Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  In times like this, I don’t know who my customers are. I’ve never had a wealthy john, so his presence answered my prayers.

  I should’ve known better than to believe my luck had changed.

  My brother has curled up on the dirty floor and I sigh, rubbing the back of my neck and sneezing.

  I kneel beside Montana and shrug out of the shirt I’m wearing over a tank top and overalls, then ball it up and press it against his bloody, bruised, and swollen nose.

  “Sit up,” I tell him gently. Not waiting for him to comply, I wrap my arm around his shoulder and guide him into a sitting position. We need ice, but there’s none available.

  Before I decide my next move, the door opens again. Even before turning around, I know who it is by his smell. It isn’t the spicy sandalwood that Kiln wore. This is repugnant and nasty, and it chills me to the bone, much more than the cold rain did.

  Chambers takes in the scene with a sweep of his evil black eyes and sneers. He stalks toward me, his boots clumping on the broken tiles and stops just an inch away, looming.

  I’m on the floor, at a supreme disadvantage.

  Digging in his pocket, he takes out a toothpick and shoves it into the corner of his mouth. “Times up. Got my money?”

  If I answer honestly, we die. If I don’t answer, we die. Why did I come here again? Oh, yeah, Montana told me to. I wanted to run. He wanted to stay. Rushing out of the rain and into the haven—such as it is—of this place. Street living is hell.

  Once I got inside and forgot to re-lock the door, I went to my usual booth, letting the enormity of what I faced sink in, soaked to the bone.

  Montana and me are right where we were with Chambers a month ago after my brother stole his money to give to his girlfriend, who promptly OD’d.

  How sweet.

  Montana can be so brainless. He’s three years older than me, but has the decision-making skills of a gnat. If only I’d been here the night he made his bone-headed decision.

  After begging and groveling and one or two extra sex sessions, I got Chambers to give us a month to repay him. He kicked us out as part of our punishment. This shit hole is nothing to brag about, but we were out of the elements. The back of the building also has beds to service my clients.

  Two days ago, and after more groveling from me, Chambers returned the keys to me. If only he’d been here to take the money. By the time, he returned that evening, half the money was missing again. Unless Jenny’s ghost came back and seduced the money from Montana, I can’t understand where the cash went.

  I’m sure Montana knows, but he’s not telling. He doesn’t care that we need this money to stay alive and to get off the streets again.

  Chambers pulls his gun out and fires it.

  Montana’s scream drowns out mine. Blood spurts from my brother’s right shoulder. My mouth opens, but only a squeak comes out.

  Chambers kicks at me, but I scoot back before the blow lands on my person. He advances. Turning on all fours, I crawl to the booth, determined to get away from him. Although I have nowhere to run. No one to save me. If I had a choice, I’d die quick, now, than to be at his mercy.

  He isn’t going to kill me until he’s tortured me.

  I’ve seen him do it. He pokes, prods, and pulls, drawing out screams and feeding on terror.

  I climb over one booth and into the next, where I’d sat with Kiln, taking in his presence, his scent, hoping my luck was changing. He was beautiful, well-dressed and reeking of power. Then, he spoke and pissed me off. I deal with enough assholes. I didn’t need another one. He would’ve made me so nervous, I wouldn’t have given him head right or I would’ve been too distracted to fuck him good. A preoccupied brain makes a preoccupied pussy.

  This goes through my head as I hop onto the table, then sprint from the booth, into the next one, where Chambers meets me.

  “One more step, Raine, and Montana dies quicker.”

  That would save my brother from the torture to come.

  Knowing I’m cornered, I flip Chambers off and he cackles, like the warlock- dickhead he is.

  He yanks me from the booth so hard, I swear my arm comes out of the socket. Asshole. I’m going to make him pay with a chunk of his dick.

  My insolence doesn’t matter. If I suddenly grow a halo and act like an angel. If my horns remain and I spit in his face. Neither makes a difference. He intends to kill us anyway.

  For long moments, we stare at each other. I’m waiting for his retribution. He takes his time. Expectation cramps my stomach. I know he’s going to…He wallops the side of my face. I stagger against the table, my skin burning.

