Rock Reckoning: A Rockstar Suspense Romance Collection

by Cari Quinn

  “Damn straight. Though you’re falling down on the ‘our kids’ part of that, though I suppose George counts.”

  Margo swallowed down a sob and forced herself to breathe. She wanted to blurt it out. Needed to tell someone, but it had to be Simon first. Had to be. “I have to go. Talk later?”

  “Sure.” Jules swallowed audibly. “Hey, go easy on Simon. You know I don’t give that guy an inch, but it’s not a walk in the park having a talented, shining star of a sibling. And one you didn’t even know existed, who looks and sounds just like you—it’s gotta be hard. So don’t judge him too harshly.”

  Margo pressed her lips together and nodded, forgetting for a moment that her sister couldn’t see her. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “Bye.”

  She ended the call and exhaled, tipping back her head to stare at the pattern of sunlight on the ceiling. With every passing minute, the sun was getting stronger and Simon was still gone.

  Maybe she could call their on-call security detail, see if Simon had brought someone with him. Allay her fears that way at least if not any other. But she didn’t make the call, because she knew he hadn’t. He wouldn’t. Simon had grown up without a penny to his name and didn’t operate that way. He and Nick were alike in that sense. No matter how much money they had, in their heads they were still poor kids with their backs to the wall.

  She pulled on her robe and tightened it as she walked toward the door of the connecting suite. She didn’t want to bring her problems to Li’s doorstep. But if her best friend knew something about Ian that could give her some idea where Simon had gone, she’d do it.

  Margo knocked, then stepped into Lila’s suite. She almost backed right out again. The domestic scene in her friend’s bedroom made her teeth ache from its sweetness. Lila was tapping away on the keyboard attached to the iPad in her lap, and one of her daughters was stretched out at the bottom of the bed, laying on her side with her thumb in her mouth. Nick was sprawled on his stomach with their other blond twin half curled on his back, equally unconscious.

  The small beds set up on the other side of the room looked untouched.

  “I’m sorry,” Margo said. “It’s too early. I don’t mean to intrude.”

  Lila held up a hand and set aside the iPad and keyboard before whipping a silky robe off the bedpost and wrapping it around herself. She quickly checked on the blond twin at the bottom of the bed—Avery, if Margo were to guess, judging by the thumb-sucking—and pried her daughter’s thumb out of her mouth, only to shake her head as Avery immediately replaced it without opening her eyes.

  Margo smiled and moved back into her own room, holding the door open for Lila to enter. As soon as she had, she turned to face Margo and propped her hands on her hips. “What is it?”

  Margo blinked. That was Li. She didn’t understand how to be anything but as direct as an arrow.

  “Simon’s gone.” Realizing that sounded even worse than the reality, she cleared her throat. “I mean, I don’t know where he is. I woke up, God, maybe half an hour ago now, and the sheets were cold.”

  Lila was already on the move, walking around the suite and peering into corners on an obvious search for clues as to Simon’s possible whereabouts. As if it could be that simple. “Did you argue prior?”

  “No. Exact opposite actually.” Because it was Li, she didn’t flush. Also, connecting suites told more than a few tales all on their own. “I texted. Called. No reply.”

  Li gripped the bedpost and angled her head, her gaze sweeping over Margo with a penetrating intensity that made Margo want to squirm. “You’re pale. Did you get any sleep?”

  Manager-mode Li was always something to see, especially since she flipped back and forth between her roles with surprising aplomb.

  “I slept. I could use more, but what else is new?” Margo laughed weakly and moved to the window, twitching back the curtain. A double-decker bus chugged along on the road below, and for a second, she wished she was on it. Just riding away from her problems.

  “This is about Ian,” Li said.

  “Logical guess.”

  “Simon was rattled.”

  Margo shook her head and moved back from the window to grip her elbows. “One way of putting it. Did you find out anything worthwhile yet?”

  “Still digging. So far, a few things have popped.”

  “Gonna share them?”

