Rock Rebel

by Tara Leigh

  She coordinated his auditions—the ones he oversaw personally.

  My blood turned to ice in my veins.

  What if Amelia had arranged an audition for Aria?

  I tried calling Verity, but it went straight to voice mail. I left a disjointed message about what I knew, what I thought I knew, and where I was headed.

  Tossing my keys to a valet half an hour later, I strode over to the reception desk and put my phone with a picture of my sister four inches from the clerk’s face. “Have you seen this girl?”

  The woman stepped back. “I’m sorry, sir. We can’t give out personal information on our guests.”

  “She’s not a guest. An Uber dropped her off about twenty minutes ago.”

  “I’m truly sorry, sir. I can’t—”

  I took off my sunglasses and leaned over the desk. “Aria Hughes. My sister. My seventeen-year-old sister. I need to know if she’s here.”

  A flush rose up her cheeks as she made a hiccupping sound in her throat. “I think I need to get my manager,” she said, scurrying off before I could stop her.

  Something about this didn’t feel right. And when I turned around, I knew why.

  Because in the bar, just across the lobby from the front desk, was a familiar face.

  “What the fuck,” I growled, my angry stride covering the ground between us in seconds. “Where is Aria?”

  Amelia concealed the twinge of guilt that pulled at her features with a surprised huff. “Dax? If you wanted to get together for a drink, you should have called first. I’m meeting someone.”

  “My sister?”

  “What? No, of course not.” Her nervous gaze darted to the open entrance, and mine followed.

  Landing on the woman walking through it.

  Verity pulled up short, looking between Amelia and me, green eyes huge in her face, red hair dancing across her shoulders. “Dax.” My name skated through her lips on a gasp.

  Amelia stood up, gathering her purse. “I don’t need to be here for your little reunion.”

  Verity’s stare hardened. “Actually, you do. Aria texted me. She said she was on her way to meet you. She wanted advice for her audition with Jack Lester.” Her eyes bounced to me, guilt and fear swirling inside them. “I’m so sorry. I—”

  Just then a man wearing a suit with the same color scheme as the receptionist appeared behind Verity. “Ah, I see you’ve found each other.” He looked from me to Amelia. “I’m sure she’ll reunite you with your sister.”

  I fucking knew it.

  There was a red haze clouding my vision as I spun on her. “If anything happened to Aria…”

  Amelia swallowed, trying to edge past Verity and me. “I—I’ll go upstairs and get her.”

  “We’re coming with you—and so help me god, if that bastard laid a hand on her…”

  The hotel manager cleared his throat nervously. “We don’t want any trouble here.”

  I wrapped my fingers around Amelia’s arm at the same time as I reached for Verity’s hand, propelling our unhappy threesome toward the elevators. “Then you had better come with us.”

  The ride up to the presidential suite was the longest of my life.

  The video I’d seen of Verity was playing in a relentless loop inside my mind, except that her tear-stained face had been replaced with my sister’s. It was punctuated at random intervals by images of Jack Lester’s face.

  There were no tears coming from his eyes, though. They were wide open, bugging out of their sockets, and filled with fear. Because my hands were wrapped around his neck.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Verity

  If Jack Lester hurt Aria—in any way—I would never forgive myself.

  I hadn’t told Dax that his Amelia was my Millie because I didn’t want his dishonesty to be linked with my mistreatment. Sure, he said he was going through with the divorce, but…

  I was sick of broken promises.

  And so I let my stubbornness get the best of me.

  Now Dax was learning the truth in the absolute worst way possible. Because Aria was in Lester’s crosshairs.

  Fury radiated from Dax’s skin, so thick and potent inside the confines of the elevator, it was suffocating. By the time the doors opened, my head was spinning.

  Dax grabbed the key card from Millie’s hand as we walked down the hall, waving it in front of the sensor at the far end of the corridor. The second the lock disengaged, Dax slammed the door open so hard it bounced off the wall on the opposite side.

