Notorious (Rock Bottom #2)

by Jennifer Ann

  Running his fingers back and forth across his forehead like he’s contemplating whether or not to chew me a new one, he swings his gaze over to Stone. “This is Zoe.”

  Stone snorts like his buddy’s a moron. “I know who she is. What’s she doin’ here?”

  I nearly swallow my tongue. He seriously remembers me?

  “She’s our new office girl,” Ryker snaps. “Mess with her and you’ll be out of a job.”

  As I’m bristling from the “girl” title, Stone throws me a blank look. “The fuck happened to Heather?”

  “Like you give a shit?” Ryker shoots back. “I’m surprised you even knew her name.” Then he motions for me to follow him before turning his back on us. “I’ll give you a quick tour of the place.”

  I hurry after him, relieved for any excuse to get the hell away from Stone.

  “Can’t wait to work with you, Zoe,” he taunts behind us.

  “Tell me if he tries messing with you again,” Ryker snarls under his breath, fingers grasping my elbow. “I won’t let anyone mess with you.”

  A smart response sticks in my throat with his arousing touch. Despite all the ways I want to protest the way he’s treating me, like I’m some toy he refuses to share, the desire to feel his hands all over my body spreads through my belly like wildfire. Still, at some point I have to remind him of our arrangement. He’s already paying me an obscene amount to make his coffee. I refuse to complicate things by making him believe I’m his property.

  We advance past mechanics working on various vehicles. Some stop what they’re doing to eyeball me. Ryker’s jaw clenches so tightly that I expect him to spin around and throttle them. For someone with his reputation as a lady’s man, he’s acting oddly jealous. I’m too busy entertaining the suspicion that he sees me as his to actually listen to his grunted explanation of the building, or how things operate.

  In the far back, he points at a wide door with a keypad. “At some point, I’ll let you in on our side business. I’d suggest you keep your mouth shut about everything that goes on back there now that you’re my employee. If we go down, you do too.”

  “Whatever shit you’re involved in, I’m cool with it. I’m not a narc.”

  A slight twitch passes over his lips like he’s fighting against a smile. “What’d I just say?”

  “Right. Mouth…shut.”

  Once we round back to the front, Liam Rooker stands at the service desk, brows furrowed while listening to Stone. I didn’t think it was possible for Rook to be any better looking than he was senior year, but aging has done him wonders. My breath hitches a little with the sight of the three bandmates gathered together. They’re each sinfully hot—even more so than the days they ruled the halls of South Valley. If there comes a day In Disarray makes it big, their fans will trip over themselves for a chance to watch the beautiful men perform in concert.

  A paralyzing case of déjà vu strikes me with the gathering of the crew once known as the South Town Players. It’s a sad reminder that they lost their good friend and drummer, Trask. I sense they feel it too the way Ryker and Rook hesitantly eye each other up.

  Ryker moves behind the counter, tipping his chin at Rook. “Didn’t expect you this early. Find anything?”

  Rook ignores him, catching my gaze. With recognition passing through his expression, a dimpled grin pulls at his lips. “You again, huh? You were known as the smart one back in high school. Why’re you wasting your time hanging around this dickhead?”

  I’d come back with something clever to protect my pride, but my cheeks warm when I realize how it must look after he saw me practically naked, about to kiss his friend. He probably already assumes I’m sleeping with Ryker. And once again, I’m blown away that they all seem to know exactly who I am.

  “I hired her to work here,” Ryker snaps, sounding slightly offended.

  “Whatever you say.” Sniggering, Rook eyes the other guys thoughtfully. “Maybe we should move this conversation somewhere private.”

  Ryker drags me close like he’s afraid they’re going to physically throw me out. “Zoe’s privy to everything that goes on around here.”

  With a grunt, Rook glances over his shoulder. “She’s not the one I’m worried about. Never can be too careful.”

  Tipping his head Stone’s way, Ryker digs his cool fingers into my bicep. “Take him back to the office. We’ll be there in a minute.”

