Phoenix Rising Rock Band: The Series

by Kathryn C. Kelly

  “I’ll make this easy on you. Do you want me to go?”

  My tears humiliate me. Why do I have to relent and ask Kiln to stay when he has free will? He’s playing the games. Call me a bitch, but I refuse to allow him to best me. He made this into a war. “Do you want to go?”

  He shakes his head and begins to laugh. “You’re not giving in, are you?”

  “Sure am not,” I say around sniffles.

  “I don’t want to go, Raine. I want to stay in with your little grouchy ass. I want me and my cock to suffer for the next six days.”

  “Seven,” I say, my heart doing a strange little flip and my insides settling at Kiln’s gruff admission. I don’t know where this change came from, but I’ll take it. My heart eases a bit. “We have seven days left.”

  “No, doll. Six. You set these terms last night. Therefore, it’s six.”

  “No, Kiln. I just came up with the terms today. Therefore, it’s seven.”

  “Concede this to me.”

  “In the name of women everywhere, fuck no.”

  “Do I have a feminist on my hands?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Just my luck.”

  We share a grin. Sadness lurks in his eyes.

  He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Bed’s all yours again tonight.”

  I allow the change of subject. “I meant to thank you for that.”

  “I do have some manners.”

  “Very few.”

  He sighs. Nods. Starts to turn away, his shoulders drooping.

  “Kiln?” I call, relenting once again.

  “Yes?”

  I wipe the last of my traitorous, rogue tears away. “I want you to stay here with me or take me with you.”

  We stare at each other. A slow grin curves his mouth and he stands a little taller. “I know,” he says smugly, puffing his chest out.

  Winking at me, he strolls away, his ego back intact. He is, after all, Kiln.

  Chapter Twenty

  Two days ago, after a long, sleepless night, I’d come to the kitchen with the goal of picking up the money. Raine had beaten me to it. She’d sat at the kitchen counter, feet propped up, a standing dustpan on the stool next to her, filled with the money. A broom rested near her.

  She’d given me a saucy smirk. “About time you’re awake. I found a way to get the money without crawling on the floor. Ta-da.” Unnecessarily, she pointed to the dustpan.

  Her maneuver left me speechless. In one swoop, she had the money and had beaten my douchebaggery.

  “You’re smarter than I thought,” I’d grumbled, my mind spinning.

  She’d given me an under-eyed look. “I’m not falling for your bait today, Kiln, my mate. I’m a rich woman.”

  “That’s three hundred dollars,” I’d pointed out. “Certainly not enough to qualify as rich.”

  “Ha! To me it is, jackass, so fuck off.”

  I hadn’t responded as I went from one scenario to the next, searching for a way to get that money from her. Keeping her poor meant keeping her at my side. I needed amusement while I was in town, planning Sloane’s demise, and my getaway plans.

  Heading to the refrigerator, I’d hit upon the perfect way to make her return the cash. Like me, she has a short fuse. And, like me, she doesn’t want to give in. And, like me, she has a huge share of pride. I’m sure some of it is false. Like mine.

  Here we go, I’d thought, about to fuck up all the strides we’d made, keeping life interesting. In my head, I’d intended to humble myself and properly hand her the cash. She was right, after all. I didn’t show her a shred of respect by doing what I did.

  My excuse is my run-in with Dietrech. It’s just that, though—an excuse. Raine didn’t deserve my treatment when she’d been sweet enough to cook and dress up for me. I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’m a self-pitying asshole. However, I’m a frightened, self-pitying asshole. I’m scared to death of falling in love and I’m petrified that any kindness I show will be used, abused, and flung back at me.

  In my effort to not be a patsy, I’ve turned into me. Except I don’t know how not to be who I’ve become. But her tears fucked with my head. Her nudity did a number on my cock. And her determination not to give in to me…well, that awed me.

  I’m supposedly the one with the power over her, but damn it if she lets me have the control. Even though she didn’t want me to leave—it was written all over her face—she wouldn’t back down. She would’ve allowed me to walk out the door and go to another woman. Stubbornness is a big part of her personality.

