Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “I want to be a good mom.”

  He wipes Bryn off carefully, talking to her as he goes along. She’s enraptured by him and stares, patiently allowing her daddy to clean her up and dress her for bed.

  “You’re a wonderful mother,” he tells me, pulling her pacifier from the side pocket of the bag. He places it in her mouth, then picks her up and starts to rock her. “Going for a ride won’t make that any less so.”

  “Won’t it be selfish with the danger?”

  “It wouldn’t be selfish,” he swears. “It would be you enjoying yourself. Having a little fun is healthy.”

  My conversation with Meggie runs through my head. We talked about everything and she was open and honest with me, offering me advice and the same friendship she gave to the other women. I’m sure she gets on the back of Outlaw’s bike sometimes. I could always ask her before I make my decision, although I already anticipate she’d encourage me to go.

  Just as she’s telling me to open up to Sloane about Kiln. I just don’t know how to fix my mouth to begin to talk about that.

  Sloane has fallen silent, stretching out next to me, and singing to Bryn who’s just about asleep. His searching gaze is on me, as if he’s waiting for me to talk. Guilt eats at me, though I know he just wants an answer.

  “I’ll go.”

  He smiles in satisfaction, then returns to staring at me.

  “Is something wrong?”

  One last, searching look before he nods. “Outlaw has offered to release my father’s confession. I intend to let him do it when we return to Denver.”

  After discussing the coming chaos when the recording is released, Sloane and I talk almost all night about his family and mine. Having an ending in sight is both relieving to him and distressing, so his nostalgia is understandable. A lot of what he tells me about his childhood is good. Most, he shared with me when we were in Denver last year. Listening to him, I hear the love he’s had for music his entire life. That observation leads to stories about his life on the road. At one time, the band traveled almost three hundred days a year. I already knew he obliged any woman who wanted in his bed, though I don’t like hearing about it.

  As his story about angry sex with Steffie’s BFF ends, I watch Bryn as she sleeps, not commenting. She’s between us. Sloane lifts up on an elbow and fingers my hair.

  “I love you,” he stresses.

  “Why did you tell me about your groupies?”

  “It’s hard talking about my band without telling you about the groupies, Georgie. As for Brenda, she was a dynamic in my life because of Stefanie. Talking about them reminded me of her. I ran into her a few weeks ago,” he says casually.

  Jealousy hits me hard and I stiffen. “Did you sleep with her?”

  “No,” he snaps, and tells me she was preparing to stir up trouble by claiming Sloane fathered her son.

  “You didn’t, right?” I ask in a small voice.

  He caresses my cheek. “No, sweetheart. If I had, she would’ve been after me to acknowledge him years ago. She’s fucking manipulative and an attention whore.”

  “Maybe, you should do a DNA test,” I say. “Your reasons for claiming the little boy isn’t yours aren’t valid. Motherhood might’ve changed her and she didn’t want to subject her son to the media.”

  “The last time I fucked her was prior to my sister’s death. I saw her a few months later and she wasn’t pregnant.”

  I frown at the idea of anyone else having Sloane’s baby. “You’re so fucking lucky your dick hasn’t fallen off,” I say sullenly.

  He scowls. “I get regular STD checks, Georgiana, and come up clean every time.”

  “Not for your lack of trying to change the fucking results, Sloane.”

  My response startles him, but he laughs.

  “I wouldn’t have risked you with unprotected sex if I carried a disease.”

  “I was stupid. So enamored of you I didn’t think to ask. I wouldn’t have gotten pregnant if I’d insisted on condoms all the time.”

  “Do you regret having her?” he asks, laying against the pillow and stroking my hair.

  “No.”

  “We bought condoms and ran out. As the older one, I should’ve taken better care.” Sadness enters his eyes, “I’m sorry. You’ll never know how much I regret leaving you pregnant and alone. But we’re together now. When you’re pregnant the next time, I’ll be there with you.”

  “A week after my birthday, you’re leaving for six months.” That’ll be a hard test because I know what happens on the road. I saw it firsthand. “I wish I could come with you.”

  “You and Bryn on the road with us?” he asks as if it’s the most horrible idea in the world.

  Meggie advised me to ask for what I want. “I want to travel with the band.”