  Then he drags me off in the opposite direction of his friends until we’re behind a wall of auto parts. He releases me, shuffling in closer until the metal shelving unit presses into my back, and our lips are a whisper apart. Those damn eyes of his sear right through my skin, sparking my body to life. His masculine scent slams into me so hard that I can’t say how I stop myself from moaning and rubbing against his crooked leg like a wild animal.

  “This is the only time I’m going to say this, Zoe, so listen carefully. This job is yours no matter what you decide. No strings attached, no hidden expectations. You can tell me to fuck off, and I won’t ever lay a finger on you.” Tongue wetting his lips, his eyes lazily trail down to my mouth. “But I’m going through a lot of shit right now, and could really use some kind of release. After last night, I get the feeling you’re down for it.” His gaze returns to mine as he hesitates. “Just so we’re clear, if anything happens, it would no longer be about the thousand bucks I paid you. Forget about the rain check. Anything we do behind closed doors would be completely separate from our work relationship. But I’d really like to pick up where we left off last night. Something tells me you want it too.”

  With a somewhat hesitant nod, I attempt to swallow. Twice. But my throat’s dry as a bone. Can’t say the same for my underwear. “Y-yeah. O-k-ay.”

  “If you really want this, come back to my place after we close up. I’ll give you a ride home when we’re done.”

  Lips parting, my mind races with all the things we could be “done” doing together. With every deliciously dirty thought, the gnawing ache in my chest travels downward. I push Raven’s warning out of my head, not willing to entertain her delusions a second longer. Certainly there’s nothing wrong with two adults enjoying a night of consensual sex.

  Then he bends until his hot breath covers my ear. “This time I won’t be keeping my hands to myself.”

  As he walks away, a wild tremor of anticipation rips through my stomach.

  5

  Ryker

  Vibrating with nervous energy and a boatload of testosterone, I pace my worn office floor as Rook settles behind my desk, lacing his fingers behind his head like he owns the joint. He didn’t stay too long after Zoe left, and had very little to say aside from asking about my uncle’s return. He was so jacked up over the situation that I didn’t mention I had just come back from meeting with Uncle Marty. The conversation was mostly one-sided as I told him everything I knew about Bender, and the incident leading up to his disappearance.

  Zoe appears with a fresh pot of coffee. Don’t know how I stop myself from growling as I watch her top off Stone’s cup. It’s hard to give Rook my full attention when the anticipation of being alone with her later grows by the second. I can’t stop thinking about those long legs straddling me the night before, or her gorgeous tits in my face. After Rook left, I sat back down in that chair and jerked off to the memory of her dancing, focused on her lingering scent. I’ve never come that much without a chick in the room.

  “Brooke called in an old favor with the Sheriff. They go way back…he’s the only one around here we can trust. She got him to hold off on Bender’s warrant for violating probation. And he hadn’t heard anything about an abandoned Rover anywhere in the metro area either,” Rook reports, jarring me from my thoughts. “Our best bet is to figure out who those guns belonged to, and go from there.”

  “Congratulations,” I snigger. “You flew all this way to tell us what we already knew.”

  Stone shoots me a dark look. “Has to be drug cartel. Who else would deal with that caliber of weapons?” />
  “The Martyrs of Mayhem are into that kind of thing,” Zoe offers, leaning against the desk. “They get their supply from a contact in the military, then turn around and sell them for three times the cost.”

  Rook raises a lone thick eyebrow, grinning her way. Even though he’s happily married, I still want to drop his ass for the flirtatious bullshit. “Oh yeah? How exactly are you informed of MC practices, sweetheart?”

  Zoe shrugs like she’s immune to that kind of behavior. “They’re always hiring girls from Pinky’s to dance at their clubhouse. They don’t hold back on business talk while we’re there.” Her eyes dart over to where I stand watch, fuming over the idea of her dancing for a bunch of rowdy bikers. Makes me want to set fire to the place. She shrugs again. “Once they get shit-faced, you start to hear stuff.”

  “That may turn out to be a viable lead,” Rook says, stroking his jaw. “They might know something about Bender. Will you be dancing there again any time soon? You could be our way in.”