  However, she’s real. She doesn’t pretend I’m the answer to her dreams. She’s showing me that she won’t do everything—ahem, anything—I want her to do for the sake of stroking my ego.

  “That’s my money, Raine.” I’d pretended to look for food. In actuality, I hadn’t been focused on anything. “You told me you’d cook anything I wanted, if I paid you.” I’d pointed to the dustpan. “Proof that I offered you cash.”

  She’d jerked her bare feet from the counter, covering her legs and thighs, revealed in the robe she wore, opened due to her position. “I said a grand. This is far from that.”

  “That’s all I had in my wallet,” I’d countered. “I would’ve given you the rest after the meal. As I recall, you asked for a hundred dollars a week. I don’t pay in advance. So, again, that money isn’t yours.”

  Mutiny had entered her eyes. I thought sure she’d fling herself at me, feet first, and kick the fuck out of me, in some Hollywood-type karate move.

  “Fine, you fucking prick.”

  She’d given up fairly easy. I’d expected her to dump the money on the floor again. Didn’t happen. Instead, she’d stomped away and I’d left to meet Montana. The dumb fucker was two hours late, so we’d rescheduled.

  Inspiration hit me on the way back to the house. In an effort to make amends with Raine, I’d stopped at a flower shop and bought her a bouquet of roses.

  After all, my chosen amusement can’t be too pissed with me to do her job. Upon arrival, I’d found her alphabetizing the cookbooks. Since the kitchen is the territory of Sloane’s cook, Zelda, I hadn’t said anything to Raine. Zelda would set her straight soon enough.

  I’d stood in silence, watching her graceful movements, her deep concentration as she found a way to busy herself. She was just that independent. Then, I’d smelled something scrumptious and decided to let my presence be known.

  “I brought something for you.”

  She’d jerked around, clearly startled and ready to light into me. Until she saw the bouquet. Her velvet brown eyes had widened. “Flowers?”

  I hadn’t been able to read her mood. Was she happy? Disappointed?

  I’d nodded.

  “For me?”

  “No, Raine. For the invisible woman I keep company with.”

  She hadn’t smiled but neither had she flipped me off or called me a name. She’d just stared at the flowers.

  “I’ve only gotten flowers once in my life.”

  That was criminal. “When was that?”

  “When I turned my first trick. Montana was so happy, he picked me a real Columbine from somebody’s yard. It was so pretty. White and lavender. That’s the state flower, you know?”

  Ask me about Texas and I can recite facts from the top of my head. Any other state? Not interested in knowing. “I didn’t know that.”

  I’d kept my opinion about Montana to myself. He’d celebrated his little sister turning a fucking trick. The asshole. He needed a fist in his mouth again.

  She’d raised her gaze to me, tenderness in her eyes. Whatever I’d done to her, she’d forgiven me. She’d hugged me and accepted her bouquet. For once acting like a girl, who could be tamed with sweet words and pretty flowers. She’d brought her roses to my suite, then finished cooking.

  We’d enjoyed stewed chicken, brown rice, and green beans. We’d had a rare night of civil conversation. We’d even cleaned the kitchen together. Then, I’d coaxed her into sitti
ng next to me on the sofa in the den. I just knew I’d broken down her defenses and would get to fuck her, but after some hot and heavy kissing, she’d pushed me away again. She hadn’t even allowed me to feel her pussy and refused to give me a hand job. She’d left me to jerk off in the fucking shower.

  Now, two days post-meatloaf argument, I’m waiting for her in the foyer, to take her…I scratch my head, unable to believe what I’m about to do. I’m taking Raine on a fucking date. Disaster looms ahead. I feel it down to my bones. My determination to make her feel special annoys me. All the scheming I’ve done to keep her with me, instead of giving her the money and allowing her to decide what to do, irritates me to no end.

  Insults and arguments brew in me as I pace. Then, she appears, dressed in a floral flowy thing with her shoulders out.

  I spin my finger and she understands, twirling herself. The dress is long on her, and she’s three or four inches taller than Georgiana. I can only imagine how it looks on Sloane’s wife.

