Chapter 20
Liza juggled two bags of groceries around her five-and-a-half-month-pregnant belly, her purse and her keys. “Sorry, baby, don’t mean to squish you. But I have news. Your daddy’s coming home tomorrow. The tour is finally over.”
A gentle flutter in her belly made her laugh. “Yeah, I’m excited too.” And a little scared. He’d been surrounded by beautiful, sexy girls, and nope, not going down this road tonight. Sliding in her key, she unlocked the door, then froze when she heard music blasting.
The hair on the back of her neck stood. Run! But wait…she checked the alarm. It flashed the warning that the door had been opened just now, which meant it was on and worked, so no one could have broken in. But her father-in-law had a key and the alarm code. After entering the code to disarm the system, she crouched down, setting the bags and her purse on the floor, and grabbed her phone. “Noah?”
“No, it’s me, Beth.” Justice strode out from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel.
Wait, what? She was picking him up tomorrow. “I didn’t… You’re…” She couldn’t think what to say. Instead she drank in the sight of her husband. His hair was longer and brushed back, face a little sharper, blue eyes glittering as he slid his gaze over her, locking on her belly.
“You’re showing.”
Her hand flew to her stomach, unsure if she was boasting or hiding. “Five and a half months. She flutters around in there. It feels like butterfly wings.”
“Beth.”
“What?”
He tossed the towel over his shoulder and opened his arms. “Come here. I need to hug my girls.”
Whatever held her frozen cracked. She kicked off her heels and ran to him. The second his arms closed around her, warmth engulfed her. The feel of his hard chest crushing her breasts, his ridged stomach against her rounded one, filled her with joy. His scent flooded her, and she inhaled, desperate to replace all the loneliness and uncertainty that had been festering for weeks.
His hands caught her butt, lifting her. “Damn, baby, I’m already hard for you. It’s been too long.”
Liza kissed his neck, her nipples throbbing. “Now.”
He pulled back, his lips curving in a wicked grin. “Horny?”
“God yes. You don’t know what it’s like with all these hormones running amok like sex-starved teenagers.”
His laughter rumbled, teasing her nipples.
She didn’t want to wait. “Let’s go—”
“Not yet.”
“Why?” She could feel his erection pressing against her, thick, hard, and straining the fabric of his jeans.
His breath blew across her neck. “I made you dinner. Fried chicken. And I have a surprise.”
Surprise? Oh, did he say fried chicken? She twisted her head toward the doorway to the kitchen and inhaled. Sure enough, she caught the mouthwatering aroma of old-fashioned fried chicken. It was his grandmother’s recipe from the diner she’d owned and Justice had grown up in.
And something else too, an acerbic, familiar scent. “Do I smell paint?”
“That’s my other surprise. Well, one of them.” He slid her down to her feet. “I hope you like it. If not, I’ll redo it, I just…” He scrunched up his face. “I’m actually nervous. This is worse than my preshow jitters.”
She was still trying to get her bearings. “What is? Did you take up painting? Did you paint a chicken? Oh, I know, it’s a rooster.” Why was she babbling?
Taking her hand, he tugged her toward the hallway. “Nope. I painted this.” He led her to the doorway of the first bedroom on the right.
She glanced in and gasped. “You did this?” The double bed, bookshelf, and dresser were gone. The room was empty, with a fresh coat of soft, sweet yellow. It was like walking into the first rays of morning sunshine, warm and embracing. “You did all this? When?”
“I flew in this morning and hauled ass here to paint the room before you got home. I spent a week looking at colors and talking to Ben and begging him to get Em to help. She was so pissed at me.”
“Em helped you choose this?”
He turned her to face him, hands on her shoulders, eyes boring into hers. “I want our baby, Beth. Our daughter. You were so hurt when I couldn’t get home for the ultrasound. I want to show you I’m here and I’m in. All in. I love you. I’m going to take better care of you now that I’m home.”
She couldn’t quite breathe. “Remember those hormones I was telling you about?”
“The sex-starved teenagers?”
“They’re getting all weepy and messy.” She blinked, trying to keep from crying.
He laughed. “Do you like it? The color I picked? You mentioned peach or yellow, but peach is your color.”
“Mine?”
“You smell like peaches, and it’s a turn-on. I can’t have that in my daughter’s room. So I chose yellow for her. Is it okay?”
Liza gazed at the room again. “I love it. Thank you.”
He kissed her, then groaned. “Don’t tempt me. Once I get you in bed, I’m keeping you and your sex-starved hormones there.” He glanced down at her dress. “I need five minutes to mash the potatoes and make the gravy.”
