“Okay, so what do you mean by ‘making this public?’ Take out an ad?” Carmen asked.
“Nope. We get it on the entertainment news.”
“What, like TMZ?” Jenna asked.
Sasha shrugged. “Someone would be interested in this story. Someone would at least check it out, don’t you think?”
Jenna nodded. “I guess. And how do we do that?”
“I’ve got a friend from college who works at the Denver paper,” Sasha informed them. “She does concert reviews and entertainment stuff.”
Jenna let out a huff. “The Denver paper is not going to run a story like that.”
“No, but she may have contacts in LA or New York with the kind of outlet that would be interested in a story like that. Come on, Rock’s hottest new star has a love child. That’s primo stuff.”
Carmen slouched, folding her arms. “It’s not our business. This is bullshit and I think it’s wrong. There’s no way Rayne would want this.”
Sasha leaned forward. “When he pays her beaucoup dollars in child support, she’ll thank us.”
Carmen leaned forward, meeting her halfway. “I wouldn’t be so sure of that.”
Sasha put her hand up. “Look at it this way. It’s not common knowledge, but Connor Motor Works is struggling. Rayne’s afraid she’s going to lose it all. She needs this money. Why should she have to shoulder all the financial responsibility for this child on her own? Doesn’t he owe his share? Isn’t that only fair?”
“You’re right, but I don’t want to humiliate her,” Jenna backtracked.
“Look, if you don’t want to be involved, fine, but I’m doing it. Or at least I’m going to try,” Sasha insisted.
“Why would they believe you?” Carmen asked.
Sasha hesitated a moment. Why indeed? “I’ve got that video I took of them doing karaoke together. That proves they know each other. I’m sure it wouldn’t be too hard for a reporter to get the information that he had a motel room at the Birchwood the same night we did. As for her being pregnant, I guess I’ll be referred to as “a reliable source.” That or they can get pictures of her—she’s starting to show, you know.”
“Even if it goes public, doesn’t mean he’ll do the right thing, not unless she takes legal action,” Jenna reasoned.
“Well, maybe I can sell that video to whoever will buy it and give her the money. At least she’d have something.”
“This is wrong,” Carmen protested again.
“No, him knocking her up and walking away scot-free is wrong! Him putting her life story in a song without even telling her is wrong! Him lying to her about being in a fucking band is wrong!”
“Fine! Do what you’re going to do, but I want no part of this!” Carmen moved to scoot out of the booth and leave, but Sasha stopped her with a hand on her arm.
“Do not say a word of this to Rayne, Carmen. I mean it. Nothing may come of this, and there’s no sense upsetting her if it doesn’t work out.”
“Fine.” Carmen jerked her arm free and walked out.
Sasha moved to the other side of the booth and began eating Carmen’s fries. “You’re not walking to the door, so I take it you’re okay with this?”
Jenna shrugged. “You’re right. We have to do something, and he needs to pay his fair share. Rayne tried to contact him, and besides, I’m still mad he blew her off and never called her.”
Sasha smiled. “Never underestimate the power of a woman scorned—or her girlfriends to fuck you over on her behalf.”
“Cheers to that, sista!”
Chapter Twenty-one
The sun was setting as Rory walked into Westwood Tower and strode to the reception desk.
“May I help you sir?” the concierge asked.
“Can you call up to #4100 and tell Mr. O’Rourke that his brother, Rory is here.”
“Very good, sir.”
A few moments later, a doorman was escorting him up to the 41st floor. Liam swung the door wide. “What are you doing here?
Rory brushed past him, his duffle bag in hand. “I’m going to try to find Rayne.”
Liam followed him into the living area. “That chick Max tattooed?”
“Yes.” Rory looked around the room. Jameson was slouched on the sofa, a rocks glass in his hand while Max was at the bar, pouring himself one.
Jameson stood. “Surprised to get the call that you were downstairs.” He moved to him and gave him a one armed hug. “How are you? You work shit out in your head?”
“Yeah. I’m going to find Rayne, the girl I wrote that song about.”
Jameson nodded. “I see.” He lifted his chin toward the bar and guided Rory that way. “We were just having a pre-dinner drink. You want one?”
Rory huffed out a laugh. “Is that a test? See if the drunk can turn down liquor?”
Jameson grinned. “Maybe.”
“I’ll have a cola,” Rory said.
Max poured him a glass and slid it in front of him. “So, what’s your plan?”
“I’ve got a list of motorcycle shops. I’m gonna hit each one of them. I was kind of hoping you guys would help me.”
“Sure,” Max said.
“I’m in,” Liam offered, leaning an elbow on the bar.
They all looked at Jameson, who ran a hand down his beard. “Hey, look, about that list of places—” His cell phone went off, interrupting him, and he took the call. Moving quickly across the room, he picked the remote up. “Okay, babe. Thanks.” He hung up.
“What’s up?” Liam asked.
The screen came on, and Jameson ignored him, flipping through the channels, finally stopping on one. They were just coming back from commercial break.
The host of an entertainment show stood smiling.
“As we teased before the break, we have a hot story we’ve uncovered.”