  I push both of them out of my head. This isn’t the time to drive myself insane with the problems of my family.

  Raine appraises me. “You look very nice,” she says with approval.

  Raine doesn’t bullshit, so I take her at her word, even though I’m only wearing a Polo with a camo nubuck-leather jacket and trousers. Expensive, but nothing special.

  “You look quite pretty,” I return, determined to keep my demons at bay.

  “Where are we going?”

  Ignoring her question, I study her from head-to-toe. Something’s missing from her outfit. When I realize what, I snap my fingers. “You don’t have a purse.”

  “I have nothing to put in one.”

  “Here we go with the money again.”

  Irritation crosses her face, but she heaves in a deep breath. “It isn’t only money. I have nothing else.”

  She’s right, and I feel like a dickhead for pointing her lack of a purse out.

  “I’ve been thinking,” she starts, moving away from her wardrobe.

  I bite my tongue, wanting to snap at her so badly. She’s so sweet. So feminine. All I remember is Dietrech in our early dating days.

  Yet, Raine is different. Unique. Fiesty.

  I’m so fucking aware of her every move. I listen for her at night as I lay on the sofa. I imagine going into my bedroom and engaging her in a battle of wits. I consider telling her about Montana. She deserves to know, but she’ll want to rip my throat out for not telling her as soon as I found out.

  I want to protect her from Montana, Sean, Chambers…myself.

  But I can’t resist thoughts of her. All because she rolled out of a fucking carpet. No wonder Caesar had an affair with Cleopatra.

  It takes balls to do what Raine and Cleo did.

  Another reason I can’t get Raine off my mind is because she is penniless and, yet, she retains hope and optimism.

  She still has pride.

  Somewhere, in me, I have the ability for niceness. I can forget my anger for a few hours. Can’t I?

  “What have you thought about?” I say into the silence.

  Surprise flickers in her eyes at my amiability. She expected the asshole in me to come out. I smirk at her.

  “The past day and a half has been so nice. No bickering or pettiness.”

  She looks at me, expectant, awaiting my comment. When I remain silent, she continues. The disappointment on her face is hard to miss but easy to ignore. I’ve honed that skill to perfection. What I don’t want to deal with, I pretend doesn’t exist.

  “Maybe, we can try to compromise. Find a solution to our differing opinions that we both can agree with.”

  She wants to be agreeable and not argue? Why? My guard goes up. She’s being inordinately nice and reasonable.

  “Talk things over like adults,” she adds, her eyes sparkling.

  My skin prickles. Compromise means neither her way or my way, just a meeting of the minds. However, that won’t be the case. She’ll soften me up, lure me into believing she’ll meet me half way, then maneuver it so she’ll forget about what I may or may not want.

  “What do you think?”

  She’s up to something. For once, though, I keep my thoughts to myself. She already knows of my mistrust. Tonight isn’t about me. It belongs to her. She needs a real date. She needs kindness.

  I clear my throat. “We can try that,” I tell her, to avert a discussion.

  She smiles. Unable to resist, I pull her into my arms and kiss her. Immediately, her mouth opens and our tongues meet. Her body curves into mine. She tastes of mint and sweetness. I could plunder her mouth for the rest of the evening. My hand goes to her tit and, as usual, she ends our kiss.

  Her dazed eyes boost my ego.

  I grin at her. “Are you ready, doll?”

  “Yeah, although you still haven’t told me where we’re going.”

  “You’ll see when we get there. Trust me.”

  She nods without hesitation. Whether she knows it or not, she trusts me.

  ◆◆◆

  After riding a while and answering Raine’s random questions about the scenery, and other insignificant gibberish, we reach my destination. One of my favorite restaurants. It’s elegant yet earthy, and she’s definitely dressed for it.

  As I place my hand on the driver-side door handle, she does the same on the passenger side. I touch her arm. “Allow me. I want to be a gentleman for you tonight. A man…” You deserve. I refuse to complete the sentence out loud. “A man who was brought up with manners,” I finish.

  Instead of opening the door, she places her hand back on her lap, satisfied at my words.

