Scandalous Beat (The Tempest Rock Star series Book 6)

by Michelle Mankin

  “No.” My lips flattened. “Of course not.” But putting the words into action wasn’t going to be as easy as I had imagined. No grace period. We had gone straight into crisis mode. “I’m sorry. Can we dig into this another time? I can barely think straight right now. I’ve got to get things squared away here before I go to Seattle. I have to call Jorge. Reschedule the final shit for this week in the studio. And I need to get you home. “I turned, snagged my keys from the night stand and turned back to her. “Dale. C’mon. Do you have everything you need?” I frowned at her when she didn’t respond. She just stood there, her arms wrapped around her body as if she were suddenly cold and stared at me.

  “Am I just something to square away and leave behind?” Her chin lifted. “Did it not even cross your mind to ask me to come with you?”

  Fuck me. No. It hadn’t. Not really. As she had accurately pointed out, I was accustomed to dealing with heavy shit on my own. Though there had once been a time when I had let her in more than most.

  “Mi reina.” I touched her arm. She yanked it back. “Miriam.” I advanced walking her backward. Grabbing her wrists, I lifted them over her head, pressing them and her into the wall. “Listen to me.” I laid my forehead to hers, letting out a sigh when she dropped her gaze. “Don’t do this. Not now.”

  “Alright.” Her voice was whisper-soft. “You’re right of course. I know you’re worried.”

  “What I want…what I desire has nothing to do with anything right now.” What I most wanted was to hold her against me and have time stand still. “Otherwise, I would ask you to come with me. But I know you have two jobs. I know why now. I don’t want to torpedo your dreams with my shit. We’re only just starting out. I have no right to make such demands of you.”

  “It wouldn’t be a demand. It would be a request. Don’t you know by now that I would do anything for you?” Her fingers clenched into fists in my hold. “Do you not get that after all I’ve told you?”

  “Mi mujer picosa.” My spicy woman. “I’m not worthy of you.” My issues and shit hadn’t suddenly gone away, but I was choosing to ignore them for the moment.

  “Ask me.” She wiggled in my hold. I brought her arms down. I kissed her hands. I lifted my gaze. I lowered my guard. I made myself vulnerable. For her. Only for her.

  “Will you come with me?”

  “Yes.” She replied immediately without pause.

  “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. Won’t that be a problem? I mean I know you only dance on the weekends at Sexxy but will being away interfere with your commitment to Jazz?”

  “It might.” A shadow passed over her eyes. “But she’ll understand. It’ll be ok. I’m going with you.”

  “It might be nothing. The doctors don’t even know much yet.”

  “I’m coming with you. If you’re this worried, that’s enough reason for me.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Miriam

  “MJ,” Mike called, his footfalls in the hall stopping outside the open door to my bedroom. “Why is your suitcase in the entryway?”

  I blew out the candle, swiped my cheeks and turned around to look at him.

  “What are you doing?” Frowning he moved toward me. “Why are you crying?” He stroked a strand of my hair from the tears that had gathered at my chin and tucked it out of the way behind my ear. “Talk to me. Tell me what the hell’s going on. I thought that being with Juaquin last night was what you wanted.”

  “It was.” I offered him a tremulous smile. “It was wonderful. He was wonderful. These are happy tears mostly. But his dad’s in the hospital. I’m going with him to Seattle. I lit a candle and was saying a little prayer for healing.”

  “You’re not Catholic.” His brow creased in confusion. “Or even religious.”

  “But Juaquin and his family are,” I said succinctly as if that explained everything and to me it did. I tucked the St. John healing medal I had found hidden away in my drawer into my pocket. I had gotten it after his father’s heart attack.

  “Seems a lot happened last night,” Mike stated with a little bit of incredulousness in his tone. “Are you two a couple now?”

  That was a big question. The question. I answered it as best I could. “I think we can be. He’s trying. And I’m trying…”

  “Not to get hurt.” He cut in. “I hope.”