  “No.”

  “Fine,” I mumble, though my feelings are hurt.

  “Next topic,” he says with a sigh. “Would you like to be in our new video?”

  “I’d like to come on tour with you and be your onstage dancer.”

  His lips tighten. “The fucking video or nothing.”

  I don’t answer. Instead, I say, “I’m tired,” and curl around Bryn.

  When he awakens me a couple of hours later, he looks refreshed and ready to ride.

  “We’re going to the club to listen to the recording when we get back. Meggie has breakfast ready.”

  “Okay.”

  In his opinion, we’re past whether I go on the road with them or not. I get with the program and move on as well. Sloane isn’t going to change his mind. Either I accept it or be miserable.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Georgie and I, along with Bryn and Abby, arrive home after two productive days at the MC. The video and audio are exactly what Helen promised. My father confessing and the reasons why he did it. The Death Dwellers have considerable power, obtained through murder and mayhem, but quite useful. They offer me an honorary membership, which I accept, surprised when some of the members want my autograph for their old ladies or daughters.

  Psycho Stalker Wildman, a title that cracks me up, or Outlaw, gave Georgie a T-shirt with their grim reaper emblem and Property of Sloane Mason on the back. Meggie promised to send Georgie a cut with those words, similar to what the other old ladies have.

  Val convinced Mortician to pull out his instruments and he and I ended up jamming together in Outlaw’s man cave, a room in his house Meggie designed to replicate the main room at the club. Meggie, Bailey, Kendall, and Zoann enjoyed the impromptu session. Georgie clapped for him, but glared at me with the force of fucking Darth Vadar.

  “You got a pissed lil’ motherfucker on your hands,” Outlaw commented, when she’d sashayed behind Meggie. Georgie connected with Megan Caldwell, another bonus. Meggie was even closer in age to Georgie than Abby.

  “I want to fucking surprise her,” I exploded and he invaded me for a moment because every other word out of my mouth was ‘fuck’. Or, maybe, Georgie had me that frustrated. “I’m spending millions on a fucking tour bus to fucking surprise her for her birthday,” I growled, then explained the conversation.

  “Simple shit. Your woman think you gonna stick your cock in other bitches.”

  “I told her I’m past that.”

  “Well, fuckin’ sayin’ and fuckin’ doin’ two different fuckin’ things.”

  I glared at him.

  “I ain’t tellin’ you no more ‘bout your fuckin’ disrespectful looks to my fuckin’ ass. Your eyes in fuckin’ danger of bein’ plucked the fuck out.”

  “Don’t feel bad,” Johnnie said, “even I’ve gotten a similar threat.”

  “Even you?” I echo.

  “What you see with John Boy not what you getting,” Mortician said. “So if he back down from Prez, don’t feel like a bitch ass that you do.”

  “Just pretend you don’t give a fuck she’s mad,” Val had called, getting off the topic of Outlaw plucking out my eyes. “She’ll give you the best head in the world when
she realize she was wrong.”

  Outlaw frowned and backtracked to Val and knocked him on the side of his jaw.

  “Meggie gives you head,” he complained, “so what’s wrong with your sister doing it to me?”

  No one, except me, blinked when Outlaw knocked Val out with a punch. They went on with the discussion, bringing Val back into the conversation a few minutes later when he staggered to his feet as if nothing happened.

  Now, as I walk into the auditorium and Kiln heads toward a seat, I yank him to me and slam my fist into his mouth, followed by another hit to his nose. Since late last night, I’ve been anxious to get to rehearsals. I wanted him away from Georgie when I beat his ass.

  “Asshole,” I roar, mindless of the shouts from Maitland and Jaeger. Adam and Quint rush from the front row toward us. “You fucking touched my wife?” I pummel his left eye. “Sucked her tit?” Right eye is next. “Wanted her to suck your cock for money?”

  I’ve said too many words. He twists away and grazes the side of my head.

  “I’m surprised it took her this long to tell you.” He clips my chin.

  “She didn’t tell me, motherfucker.”

  He staggers back when I ram his stomach. Grabbing my ankle, he elbows my calf. I stumble to the floor, using the opportunity to punch him in the mouth again.