They flashed up a photo of Rory.
“Does rock’s hottest new artist have a secret love child? Reliable sources say the two met at a motel outside Vail Colorado last summer.”
They played a video of Rory and Rayne signing Karaoke.
“The woman involved is Rayne Conner, owner of Connor Motor Works in Denver. Our sources can confirm that the two were both checked into the Birchwood Motel on the same night six months ago. Which fits the timeline considering reliable sources also say Ms. Connor is now six months pregnant.”
They flashed some footage taken at a distance of Rayne walking into the motorcycle shop.
“You know that chick, Rory?” Jameson asked.
Max pointed at the screen. “Hey, that’s the chick I tattooed…wait…you said she was the one…”
Rory sat down, his gut twisting. She was pregnant?
“We reached out to both Ms. Connor and Mr. Rourke’s management for comment but as of this airing have not heard back. We’ll keep on this story and report any”—the host gave a cute little insinuating wink—“developments.”
“Bitch,” Jameson snarled.
“Did you know about this, Rory?” Max asked quietly.
He shook his head and ran both his palms down his face. He stood up, felt lightheaded, and sat back down. He whispered, “Holy shit.”
“It won’t be long before the paparazzi swarm Brothers Ink,” Liam said.
“Paparazzi in Grand Junction? Get real,” Max said.
“He’s not wrong,” Jameson quietly corrected.
Rory didn’t give a fuck about that, but he didn’t like the fact that they would be hounding Rayne. He surged to his feet again. He couldn’t let that happen. He had to protect her. “I need to get to her. Anybody know where that shop they just mentioned is?”
Max began searching it on his phone.
Rory’s phone went off. He pulled it out and glanced down. Lou. Shit. He put it to his ear. “Yes, sir.”
“You see the story that’s breaking all over the news?”
“I just saw it.”
“We need to do damage control. So I need to know… Did you sleep with this girl? The tru
th, kid.”
Rory sat back down and pinched the bridge of his nose. He didn’t like where this conversation was going. “Yes, I did. I had no idea she was pregnant, though.”
“How do you want to handle this? You want us to deny it?”
“No!”
“Is it yours? You’re sure?”
“I don’t know, but if she says it is, I believe her.”
“She didn’t say shit. This is all speculations and ‘reliable sources.’”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Do that, then get back to me. I need to know something before the morning shows jump all over this. Got it?”
“Yeah, got it.”
“And just so you know, kid, won’t be long before the press find you.”
“Thanks.” Rory disconnected the call and looked at each of his brothers. “I need to find her. Will you go with me? I need you guys.”
They looked at each other.
“Yeah, bro. Of course,” Max answered for all of them.
“I think our devil may care brother has fallen hard for this chick,” Liam murmured with a smile.
Rory had been crushed, thinking he might never find her. Now, he was more determined than ever to see her again.
“Word is going to get out about you being in Denver,” Jameson warned.
“I don’t give a damn about the press, the tour, any of that shit…I just want to find Rayne.”
Jameson nodded. “Then we’d better do it quick.”
Chapter Twenty-two
Jameson pulled the F150 Crew Cab pickup to the curb in front of Connor Motor Works, and Rory stared up at the sign. The logo looked familiar. CMW. It had been on one of the girl’s hats that night in Vail.
Why had the guy on the phone lied to him when he’d called and asked if Rayne worked here? This building was definitely the one in the news report; he recognized the exterior. Had they been protecting her?
“You ready?” Jameson asked, turning off the truck, one hand on the door handle.
Was he ready? He honestly wasn’t sure. He felt a bit nervous, and a lot excited to see her again. Rayne, please be happy to see me.
“Yeah,” he answered quietly.
All four doors of the vehicle opened, and the O’Rourke brothers stepped out. Rory glanced around, taking the place in as he headed into the garage area. The voices of men talking carried to him. Stepping inside, the smell of gasoline and motor oil hit him. Several workstations were set up around the garage with bikes being repaired or modified
Two men bent over a Triumph, discussing the timing. One of them looked up, his eyes skating over them, and he straightened. “Can I help you gentlemen?”
Rory wasn’t about to tip his hand too soon. “I’m new in town. Someone told me you do good work.”
The man nodded. “What do you ride?”
“Harley Street Bob.”
He lifted his chin. “You want to see Charlie over there.”
“Thanks.” Rory looked over and moved closer. The man in question had a carburetor pulled off and was spraying it with aerosol solvent. The strong chemical smell reached Rory’s nose as the guy took a toothbrush and scrubbed, then unscrewed the top and removed the piston.
Jameson came to stand by Rory’s side, his arms folded.
Charlie glanced up. “You boys need some work done?”
Rory shook his head. “Just heard about this place. Came by to check it out.”
“Oh, yeah. What’d you hear?”
“Good things.”
“Pleased to hear it.”
“You carry gear inside?” Jameson asked.
“Yeah. What do you need?”
“Tool bag. Riding gloves. The air is pretty nippy these days.”
Charlie nodded. “That it is. You should find what you’re looking for inside on the back wall. Don’t see it, Rayne should be able to help you.”