  “Caution isn’t an option.” I shook my head. “How can I not go all in with him? He’s making this a beginning. A chance for us. A chance I have to take.” I paused to swallow. “He’s the one for me. He’s always been the one. You and I both know that.”

  “Yeah.” Mike squeezed his eyes tightly shut as if he could see the truth—but didn’t want to look at it—wavering so uncertainly within my gaze, like the flickering flame of the candle I had just blown out. “Come here. It’s going to be alright.” Eyes open he held his arms wide to me. I threw myself into his embrace. “He’s going to love you, MJ. He won’t be able to help himself. I can’t.”

  “I love you.”

  “Of course you do.”

  I lifted my head from where I’d had it buried in his shirt, and smiled. A firm knock at the door to our duplex interrupted the moment.

  “Shit. He’s already here to pick me up. I need to make sure I have my ID for the plane. Can you let him in?”

  “Sure.” Mike went toward the door while I hurriedly snagged my purse from the recliner in the living room, stopping cold when I heard a familiar voice. One I had never heard at my house.

  “Miriam,” Mike called. “Can you come here a sec?” He sounded nearly as unsettled as I felt. Vincenzo Campanella engendered that kind of effect on people. Inwardly bracing myself, I stepped into the entryway and came up short.

  “Wh…what are you doing here?” The intimidating mobster’s displeasure was palpable.

  “My secretary informed me that you wouldn’t be coming into work this week.” His frown encompassed me and my suitcase. “Were you planning on going somewhere?” Ice slithered down my spine. “I find it odd that you would have so little regard for the lucrative proposal I made to you.”

  “Um.” Shit. He thought I was cutting out. Running. As if there were anywhere I could go that his influence couldn’t reach. I was hoping he would forget about his offer. Surely he could find lots of other women who would jump at the opportunity, however distasteful it might be. His cobalt eyes fixed unwaveringly on my face. Maybe not. I gulped. “It’s not that at all. It’s just that a friend of mine has a sick relative. I’m coming back.” I glanced at Mike silently pleading for help. It hadn’t escaped my notice that rather than distancing himself from the threat Campanella represented, he had moved in closer to defend me.

  “Do we have a problem?” Vincenzo’s gaze slid to my best friend and dropped to the hand Mike had placed on my shoulder. “I would certainly hope not.” He cast a directional nod over his shoulder. An idling limo sat at our curb. I could just make out a shadow of the driver through the darkly tinted windows. “Because Garner doesn’t like problems.”

  “No, of course not.” The ice trickling down my spine instantly froze. I took a careful measured step away from my bestie.

  “Excellent. Perhaps we can continue our discussion on the porch where it’s more private.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He led, and I fell in step behind him, giving Mike a quick cautioning shake of my head when it seemed he was determined to stick by my side.

  “Much better,” Campanella commented as the screen door closed behind me, his gaze slowly sweeping over me. “My dear, you look quite pale. Feeling a little guilty, perhaps?” He put his hands on my shoulders and squeezed firmly. “Tell me about this friend. Might he be the man who distracted you from my daughter while you were at the pool with her?”

  Shit. Fucking shit.

  I bobbed my head. He knew. No use denying it. Either he had seen us or Garner had ratted me out. I grimaced as his grip on me tightened to the point of pain.

  “Not the level of responsi
bility I’ve come to expect from you.”

  “Miriam,” Juaquin called. The door to his Hummer slammed closed as he jogged up the driveway.

  “Juaquin!” I drew in a sharp breath that lodged in my lungs as Campanella turned, following the direction of King’s voice. The men immediately took one another’s measure. My heart pounded so hard I registered each beat.

  “Don’t know who you are.” King cast me a glance that had more than one question in his eyes. Oh, hell. Did he think Vincenzo was a romantic rival? “But you need to remove your hands from my girlfriend before I remove your head from your fucking body.”

