Rockin' the Heart (Hot Wired) (2 page)

Heath stared at Sam.
A hint of moisture shined in her sapphire-blue eyes. Her dark-brown hair was pulled up in a ponytail. Better to commit grand theft auto. Goddamn. The very idea of her running from the law in a stolen vehicle… he still grappled to come to terms with her newest stupidity. When Jase discovered she’d put herself in danger, there’d be a coming to Jesus meeting that’d make the Last Supper look like a frat party.

She was just lucky he
’d been home when the call came through and Jase had been out partying.

She owned a vehicle, so why
’d she feel the need to act out like this? He wasn’t even sure how all this fit into her wanting to go home excuse.

“
This got something to do with you wanting to change your last name?” She shrugged, and he ground his teeth together. The woman drove him nuts! “You go home, it won’t matter if you do alter your name. Everyone there knows you. You’ll turn into the small town celebrity you hate. If by some miracle you manage to alter your name and squirrel back to Bama without the press knowing, they’ll eventually sniff you out. You can’t run from them. You
know
this.”

Of all people, the three of them had figured
that out long ago. At one point the tabloids had accused he and Jase of being lovers. Not many bought the gay opinion though since neither hid their sexual exploits from the public eye… on stage or off.

“
I didn’t ask for the press bullshit.”

“
No, you didn’t. No more than you asked to lose your parents.” She winced, but he refused to sugarcoat anything to protect her sensibilities. “Grow up and deal, Sam.”

“
Says the mature rock star banging chicks after every gig. We won’t even mention what you do in front of an audience.”

A normal
person would be embarrassed by his exploits, but Heath had lost any shame he possessed with the rise of Hot Wired’s notoriety.

“This conversation is about you, not me.”
He wasn’t banging the chick he favored. The words almost slipped out, but he bit them back at the last second. “Pull a stunt like this again, and there’ll be hell to pay.”

“
What’cha planning,
Daddy
? Turning me over your knee and doling out a spanking?”

Fuck
me
. What was she doing putting a visual like that in his head?

The
girl had amused and irritated him like his biological sister had. The woman drove him bat-shit-crazy. Feeling guilty for wanting her in his bed, he struggled to hold her at arm’s length while maintaining the tight structure of their relationship. They lived in the same house for Christ’s sake. He’d helped raise her after her parent’s death. Only a pervert would lust after a girl he should view as his relative.

But since
her late teens he’d had a hard fucking time thinking of her as anything other than a woman with fan-fucking-tastic curves. A woman he already loved, wanted to protect, and take care of with the same sense of entitlement as Jase, but he toed a razor sharp edge where she was concerned.

“
Don’t tempt me, brat.” Heath pulled away from her and leaned against the opposite wall. He ran his hand over his jaw, the stubble tickling his fingertips. Sam watched him like she had a habit of lately—as if he interested her as a man. Wishful thinking, but he said a small prayer of thanks because Jase would not approve.

The elevator came to a halt on the
eighth floor, and a lady with a teen girl entered. “You keep acting like a convict, and I’m going to send you to live with your dad,” the woman said in a furious whisper.

The mousy brown haired girl wi
th bad acne gawked at him. By her wide-eyed stare she’d made him.
Shit
. This wouldn’t go over well with Sam. He peeked at the brat that’d held his heart in some way for over a decade.

“
It’s him. Fang, show some mercy and talk to the girl,” Sam said as she pushed away from her reclined position and elbowed the mom. “You got paper and pen so he can give her his John Hancock?”

He should
’ve expected this attitude. She was big on engaging their fans.

“
You a fan of Hot Wired?”

The girl nodded as a blush crept along her cheeks.

“What’s your favorite song?”

“
Justified… Just Say the Word… no, um… all of them.” She giggled. “Oh-M-Gee!” The girl executed a high-pitched squeal that might’ve fractured his eardrums. “Mom, Kathryn and Nely will never believe I met Fang from Hot Wired.”

Sam wiggled her finger in her ear and blinked. Heath chuckled.
“Got a cell? Sam here’ll take a photo, and then your friends can’t disbelieve ya.”