  Refusing to give into my pain, I growl and give him a good, hard shove. Something I’ve always wanted to do. Facing the inevitable is infinitely freeing. I’m going to die this evening, but I’m leaving some marks on this asshole.

  Chambers is quick on his feet and rebalances himself almost instantly. He raises his gun again in Montana’s direction and fires.

  It happens so quickly, so unexpectedly, that the report of the gun seems louder, more frightening, and I jump.

  My brother moans.

  “Next shot is the kill shot,” Chambers informs me. “You want that?”

  He knows I don’t. Asshole. I glare at him, ignoring the pain in my face and my arm.

  “We don’t have your money, Chambers.” I say each word with slow deliberation. “I’d ask for more time but I’ve been dealing with you far too long—” Two years too long. “I know you don’t have a merciful bone in your body.”

  He caresses my throat with the barrel of his gun. Instead of showing my panic, afraid he will fire, I keep my gaze steady.

  “It’s a shame to have all your beauty laid in a bloody heap at my feet.”

  “Finally, something we agree on,” I tell him with biting sarcasm.

  He grins.

  “Do what you’re going to do,” I demand. “There’s no use in drawing this out.”

  “Nooo,” Montana croaks. “Raine, d-don’t.”

  I dare not move to look at Montana, since Chambers is still using his gun to stroke my neck.

  “If you agree to my terms, I’ll let you live,” Chambers tells me.

  “Hip, hip, hooray,” I sneer. “I’m not deserting my brother, dude, so go fuck yourself.”

  “Y-yes,” Montana murmurs around a gasp. “D-don’t worry about m-me. Go.”

  “Shut up,” I say, still not looking at him. “I’ve followed you for the last seven years. I’m not leaving you now. If we die, we do it together.”

  “Walk out the door and let me deal with Montana,” Chambers tells me. “Meet me at my place for special arrangements.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “G-go, Raine,” Montana says again.

  “No.”

  I pretend seeing Montana shot is just another day in my life. I pretend I don’t want to run to him and shield him with my own body. My brother is all I have.

  I didn’t run away with him when I was sixteen to desert him now. Until we got involved with Chambers, we had a pretty good racket going. We’d use a variety of means to steal money to survive. Sometimes, we’d wonder if it would’ve been better staying with our mom and abusive stepdad. Loser and Pig.

  They would’ve crumbled in the face of Chambers’ brutality. I would’ve loved it. Chambers has long kept his thumb on us because his contacts are far, wide, and deadly.

  I almost understand why Montana wanted to come tonight. Almost. But not really. This is the second time we’ve—Montana—has fucked over Chambers’ money.

  When that door opened and Kiln walked in, I thought I’d gotten a reprieve. Found salvation. That’s why I slid into the booth with him.

  Kiln.

  An extraordinary name for an extraordinary man. I don’t really follow Phoenix Rising. Sometimes, I’ll run across a magazine with the band members. I’ve even read about Kiln a time or two. To me, he’s always come across as aloof and mysterious.

  If only I’d broke
n the ice. Gotten on his good side. Not that it matters too much. He is Sloane Mason’s bodyguard. And Sloane Mason is Denver’s adopted son. And, well…hmmm…Kiln.

  Salvation.

  Answer to my prayers.

  Reprieve.

  The words buzz through my head.

  Hmm. My mind shifts into high gear.

  Just because he left without looking back, doesn’t mean I can’t use him. That he can’t become the answer to my prayers. A last hope to save my brother and me.

  Somehow, I have to drown out Montana’s soft moans, block out the sight of his suffering, and convince Chambers to give us extra time.

  “Give us another month,” I blurt, aiming high but willing to settle low.

  Dropping his gun to his side, Chambers laughs. “Another month? You’re out of your mind. Or you think I am.”

  “You are,” I mumble under my breath, then offer him a cheesy smile. “I met Kiln…Kiln…” I search for a last name, but can’t remember it. “Sloane Mason’s bodyguard.”

  Interest lights his eyes. “And?”