  Everything after that seemed to happen in slow motion. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Garner emerge from the car. His strides quick and sure, his hands unbuttoning his jacket, he made ready to address the threat to his employer. Behind me the screen door creaked. Mike was weighing in. He totally knew who Campanella was and what he was capable of doing.

  Juaquin had misread the situation. But he saw the fear in my eyes. And he acted on it. Just like he had all those years ago in the alley behind Footit’s when Zackary had threatened me.

  He grabbed Vincenzo, spun him around and shoved, sending him sprawling onto the gravel landscaping.

  “No,” I gasped. My fear of Campanella overcome by my terror for Juaquin, I sprang into action placing myself between King and Vincenzo. Arms wide, I held one hand up to Garner and the other to Mike. Both stopped in their tracks, probably because of their surprise at the sheer audacity of my move. I mean, my hands certainly weren’t going to stop bullets from ripping apart flesh.

  Chest heaving to accommodate my rapid breaths and hammering heart, I swung my gaze to the mob boss. No matter what King had done, I knew who had all the power. Campanella held the lives of everyone I cared about within the palms of his corrupted hands.

  “Oh my.” The mobster grinned and picked himself up off the gravel. “It seems you have a very jealous boyfriend. One who has mistaken me for another suitor. And one you care about very deeply I can see.” He lifted his gaze to his bodyguard. Had his hired gun moved an imperceptible step closer? “Stand down Garner. I am unscathed. And we can’t really blame a man for protecting what’s his, can we? My apologies.” He extended his hand to Juaquin. “We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Vincenzo. Miriam’s employer. Jasmine’s father.”

  Juaquin glanced at me, his breathing nearly as ragged as my own, his temper barely restrained. I silently pleaded for him to acknowledge the offer of a truce. He swung his attention back to Campanella. Every coiled muscle in his body radiated tension, but miraculously he reached out and clasped the other man’s hand. The handshake was brief and firm and then it was done. Held breaths were audibly released. Well, mine and Mike’s at least.

  “Miss Jackson, I will see you at work on Monday. One week from today.” Campanella pulled down on his jacket and brushed imaginary lint from his trousers. Whew. That was exactly the amount of time off from work that I had asked for. “You will begin training for the new position immediately upon your return.”

  Chapter Twenty

  King

  Heavy traffic made us late to the airport, and some eager fans who recognized me at the security check held us up even more. We barely made it on the plane before it took off.

  “Miriam,” I began as the plane gained altitude, but she interrupted.

  “Mike will take good care of the Hummer.”

  “I wasn’t worried about your lead footed best friend being in charge of my H1 Alpha Wagon for the week, I’m worried about you. You do realize Jasmine’s father is Mafia?”

  “Yes.” She glanced down, mangling the First Class lunch menu she held in her hands. “He owns the Tropicana and several other properties on the strip.” She lifted her gaze. “As much as I love my city, there aren’t many places to work that are free from the mob’s influence.”

  “I get that. Sure. But I don’t like him coming to your home. Touching you. He was hurting you. Do you deny it?”

  “No.” She shook her pretty head. “It’s not cool what he did. And I’m going to quit working for him.” The mangled menu shredded in her frantic grip. “But I need to say goodbye to Jazz before I do.”

  “Good. I don’t want you associating with people like him.” The inflight announcements came on, interrupting me from questioning her further about her employer. Something about the guy seemed familiar to me.

  “How about you and Jorge? Why are you friends with a guy like that?”

  “He’s from Southside. We have a history. We understand each other, I guess.”

  “He’s your supplier you mean,” she said low.

  “There’s that. But it’s only weed Miriam. It’s legal in a lot of states. I don’t do hard core shit. None of us do after what went down with Lace.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. But he’s not exactly a real friend like my Mike or Sager is he?”

  “No. He’s La Raza Prima. I’m not. He reminds me of that often enough. If I had been a true brother he would have made sure that I never got convicted of possession in the first place.”

  “Could he really do that?”

