STONE (Daring the Kane Brothers)

by Kelly Gendron

  “Hi, Nix,” I say as he pushes his way into the house, eyes flashing around the room.

  “Where’s your phone? Is it turned off or something? Crash has been trying to call you for the past couple of hours.” He stops and looks at me with raised brows, the faint freckles under his eyes fanning out.

  “Oh, shit! I dropped my cell when I was leaving the shop tonight, and it’s shot. Why, what’s up? Is something wrong?”

  “No. No, it’s just, well”—he gives the room another sweep—“is Stone here?”

  It takes me about a half-second to tell my face not to react to the question. If I wanted to, I could throw the jerk under the bus and send his brother up to Crash’s room. I could out his crackhead ass, but for some reason, I reply, “Why would he be here?”

  His eyebrows drop and forehead flattens. “Crash forgot to tell you earlier when he talked to you that Stone’s supposed to crash here for the night too. He knows how you feel about Stone and ’cause he couldn’t reach you on the phone, he wanted me to come over and give you the heads-up.”

  “Oh.” I grimace, feeling bad Nix had to come all the way over, and I lied to him.

  “Yeah,” he blows out. “If he’s not here yet, he might not even show up.” He looks down at his feet as if regretting his next words. “If you don’t want to hang out here for the night, though, you could come to my place with Payton, Becca, and me.”

  “No.” I smile, catching the glimmer of relief in his sparkling emerald eyes as he exhales. “It’s a big enough house, and I used to live here, remember? I’ll be alright.”

  “You sure?”

  I set my hand on his shoulder and guide him toward the door. “Yeah. Besides, like you said he might not even show up.”

  “You’re right, yeah, but if you change your mind, the invitation stands.”

  “Thanks, Nix.” I open the door. “Tell Payton and Becca I say hi and tell Crash I probably won’t get a new cell before he comes home, so I’ll just see him on Monday.”

  “Okay.” He nods. “See ya,” he says before I close the door.

  CHAPTER THREE

  After doing some research about overdosing on the internet, I ended up pulling up a rug and a pillow on the floor in Crash’s room.

  The second the morning light hits the window, my eyes pop open, and I sit straight up. Stone’s tattooed arm hangs off the bed. He’s breathing, slow and steady through parted pink, healthy-looking lips.

  Okay, not dead.

  No need to call the coroner, which I guess is a good thing. I sit and watch him for a few minutes, recalling what some of the articles said; the high effect is the initial rush, then there’s the nod period that leaves the user semi-conscious for several hours. It’s during the nod time that breathing can slow down to the point where respiratory failure can occur. Hence, me sleeping on the floor.

  Pulling my knees close to my chest, I rub my arm as my eyes roam to the passed-out fallen star. Though his upper body is naked and exposed, it’s difficult to make out the tattoos on his broad back or the scars I’ve heard he got in the Army in the dim light.

  I get his groupies only see a rock star with a black belt in playing the guitar, but I see something else—a broken man who’s not worth saving.

  It’s like I hear them open, and my eyes flash to his.

  Shit! How am I going to explain why I’m sitting on the floor staring at him?

  The longer he stares back at me in the dim room, the longer he stays quiet and says nothing, the louder I hear my own heartbeat. I refuse to back down from the darkness of his silent glare. I remain strong, knowing he’ll eventually have to crack. He’s not a big talker and pretty much keeps to himself, even around his own family. Right now, under the current circumstances, he’s got to have something assholish to say.

  Like when he was asleep, when I allowed my eyes to roam freely over his body, he does the same to me. The difference is, I’m awake, so I feel the slow perpetual travel. I feel his darkness touching every vulnerable part of my body, inside and out.

  I raise my chin.

  I’m ready.

  Whatcha got for me, poster boy?

  “Well…” A small, enthralling smile tugs at his perfectly pruned lips. “Ya gonna just sit there or are you going to get in bed with me?” He starts to pull the blanket back. I jump up and slam my hand on the shifting material worried he might be naked under it.