  Oh, yeah. Now, we’re getting somewhere. I’ve mentioned a rich man. A bigger mark. However, I’m entering tricky territory.

  I have to play with the truth a little, but that’s what I do and I’m good. If I put my mind to it, I could sell fake moonrocks to an astronaut. “He’s invited me to meet him tomorrow evening.”

  Beady eyes look me up and down. Why do most villains have such weaselly eyes? Does their vileness somehow affect their eyes? Or is it because they have a narrower view of the world and, therefore, a smaller capacity to value life?

  “You ever gonna continue, Raine?”

  I swallow and nod. Lick my lips. “He only wants an hour with me, tomorrow, but he’s here for a month.” That addition might be too much, but I’m desperate.

  “I’m going to fuck him so good, he won’t want to get rid of me.”

  “He can have his pick of any beautiful woman,” Chambers says. “Why would he want a gutter slut like you?”

  I shrug, refusing to admit how much the words cut me. They may be accurate but that doesn’t mean I like hearing them.

  My brother is breathing hard. I haven’t looked at him since he was shot a second time, but I know he’s lost a lot of blood.

  Chambers runs his rough fingertip along my jaw. “I must be going soft but I’m going to give you the chance to get in with him.”

  My ploy worked? Oh, my God. Chambers bought my story? Inside, I do a happy dance that we’re getting away and will live another day. My brother and I are getting a reprieve. Somehow, I’ll get him to a hospital.

  Once Montana’s stable, I’ll figure out what to do about the Kiln lie.

  “Meet us back here tomorrow night at ten,” Chambers’ voice breaks into my elation and relief.

  As I process the words and reality crashes back, despair sinks into me. “U-us?” I know where this is going.

  Chambers nods. “Your brother and me,” he says, confirming my suspicions.

  “But he needs a doctor.”

  He tweaks my nose. “And you don’t have money for one.”

  “He might die before tomorrow night comes.”

  “He will die if you don’t agree.”

  Chambers saunters around me and I turn, following his every move.

  Montana is sweating and pale. He’s in pain and needs medical attention ASAP. Losing my brother is my worst nightmare. Montana, or anything to do with him, is the only person who can bring real tears to my eyes. “You’ve got to help him.”

  He places the barrel of the gun against Montana’s temple.

  “No!” I scream.

  “You’re trying my patience. I’ve agreed to give you an extension. Take the deal and run, or I blow him away right now.”

  Montana gives me a faint nod but I can’t place his life in the hands of Chambers.

  I rush forward. “Chambers, I’ll do whatever you want me to do here and now, if you let me tend to him.”

  “No.”

  The one word is harsh.

  “Please.”

  He cocks the barrel.

  “Fine!” I yell and stumble back. “Fine. I’ll leave him with you.” I look at Montana. Our gazes meet. I search for a way to make my eyes speak. I know they can’t. But I want to convey to my brother how much I love him. How thankful and grateful I am for all he suffered on my behalf.

  I’m afraid to tell him. Chambers would use that as an excuse to hurt Montana, just to destroy me.

  Montana glances away. His pain prevents him from reading my silent emotion.

  “You better be alive when I return tomorrow, Montana. Understand?”

  “Get the fuck out of here,” Chambers orders.

  I don’t waste any time. The clock’s ticking.

  I have to find Kiln to get the money from him. He might think he’s big and bad, and unsusceptible to “gutter whores”, but I intend to prove him wrong.

  Chapter Five

  Resting my feet on the square coffee table, I drink from my bottle of beer as I sit in my brother and sister-in-law’s media room.

  After leaving Drowned Rat Girl last night, I found my car, drove to the mansion and took a long, hot shower. Although I hate to admit curiosity, I wondered if she had become a murder victim or not. Always that small chance, but she wasn’t in any danger, and it so happened I wasn’t in the mood to be played.

  She had trouble written all over her. Besides, I know her type. Female.

  Enough said.

  Now, it’s the next day, late afternoon. and I’ve cleared my agenda to do absolutely nothing. Not even see my mother. I need a break from her.

