With what she’d been doing to him all night, he should just leave her here. It was public. He could hear the people talking in line as they waited for their famous hot dogs out in front of the shack. Cars were coming in and out. The lights were bright. She wasn’t really in any danger. She could take her cell phone out of that tiny purse and call a cab. She’d be fine.
His stomach lurched.
Oh, God in heaven. The realization struck him like a baseball bat. He’d been sick when he’d decided to leave the club—as in vomit-all-over-the-bathroom-and-the-alley sick. He’d felt like puking up his guts, right until he’d heard her scream and had gone after her. Then he’d felt fine. Except for his massive hard-on. But when he thought of dumping her—blam. It’s hurling time.
He knew by heart all the stories of how sick Tris had gotten when he’d let Maggie go back to Nevada alone. Or how Drew had felt when Michael had left her in the Florida Keys.
Jesus. She was it; the One his family had been waiting for him to find since he’d hit puberty, the One who was supposed to unlock his magic gene. His Destiny.
Not if he could help it. He didn’t want any of the crap that came with that. The last thing he wanted was to get locked into the life that was destroying his family. It was his life, damn it, even if he wanted to throw it away. And he wasn’t going to go quietly into some pre-planned, fated, sex-based attraction he hadn’t even chosen. Hell, hadn’t arranged marriages gone out with women’s rights? Well, what about his rights? Didn’t he have a right to choose how to live?
He realized he was breathing heavily. He wasn’t even seeing his surroundings anymore. All he could think about was escape. He couldn’t risk being around her any longer. Not if she was what he thought she was. Maybe he wasn’t yet locked into her.
“Excuse me, aren’t you…?”
With a start, he saw that three or four people had sidled around to the back of the hot dog shack. He felt her stiffen behind him.
“Damn it!” he said, opening the throttle. He couldn’t just leave her here. He couldn’t take her to a fancy hotel, or a place like his flophouse either. The urge to protect her surged up from his loins like…like nothing he’d ever felt before. The bike jerked forward, making the inquisitive intruders jump back.
“Where are we going?” she yelled over the roar of the engine, panic in her voice.
There was one safe place to take her, damn her and him and the whole fucking world.
“My parent’s house,” he yelled back as he headed east to pick up the 101 Freeway.
CHAPTER FIVE
‡
At the base of the freeway entrance, he stopped the bike. Greta was a mass of nerves. This whole night had been so freaking weird. She knew she should probably scream and run away. At least get off the bike. Maybe she could flag down a cop if she could find one before some unsavory character found her. She could call Jax and tell her to get her ass out of bed with Derek and come to the rescue. If Jax had her phone on. Maybe she was desperate enough to call Bernie. And stand on this deserted freeway entrance and wait for Jax or Bernie to get here? But it wasn’t deserted. What was that movement in the shadows under the ramp? Oh, great. She’d be waiting next to a homeless camp at one in the morning. Just dandy.
The Ghost lifted a booted leg over the handlebars of the bike, and went around to unstrap his saddlebags. He pulled out a helmet and handed it to her. “Put this on.”
She gripped her lip between her teeth.
“Okay, look,” he said, giving a disgusted sigh as he lowered the helmet. “You don’t know me. I get that. I look a little crazy. Hell, I am a little crazy. But I’m not leaving you at some flophouse or even a cabstand in the middle of the night. You don’t seem to have any friends. So unless you want to run the gauntlet at your apartment, you’re going to my Parents’ house.”
“I can’t impose…” She didn’t know his parents either. Though it was kind of sweet, when you thought about it, that he was taking her someplace he considered safe.
“Don’t be stupid.” He held out the helmet. “They’ve got enough bedrooms in that house that they won’t even know you’re there. My sisters will probably get all excited about giving you a change of clothes. They really like clothes. At least Drew and Kee do.”
Interesting. The guy who wore scuffed boots, a tee shirt and old leather had rich parents. And sisters. Sisters sounded pretty normal. She took the helmet and fitted it over her head. And really, what choice did she have? The helmet was too big.