  And of all the things I thought he’d say, asking me that was not one of them! I didn’t read anything last night that indicates sexual innuendos as a possible side effect of OD’ing!

  Okay, keep your cool and take your eyes off the area of the wannabe’s cock!

  My eyes lock with his. “You wish.” I stand, not veering from his tiny black pupils. “I wanted to be sure you didn’t die in your brother’s bed last night. And”—I take a quick, bold glance at his covered crotch—“now that I know you’re not dead, I’m going to make some coffee.” I spin around. “You can join me after you get dressed.” I point to the left. “Your shit’s over there.” I march out of the room and do as I said, start making coffee.

  A few minutes later, I hear Stone come down the stairs and move through the living room. My shoulders stiffen. I pick up my mug, palm the warmth in my hands and take a sip, peering at him from over the rim. I don’t know if you call a pair of indecent, hip hanging black drawstring lounge pants dressed. His lower body is covered and that’s all I care about. Don’t need to be knowing what’s going on farther down there.

  I lower the mug, following his panther like movements as he gets himself a coffee cup. He stares at the Keurig for a long hard second.

  “You know how to use it, right?” I snicker.

  “Yeah.” He scowls at me. “Where’s those things?”

  “Pods?”

  “Yeah.” He half growls.

  “Up in the cupboard.” I nudge in the direction. He continues to stare at me. And all I can think about is what he might have going on in those lounge pants. Dammit, why did he ask me if I was going to get in bed with him? As if!

  The truth be told, it brought me back to the day in the storage room when he was screwing one of his groupies. It’s not like I haven’t imagined what sex might be with the philandering rock star. I just convinced myself it would suck.

  He smiles at me as he had when he nearly pulled the sheets back.

  Is he messing with me?

  I know he hates me as much as I hate him. Is he trying to be lewd? Trying to turn me off or on? Neither will work as I only have one feeling for the man—hate.

  Still, it’s strange. He’s never paid me any attention. He’s never struck up a conversation or looked at me for that matter. He usually acts as if I don’t exist. So what’s with the sexual advances and all the fake smiles this morning?

  What’s going on here?

  I watch him get the pod and prepare himself a cup of coffee.

  He takes a sip. “Ah, that’s good,” he says in a low, sexy raspy voice. He takes another sip and another, then sets the mug down on the counter and turns to me. “Thanks for last night. I was really fucked up.” His tone more sober and sincere.

  “Yeah.” I clear my throat, instructing my eyes not to look at his chest or anything else other than his face. “Like I said, I didn’t want to tell my best friend his brother died on my watch.”

  He flicks his hair from his face. “Crash is your best friend?”

  “Yeah.” It’s the truth. He’s one of my only friends. I haven’t been this close to anyone since Jenny was killed. Crash and his family mean a lot to me, so that must be why I didn’t let Stone die last night. It’s not like I don’t want him dead, but the second I got the opportunity to have what I want, I did everything in my power—which was grabbing a pillow and sleeping on the floor, so not much—to keep the asshole alive.

  He takes a step toward me, bringing his hard-to-resist aroma closer t
o my nostrils. “You two ain’t sleeping together?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business.” I set my mug on the counter, and he takes a step closer. My back straightens.

  “No. I suppose it ain’t.” His eyes roam to my mouth, pausing for an unspoken salacious moment. “But I know what you want.”

  Yeah, you dead. “What’s that?” I smirk, his eyes making it back to mine.

  He smiles, reaches for his mug, and takes another sip of coffee. I shake my head, staying focused on his face. I wonder what he looks like beneath all that scruff and hair. His eyes, the color, it’s brighter, softer, and lighter than I thought, but like the smooth whiskey color, the effects are no doubt the same, and too much of those eyes could alter my thinking. And I’ve already concluded that I hate the way my body reacts around him.

  He sets the mug down and takes another step toward me. His hand comes out. Not sure what he’s going after, I grab his wrist and squeeze hard.

  “I was going to check your mug to see if you needed another cup,” he says with a husky chuckle. “Do I scare you?”