  Li sighed and pushed a hand through her perfectly ordered hair. “Nothing of note. He was kicked out of two schools. Has a bit of a record.”

  Margo’s heart went into a gallop. “For what, exactly?”

  “Mostly the usual juvenile stuff. B&E, a couple of assaults—one at his last high school—and a few minor robberies. Little league stuff in the world of criminals, and nothing for a couple of years.”

  “What about the family ties? Did you find a path back to Simon’s parents?”

  Lila linked her hands at her waist and squarely met Margo’s gaze. “I haven’t gone through all the levels yet, but as it stands now, it appears valid.”

  That single word—valid—knocked Margo back a step. “It’s true? No chance otherwise?”

  “I haven’t finished digging yet.”

  “But so far?”

  “So far, yes.” Lila’s face softened. “Surely it can’t be that much of a shock that it could be true. You saw him. Heard him. I know his existence at all is disconcerting, but—”

  “Disconcerting? Is that what we’re calling it now?” Margo couldn’t hold back her temper, so she let it fly. “Do you have any clue what his showing up—and how he did it—did to my husband?”

  The door opened. Not the door to the suite, but the connecting one between them. Nick meandered out, bare-footed, scrubbing a hand over his crazy hair. “You women understand the concept of sleeping in, or what?”

  “Simon is missing,” Lila said.

  Immediately, Nick’s sleepy tawny eyes went sharp. “What the fuck does that mean?”

  “He’s not missing,” Margo snapped. “He’s just not here. He’s allowed to leave the suite.” Hearing the defensiveness in her tone made her hunch her shoulders. She’d brought them into her problems after all, so it wasn’t fair to blame them for reacting. “I’m sorry. I’m just on edge.”

  “Understandably.” Li rubbed Margo’s arm. “Where could he have gone?” she asked Nick. “Do you have any ideas?”

  “How the fuck should I know?” But he’d no sooner asked the question that he went back into the other room and returned with his sneakers and a jacket. He sat on the edge of the bed and pulled them on before doing the same with his jacket.

  Margo moved forward. “It’s my job to go look for him.”

  Nick cocked a brow, his question clear.

  Then what are you doing standing around?

  A legitimate point, and one she’d only come to right then. But they were in London, for God’s sake. Should she search out Ian’s address—if it was readily available, and she had to believe it was if she thought Simon could’ve found it—and present herself there?

  And then what? Drag Simon home by his ear? That was if he was even there. If not, then what?

  She wrapped her arms around herself and bowed her head. “I was giving him space.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you should do that as the little wife. I’m not saying it’s wrong,” Nick held up a hand as his own wife pointed at him, “I’m just saying that’s not my deal. Simon may hate me for it half the time, but I go get his ass and pull him out of shit. Just as he does for me. You don’t have quite the same capabilities as I do on that level.” He rose and cracked his knuckles. “Maybe that Ian kid needs to be taught some respect.”

  Lila charged toward him and got right in his face. It would’ve been amusing had Margo not been strung tighter than one of her bows. “Oh hell no. You are not going to get in a fistfight with some kid spoiling for a payday. Have you lost your mind?”

  “No, I’m well aware what’s at risk. I also know Simon was my brother before this as
shole punk ever showed up, and if I need to demonstrate that…” Nick shrugged. “A guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.”

  Without questioning the impulse, Margo nudged Li out of the way to wrap her arms around Nick. He didn’t move. Didn’t even breathe. “Thank you for having his back. For not thinking the worst of him.”

  After a second, Nick awkwardly patted her back, and Margo just knew he was exchanging a helpless look with Li. It made Margo smile faintly as she moved away. “But if he gets hurt on your watch, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  “Oh, sure. Blame the guy who came in late.”

  “I’m not blaming anyone. Except the man who chose to announce such personal information on TV.” Margo sighed and tucked her suddenly cold hands in the pockets of her robe. “You’ll tell him why I didn’t come with you?”

  Nick nodded. “You’re giving us the room to fight it out if need be.”

  “No,” she said, shuddering. “I am not.”