“Oh, I left the groceries by the front door.”
“I’ll get them. That dress is pretty on you, but go get comfortable. You’re going to be naked very soon anyway.”
She rushed to put on her yoga pants and tank, no bra just to torture him. They ate in the dining room and did the dishes together like old times, talking, laughing, and finally Justice pulled her into his arms. “I have one more surprise.”
“What?”
“The announcement will come out at midnight EST, but we got the notification.”
Her heart rate jumped, and Liza went up on her toes. “You got it?”
“You’re looking at the lead singer of the Indie Breakout Band for World Rock Stage. And he’s taking his wife on a belated honeymoon to Paris.”
Liza squealed, so damned happy and proud of Justice. “I have a honeymoon to plan! How many days will we have in France before the show?”
He laughed as he scooped her up as if she hadn’t gained any weight, and walked down the hallway. “Three days all to ourselves before the practice and events start.” In their room, he laid her on the bed. “You can plan tomorrow. Tonight is all about making love to my wife.”
She was totally on board with that.
* * *
“I grabbed you a coffee.” Lynx handed over the to-go cup.
Justice accepted it and took a long drink of the strong brew. “Thanks, man.” Lynx had known Justice had an appointment today at the transitional center. The family therapy session left him with a killer headache. For forty minutes, his dad refused to look at him and gave muttered, one-word answers.
Then the counselor brought up his mother.
Justice winced again as the memory replayed.
She bailed like the coward she is, Justice had said.
Watch the way you talk about your mother, Noah replied.
Justice couldn’t fucking believe his dad said that. They’d had words, then Justice’s temper snapped. She left me. I got arrested, and she left me to rot in jail. Informed me I was a loser and left. So don’t fucking tell me to have respect for her.
Robin did that?
He should have reined it in then. The utter shock on his dad’s scarred face had been more than he could take. You both did. The only one who gave a damn was Grandma. Justice had walked outside to cool down and get control of himself. When he’d gone back inside, his dad was gone. Everyone assumed he’d gone to his room, but when Justice checked, he wasn’t there.
Noah had left the center.
Once again, Justice with his big fucking mouth had driven his dad away. He hadn’t even told Beth yet, just got his ass on the road to L.A. to sign the contracts for World Rock Stage.
He popped a couple Advil and chased it with another hit of hot caffeine. What was wrong with him that he kept lashing out at his dad? He’d been shocked and pissed that his dad would defend his mom. Okay, it was a sore spot with him.
“He bailed,” Lynx said.
“Yep.” What else could he say? His friend knew his dad’s pattern of disappearing and not wanting to be found.
“Therapy is a crock of shit. Never did a lick of good for my junkie mom.”
“Or us in juvie.” He leaned against his Jeep in the parking garage of the building. He wasn’t ready to go inside yet.
“Those juvie shrinks were smug, self-righteous, overeducated pricks. They didn’t know what it was like. Did they ever eat uncooked macaroni from the box ’cause they were starving? Or rotting food out of a trash can? No.”
Jesus. However bad Justice had had it, he’d always had food and a place to live and someone who cared—his grandmother. Lynx had spent much of his childhood in crack houses or worse.
“The counselors in juvie didn’t know shit,” Justice agreed. “But this guy we were talking to at the transitional center, he’s ex-military. He’s lived some of the life my dad has. He’s not bad, it’s just…” What?
“Your dad’s fucked up.”
It hurt like a son of a bitch every time he saw the ragged shell that once was his dad. “I don’t know how Beth does it. She looks at my dad and sees something else. He loves her. Talks to her.” But Justice, his own son? Nope. Grow up, dude, it’s time to get over your daddy issues. Yeah, that.
“How’s Liza?”
He welcomed the change of topic. “She’s good.” He thought of her with the baby swell, her body softening and changing. He wanted her more than ever. “If you’d told me a year ago a pregnant woman would ring my bell, I’d have laughed in your face.” He wanted to kiss her, touch her, and fuck her every damned second. Even her scent was stronger. And she wasn’t kidding about those sex-starved hormones of hers. “She woke me at 3:00 a.m. Girl’s got it bad for me.”
Lynx snorted. “Mega TMI.”
Probably, but this was his longtime friend, so he didn’t care if the man knew how hot Justice was for his pregnant wife. “I’m taking her to Paris a few days early. It’s going to cost a shitload, but she deserves it.”
“Well, then we better get up to the office and sign those contracts, or you won’t have a reason to go to France at all.” Lynx studied him. “Ready?”
