Incendiary (51 page)

She reaches for my hands, but I settle them in my lap to keep her from touching me. “Helen has taken over and she demanded I not tell you, but you offered me acceptance as the woman in your Dad’s life. I couldn’t keep this from you.”

“Grandma never wants me to know anything,” I mutter.

“Georgie—”

“Is this why you’ve been acting different toward me? Because you were paying off a blackmailer to protect me?”

“It’s to protect you and Sloane. I never knew about what Rand was doing to him.”

“Your family excels at blackmail,” I say sarcastically.

“For so many years, he was lost,” she whispers hoarsely. “I didn’t want Brenda’s obsession with him to ruin anything between you. Sloane wouldn’t have reacted well if she brought that bullshit to you when you were already so messed up over things.” Her face crumples. “Oh my God, he’s still going to kill her if he finds out how she wanted to hurt you.”

“Is she the one who shot me? Broke into the room at Rand’s and moved Bryn.”

“No. Brenda was in Houston when you were shot and I was out with her the night of the break-in. Besides, that isn’t her style. She wouldn’t get physical.”

So many times my trust has been abused and my love trampled. I tell myself my decision is only on Sloane’s behalf, but it’s also for Abby. I have to believe her explanation is true. If I’m filled with doubt every time someone wrongs me and then apologizes, my heart will harden and shrivel.

“We’re leaving LA soon, so this will stay between you and me until then,” I say firmly. “Sloane should know eventually.”

“He’s going to hate me.”

“He’s going to be furious,” I correct, “but he’ll get over it. As long as you’ve told me everything.”

“I swear.”

“Okay.”

“I’m so sorry.”

I nod, but don’t offer her any words. Not knowing what to say, I grab the check and head to the bedroom, glad Abby opened up to me but wishing it was with something happier.

Tomorrow’s Jason’s birthday and I promised I’d prepare a meal for him. Hopefully, that’s the remedy to shoving away all I’ve learned today.

“This confession comes just weeks after Mason’s wife lost her own mother,” a motherfucker I want to punch, states as a photo of Georgie and me at Cassandra’s grave the day of her burial materializes on the screen. The coverage has continued. Nothing new. But I’m not allowing them to drag Georgie into this.

She’s in the bathroom, preparing for bed, so I flip the television off before she joins me, foregoing my plan to remain in LA for the last four days we are due to stay and put Bullard on standby. I’m getting my wife and daughter the fuck away from this madhouse as soon as possible.

“We’re flying out, too,” Maitland announces when I tell the guys as we drink coffee in the kitchen, the next morning.

Georgie’s still sleeping. Abby is moping around over Parnell, I suppose. Her eyes are red-rimmed and sad. As soon as we get to Denver, I’ll speak to her. Right now, Georgie is my main concern.

“We’ve postponed the rest of the rehearsals,” Quint tells me, shoving his hands in his pockets.

Adam leans against the counter. “You should’ve told us the truth about Steffie.”

“We feel like shit, dude,” Maitland adds. “We didn’t know and we were hard as hell on you.”

“Yeah, Sloane.” Quint shifts his weight. “You were an addict, yes, but you were just trying to escape. We could’ve been there for you.”

“Or not been so judgmental,” Adam says on a sigh.

I’ve wanted vindication for everything and from everyone. I thought these guys turned their backs on me, when, in reality, I couldn’t see their loyalty. I expected everyone to fuck over me and serve their own purposes.

“You didn’t know.”

Quint bows his head. “We knew you had issues with your dad.”

“What I did to myself is on me. Using drugs and overdosing didn’t hurt my father one bit. I fell short and let all of you down.”

As that sinks in, we look amongst each other.

“What now?” Maitland asks quietly.

“If you want to leave, we don’t blame you. If you walk, we do, too. Our band won’t be the same without you,” Adam tells me on a swallow. I can see the panic and loss in his eyes. Phoenix Rising defines each of us.

At one time, my group was what kept me going. Now, my life is rich, full, and free. I have Georgie and Steffie will finally have justice.

“Georgie’s bus is almost ready,” I say casually.

