Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

“Yet you have no such fears for Ian. Because clearly, he’s on the make. And the take. And God knows what else.”

Why was he playing devil’s advocate? He’d come in this office, pissed to hell that Lila and Donovan and all of Ripper Records had betrayed him by signing Ian.

Now other thoughts were starting to creep in. Like how Ian was being pegged and pigeonholed for his shitty background, just as he had been.

Different sides of the same coin—a world apart.

Of course he hadn’t turned to large-scale felonies to pay his bills. But if someone was desperate enough, and if they were alone, as Lila had been sure to beat into his head…

Fuck, he did not want to put himself into that kid’s shoes. Not his fucking problem.

He’s your brother. You know it. Can you really be so eager to side against him?

Actually, he wasn’t eager. He just wanted to snap his fingers and be back in that hotel room overseas. Except this time, he wouldn’t idly surf to the talent competition where he’d first laid eyes upon his brother’s face. Maybe then none of this would’ve happened.

Yeah, right. As if he could make Ian disappear so easily. But a guy could dream.

And he could also face reality. Eventually.

Ian was in his life, even if just peripherally. He existed. He had talent, and he had ambition. He wasn’t going away anytime soon.

Lila sipped from her glass of water, and belatedly, Simon realized they’d both been lost in their thoughts for several minutes. She set down her glass, then ran her fingertip along the rim. “I have my prejudices against him, as Zoe’s cousin. You’re right. No one would be good enough for her in my eyes. Especially not a rockstar—” She held up a h

and as Simon started to speak. “Yes, I know that’s ridiculous. I also know I’m far too overprotective of her, since I babysat for her when she was a kid. Rockstars are no worse—and no better—than other men. But I’ll admit, the lifestyle unnerves me. Add in some of Ian’s other particulars, and yes, I’m concerned.”

“His particulars like being poor, from a shitty family, and a criminal.”

“The criminal part weighs heaviest. You’d be surprised, but I don’t give a rat’s bum who his parents are.”

“Were,” Simon snapped, though the truth was, he didn’t know.

Ian hadn’t spelled out their mother was dead. Simon had just assumed.

He’d assumed far too much, evidently.

“Are you being intentionally difficult with me, or is this just your new disposition? Because if it’s the latter, remind me to send a card with my condolences to Margo.”

Simon had to laugh. “I’m sorry, Li. I’m just not all right with any of this. Even sitting here talking about him seems weird. Six weeks ago, I’d never heard of this dude. My life was fucking perfect.”

“And now it’s all drudgery and heartache?”

Despite himself, he smiled and started to speak, then quickly shut his mouth.

Fuck, he’d nearly spilled the beans about the baby. The words were right there. But he couldn’t. Not just yet. Tour dates would have to be postponed most likely, or shows reconfigured, and they both knew Li would freak out before she went all melty-eyed and cooed with the best of them.

Plus, there was what Nicky had told him when they were overseas about him and Li trying to have another baby. The last thing Simon wanted to do was to rub salt in the wound. They’d be happy for them, he was sure, and would probably dole out more than their healthy share of ribbing—especially Nicky. But he didn’t want to make it any harder than it had to be for them.

“No, my life is pretty fucking awesome,” he said quietly, rubbing his ring again. “Especially now. It’s never been better.”

“Ian is just a thorn.”

“For you as well, it sounds like.”

“If he hurts Zoe…” She trailed off and folded her hands on the desk. “The bottom line is we don’t know what Ian is up to. If anything. He may just be a young man with a guitar, plenty of drive, and far too many curls.”

“My hair isn’t like that,” Simon muttered, touching it to make sure it hadn’t gone nuts on him from the humidity since he’d left home. His was a little wavy, sure, but curls like Ian’s? No. Definitely not.

“Or he may be someone who bears watching,” Lila continued, pursing her lips. “Which is where you come in.”