  Hell no. “She quit that shithole last night,” I snap. “Find some other fuckin’ way.”

  Giving me a sidelong glance, Zoe clears her throat. “Actually, I only told my boss I was taking a break. I wasn’t sure how long you’d want me around.”

  “The fuck?” Does she not think I’m a man of my word? No way in hell I’m letting her go back there! Vision tunneled, I open my mouth again with the intention to ream her a new one when there’s a knock on the office door.

  Our new drummer strolls in with his hands shoved deep into his pockets, grinning in Zoe’s direction. Clothes wrinkled, hazel eyes bloodshot, long dark hair a wild mess, it’s a safe bet that he just rolled out of some chick’s bed per usual.

  Morrison was the first to answer the band’s ad. I was sold after he jammed along with us on just one song, even though his personality was a little more laid back than I preferred. But he’s earned his place by playing his heart out at every gig, never missing a practice, and never complaining about anything. Even when we’re not on stage, he’s usual hanging out with us. In a way, he filled Rook’s place in our crew, making it odd as shit to see them both in the same room.

  “What’s goin’ on in here?” he asks in a mildly amused tone. His eyes scan the rest of the room before meeting mine. “Why so serious?”

  Rook’s eyes fall on me, waiting for an introduction, and guilt slices through my chest. It’s the kind of situation I was hoping to avoid as long as he was back. Scratching my beard, I motion to our new visitor. “Rook, this is Morrison.”

  “My parents were big Doors fans,” Morrison explains with a crooked grin, moving over to Rook and shaking his hand. “I think they hoped I’d headline a band like Ryker. Imagine their disappointment when I became the drummer.” He drops Rook’s hand before addressing me. “You wouldn’t answer your phone. Just wanted to check in to make sure we’re still on for that gig tonight.”

  Shit. With Bender’s disappearance, I completely forgot we’re scheduled to play in St. Paul. Without our bassist, we’ll be forced to cancel. At least it’s a win for me. I won’t have to back out of my plans with Zoe.

  Tension crackles through the room as Morrison’s question hangs in the air. Rook’s as stiff as a board when he side-eyes him. “You drummin’ for In Disarray?”

  With a slow shake of my head, I clench my teeth together. “It’s impossible to play without a drummer, Rook, and Trask has been gone for over five years. You thought the rest of us would give up on the band just because you did?”

  Hands balled into fists at his sides, Rook’s nostrils flare. I brace myself, waiting for him to knock me on my ass. Back in the day, he wouldn’t have hesitated. To my surprise, he springs from the chair and storms out of the office.

  Morrison grimaces once he's gone. “Shit. Didn’t know you hadn’t told him.”

  Stone lifts one shoulder. “He’ll live.”

  Meeting Zoe’s curious stare, I blow out a long, deep breath. Can’t say I blame Rook for his reaction. Replacing Trask was hard on all of us. And nothing has been resolved since Rook moved away, absolutely nothing has changed. The guy who stabbed Trask was given another five years on a life sentence he was already set to serve, and no one took the fall for ordering the hit. If Rook still believes Uncle Marty was involved, I’m no longer so sure he’s wrong.

  “This shit has to stop,” I mutter to myself before trailing after him.

  Down the hallway, I’m met with the warm buzz of deep strings plucking out a bluesy little melody. I head into the band’s newest practice room, finding Rook with a bass in hand. After all these years, watching him play in a new environment does a lot of weird shit to my head. He was always the most confident with his instrument, and that clearly hasn’t changed with time. Didn’t realize how much I missed seeing him in his element.

  There was a time the four of us felt like we were on top of the world as a band. Some days Trask and Rook weren’t sure where they’d get their next meal, but their worries all disappeared the second the music started to flow. The band was always therapeutic when the rest of the world seemed to have gone to shit. I guess it still is, because it’s helped ease the pain of losing Trask. Sometimes, when my back’s to Morrison, I imagine it’s our old friend playing.

  Arms crossed, I lean against the doorframe. “Remember the first time we all jammed together?”