  “Scare? No.” I release his wrist. “Repulse? Yes.”

  He bends until our heads are level. I get another whiff of his fuck-me-hard scent that clings to him like sweat and sex. I’m quick to swallow down the unbridled desire attempting to stir in me. His eyes lower to my mouth, then slowly move back up. I watch, sensing an attack of some kind. He leans forward. “I’m going to kiss you.”

  “No—” I protest, but my efforts are easily quashed as his lips conquer mine.

  I pull my head back. He follows me with another kiss and another until I find my mouth participating in the pervasive act. I grab the edge of the counter behind me and turn, without touching anything but my mouth, he’s effortlessly fluent moving with me. The small kiss gets hotter. His tongue slips between my obliging lips. The silky touch and the tempting invasion frighten and excite me. My grip tightens on the countertop. With each kiss, the heat he’s causing inside is more dangerous than the flame burning within. My body presses closer to him, and a small moan escapes my backstabbing lips.

  I hate that I want him right now! Get it together!

  “What the fuck!” Senses finally on board, I pull my mouth from his. He rests his hip against the counter, picks up his mug, and grins at me as he takes a sip. I touch my tingling lips, shaming them for their betrayal. “Why’d you do that?”

  “I wanted to see how you’d react. I gotta say, I didn’t feel any repulse.”

  “Fuck you!”

  “Ya know…” His eyes squint, head tilting to the side. “You confuse me.”

  “I’m not trying to do anything to you, and that kiss, it, it, it was—”

  “Good.” The gold specks in his eyes light up. “Want to do it again?” His eyebrows lift as if he was just as surprised as me.

  “No!”

  “Oh-ho,” he chuckles. “I know what’s going on. You’re really pissed with yourself for liking it, huh?”

  “I didn’t like it, nor did I want it! Don’t ever do it again!”

  “Huh, I guess I was right.”

  “About?”

  “You’re very comfortable with lying.”

  “Screw you!” I cross my arms over my chest.

  “You lie to my brother.” He sets his mug on the counter. “You lie to my family.” He takes a step toward me. “And you lie to yourself.”

  I slide away from him along the counter. “You don’t know what you’re talking about. You don’t know me!” I argue the truth. He doesn’t know anything!

  He grabs my arm and pulls me against him. “I know you liked the kiss, even if you didn’t want to.”

  “What do you want?” I try to jerk my arm away. Why is he acting like this? What’s going on? To be honest, I’ve never encountered him alone. I know he’s a recluse and weird and a bit eccentric. I know he’s a killer, but he’s Crash’s brother. He comes from a good family, and that’s always been the struggle. Maybe I should be more careful around him.

  “Admit it.” He bends down, his mouth level now with mine. I press my betraying lips together, forbidding them another touch or taste of the enemy. “You liked it?”

  “I’m not doing this.” I sneer before turning around. He catches my arm and pulls me to him.

  “Yes, you are,” he taunts with a smile.

  “Get off your high horse, you wannabe rock star. Not every girl wants you!”

  “You’re right. And out of all the women in the world, I never thought you’d want me, yet here we are.”

  “Fuck you!” Tearing my arm from his grip, I stumble back, pick up my empty mug, and throw it at him. He shifts to the left just in time for it to miss his head, and it crashes against the wall.

  He glances at the shattered cup and then back at me. “First, you’re cleaning that up. Second, I know you hate me, but wow, you are one vicious little girl, Jaggs. You could’ve killed me with that thing.” He grins with a twinkle of antics in his eyes.

  “Just like you could’ve killed yourself last night! Three years, Stone! That’s how long you were supposedly clean, and you pissed it away for what? A quick ten-minute high? You suck!”

  His smug face sobers. “Last night wasn’t intentional.”

  “Intentional?” I toss my head back and laugh at his stupidity. “Now look who’s lying to who!”

  His left eye twitches. “Let’s talk about what’s really going on here.”

  “Yeah, wannabe, let’s do that!”