  Her devastation over Dad and Sloane’s betrayal feeds my bitter anger. It’s no longer a hot ball of fire, but a slow simmer. Planning Sloane’s murder cools the conflagration, but spending time with my poor mom inflames it again.

  I need this break.

  CNN plays on the huge screen. I’m distracted, halfway keeping an ear open for any news of Sloane or Georgie. Anything I might have to take care of to keep the asshole safe for me to seek my revenge.

  Grimacing, I taste my beer again. Whatever my father’s crimes or Sloane’s, Georgiana is innocent. My niece and nephew—innocent. Our aunt, Abby, would grieve herself into stupidness over the loss of Sloane.

  Zelda, the cook Sloane’s known since he was a small boy. Innocent.

  His death would affect each of them. His children would grow up fatherless. Zelda would lose the man she helped to raise. And Georgiana? She would move onto the next man.

  I finish my beer and set the empty bottle on the floor.

  My job is one of the cushiest in the world. Who gives a fuck if I’ll have to put my life on the line, to save Sloane’s? Only my mother.

  Maybe, Jaeger.

  For the first time, it hits me that if something happens to me while serving as Sloane’s bodyguard, my mother will be alone and vulnerable.

  Shit.

  I scrub my hand over my face. It’s a shame how much I love my job. I’m paid well, and I take pride in my work. I enjoy my own version of fame. Fast cars, fast women, and fast living are at my disposal.

  However, my position can end at any minute. After Sloane beat the fuck out of me because I sucked Georgie’s tit and wanted to see her on her back in pornos, he fucking fired me. He has yet to officially hire me back.

  I think he wants me to get tired of his bullshit and walk away. He’s testing my determination. Quitting isn’t in my vocabulary. He’s either going to formally fucking terminate me or tell me my position is secure.

  Moving me from Georgie’s security team back to his own is no longer enough. He had the goddamn nerve to be outraged over my shenanigans with his wife, when he stuck his cock in mine, on more than one occasion.

  Fuck! Soon, none of this will matter. Sloane will be dead.

  “Holed up in here again, baby brother?”

  At the sound of my brother’s voice, I grunt. The nearby noise
indicates Jaeger is beside me. The room, a small version of the theater in the basement, is dark, but for the glare of the huge TV. Carpet absorbed his footsteps.

  Did he creep up on me in a childish attempt to frighten me?

  Suddenly, the screen goes dark and the overhead lights come on.

  Face pinched in disapproval, Jaeger sets the universal remote on the table.

  “What?” I ask with irritation. His humpy face is nothing compared to how he’d look if he knew what I’d been up to yesterday.

  Securing a hitman to kill Sloane, all with Mother’s approval.

  “What?” I repeat.

  “You’re in here, alone, watching the news.”

  “Really?” I make a show of inspecting every corner of the room. “Tell me something I don’t know. Besides, with Sloane out of town, what else is there to do?”

  He shoves a hand through his red hair, then paces. “Mother called me.”

  Warning bells blare in my head. I’m not sure if I’m more alarmed, suspicious or relieved. At worst, she’d tell him what we were planning just to point out what a good son I am in comparison to him. At best, she’d tell him how much she hated him.

  Playing it cool, I keep my face straight, giving nothing away. “And?”

  “You asshole, don’t pretend you don’t know what she told me. Are you really stupid enough to fucking attempt it?”

  “It?” I hedge. Folding my arms, I lift a brow. “What’s it? What it am I attempting?”

  He pins me with a look of disapproval.

  For some fucking reason, heat creeps up my neck. As if I give a fuck what Jaeger feels or thinks. Besides, Sloane never fucked over him, the way he fucked over me. Sloane has been the bane of my existence since he was born.

  My father shoved his three kids aside—Jaeger, Stefanie, and me—and took up with a younger woman who gave birth to Sloane. My mother was never quite the same. Then, Stefanie ended up drowned, and my father told us Sloane did it.

  Except, according to a recording when my father confessed to the crime, Sloane didn’t do it. That change of story really sent my mom over the edge. Seeking her own revenge, Mother tried to take matters into her own hands.