Quint lifts a brow. “What fucking bus?”

“Her tour bus.” I shrug. “It’s mine, but I’ve purchased it for her and Bryn’s comfort so they can travel with us.”

“Fuck, man, why didn’t you say that?” Quint asks with real laughter that has a ripple effect amongst us.

“Don’t tell her,” I warn. “It’s a surprise.”

Maitland cocks his head to the side. “Does that mean you’ll let her perform onstage with us?”

Georgie wants that. But it galls the fuck out of me thinking of her in a skimpy fucking outfit. Of course, she doesn’t have to dress like the other girls. Her costume could be a sparkly jumpsuit. “I’d like her to be in Inferno’s video.” I dodge the idea about her dancing with us.

“Fuck, yeah,” Quint agrees. He’s always been a Georgie fan.

“Why don’t you all stay in LA for the next several days as scheduled? I can even fly back for our concert?” Five days away.

“Are you sure?” Adam asks.

I smile, free and at peace. “Yes.”

Maitland holds out his hand and I slap mine against his, accepting the man hug he gives me.

“Phoenicians rise,” Quint hollers.

“You bet your ass we do,” I agree.

A voice clears behind me. “Sloane?” Jaeger calls.

Turning, I lift a brow at his disheveled appearance. His clothes are rumpled and circles ring his eyes. “Dad is awaiting Houston homicide detectives to arrive and escort him back to Texas, where he’ll be arraigned.”

The news has hit Jaeger hard. I won’t force him to talk, but I will let him sweat a little longer about his position with me. Dad created workaholic, perfectionist assholes. Jaeger has a degree in business that he’d put to good use long before Dad made him my manager. Neither Kiln’s nor Jaeger’s work ethics are an issue with me. It’s unfortunate they’re fucking assholes.

“Do you need something, Jaeger?” I ask. He still hasn’t spoken.

“Hear me out,” he begins, hands raised in supplication.

“About?”

“Kiln.”

“Fuck you,” I snarl.

“Sloane, please. He wants to talk to you and apologize,” Jaeger whines.

“I’m not fucking interested. That motherfucker touched Georgiana. There’s no fucking apology for that.”

“I know,” he relents in an ass-kissing maneuver. Dad isn’t here to back either of them up, so he’s trying to appease me and have me talk to Kiln. He thrusts his fingers through his hair. “Have you been outside? It’s a fucking nightmare out there. We’re going to need a goddamn army around you. And what about Georgie? Her shooter hasn’t been caught yet.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with Kiln talking to me?”

He huffs out a breath. “You know what I’m getting at. He was wrong, but we need him to get you and your family to safety.”

“Fuck you. Bullshit. Pres can take over managing my team and the band’s. Jason can manage Georgie’s detail.”

“What about Abby? Bryn?” Jaeger demands.

“Find people to handle them,” I order. “I don’t give a fuck about the cost.”

“Sloane, please,” he says. “What…this fucking band is my life. Kiln’s, too. What are we going to do when you fire us?”

“I’m not firing
you
, asshole. Him—”

Jaeger’s shoulders straighten at my information. “Sloane!” he interrupts. “Let’s talk to him. Listen to what he has to say. Get him back long enough to get you and your family to Denver.”

When I look outside and glimpse the battalion of satellite trucks and sea of people – fans, news media, paparazzi, nosy motherfuckers –I agree to hear Kiln out. “All these fucking years and I thought you were guilty,” he tells me, two hours later. Driving away from the street where the house is located to the main street took ten fucking minutes, besieged as we were. Jason is calling in police escort to get us to the airport as soon as I finish with Kiln, who sits in an armchair in the hotel room he’s checked into. His ribs are wrapped and his arm is in a sling. Bruises still cover his face, but he’ll survive.

“And I told you I wasn’t,” I snap. “Which means shit. Even before Steffie’s death we hated each other.”

“It wasn’t hate as much as it was jealousy,” he admits and shifts. “I know I don’t deserve this, but I’d like a second chance. To work your detail and to be your brother.”

I lift a brow. “You’re right, asshole. You don’t deserve it. Not because of any fucking thing but my wife.” Just thinking of what he did to her makes me ball my fists.