  “Dax?”

  I recognized Aria’s voice at the same time as Lester’s angrier, “What the fuck?”

  Peering around Dax’s shoulder, I was relieved to see that Aria was still fully dressed.

  Lester was sprawled on the couch, his white dress shirt open to expose a bloated belly matted with salt-and-pepper hair.

  “Did he touch you?” Dax’s hands were fisted at his sides, his jaw clenched, the vein at his temple throbbing.

  Aria glanced at him, pink patches of outrage appearing on her cheeks as she lifted the sheaf of paper in her hands. “What? Of course not! We were discussing a script.” Her eyes swept over the group of us now crowding into the foyer before landing back on Lester. “I’m so sorry. Please ignore my brother—”

  “Fuck that.” Dax wrapped his arm around his sister’s shoulders and pulled her to his side. “You ever contact her again and you’re going to regret it. You, too.” The last sentence was directed at Millie as he speared her with a withering glare.

  The hotel manager’s obsequious apologies were cut off once the door closed behind us. Aria shrugged off Dax’s hold, her anger a match to her brother’s. “I can’t believe you’re ruining this for me, Dax! You’re not the only one in our family who should get to make it in Hollywood.”

  “Aria.” Her name was a gritted rebuke as he jabbed at the call button for the elevator.

  “Don’t ‘Aria’ me, Dax. You’re not my parent, and frankly, you’ve been a shitty brother.” She folded her arms over her chest, looking every inch the surly teen she was.

  I edged toward the stairwell, not wanting to intrude on what was a very private family moment. And I knew Dax had an uphill battle on his hands. Aria was a smart, angry teenager who wasn’t afraid of her brother in the slightest. When the elevator door opened, I cleared my throat. “Why don’t I leave you guys to—”

  Dax reached out for my hand. “Please, come with us.”

  The question in his eyes burned into me. Will you tell her what he did to you?

  The only reason he hadn’t spoken it aloud was to protect my privacy. The situation Aria had been led into was obvious to everyone but her. Lester was grooming her. But even if I shared my own experiences with Aria, even if I showed her the video—she might not believe me. Or, more likely, she wouldn’t believe that what happened to me could happen to her.

  But I had to take that chance.

  Dax

  I loved my sister. I really did.

  But today Aria was making it very hard to like her.

  She had thrown herself into the backseat of my car as soon as the valet arrived, squeezing into the smallest possible corner and scowling out the window as if she wanted to be anywhere else.

  Standing beneath the covered entrance of the hotel, Verity glanced toward my car. “I think Aria needs some time, Dax. I don’t think she’s in the right mind-set to hear what I have to say.”

  I sighed, squeezing the back of my neck as I rolled my shoulders. “You’re probably right.”

  She put a palm on my chest, right over my heart. “Why don’t you drop her off with your parents, and I’ll meet you at your place. I think we have a lot to talk about, too.”

  For the first time since watching Verity run away from me, I took a deep breath. My gaze found hers, and what I saw sent a rush of hope washing over me. I covered her hand with mine, then stepped forward so that we were toe to toe. My other hand curved around the back of her skull, my fingers pushing into the riot
of red. I dipped my chin, pressing a kiss on her smooth forehead. “I’d like that.”

  It was only a few blocks to the Beverly Wilshire. Aria could have walked, but I was glad she didn’t realize how close the two hotels were. I called my parents before merging into daytime traffic, and they were waiting downstairs by the time I pulled out front.

  They had no idea what had actually happened—nothing, thank god—but watching the way they clutched Aria to their chests, pressing fierce kisses onto the top of her head, I saw the weight of their shared fears for their daughter. And when they turned to me, relief and love written all over their faces, I finally felt like a part of the family again. Being a parent couldn’t be easy, and maybe I needed to grow up and stop thinking the worst of them at every turn.

  The city passed by in a blur as I drove home. Now that Aria was safe, all I could think about was Verity coming over. She was coming home.