  Nick’s mouth curved. “No, but that’s what I’ll tell him.”

  “He has a show to prepare for. As do you,” Lila reminded him coolly. “Anyone who comes back here with bruises may get additional ones from me.”

  “Ooh, promise? Sounds kinky.” Nick grinned and grabbed Li around the waist, hauling her in for a quick, hot kiss that had Margo averting her eyes. Not because she was embarrassed. Simon would have done the same and just the thought had her nerves going haywire again.

  God, he had to be okay.

  “Get out of here. And get back soon.” Lila gave Nick a light shove before pulling him back to wipe a trace of her lipstick off his mouth.

  That was Li. Even while lounging in bed working, her makeup was perfect.

  “In one piece,” she added.

  As if on cue, one of their girls started wailing next door, followed swiftly by shouted baby accusations and calls of “Dada!” and “Mama!”

  Lila sighed. “They were asleep.”

  Nick pointed at her and backed toward the door. “All you, Dragon Lady. See ya soon.”

  “Need some help?” Margo asked as Li rushed to take care of her children.

  She probably needed the practice, though she’d be getting some with Jules’s little one soon enough. And there would only be one kid to deal with.

  Eyes widening, she touched her belly. There had better be only one, or Simon would die at her hands.

  “No, I’m good. Used to it.” Lila smiled wanly and pushed open the connecting door as more childish taunts rang out in the other room. “Maybe take a nap? Nick will bring him back. Don’t worry.”

  Margo nodded and twisted her fingers together as she retreated toward their still unmade bed. “Maybe I’ll do that. Thanks, Li.”

  “If you need me, don’t hesitate.” Li moved into the other room. “All right, that’s enough, both of you.” The door snicked shut.

  Margo exhaled and dropped down on the bed. She appreciated the offer, but who she needed right then was Simon.

  Even if he was an ass sometimes.

  But he was her ass. Always.

  Eight

  “What do my disbelieving eyes see?”

  Simon frowned at the familiar voice, but he didn’t lift his head. Instead, he focused on the cobblestone pattern of the courtyard.

  The sun was blinding. If he looked up, his retinas would be scarred for life.

  What had happened to that whole thing about London being overcast? Fucking bullshit.

  “Not speaking now?” Nick’s heavy footsteps moved closer. “Or did you—whoa.” He whistled. “Nice collection of bruises you got going there.”

  “He went for my face,” Simon mumbled.

  Not that he remembered it all that clearly. It seemed as if patches of their conversation had already been erased from his memory, rubbed out with an angry fist on a chalkboard. Others remained.

  One thing he definitely couldn’t forget was that piece of paper. It was seared into his damn brain.

  It could’ve been a forgery. Such things were possible. If he’d been thinking straight—thinking at all—he would’ve taken it with him and called Donovan to have him check into it. Not that Li couldn’t have done the same. She just had a vested interest in sugar-coating things for him, even if she wasn’t one to soft-pedal. But this situation was different, and he wasn’t stupid enough to think she wouldn’t do what she could to make this pill easier to swallow.

  He didn’t want that. The pill was the pill regardless. He was just way fucking late finding out about it.

  Thanks, Dad. One more thing to hate you for. Unless you were as in the dark about this as I was, and if so, I still hate you for being such a bastard your wife couldn’t even trust you enough to tell you she was pregnant.

  “Doesn’t surprise me. Dude seems like a pussy who’d do shit like that just for spite.” Nick dropped down on the bench beside Simon and kicked out his legs. “I bet he looks even worse.”

  Rather than answer, Simon lifted his hand and shook out his fingers. His knuckles were nice and bruised. “Getting old, man. He had speed on me.” Simon tipped back his head and risked never seeing the sun again. But the heat felt good even if it hurt. “When did we get old?”

  “We aren’t old. Jesus. Old is when someone’s pushing your wheelchair and you’re mad because they’re going too fast.”

  It made him laugh. “Christ.” He rubbed his ribs.