Kiln rubs the back of his neck and sighs. “I wanted her gone, Sloane. At first, because you were so distracted and I didn’t want anything to take you away from the money you brought in. But you need her.” His look is sardonic. “Much like I needed Dietrech.” He laughs softly. “I wanted to seduce her. Even if you never found out, though I would’ve seen to it that you did. I wanted to have the knowledge that I fucked
your
girl as you fucked mine. She taught me a lesson and put a big fucking dent in my ego.”

Her adamant refusal of all of his advances did pull him off his high horses, but it also made him more determined to succeed. “What was the lesson?”

“Something I always knew but didn’t want to face. You couldn’t have stuck your dick in my lovely ex-wife if she hadn’t allowed you to do so. She participated in the affair as much as you did. As the married one, she should’ve told you to fuck off.” He stands and makes his way to the bottle of alcohol he has on the dresser. “No matter what I offered her, Georgie wouldn’t take the bait. It became a game with me. I wanted her so off-balance and even frightened, that she’d leave you. If I couldn’t fuck her to get back at you, I could run her off.”

I growl and Jaeger steps quickly between us. “You’ve already beaten his ass,” he hisses. He still hasn’t talked about Dad’s confession.

Out in the open and up for discussion between Kiln and I, Jaeger remains silent.

“I intend to apologize to her.”

“No, you fucking don’t. You stay the fuck away from her.”

“Has her shooter been found yet?” he challenges, using the same line on me as Jaeger. These motherfuckers planned this attack. They know I won’t risk Georgie. “I might’ve personally fucked with her, but you know I’ll keep her safe. That’s why you always gave me the responsibility for her on the road. That’s why I was
your
personal bodyguard.”

“Get your shit, motherfucker,” I order, though it galls me. “We’re leaving for Denver shortly. The minute I find your replacement, you’re gone. What you’re offering is too little, too late.” Way too late. Now, suddenly, he wants to have a chance at being my brother when, well before Steffie’s death, he treated me like the enemy.

He hurries and packs, then dresses in a black suit, white button down shirt and green tie, the attire he wears when he’s carrying his gun.

“Ready when you are. Sir,” he adds with a trace of sarcasm.

“Fuck you, asshole,” I growl and stalk behind Jaeger, flipping Kiln off and his annoying laughter.

Arriving at the house, I walk in and find Jason in the kitchen, talking to Georgie. Neither of them notice me, so I back into the shadows. It gives me a moment to watch my wife as she stands at the stove, oblivious to Jason checking her out. I can see his profile. To me, his eyes are lowered to leer at Georgie’s ass and legs. She’s wearing a little skirt that hugs the curves of her slender hips.

“I’m a country boy, Georgie.”

His teasing tone makes me want to smash in his face.

She snorts and leans over the pot. “You’re military.”

“Former,” he corrects, surprise in his tone. “How do you know that?”

Replacing the lid, she turns, her hair swept up in a careless bun, escaping strands framing her face. She chews on a nail. “Buzz cut, clean-shaven around the fucking clock. Neat to a fault. No nonsense. Rise with the cock’s crow.”

“My cock rises at any time.”

His words startle me and I blink. This motherfucker is flirting with my wife?

“You’re lame,” she says with an adorable little sniff and rolls her eyes.

“It’s my birthday. I’m allowed.”

“Whatever. That’s why I’m cooking the stew stuff for you.”

He chuckles and Georgie’s answering smile pisses me off a little more. “Stew stuff? Ouch. You have no regard for my meat dishes.”

“Stop being an ass, Jason,” she chastises.

“How’s that?”

“Flirting with me. Hello?”

“I’m being your friend.”

“You’re my bodyguard.”

He shrugs. “I’ve slept with Abby.”

“I’m not Abby, and Abby happens to be in love with my dad, so I’d back off.”

“Abby’s a free spirit. You are, too. Tough exterior, but very sweet.”

“How’d we go from talking about the big party I want with Megan Caldwell to you fucking me?”

“I’m not quite sure.”

“I like you.”