  “I get you wished I’d died last night, but today a part of you wants me to kiss you again and a part of you wants me to take you upstairs and fuck you—”

  “Bullshit!” My hands fist at my sides, body trembling from every corner of my being. I. Hate. Him! “You sorry excuse for a man, if you think—Ugh! I’d rather die than fuck you!”

  “Finally, you’re telling the truth!” He smiles, and I stop. “I know I repulse you.”

  His eyes roll up and down me. Ready to defend myself, I open my mouth, but what he says next slams it shut. My heart stops beating.

  “Ya know, when I first met you at Crash’s shop, I knew I’d seen you before.” His left eye squints. “Yeah.” He taps the side of his head. “I rarely forget a face, babe. Even if there were a few years there when I was really messed up on drugs.” He grimaces. “And it might’ve taken me a couple of times of seeing you until I figured it out.” He pauses for a moment, and lungs on fire from the immobile air stuck in them, I spear daggers at him. “See, it’s those beautiful, fierce exotic eyes that gave you away.”

  Fingernails breaking skin, my fists tighten.

  He can’t know who I am.

  It’s been a year.

  I’ve been patient.

  I’ve been cautious.

  He can’t know.

  “And I really am sorry to have to disappoint you, Jaggs.” His eyes soften as if preparing me for the blow. “But I didn’t kill your sister.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “Liar!” Jaggs comes at me with both fists swinging. “Liar! Liar! Liar!”

  Ducking, I grab her by the waist and spin her around, pulling her back against me. Feet kicking my shins, she struggles to break free. My hold strengthens. “I can do this all day short-stuff,” I whisper in her ear, knowing she’s waited a long time to confront me, so this shit could go on for a while.

  “Fuck you!” Not letting me down, she jerks her shoulders and tries to shake herself free.

  I admire her fight, her spunk, and her determination. It’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to her. Then again, I’m not sure if I’d call what I feel for her an attraction, but it’s the safest word for me to use. “Jaggs!” I crush her small frame closer to me. “Stop and listen.”

  “Never!” She stomps my foot. “Liar! Liar! Liar!” She rants, attacking my foot like it’s a trapped rat.

  “Fuck!” I p
ick her up from the ground. “Fucking stop and listen to me.”

  The battle—hip hitting, feet kicking, and head-butting—lasts for what feels like ten minutes. I gotta give her credit for not giving up so easily. Finally, her fighting body wanes, and her breathing begins to slow. I take the opportunity to talk to her by bending down to her ear. Her sweet, sassy smell tampers my senses. “I know why you came looking for me. I know what you want.”

  “Yeah,” she exhales, muscles relaxing beneath my hold. “What do I want, asshole?”

  “You want revenge, and most likely, you want me dead.” I rest my head against hers. “But I got news for you; you’re not the only one.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me,” she huffs, chest rising and falling beneath my tight grip.

  “Yeah, but the difference between you and all the others…” I brush my cheek to get her hair out of my face. “They have a reason. You don’t.”

  Her body stiffens. “You killed my sister.”

  “Did I?”

  “Yes!” Her back straightens, and I feel her fight refueling.

  “When the bomb threat was reported, I was too far away to get there on time. Not to mention, I was too fucked up to help.”

  “No! I saw your name on the papers. You were in charge. I saw your name on the report, and I saw you there. I remember, it was you. I saw you.” She shakes her head. “It was you!”

  “Yes, you saw me there after the bomb went off. You bumped into me, so upset, eyes red and streaming with tears.” Her body becomes heavy like she might be surrendering long enough to listen to me. I slide my arm up to cradle rather than restrain her. “I was still fucked up when I finally did show up because I had finished a bottle of whiskey on the way over. I knew you could smell the liquor on my breath, see the wear and tear on my face and in my eyes from the drugs, but you were so far gone. I didn’t know who you were, and you didn’t know me, but I’d seen that look on your face before, the look of loss.” I rub my cheek gently against her. “All I could do was take you in my arms and hold you while you cried. You remember that, don’t you?”