“Okay,” she said with what was perhaps too little grace. “But only until morning.”
“Whatever.” He looked at her fumbling with the strap. Impatiently, he brushed her hands away to pull it tight for her.
The touch of his skin on hers made her jump and let out a little…oh, God, was that a growl? Oh, dear. And her panties got to another level of soaking. She turned her head up toward him. He looked shocked before he shut down his expression entirely. He swallowed hard and seemed to concentrate on pulling the strap tight under her chin. He had to touch her throat to hold the clasp. Greta was having trouble breathing. Her pulse was cycling up to heart-attack level. He was chewing on his lip so hard she thought he might draw blood.
“There,” he grunted and jerked away from her. He zipped up his duster. Then he slid onto the Harley seat in front of her and swung his leg up over the handlebars.
As they accelerated up the on-ramp, she tentatively put her arms around his torso to hold on. Thank God for the leather between them. The rush of air got cruel, and she huddled behind him, her cheek on his back. The duster flapped against her calves. Through the roar of the wind, she thought she could hear his heart beat. She’d never felt attraction like she had for this man. Was that why she was throwing caution to the wind and letting him take her to where parents and sisters might or might not be waiting? Maybe he’d lied about everything. She might be making the most foolish mistake of her life. She, who liked things ordered and secure. Anxious as she was, she realized she just didn’t care. Had he done that to her?
Who was this guy?
*
“Let us in, Ernie. I know you can see me.” Lan pulled the bike up to the gates. The Breakers, twice in one night. He was as crazy as the girl thought he was.
“Who’s the girl?” The voice from the security box was tinny.
“A refugee. Just let us in, damn it.”
The gate swung slowly open.
“Wow,” the girl behind him said. “A gated community right on the ocean. Pretty sweet.”
Like she didn’t have money. People who attracted paparazzi had to be loaded. “Not a community. Just the family’s house.” He couldn’t call it his home, not any more.
The started down the drive between the oleanders. A full moon topped the trees tonight, so she’d get an eyeful when they came out into the open. Yep. He heard her gasp.
“It’s beautiful.”
He had to admit it was. The huge old hacienda on the bluff stood in front of a sea glittering with moonlight. Even at night it was beautiful. Maybe especially at night.
A light winked on in the house as he pulled the bike into the circular drive. Lan wondered which one of his family Ernie had told.
He let the girl get off the bike first. Thank God she managed to get the helmet off by herself. He sure as hell wasn’t touching her again. He unzipped his duster. He had a problem he hoped his family wouldn’t notice, or they really would think the worst. He adjusted himself as subtly as he could. She pulled down the skirt of her dress. How she walked on those heels, he had no idea. The little jacket she had on was form fitting. It was quite a form. She looked familiar somehow, but he couldn’t think of anything she’d been in. Not that he’d ever gone to the movies much, or even watched TV. He’d always been too busy with his music. Maybe she was one of those reality stars who were famous for nothing but being famous. Or for making sex tapes. But she didn’t strike him like that. Hell, those people loved the paparazzi. She didn’t.
<
br /> He popped the kickstand and got off the bike. She continued to stare up at the house and what you could see of the gardens on the north side. He ran his hands through his wind-whipped hair. He didn’t know why. He’d look disreputable no matter what he did at this point. And why did he care? Because he knew what they were going to think. Two possibilities. Both bad. He pulled his duster around his body to conceal the problem.
The front door opened, sending a channel of light out over the circular drive. Kemble stood in the doorway, wrapped in a blue, terrycloth robe. His feet were bare. Well, the room he and Jane were staying in was closest to the door. And the Prince of Wales was the one Ernie would call these days. Lan set his lips. Didn’t mean he relished the conversation with his oldest brother.
He didn’t touch the girl but motioned her ahead of him.
“Didn’t think we’d see you back here tonight.” Kemble frowned. He had one arm on the door, blocking the way.
Did he have to be so disapproving all the time? Not that Lan wanted his approval. “Wonders never ceasing and all that,” he muttered. “Just let us in, Kemble.”