  Jaeger yanks my shoulders. “Get the fuck up, Sloane.”

  One backhand of my fist knocks Jaeger on his ass.

  Distracted, Kiln sneaks a good punch to my jaw. I’m bloody, but he’s fucking bloodier.

  “How does it fucking feel, knowing I touched your woman?” he snarls.

  I kick him in the nuts, knocking his head against the base of one of the seats. “I should cut your fucking tongue off. What the fuck is wrong with you?” My fists pound his face. “Everyone fucks over Georgie. She’s a pawn to all you assholes. You didn’t get the message when I fucked up Crowell? You’re not going to the fucking hospital. I’m sending you to the fucking cemetery.”

  By the time Adam and Maitland drag me away, Kiln isn’t even conscious anymore and his face is a bloody mess.

  “Dude, he’s down,” Maitland says and scratches his head. “He’s in bad shape, so just, um…”

  I’m in bad fucking shape, too. Kiln’s muscles are a little bulgier than mine. He gave me a few good hits. Territorial encroachment and outrage at his disrespect to Georgie gives me the edge.

  “Uh, sir, should we call an ambulance?” Pres asks hesitantly.

  “Yeah,” Adam answers, then looks at me. “Get back to the house. We’ll say we found Kiln like this and assume he was jumped or some shit.”

  Too bad my fucking father isn’t here to get jumped. I spin toward the door, ignoring the little fucking stars dancing in front of my eyes.

  “What happened to you?” Georgie squeaks, forty-five minutes later when I walk through the door.

  Abby halts her fingers on her laptop keyboard and stares at me in shock.

  Ignoring her and thrusting my hands through my hair, I glare at Georgie. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell me Kiln sucked your tit?” I fume, livid enough that steam should blast from my ears and nose.

  “The cameras were on,” Georgie guesses on a groan.

  Bryn whines in her little swing, but I block Georgie in her seat, so Abby picks her up and hurries away.

  I don’t miss a beat, picking up where our conversation left off and addressing Georgie’s response. “You bet your fucking ass. I can’t believe that motherfucker touched you. If you’d wanted him, that would be fucking bad enough. You didn’t.” Being angry with her is a dickhead move, but I can’t help it. “You should’ve fucking trusted me with that.”

  “I didn’t want you in a fight or hurting him like you did Crowell.” She stumbles back and I realize I’ve growled at hearing that fucker’s name, although I haven’t taken a step toward her. But I’ve just beaten my brother to a pulp. I’m all bloody. And now, I’m sure I’m wild-eyed. Yet, her reaction pauses me.

  “You know I’d never lay a hand on you.”

  The panic in her eyes makes me sigh and diminishes my fury. Without saying anything else, I guide her to our bedroom, close the door and hug her.

  “I’m sorry, Georgie. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

  She nods. “I’ve ordered out and the food should be here in an hour. I didn’t expect you to return now. Let me go check on Bryn, then I’ll set the table.”

  “Save the table setting until later. Let me take a shower and wash away the blood.” I really want to invite her to join me, but she wants to check on Bryn, although the baby is in no distress and is fine with Abby.

  Taking her hand, I bring it to my lips, then escort her to the nursery. Abby is whispering on her phone, jumping when we walk in. Bryn is in her bed, content with her pacifier and fixated on the spinning mobile. I pick her up and kiss her. We stare at each other, the only way we bond. I rarely feed or dress her, though I’m quite happy with the clothes Georgie keeps her in.

  Light flashes around me and I blink, lifting my head. Georgie’s holding her phone, snapping photos of Bryn and I.

  “Fuck, Georgie, I thought we’d been invaded by the Paps.”

  She giggles, rushing to my side and turning the phone toward us. I’m over a foot taller than she is, so it’s impossible for her to get a decent shot. Laughing, I claim the device and hold it out, capturing several shots of the three of us.

  “I look like a boxer after a prize fight,” I tease, handing her the phone back, admiring the snapshots as she scrolls through. Georgie is so photogenic.

  “You look like the sexiest dad ever.”

  Desire shines in her eyes and I wink at her, my need for her almost ruining my determination to follow her lead and take things slowly. This is the first time since we reunited that she’s looking at me like a sex object, as if she wants me as much as I want her. She has yet to regain that sex drive I enjoyed so much about her prior to Bryn’s birth.