  They sat in companionable silence for a minute or two. It wasn’t much different than the days they’d skipped school and sat on the beach, skipping rocks into the ocean to pass the time. Not needing to talk.

  “Margo okay?” Simon asked when he could force out the words.

  He wasn’t stupid. He knew how stuff would’ve gone down. She would’ve awakened to find him gone and gone to Lila, who would’ve gone to Nick. And Nick would’ve insisted on handling shit on his own. It was the way they’d worked for years now.

  His family wasn’t blood, but it existed just the same. Sometimes it felt too tight and constricting. Other times, like today, he was just fucking grateful.

  Even if he didn’t particularly deserve their concern right now.

  “She’s fine. No thanks to you. Maybe leave a note or send a text or something next time, huh?” Nick knocked his shoulder into his. “Especially with what happened last fall—”

  “Shit, I didn’t think.” Simon ground the heels of his hands into his burning eyes. Stupid. “I didn’t think.”

  “Your usual MO.” Nick’s voice was entirely too cheerful. “Luckily for you, pretty sure she’s more worried than pissed. Though I think pissed is right behind. Probably why you were loafing around out here instead of actually going upstairs.”

  “I didn’t know what to say.”

  But he had to say something. He should have earlier. At least texted to make sure she knew he was alive. He hadn’t realized the direction her mind would go in, but that was only because he’d been too damn focused on himself.

  As usual.

  He yanked out his phone and sent her a quick text to let her know he was okay and would be back soon, then turned off his phone.

  Just a few more minutes, and he’d face the music. Both the music with her, and the music with himself and all he’d learned.

  “I should’ve come right back.” He slipped his phone into his jeans pocket. “I could have. It’s been hours.”

  “Where did you go?”

  “Around.” Simon gestured vaguely. “Did a lot of walking. Don’t know where the hell I was. Thought about finding an all-night store and grabbing a bottle and just sitting on the curb like a goddamn wino.” He shook his head. “Just like the good old days, right, Nicky?”

  “But you didn’t do that.”

  “No. I’m not an idiot. I know if I start again, I might not stop.”

  “Well, you are an idiot, but not about that.”

  “And you’re the idiot who chased after me. So what does that say?”

  Nick cracked his knuckl
es. “That you already have a brother, and if you want me to put that fucker in his place, just give me an address.”

  Simon exhaled roughly as his throat constricted. “I know that. I fucking know.”

  “Then? Let’s go.”

  Laughing felt like popping the top on a valve. He hissed with the release, flexing his aching hands and wishing like hell he could fill them with Margo. Just Margo. She would quiet the riot in his head. It wasn’t even about sex. Love was so much more goddamn amazing even than that—and so much more terrifying.

  “He looks just like me. How can that be? All these damn years, and he was out here and I didn’t have a clue.”

  “So you think it’s real then.”

  “Don’t you? Did you look at him? Listen to him?”

  “There’s doppelgängers everywhere. Some people say I look like that Alex Pettyfer dude and I sure as hell am not secretly British.” At Simon’s raised brow, Nicky gave him a side eye. “Too soon.”

  “I saw his birth certificate. My parents’ names were on there. Middle names even.”

  “He could find that out if he looked. Everything’s on the web, man. And a good forger could—”

  “A forger couldn’t give him my voice. Or damn close enough that if I closed my eyes, I’d think I was listening to myself ten years ago. Back when I had that fucking range.” He pushed a hand through his hair, fisting it so that the pain traveled up his arm.

  He’d even had that mannerism too. The fucker had raked a hand through his hair over and over on stage. He’d done it once or twice in the apartment too. Not all that unusual on its own, except the list added up.

  “You still have your range. Maybe you don’t use it all the time now, because you gotta be careful. Don’t need to bust anything else open and shit.” Nick bumped him with his shoulder again. “Getting old, remember?”

  Simon had to laugh. “I thought we weren’t.”

  “I’m not. You might be.”

  “Asshole. We’re the same age.”

  “Months different counts.”

  “Only when you’re twelve.”

  “How old is he?” Nicky asked after a moment.