The girl visibly shrank into herself.
“Who have we here?” Kemble still hadn’t moved aside to welcome them in. He glared at the girl, then softened a little. No doubt because she was squirming under his stare. “Not your usual style these days, little brother.”
“Asshole,” Lan whispered to himself. “Look, she’s not…it’s not what you think.”
At that moment Lan saw Jane slip under Kemble’s arm. Thank goodness. Her hair was down and she had on a peignoir-kind-of–thing in light blue. Didn’t hide the fact that she was pretty pregnant. “Oh, do come in. You must be cold,” she said, opening the door wider and gently pushing Kemble aside. “I felt a little autumn in the air today.” She beckoned to the girl, who took some tentative steps forward.
Lan trailed after her, under Kemble’s pointed stare. In the foyer, the girl looked around, fidgeting with her jacket. Her clothes were in disarray and her knees were both skinned. “She needs a place for the night,” Lan said gruffly. “Well, what’s left of it.”
“Of course,” Jane said with only a glance to Kemble. She smiled at the girl. “The blue guest room is at your service. Do…do you have any bags Kemble can get?”
“No, she doesn’t,” Lan bit out. “She’s only here because I couldn’t think of anywhere else to take her. She’s got paparazzi on her tail. They’ll be camped out around her place, and you know they have hotel staff on their payroll.”
Jane raised her eyebrows in surprise. Kemble looked alarmed. Jane glanced between them and got a determined look on her face. When had Jane begun to look determined? She put a restraining hand on Kemble’s forearm and said, “Then The Breakers is the perfect refuge. Nobody can get in here.” She gave a deliberate smile. “Now, I’m sure you’re exhausted. Let me show you up to your room.” Jane took the girl’s arm and drew her toward the staircase. “I’m Jane, by the way. Jane Tremaine. And my rude husband is Kemble. You’ll meet the rest of the family tomorrow, I’m sure.”
The girl was looking a little stunned. She followed Jane up the stairs.
“And your name is…?” Jane let it hang in the air.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the girl said. “Gretchen. Gretchen Falk.”
“I’ve got some disinfectant for your knees. Did you fall?” They disappeared up the stairs.
Lan heaved a sigh of relief. Good old Jane. She’d make sure the girl was comfortable. The girl would be right in the house, too, where he could look after her.
What? Where had that thought come from? He shook his head. He wasn’t going all protective over some movie star he’d never heard of. And he didn’t want her in the house either. She was dangerous for him on a level he could feel deep in his gut.
“Earth calling Lanyon,” Kemble said, waving a hand in front of his face. “Bringing somebody to The Breakers when we’re on lockdown against the Clan? Not bright.”
“Believe me, I didn’t have anywhere else to take her or I wouldn’t come begging to your door,” Lan muttered.
But Kemble was just winding up. “She could be Clan. An infiltrator.”
No. That’s not what she was. And he wasn’t going to tell Kemble what he thought she might actually be. Lan gave his brother a withering look.
Kemble huffed. “At the least, bringing her here is risky for her. You know we’ve agreed not to embroil outsiders in our complications. It only makes them targets for the Clan.”
Lan blinked. He hadn’t thought of that. Maybe bringing her wasn’t just such a good idea on several fronts. He shook his head. “She’ll be gone tomorrow. No one will ever know she was here.” Except him. He might never be able to forget her.
“We don’t know who watches the house.” Kemble tightened the belt to his robe. Then he went still, his attention turned inward. His eyes flicked here and there. “Okay, there’s no activity on the security perimeter. But that doesn’t mean they don’t have eyes on us. And what if she drags paparazzi along with her? That’s the last thing we need.”
His brother’s magic was his ability to become one with software, infiltrating computer networks. No system was safe from him. His brother had just looked through the eyes of all the security cameras on the property. That never ceased to amaze Lan.
“Nobody followed us,” Lan growled. “Edwards and the guys aren’t going to blab. Relax.”
“How did you get involved with her?” Kemble’s gaze was laser-like.
“Jesus. Fuck off. I’m not involved.”