  Clearing my throat, I hand the baby to Georgie. “Shower,” I tell her, leaving before I do something stupid like lay Bryn in her bed, yank Georgie into the hallway, and fuck her as I once did.

  The hot water relaxes my muscles and diminishes the last of the lingering fury that I shoved aside during my time in the nursery. Expecting Georgie to have Bryn with her or to still be in the nursery, I’m surprised to find her alone in bed. Her head rests on her drawn up knees and her black hair fans around her, hiding her face from view and blanketing her back. She’s deep in thought, only alerted to my presence when I toss my towel over the nearby chair. The moment she sits up, my gaze drops to her bare breasts, vaguely aware of the still healing wounds on her shoulder and arm.

  Her nudity distracts me from anything else. My cock stiffens and my nuts throb.

  Rising from the bed, she glides to me, stopping inches from my body and searching my face. Neither of us speak. I should. This is a big step for her and a turning point for us. She flattens her palm against my chest and skims her fingers down to my dick. Her touch makes me clumsy with anticipation, completely destroying my smooth moves and speaking capabilities.

  Arm around her waist, I lift her up and dislodge her hand. Fastening my mouth to hers, I guide us down onto the bed, encouraged by her soft moans. I massage her nipple between two fingers, enjoying the taste, texture, and feel of her.

  My tongue glides down her neck, pausing to taste the nipple I’ve neglected, before continuing down to her cunt and burying my face against her. I lick from the top of her pussy to her delicate opening, grunting when she widens her legs and threads her fingers through my hair. Nose against her clit, I tongue the inside of her lips, worshipping her with the pleasure she deserves and craves.

  Whimpering, she shudders against my mouth, her taste the most addictive drug I’ve ever indulged in, her soft cries and the wet heat filling my mouth removing all sense of time as I feast on her pussy. The intensity of her orgasms increase with each one she has. Her pussy is flushed and engo
rged, her juices glistening on her cunt lips and sliding down to her ass.

  Rising above her, I guide my dick into her, her thighs cradling me. She arches into my thrusts, the feel of her hot depths electrifying my nerve endings. “You’re so fucking wet.”

  She groans. “I love the feel of your dick in me, Sloane.”

  She’s trying to fucking kill me.

  Licking my chin, she tastes her pussy juice, then sucks at my tongue, her muscles squeezing my cock.

  “Fuck, Georgiana.”

  Her nails sink into my back, the pain turning into pleasure the moment I feel the sting. Grabbing her hands, I trap them above her head.

  “I’m yours,” she whispers between gasps. “Body, heart, and soul.”

  There’s so much I have to say to her. What she means to me and what she’s given to me. But I remain silent, lost in the pleasure of her body, balls deep in her cunt.

  She attempts to free her hands.

  “Come for me,” I order, not releasing her. As she trembles and fills my head with sexy little cries, I suck her neck. Her cunt throbs and drenches my cock.

  Unable to hold back, I come in a hot stream, her hands still imprisoned and my heart irrevocably enraptured.

  Five days have gone by since Sloane beat Kiln to a pulp and I regained enough confidence to initiate lovemaking. As he confronted me about Kiln and, later, I watched him with Bryn, I remembered the mutual attraction that first brought us together. Not only is he my husband and friend, but my lover, too. I trusted him with my heart, I could trust him with my desire and not worry that if I went to him for sex, he’d see every little flaw in my post-pregnancy body. Sloane is still Sloane and I’m still me. Our passion for each other hasn’t abated.

  My shooting had spooked him, though, and my issues with sex before then had thrown him off-kilter. Sloane was accustomed to easy sex from whoever. He needed me to go to him and he needed to feel desired and wanted. He needed to feel like my man. All it took was a first move and I knew Sloane would take over.

  Our lovemaking worked out well, but he’s still so pissed he doesn’t want Kiln in the same house as me, despite Jaeger’s pleas and Rand’s demands that Sloane allow Kiln back on his team. His ‘or else’ doesn’t faze Sloane at all. We’re seven days away from Eureka aka the release of Rand’s drunken confession to Steffie’s death.