Rory’s chest tightened at her name.
“Thanks, man.” Jameson’s eyes shifted to Rory and tapped him on the bicep with the back of his hand. “Come on.”
Rory followed Jameson through the connecting archway, Liam and Max behind them. He moved on autopilot, thankful his brothers were there. Jameson opened the metal door, and a blast of warm air rolled out of the heated store.
The linoleum floor was softer under his boots than the concrete out in the garage. It was late, and there were no customers milling through the racks of shirts and jackets. A display of riding boots and helmets took up the left wall, floor to ceiling.
In the back was a long glass display case, waist high. On top was a point of sale terminal. Several girls stood around it, three on this side and one behind it.
It took Rory a split second to realize it was Rayne. And the other three were her girl squad. He didn’t recall their names, but he remembered their faces.
Rayne looked up and met his eyes, hers widening slightly. He could see her mouth moving, but couldn’t hear the words. If he read lips, he’d swear she said, oh my God.
The expression on her face had the other three turning as he and his brothers approached.
“Well, look what the cat dragged in?” the smartass with the pink bob said, moving to face him, her arms folded.
The brunette put her hand on her hip. “Better late than never.”
He barely noticed them; his gaze was locked with Rayne’s.
His brothers came to stand beside him, their arms folded like some army of Vikings ready to stand as one.
“Hey, boys,” the one with the blonde braids said. “Welcome to Connor Motor Works. Can I show you around? I’m sure these two have lots to talk about.” She looped arms with Liam and led him toward the wall of boots and helmets.
Rory felt all three of his brothers drift away with the women until it was just him and Rayne, staring at each other. Finally, he let his eyes drop down to her belly. It was just beginning to round. “It’s true, then. You’re pregnant?”
She slammed the cash register drawer shut. “Get out.”
“Rayne, we need to talk.”
Her brows shot up. “Talk? Now you want to talk? I didn’t hear you calling to talk months ago.”
“I lost my phone and your number. I swear it. I wanted to call you. Hell, I even called this store asking if you worked here. Some jerk told me no.”
She let out a disbelieving huff. “Why would they do that?”
“You’re asking me?” He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I didn’t come here to argue with you.”
“Fine. There’s the door.” She jerked her chin toward the front. “Hit the road.”
“Cute.”
“Not trying to be cute, Rory.”
“You have an office in the back where we can talk?” He glanced around; a lone customer by the jackets was staring.
“We have nothing to talk about.”
“We obviously do. Now are you going to show me the way, or do I scoop you up and go searching for it?”
“You’re not going to leave, are you?”
“Nope.”
She huffed out a breath. “Fine.” She flipped up a wooden board that allowed him access behind the counter.
He followed her down a hallway behind the wall of gear. She stopped at the first door on the right and held her arm out. “In here.”
She followed him in, slamming the door. He barely had time to turn and face her before she laid into him.
“So what brought you here? The letter or the news reports? Because if you’re only here because you don’t want bad publicity, the baby and I don’t need you.”
“What letter?”
“You didn’t get the letter I sent? The one telling you I was pregnant?”
He shook his head. “Where did you send it?”
She lifted a hand in the general direction of the front of the store. “Your tattoo shop, of course. Where else would I know to send it?”
The word moron was implied so hard at the end of that sentence, he swore he heard it
. He ran a hand over his beard. Christ—that box! “There was a pile of fan mail in a box, but I never looked through it all. I’m sorry.”
She looked at the wall. “Sure. You’re sorry. I bet you’re sorry about a lot of things. I know I am.”
He grabbed her upper arm. “I’m not sorry about you.” He glanced down at her belly and took hold of her other arm, turning her to him. “And I’m not sorry about the baby. Are you?”
She shoved his hands away. “Don’t touch me.”
“Okay. All right.” He lifted his hands, backing off. “Sit down, please. Let’s talk calmly. I’m not here to upset you. It’s not good for the baby.”
“Oh, now you’re going to lecture me on what’s good for the baby?”
“No. Okay. Will you sit down? Please.”
She blew out a breath and sat in the armchair behind the desk and he in the one by the door. The office was small, so they were only a few feet from each other.
“I swear to God, Rayne, I lost my phone and along with it your phone number. I was an idiot for not giving you mine. I was going to call you. I wanted to show you Grand Junction, do all the things we talked about. I swear it.”
“Okay. If I believe you lost your phone, explain the song. You stole my life story and my pain and put it in a goddamn song. How do you think that made me feel, hearing it for the first time with no warning?”
“I’m sorry. I was moved by your story. That night when I got to Denver I don’t know, I just had all these lyrics flowing through my head. I grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled them down. The next thing I knew, I had written that song. I never did it to hurt you.”
She shook her head and looked away. “Why did you lie to me about being in a band?”
He leaned forward, elbows to knees. “I just wanted to be Rory with you. I didn’t want you to look at me differently because I was in a band. We were having a good time. I was afraid that if I told you, it might mess things up.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess I didn’t want you to think I was some jerk who had a line of women or something.”
Rory Page 12