  “Sí. The arrest happened in Southside. Plenty of the cops there take payment from La Raza Prima to look the other way and stay out of their business.”

  “What really happened that night?” she asked. “I read the accounts. Heard the speculation. They said you were at a backyard party at someone’s house. That it got rowdy. That the police got called.”

  “All true.” I nodded. “I officially got busted for possession. But it could have been worse. There was drinking at the party and underage girls that Jorge insisted had ID’s that looked legit. Timmons stepped in. Sweet talked the judge.”

  Miriam raised a brow.

  “Well, no, not really sweet talk. But she stood as a character witness for me. She testified that I represented a success story for Latinos in my community. That my juvenile record should be viewed in the light of my circumstances.”

  “Adrian.” She laid her hand on my arm.

  I nodded once in confirmation. Even now I rarely spoke his name or talked about the events surrounding his death. It hurt too much. It had happened before she and Bryan had come along, but everyone in Southside knew about it. Two rival gangs going at each other. An attempt on the La Raza Prima jefe. My brother murdered while defending him. The back and forth retaliations that followed. The interrogations. The cops hassling me and my family without any regard that we were grieving. Everyone in the neighborhood on a hair trigger.

  “Mary succeeded.” Miriam’s voice was noticeably thick, probably in response to the emotion I didn’t try to hide from her. “I didn’t hear or read anything about any other convictions besides the marijuana possession.”

  “Probation.” I nodded. “I’m still doing the community service stuff. And I have to stay clean and out of trouble for a year or they’ll revisit the whole thing again.” And Mary Timmons had given me her own ultimatum. If I screwed up again she would find Tempest another drummer.

  “You should stay away from Jorge.” Her brows creased. She started fidgeting with paper again. “I don’t trust him.”

  “You sound like Sager.”

  “Now him I do trust.”

  “Me, too, mi reina. But he doesn’t have a recording studio.” I covered her hands with my own, stopping her destruction of that damn menu. “Why don’t we talk about something else? Get some food. Maybe a couple of drinks.”

  “That sounds good.” She gave me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought all this up right now. You have enough to worry about with your father’s health. I should be comforting you not upsetting you.” She scooted closer, leaning over the arm rest to look at the options for lunch on the parts of the menu that were still legible.

  “You’re comforting me just by being here,” I told her honestly, stroking my fingers down her soft cheek. She sighed then relaxed, finally abandoning the menu in favor of the much
better prize of my hand. Her lids lowered as I trailed my fingers down her neck, and then back and forth along the scooped neckline of her top.

  “Don’t,” she cautioned, her breath hitching when I took it a step further, dipping a finger into the valley between her breasts. “You’re getting me all turned on. And we can’t do anything here.”

  “I feel the same way, but your skin is so soft and the sounds that you make when I touch you are a temptation I don’t want to resist.” My lips curved slowly. “How do you feel about having sex in an airplane restroom?”

  “Um with you…” She reached over and danced her fingers along my jawline. “Honestly, I would take you anywhere you would have me.”

  “But…”

  “Do I really need to explain?” She leaned over my armrest, giving me a good glimpse of her tantalizing tits before she made me crazy dipping her thumb into the seam between my lips. “A king and his queen, and a very tiny throne room.” She smiled coyly. “We’ll have to be creative.” Her voice went all throaty. “And very, very naughty.”

  And we were.

  As soon as the seatbelt light went off, I unlatched her belt and sent her up the aisle to the lavatory.

  I followed her in shortly after, as discretely as I could.

  I took care of her first, unfastening her shorts. Button by button, my eyes on her, watching her lick her lips in anticipation, I drew her panties down to her thighs and ate her. Fucking feasted on her. Then she took me on. The turbulence shook her as she sucked my cock, but it didn’t dampen her enthusiasm. It must be true what they say about high altitude intensifying the pleasure or maybe it was just watching her work my cock. There were several knocks and then a flight attendant’s hiss for us to get out, but we ignored them.