  Marveling at how easily she complied, I get out of the car and walk to the passenger side, opening the door.

  She’s so fucking gorgeous, looking at me with awe and something else—suspicion. My are-you-trying-to-play-me attitude has invaded her and she conveys it with a look.

  I smile at her, holding my hand out.

  She places her hand in mine, allowing me to assist her to her feet. “What’s going on, Kiln?”

  She doesn’t have to see into my mind, to doubt my intentions. We are kindred in our mistrust of everyone.

  “You deserve a nice evening on the town,” I explain with sincerity. I had this date planned before she gave her little speech. “If you have rethought your actions and would like to find a way to compromise, then I can try and overlook my need to always win.”

  We hold hands longer than necessary. Despite the hardship she’s been through, her hand is so delicate and soft. Like she is, behind her rough and unyielding façade. Holding her gaze, I bring her hand to my lips and kiss the back of it.

  “Raine,” I whisper with a slight bow.

  She surprises me with a quick curtsy. “Kiln,” she returns in a sweet voice.

  Hand-in-hand, we walk from the parking lot behind the restaurant to the front door. As usual, I’ve bypassed the valet service. Some idiot looking for a quick buck might alert the paparazzi of my whereabouts. It’s happened before. Most of the time, the vultures are searching for Sloane. Once or twice, however, I’ve been their target.

  As we enter the restaurant, we find a small crowd of people waiting to be seated. A well-dressed woman does a double take, then whispers to her friend, pointing in my direction. They grin at me as I start past them, tightening my grip on Raine’s hand.

  “Ladies,” I greet, breezing toward the hostess station.

  The woman I first noticed steps in front of me, forcing Raine and I to stop. “You’re Sl-Sloane M-Mason’s bodyguard?” she breathes.

  “I am, but he isn’t here. He’s with his wife and kids, babe.”

  Fingers shaking, she opens her little handbag and pulls out a business card holder. Once she gets a card, she holds it out to me. “All of my information is there.” Lust fills her eyes and she flushes. “Call me later.”

  Raine is quiet and still beside me. A glance at her reveals nothing but an enigmatic look. The woman allows a flicker of
consideration for the girl on my arm, then returns her attention to me.

  I want to take the card. I should take it.

  Raine is only a passing amusement for me, so why should I turn down free pussy? Except I don’t want to stick my cock in another woman I’ll forget an hour after I leave her.

  I shake my head and she drops the hand holding the card.

  “Sorry, doll. I have my entertainment…” No, shit. I can’t do that to Raine. Insinuate she’s some high-priced whore I’ve paid to keep me company. I raise our joined hands. “My date.” It still implies something untoward.

  “I’ll spend the evening with you at no charge.”

  She’s forcing me into putting a moment of truth into words. I hope Raine doesn’t get the wrong impression. “I’m not interested, miss. The woman on my arm is the one I want with me.”

  The stranger frowns at Raine, then she sighs. “Fine. May I have your autograph?”

  I smile. “That, I can provide.”

  Using the same business card she attempted to give to me, I sign my name and walk away. Interesting. Throughout that conversation, I only released Raine’s hand to scribble Kiln, before reclaiming it. I wait for annoyance, the same old sad song, but my demons are silent, leaving me free to enjoy this time.

  As we move toward the station, the woman squeals.

  “Kiln,” the hostess, Camry, greets. I’m well known here. My table is off-limits to anyone but me, and whoever else I approve.

  “Camry,” I respond.

  We’re on first-name basis for a couple of reasons. Once upon a time, she was one of my favorite strippers. I didn’t think she belonged where she was, so I pulled a few strings and got her this gig. But the main reason is because I’ve fucked her countless times over the years. We both know it was meaningless, so she doesn’t blink an eye at seeing Raine on my arm. Suddenly, I blink.

  I’ve never brought a date to the restaurant. Yet, here I am with Raine.

  I remind myself of Dietrech’s—no, Sloane’s—betrayal. For once, I don’t care. I feel light. Free. It might be fleeting, but, for now, I revel in it.