Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

“Thank you. I can trust you, and that’s priceless.” She swallowed hard. “Especially when it comes to Zoe.”

“There may be nothing to find. He might be just a dude who wants to make music and fuck girls. Even if that girl is yours, sorry to say.”

Briskly, she nodded. “But you’ll find out.”

“Yes.”

And if he didn’t like what he learned, Ian would discover even another country wasn’t far enough away for him to hide.

Nineteen

The fucking drummer thief was late.

I picked up my pack of smokes and lit one, tipping back my head as I watched the plume curl toward the pretty little awning of the outdoor café. A cigar bar no less. I could fucking smoke freely for the first time in a long damn time. My hair was tucked under a cap and I had on dark glasses, much as I wished as I could’ve worn Zoe’s. The ridiculous pink gained me more attention though, so I’d had to go with the fashion victim choice of huge black. My clothes were the standard student attire—baggy jeans, slouchy shirt.

Perfect camouflage, as I hadn’t been in school for years and certainly not secondary school. As if any institution of higher learning would have me.

Still clutching the cig, I poured vodka down my throat as if it was past midnight instead of just past noon. From a flask of course, because I was classy as fuck.

I finished it off and tucked the flask in my knapsack. Vodka had also been my brother’s choice of drink before love and vocal instability had driven him to sobriety. Wasn’t it nice to know that alcoholism was yet another one of the Kagan familial gifts with purchase?

Even so, all things considered, my life was going well. Or so it seemed. On the surface, I was one lucky bloke.

The reality wasn’t nearly so cheerful. I had a knife at my throat in the form of a ticking clock.

I supposed I was lucky there too, that the knife hadn’t taken shape beyond that relentless tick-tick-tick.

Yet.

But my days were full enough I could pretend everything was okay. Here I was, selling out clubs practically nightly, traveling my way up the coast in a shabby-chic tour bus I was pretty sure had once belonged to the Stones.

Okay, probably a Stones cover band. Close enough.

After the shows, I went back to my lonely bunk and texted Zoe. She didn’t always answer. A lot of times, her replies were terse at best.

Working, leave me alone.

One day, remember?

Don’t you have some groupie to bounce on?

Those made me smile the most. She didn’t want me bouncing on a groupie. Under the hurt I’d felt from being ignored, recognition had finally bloomed. She absolutely didn’t want me with anyone else.

In fact, that was why she refused to be with me, contrary woman that she was.

Contrary woman I couldn’t get out of my head no matter how I tried.

Another thing I couldn’t get out of my head was the loss of my drummer. He’d seemed more on the ball than the one they’d given me in his place. Besides, I didn’t like to lose.

I certainly didn’t like being stolen from. It hit a little too close to home.

True, I hadn’t exactly made an effort to keep said drummer happy when he’d still been mine. I was still learning in a lot of ways. But once I got him back again and ixnayed this new dude, all would be fine.

Anthony still had no use for me, but we had a little byplay going now in our shows, so I couldn’t complain. I didn’t care if he didn’t like me as long as he made me look good.

Fuck, I was almost done with my cig and still no Flynn Shepard. Already this guy was proving himself to be a douche.

“That’s going to tear up your cords.”