“You bring a strange woman to our house at two-thirty in the morning? You better be involved.”
“I don’t answer to you, ass-hat.”
The front door opened. Neither brother broke their stare to see who it was.
“Oh, goody,” Tris said in that laconic drawl of his. “A fight.”
Kemble deflated. He gave Tris a disgusted look. Lan chanced a glance. Tris had pulled on jeans to come over to the main house and wore nothing else. “No, not a fight,” Kemble said. “Though my little brother needs a lesson in what’s due the family.”
Lan rolled his eyes. “You want me gone, I’m gone.” Then he realized he couldn’t go. He wouldn’t be slime-ball enough to leave the girl here on her own with his prying family. He tried to cover his blunder and hoped Kemble wouldn’t take him up on it. “Just let her stay until she has someplace secure.”
“Herrrrr?” Tris said, dragging out the one syllable into a purr of inquisition.
“Gretchen something,” Kemble gritted out. “Lanyon here brought a girl home. At two-thirty in the morning.”
“Your motel room already booked with one of your conquests? Or did they kick you out for non-payment?” Did Tris think he was being funny?
“I couldn’t take her to a place like that,” Lan muttered. “Look.” He might as well get this over with. “She was cornered by a crowd of guys who were fans or something and paparazzi. They were pushing and shoving, and she went down. I couldn’t leave her there.”
Tris lifted his brows. “She doesn’t have an apartment you could take her to?”
Lan looked down at his boots and shoved his hands in his jeans pockets. “The paparazzi are probably there, too. I, uh, well, I might be responsible for that. I’ve been popping into some random clubs to play a set when the band takes a break, and…”
“You’re the Ghost?” Tris asked, incredulous. “I hear everybody’s been looking for this mystery guy who plays like a maniac.”
Silence stretched between the brothers.
Kemble finally sighed. “Of course that’s you.”
Lan didn’t dignify his brother’s weary conclusion with acknowledgement. “When I scattered those photographers and asshole fans who were grabbing at her, the fact that the Ghost had barreled in and rescued her just about assured she’s front page tabloid news until Brangelina adopts another baby or something.” His lips gripped together all by themselves and twisted. He t
ried to let out a breath. “I kind of owed her.”
He saw Tris and Kemble exchange glances. What the hell did that mean? “So if it’s all right with you, I’ll turn in. Okay, big brothers? Or should I beg?”
Kemble drew himself up. “This house is your home, too, Lanyon. Though you’d never know it by how you treat it and the other people who live here.”
Lan just turned on his heel and stalked into the Bay of Pigs.
*
“That went well,” Tris said to Kemble as Lanyon disappeared into his room.
Kemble ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I know. He just makes me crazy. Bringing a girl here who could be a plant for the Clan? Or, at the least, putting us in danger of having photographers trying to break our security…”
“Hey, at least he wasn’t dead drunk.” Tris snapped his fingers. “Uh, maybe he wasn’t just bringing—”
His thought was interrupted as Jane came down the stairs. After living through the arrival of two children, he was pretty familiar with the pregnant female form. Jane actually carried her baby bump well. He wondered if his brother knew how lucky he was to have a woman like Jane turn out to be his soul mate. Almost as lucky as Tris finding Maggie.
“Did you get her to bed?” Kemble asked.
“Poor thing. She was pretty shaken up.” Jane paused. “For one reason or another.” She took a breath and seemed to come to herself. “I got her some disinfectant for her knees, and one of my robes but it will probably hit her mid-calf. She’s more Drew’s height. Maybe Drew can find her something to wear tomorrow.”
“That would be today,” Tris mumbled. Should he say anything? But, looking at Jane, she might already know. And frankly, if Kemble hadn’t realized he should have. Kemble was the leader of the family and a good man in a pinch, in spite of being at his wits’ end over Lan.
“Well, she’s leaving in the morning. We can’t have her here for about a hundred reasons.” Kemble ran his hand over the stubble on his chin. “What the hell was Lanyon thinking?”
The Magic's in the Music (Magic Series Book 5) Page 7