  Because that’s what my house was when Verity was with me.

  A refuge. A home.

  And it has nothing to do with floors and doors, walls and windows. It’s the way our heartbeats synched when she was in my arms. The way our hands instinctively entwined when we walked side by side. The way we could read each other’s expressions as easily as the dictionary.

  Beach house. Tour bus. Chartered jet. Fucking cardboard box.

  Verity was my refuge.

  And I will be hers.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Verity

  My phone buzzed just as I pulled into Dax’s driveway. I didn’t want to look at it, wanted to dive within the warm bubble of Dax’s affection. I had gone without it for too long. But what if it was Aria—maybe she had realized how close she’d come to danger and needed to talk?

  It wasn’t Aria.

  Piper: There’s someone you should meet—a journalist writing an exposé about Jack Lester. Apparently there have been rumors about him for years. You aren’t alone.

  I stared at Piper’s text for a long time, at the last sentence of her text. You aren’t alone.

  You aren’t alone.

  It shouldn’t have surprised me, especially after seeing Aria in Lester’s hotel suite with my own eyes. And Lester himself, with his unbuttoned shirt gaping open over his dress slacks. Easy access, he’d once joked to me. Bile rose up my throat at the mental image I’d give anything to permanently erase.

  Nothing had happened between Lester and Aria…But if we hadn’t walked in on them when we did, it would have. Maybe not then, maybe not even next week or next month. But eventually, it would have.

  I slipped my phone into my purse as I walked up the front steps of Dax’s house. Just this morning, I never would have imagined that I’d be back here so soon…if at all.

  I knocked lightly on his door and let myself in. I could see Dax sitting in the deck, a guitar over his thighs. For a moment I just watched him, thinking about Piper’s text.

  She had sent me the contact information of the journalist. Quinn Campbell. What does she know? What did she hear? What has she seen?

  Those questions were uncomfortably familiar. I’d wondered the same about Travis. Fearing what the answers might be, what they would mean for my future.

  Today I had an entirely different set of fears.

  How many girls had Jack Lester hurt? Had my silence back then, and for all these years, allowed him to abuse the women—girls—entrusted into his care? How many lives had he tainted with his particular brand of brutality?

  These were the questions I needed answers to. Plus one more, my own.

  What would it take to stop him?

  Ready or not, whatever the risk, I needed to try.

  Whether Dax wanted to be by my side was a decision only he could make.

  Dax

  “You want me to move in with you?” The frown creasing Verity’s forehead didn’t look anything like the elated grin I was hoping for.

  “We were living together before. It would be the same.”

  “But…it was only temporary. I just rented a place.” Her mouth opened and closed several times as she processed the new information. “And you’re still married.”

  “A technicality.”

  Her frown morphed into a glare. “We’ve had this discussion already. You’re married. End of story.”

  “Now look who is seeing only black-and-white. I think this is one of those mixed-bag situations.”

  “Okay, I will grant that in your case, maybe things aren’t quite so clear cut. But, Dax. If there’s anything I’ve learned through all this mess with my mother and Lester, it’s that I’ve spent way too much of my life ceding control to other people.”

  I gritted my teeth at the sound of that man’s name. “That’s bullshit. Don’t lump me in with him—”

  Verity put a steadying hand on my arm. “Please, hear me out.”

  I gave a shallow nod, squinting against the late-afternoon sun.

  “I trusted a lot of people I shouldn’t have. But the person I never learned to trust was me. I’m trying to do that now, and if you really love me, you’ll understand that I need to take things slow.”

  I stepped closer to Verity, wrapping my hand around the soft curve of her cheek, the silky slide of her hair covering my fingers, my wrist, my forearm. My other hand went beneath her ass, lifting her up so that she was sitting on the railing of the deck, her knees on either side of my hips, ankles interlocking behind my legs. Our faces were barely an inch apart, the green of her eyes not quite tranquil, but not a roiling sea. “True, I want to take care of you. Don’t you know that?”