In other words, had he gotten his head back on? “Let’s go sign. Jagged Sin is in meltdown mode. They’re ranting all over social media how we sucked dick to get this spot.”
“If I was gonna suck dick, it’d be for a Grammy win.”
Justice laughed. “Now that’s some TMI.” They headed up the elevator, through reception and into Christine’s office.
Gray, Simon and River were already there.
“Nice of you to drop by,” River commented.
“I thought so.” Lynx sprawled on the couch. “Miss me?”
Justice lifted his hand in greeting and took a chair.
Christine turned from talking with her staff and faced the group. “And here we are. The launch and tour was a success.”
Simon cleared his throat. “To the extent that we broke into the top fifty and got invited to World Rock Stage, yes. But our income for S.I. is lagging. We spent a hell of a lot of money with extra flights, hotels, adding more shows. Not all sales are in yet, but we’re still in the red.”
“I’m aware. However, you get a substantial signing bonus from World Rock Stage, and your flights, food, lodging and security are paid for.” She shifted to Justice. “Designers are already vying for Liza to wear their clothes—all of which she’ll get for free.”
He loved the idea of them fawning over her. This was what he wanted, to spoil his wife and give her the world. “Cool.”
Christine refocused on the group. “In addition, you can expect more sales, and that invitation has given us some offers for endorsements for apparel and jewelry that you’ll wear onstage. In other words, you sign this contract…” she held up legal-sized sheets of paper, “…and you guys will be golden. All the work, the sacrifice, it’s all paying off.”
The last of Justice’s headache vanished in the rush of joy and vindication. World Rock Stage was seen in multiple countries. The opportunities from that would pay off for years. They had finally captured the brass ring.
And he was going to take his wife to Paris and show her a good time. “Where do we sign?”
She waved a hand at her assistant, who snapped into action, passing out copies.
“We’ve already made a couple changes. The version you have is ready. Look it over, and let me know if you have any questions. We’ll sign it, I’ll send for countersignatures, and it’s a done deal. Also attached are the endorsement deals, which hinge on signing the contract. I’ll give you guys some time to look it over.”
She moved back to her desk.
Justice took his copy, first looking at the endorsement deals. And damn, that was some serious money. They’d be able to pay off everything they owed for the tour, invest more in the company and all take a very healthy draw too. Justice would be able to pay off the second on the house and start taking care of his family the right way.
He was anxious to sign, then go home and take Beth to dinner and shopping for baby furniture. At this rate, they could look for a new house in a year or so.
They were going to be rich. Famous. Powerful.
He’d be able to find a treatment that worked for his dad.
Realizing his mind was drifting, he focused, reading through the dense clauses jam-packed with the usual legal speak. Getting to the end, he flipped to the signature page. Lines and typed names filled the page—all five band members, their representation, Christine Castle, and the owners of World Rock Stage. He scanned down the list then froze on one name.
Gene Hayes.
“What the blazing fuck?” He jackknifed up, his blood defying gravity to surge up and pummel his eardrums. “Gene fucking Hayes is an owner?”
Christine lifted her gaze from her phone, eyes cold and hard. “Yes. Sign, Justice.”
“Sign?” His voice dropped. Pain stabbed his temples, probably from his impending stroke. He’d never in his life laid an unwanted hand on a woman. Never. But he was seconds from turning into a monster. “You knew? It wasn’t on the website. I never saw his name connected.”
“He bought in a few years ago as a silent partner.”
“And you knew this?”
Lynx and River both got up, flanking him. Justice could feel the look pass between them. They thought he was going to lose it and attack.
Smart men.
“Back off,” he warned them.
“J, sit, we’ll figure this out.”
He swung to Lynx. “It’s already figured out. We aren’t doing this. We aren’t helping that rapist make money. We aren’t getting into bed with him.” He threw the contract at Christine, shoved River out of his way and stormed toward the door. He had to get out, leave. Before he hit a woman.
“You’ll be ruined, Cade. Bankrupted. Your career dead,” Christine said. “You won’t be able to get a job singing at a kid’s birthday party. You walk out that door, and you’re a nobody loser.”
His muscles locked down an arm’s length from the door. He was pretty sure it was a rich wood color, but all he could see was the red haze of pulsing rage so vivid his body twitched.
He turned, his gaze pinging around the room. Simon stood, hands fisted, cold predator eyes burning.
River and Lynx wore similar masks of anger.
It was Gray who strode to Christine’s desk, kicked a chair out of his way, and demanded, “How long have you known this and kept it from us?”
“I heard about the deal when it happened.”
“And you didn’t tell us? Justice?”