  “Trask was so stoned he laughed the entire goddamn time.” His lips curl with amusement. “It was hard to keep going when he was fuckin’ up the beat.”

  “I miss that fucker whenever I pick up a guitar. Almost as much as I miss your smartass pointing out every time we mess up.”

  Rook’s eyes drag up to meet mine. “You’re doing a shit job of honoring his memory.”

  “Because we hired another drummer?”

  “Because you wouldn’t fuckin’ believe me!” He drops the bass back on its stand, face turning crimson. Then he comes at me, eyes dark and narrowed. “Your piece of shit uncle went missing right after Trask was murdered! How can you still think he’s innocent?”

  “I don’t!” I shout back, moving in close enough to deck him. “Not anymore!”

  He blinks rapidly, shuffling back. Voice calmer, he asks, “Since when?”

  I smooth my fingers over my beard, looking beyond him to the empty drum-kit. “I met with him last night, shortly before you stopped over.”

  “The fuck? Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “Because you were already worked up over his return, and I was scared you’d go after him. I didn’t want you to put yourself in that kind of situation now that you have a family.”

  Rook blinks a few times, his expression slack with blatant surprise. Did he think I stopped giving a shit about him? “What’d he have to say?”

  “He claims the feds are after him for something unrelated to the harvesting ring. He was disappointed that I didn’t take over his business while he was gone, and thought I should carry on his legacy. I told him to go fuck himself.”

  His eyes narrow. “Is he back for good?”

  “Don’t know. I honestly couldn’t stand to be in the room with him any longer. Seems convenient he came back around the same time Ben went missing. That’s part of the reason why I’m worried you may have been right about him.” I meet his baffled expression and huff. “I’m fuckin’ sorry, Rook. For everything. Maybe I didn’t believe you after Trask died because I couldn’t face the fact that I was related to a monster. Maybe I didn’t want to accept that my own flesh and blood could’ve arranged to have one of the only people I gave a shit about murdered. Whatever bullshit reasons I had festered with time. We both know I’m stubborn as hell, but I should’ve reached out sooner. I don’t want to go through another fuckin’ day knowing you hate me. Five years of wondering whether or not one of my brothers was living a good life was enough punishment to last a lifetime.”

  He pauses long enough to tilt his head. “You expect me to forget everything that happened between us?”
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br />   “Hell no. I made a mistake, and I’ll own up to it. But I’m hoping we can put our differences aside to find my brother. Maybe someday I can even come out to meet your kid without you kicking my ass.”

  “Not so sure I won’t still kick your ass.” Though he’s still not giving me his usual shit-eating grin, I take the backhanded comment as a good sign. The muscles in his jaw release as his entire body relaxes. He gestures to the drums. “This Morrison guy any good?”

  “He’ll never live up to Trask, but he’s talented.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Who’s playin’ bass?”

  “Ben. He taught himself after he got out of juvie.” Like the rest of us, he figured being a part of something he’s passionate about would keep him out of trouble. It seemed to be working until he disappeared.

  Rubbing at his face with both hands, Rook mutters something under his breath before once again meeting my stare. “Where you playin’ tonight?”

  “Purple Reign. Taking the gig was a crap shoot. The bar changed hands last year, and the new owner doesn’t have the same connections as Jimmy. They’ve had a hard time booking well-known bands when they come to play at the Xcel. But I know the guy who took over pretty well—he’s decent. And we’ve gained a bit of a local following, so you never know.”

  His eyes don’t quite meet mine when he says, “I’ll fill in, if you’ll have me.”

  I wet my lips, waiting for him to change his mind, or admit he’s only fucking with me. It’s way more than I could’ve hoped for when asking his forgiveness. When he doesn’t crack, I nod. “You sure?”

  “I’d have to run through the set list.” With a lift of his shoulder, he finally grins. “I wouldn’t hate the chance to jam with you and Stone one last time.”

  The edges of my mouth bend to match his grin. “We basically play the same damn songs as we did five years ago. And can’t say I’d hate it either.”

  Chin lifted, his expression all at once turns grave. “You hear anything from Sasha since the funeral?”