I’d realized she wasn’t just a passing entertainment but…everything.

  My everything.

  The world knew because I’d made sure to put a bullseye on her back too, with all my stupid pictures of Matilda and the tags on Instagram and the days we’d spent having fun as if we had any right.

  She had all the rights. I had none.

  I also was a goddamn moron. I’d honestly thought I was the only one in the crosshairs. They didn’t want Zoe. Why would they? I was the one they wanted to hurt. And until her, the only person I loved was my mother.

  Until I’d finally bought a clue there, and saw I was her pawn. It wouldn’t change if I brought her a bundle of money in a red satin bow. I would never be anything but her burden to bear. Now I was also the Judas son who knew too much.

  Who needed to be eliminated.

  I couldn’t fucking wait another second longer. I didn’t have a choice. If everything imploded around me, at least Zoe would be safe.

  This time, I would take my punishment. I wouldn’t run.

  I crossed the room and picked up the pieces of my phone, shoving them into my pocket. Likely the thing was ruined. I didn’t care. I’d let the world burn down around me—I’d light the match—if only Zoe was protected.

  Like a zombie, I went into the hall and used my pass to take the lift to the uppermost floor. I got out of the golden box and stared at Donovan Lewis’s admin, saying only, “Buzz me in.”

  “Mr. Lewis is unable to—”

  “Tell him it’s an emergency.” I leaned on the circular desk, gripping the edge of it with fingers that went white at the bone. “Please.”

  She must’ve seen the truth in my face. She picked up the phone and spoke quietly, and a moment later, she waved me in.

  On the threshold of his office, I took a deep breath and prayed I could still turn this thing around.

  I wasn’t a man who prayed. Who believed in a God who could save anyone—but surely not me. I wasn’t worthy of redemption.

  But Zoe didn’t deserve any of this. If I could ensure her safety, I would lose everything. Gladly.

  Like the first day I’d come here—not that long ago, but a lifetime in my head—I had to summon my nerve to walk inside and breathe Lewis’s rarefied air. But unlike the first time I’d come here, I wasn’t full of bravado. I’d been stripped down to the core.

  Just a man who was willing to do whatever it took to protect the woman he loved.

  Donovan was standing at the window again, an eerie echo of our first meeting. He turned toward me, his eyes dark and fathomless.

  And I flicked the match across my world and set it to burn.

  “I came here as part of a con to pay back my debts in London. I was supposed to set up Simon to pay for my—our—mum’s safe return from the evil men who held her. But no one’s holding her, except her own greed and her own neediness. The same things that held me. But no more.”

  I stumbled forward and gripped the back of the chair opposite Donovan’s desk. “I don’t care what you do to me. You can make sure I’m blacklisted and never sing again. You can see me imprisoned. I’ll pay back every cent of my advance and whatever this costs you. But they’ve threatened Zoe Manning—Lila’s cousin. She’s in danger. You have to help.”

  I shut my eyes as horrific images scrolled through my brain, ones with a soundtrack of Zoe screaming. My knees turned liquid and I gripped the chair harder to remain on my feet.

  “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it. Please just help her.”

  He stared at me a moment longer, and then he moved to his desk and picked up the phone.

  Twenty-Nine

  The tinny sound of “Arsonist’s Lullaby” emanated from Margo’s phone where it sat on the nightstand.

  Her husband was entirely too cute, even if he was a pest.

  She grinned and answered his call. “Seriously? Calling already? Didn’t you just leave here?”

  “Are you sure you can’t wait for me? Hello, house hunting is supposed to be a couples’ activity. And here I am, slaving away, and you’re about to go have fun without me.”

  Margo hurried around the bedroom, looking for her other heel. It was here somewhere. “Slaving, really? You’re singing for your supper, pal.”

  “It’s not just that. We’re writing in here too, and there’s retakes, and fuck, it’s too early for this crap. Even if we just did our first real take together.” He exhaled audibly. “We sang together, Violin Girl. Like for real.”

  She hauled up the bedspread and went still. “What?”

  “Yeah.” He let out another breath. “I didn’t intend to do it, but when I came in, he was in the booth.”

  “How was it?” She sat on the edge of the bed, still clutching a handful of the spread. The ache in Simon’s voice made her own throat tight.

  “Intense. We sound good together. I don’t know what to make of any of it.”

  “You don’t have to know yet. Just being there and doing it is a lot. Processing what’s happening will take time.” She smiled though he couldn’t see her. But he’d hear it in her voice. “I’m proud of you. This is a big step.”

  “It is. I didn’t even have coffee yet.”

  She had to laugh. “Rough living. Aha, found it.” She dragged her navy-blue pump out from under the bedspread and slipped it on.

  “Found what?”

  “My other heel. They have a way of disappearing on me. Of course the bed looks like wild animals nested in it, but the realtor expects me at ten and—”

  “And whoa, take a breath. Did you forget we have a housekeeper? She’ll make the damn bed. As for the sheets, you weren’t complaining when your toes were pointi
ng due north this morning.”

  “Do I ever?” She moved to the dresser and dug through her jewelry case for her small gold hoops. Just the look she thought a prospective homeowner should project.

  She pressed a hand to her fluttering belly. God, a homeowner. How very domestic of them. She’d never guessed they would actually buy a house. Like a true family with roots. A backyard, for pity’s sake. With a tree swing for their little—

  Her belly fluttered again, and she touched it, frowning. Those were some serious nerves. Especially since she was happy and excited, not anxious.

  Or she hadn’t been until just this very minute. Should…things be bubbling and shifting around in there? All she’d had for breakfast was her usual preggo meal of a bowl of oatmeal and her stupid half-caff mug of coffee. Surely that couldn’t cause gas.

  Then again, pregnancy had a lot of weird symptoms. No wonder Lila had lived in mortal fear of getting knocked up with twins again. One in there was enough.

  Better be only one.

  “No, because my wife is a very wise woman. Jesus, come save me. Ian ran off after our take, but I just know as soon as he comes back, he’ll want to do another take of ‘Sinner’.”

  “What’s that?” She plucked one of her earrings out of her jewelry box then rooted around for the other. Once up a time, she’d been so organized.

  Pre-hurricane Simon. Not that she could blame him for her things being amiss. Minus the state of her lingerie drawer, since he liked to dig through there and see what new surprises she had for him.

  “Song of Ian’s. It’s actually pretty decent.”

  She slipped in the first earring. “Such effusive praise.”

  “I helped. Well, as much as I could. British is awfully uptight about sharing with the class. He’s better with Deacon and Gray and Rory, but he acts like I’m out to thief his ideas or something.”

  “I’m sure you were protective of yours when you started working with Nicky and Deacon too.”

  “Back in the Stone Age? Not really, because I was drunk more than half the time. What are you doing?”