Her stare cut to him. “I warned him that Hayes was powerful and had long tentacles in the music world. I told him Liza was a problem. He made his choice. But no, I didn’t tell any of you about Hayes.”
River spun, all his muscles going fluid, his dark hair fanning out. “Why the fuck not?”
Lynx shot his hand out, gripping River’s forearm.
Justice saw it all: River going into his fighting stance, and the man was freaking dangerous when he got pissed. Lynx leashing him. Christine staring down her nose at them.
Because they were her pawns, her bitches.
“You wanted to win, to get to the top? Grow up, men, this is how it’s done. You don’t get to pick and choose from the moral high ground. Winning means you get in the trenches with the dirty cocksuckers and deal with it. You’ll sign the contract, or you’re done. On top of losing everything, I’ll sue for breach of contract. Now stop whining. This isn’t just your shot, this is it. The big fucking deal. The dream every wannabe rocker in the universe dreams about—and it’s right here.” She held up the contract. “Gene Hayes isn’t going to be there. No one has seen him there since the trial.”
All his band members turned to look at him.
So did Christine. “You’re the one who has the most to lose if you don’t sign. Because Hayes won’t stop in his quest for revenge on Liza. So if you really want to protect her, then you’d better get rich and powerful enough to hire a legion of attorneys and fight. So what’s it going to be?”
Liza. Holy Christ on the cross, what should he do? If he walked, they’d end up destitute. He’d be fighting lawsuits, because Christine would come after them with all her shark teeth exposed. And Liza, how would he protect her from Hayes and everything else?
How would he take care of their baby?
If he walked out that door, he was a loser. No question.
If he signed that contract, he’d betray Beth. He felt that all the way to his soul.
What could he do?
* * *
Justice stalked to his car, ready to kill. He’d never felt like more of a traitor in his life.
“Wait up.”
He spun, facing Simon. “I almost killed Christine. I could see myself doing it.”
“Right there with you. We’re trapped.”
“When our contract is up or we’re rich enough to buy Christine out, she’s fucking fired.” He dropped his back to the cool metal of his Jeep. “She manipulated us like a bunch of eager, wet-behind-the-ears pussies.”
Simon braced a hand against the hood, staring at the ground. “It never ends. The getting fucked over.”
True goddamned story.
Simon lifted his head, the scar on his cheek a slash of white across the dark flush riding his face. “I thought going on TV to tell Julie’s story was bad. The worst thing I could do. A betrayal of my wife’s memory, of the pain she suffered. But this…”
Justice would never forget that day. Sitting in the studio on the red couch while Simon verbally ripped open a piece of his heart and told the world his wife had committed suicide. All because Jagged Sin tried to use Julie’s suicide to win more votes for their band by casting Simon as the one who drove his wife to kill herself. They had tried to get the public to turn on Simon and Savaged Illusions.
Simon sold his soul that day to achieve fame.
Justice sold his today.
“I wouldn’t have asked you to do this if we weren’t in too deep,” Simon said. “There’s no way out. We walk away, we’re ruined and done.”
“I can’t walk away. I have a kid coming. Beth’s already sacrificed so much. We told her she was banned from our tour. I had her sign a postnup. I asked her to postpone her own moment of glory with a chance to appear on Rock Wives because I didn’t want to risk any more negative publicity for our band. Now I have to do this, work for the man who took everything from her once—her innocence, her family, even her trust.” He closed his eyes, a wave of pure terror clutching him. “I can’t tell her.”
“Are you sure? Hayes’s name isn’t on anything aside from the contracts, and he won’t be in France, but still, wouldn’t it be better to come clean? Just tell her now?”
“No. Remember the last video in Tampa? She had nightmares, and I found her huddled in the bathroom.” The image flooded his mind, the tears streaming down Beth’s face as she frantically snapped that rubber band. “She cuts.”
“Still?”
“She’s struggling with it again. Between Hayes, the shit I put her through and the baby, the urge is there. She’s almost six months, and she’ll be nearly seven months when we go to France. If she finds out, I don’t know what she’ll do. I can’t tell her, not now.” He had to protect her. Give her this one thing—a honeymoon in Paris. He’d do the show, and they’d come home. Then after the baby was born, he’d explain.
“Don’t let her see the contract. Otherwise, Hayes’s name won’t come up. He’s a silent investor,” Simon said. “I doubt anyone connected with World Rock Stage wants his association known.”
Justice hated keeping this from her, but he didn’t have a choice. If she found out, Liza would lose control. They’d fight. She’d walk.
Or cut.
He couldn’t take the risk.