  Her smile was slow, her dimples deep. “I know you do. And I know your intentions are the very best. If I were a damsel in distress, I’d be grateful. But I’m not. If I want your help, I promise I’ll ask for it.”

  My aggravated groan was carried away on the breeze. “And what if I’m the one in need of rescuing?”

  “I’d better be your first call,” she responded, no hesitation at all.

  A ribbon of steel was woven through her words, and I pulled back further to take in the whole of Verity’s face, the straight set to her shoulders, the determination shining from her stare. “You did, you know. Rescue me. The first time I met you in that elevator in New York. You saved me without even knowing it.”

  Verity wiped a tear away at that admission and then cleared her throat. “Can we talk about today for a minute? About Lester.”

  My head fell so that it rested against Verity’s shoulder, her collarbone a narrow bar pressing against my forehead. “Do we have to?”

  “Piper heard that there are other girls—like me, like your sister.”

  She might as well have reached a hand into my gut and twisted my intestines into a knot. “I wish I could say that I’m surprised.”

  “If I had come forward years ago, maybe there wouldn’t be.”

  I lifted my head, already shaking it. “You don’t know that.”

  “I do. In my heart, I do. I can’t stay silent anymore.” She took a quick breath. “I’m going to tell my story. My career is not nearly as important as making sure Jack Lester never hurts anyone else. And if he goes down, Millie—Amelia—will too.”

  Verity was studying my face for my reaction. As if she expected me to be bothered by what she’d just said. Like I had some kind of connection to Amelia worth protecting.

  The only emotion I felt for Amelia was fury. Sizzling, seething fury that set my veins on fire. “Good,” I said to Verity now. “And after you bury her, I want to be the first to dance on her grave.”

  Verity

  Knowing I had Dax’s support meant everything to me. He made another batch of spiked cider and we spoke late into the night, pulling up her recent articles and taking turns reading them to each other. The next day I contacted Quinn Campbell and set up a meeting.

  On the phone, she said she would come to me, but I wanted to get a sense of Quinn Campbell, beyond her byline, so I’d asked where she was right then.

  As it turne
d out…Quinn Campbell was a hustler.

  That was my first thought as I walked into the downtown pool hall. The place wasn’t far from my apartment, and I didn’t want to wait for any doubts to seep in and chip away at my resolve.

  I had my hair in a ponytail and not a speck of makeup on my face, although I was glad for the deep shadows that divided the pool tables, each lit by a hanging fixture centered above it. There were at least a dozen in the loft-like space, and a long bar that took up an entire wall.

  I’d looked Quinn up online, and I recognized her immediately. But in her head shot she’d been wearing a stiff white shirt and a serious expression. Tonight her face still had that same look of intense focus, but she was wearing skintight black leather pants and a crimson draped top, wielding a pool cue with expert authority as she cleared the table. The man watching her had his arms folded, looking resigned to the fact that he’d already lost.

  I walked to one of the bistro tables set up near the back of the room and took a seat. Quinn acknowledged me with a brief nod, joining me after she’d pocketed her final shot. I was surprised to realize she was so tiny. Five four at most, with a figure that was the reason size zeros were invented.

  “I wasn’t sure that you’d show.” As introductions went, it was another mark in her favor. Straightforward honesty delivered directly.

  I returned the favor. “I wasn’t sure I’d want to talk to you.”

  She quirked a smile. “How about I grab us a couple of beers?”

  “Beat ya to it.” The man she’d been playing slid two Coronas onto our table.

  Quinn accepted them with a sigh. “Thank you. And if you go away, I might give you a chance to win your money back.”

  The man grumbled, slinking off with a forlorn look at Quinn. She turned back to me. “You can drink it. My brother owns this place and I’ve known Chris,” she inclined her head toward the man who had brought us the beers, “since we were kids.”