The girl squealed again
, and Sam made an owl-eyed face at him. He grinned as the girl tossed the phone at Sam. Thank goodness for her quick reflexes. In the next breath she flattened herself against his side hugging him like a monkey. Sam snapped off several shots, even made the mother submit to a few photos.

“
Gonna text a few to myself.” Sam’s digits whipped over the keypad. A normal person would be upset by her boldness, but not a fan. “I’ll post them on Hot Wired’s official FaceMe fan page when I get home.” She offered the girl the phone and then pressed pen and paper into his grasp. He wasn’t sure when she’d acquired the items. “Tag yourself in them when you get a chance. Oh, and what’s your name, sweetie, so Fang can give ya his signature?”

“
Angela. My name’s Angela.”

Heath scribbled:

Angela,

Keep rockin!

Love,

Fang

“You look familiar. Are you his girlfriend?” Angela clutched his signature to her heart, but gaped at Sam.

“
No!” She shook her head. “I’m Jase’s sister—”

Another deafening scream. Sam winced.

“Oh my God! Oh my God!
Oh my God
!” One of the girl’s hands fluttered over her mouth. “You’re my idol. I wanna be just like you.”

“
Not a good role model,” the comment spilled out before Heath could reel it in. Sam shot him an exasperated glare.

The censure in Mom
’s voice was evident when she said, “That’s what I keep telling her. And why we’re here.” She gave Sam a pointed glower.

“
Let me guess, Fang was here bailing you out of jail?” The girl didn’t have to sound in awe over it.

“
Something like that.” Sam crossed her arms beneath her breasts, her cheeks slightly pink beneath her olive complexion.

“
Our stop,” the mother said when the elevator doors reopened on the second floor.

“
You two look good together. You should hook up.” The girl waived the paper with his signature on it. “Thanks again.”

Awkwardness descended once the doors slid shut.
Just two floors to go and they’d exit the cage.

You two look good together. You should hook up
.

Innocent words from the lips of a babe, but Sam wasn
’t the hook up type. At least not with him.

She
stared at the elevator numbers highlighted in red. “That girl could rival your screams.”

Doubtful
. He could hold a note for a while. “Thanks.”

Her gaze crashed with his.
“For what? That wasn’t a compliment.”

“
For making that girl’s life.” He winked.

She snorted
, but he saw the tenseness leave her shoulders. “You’re so cocky it makes me crazy.”

“
I can’t help all the girls think I’m hot.”

The doors slid open. Without a stutter, she stared him straight in the eye and said,
“Just an FYI,
Fang
, you’re not all that and a box of crackers.”

Ouch
!

Ego crushed
, he followed her into the underground parking deck.

Jase cracked open an eye. Bright light haloed the curtains on either side like fissures in a cave wall. He groaned at the pounding in his head and surveyed the clock through bleary vision. The numbers swam, but he thought it neared two-thirty in the afternoon.
Damn
. He’d overslept and reneged on his promise to meet Fang to go over some tracks. Odd that his band mate hadn’t woken him.

He scratched his belly and stretched beneath the sheet.
With a yawn, he scooted to the edge of the bed and swung his legs over the side of the mattress.

Naughty
memories from last night invaded his recollection. Good times with an impish duo of gals. He’d tried to invite Fang to join him, but all his calls went straight to voicemail. Maybe his buddy had hooked up without him. Or spent one of his boring nights reading a book in the mansion.

Fang was the only rocker he knew that liked to read. The only time he thought of him as Heath was when he had his nose stuck in a
novel. If Jase never opened another book again, he would be a very happy man.

He palmed his cell. Eight text messages.

Terrible omen
.

With a tap to the message icon, his
mood went from stellar to shit.

Six were from known tabloid reporters.
He groaned, and his belly protested with a roll.

Two were from the other Hot Wired band members, well-intentioned messages with snapshots of the morning
’s headlines. He jabbed Keys’ message with his thumb and then clicked on the link to a ViewTube vid. He froze as he watched the stolen red Maserati highlighted by the beam of what looked like several helicopter lights. A good ten minutes elapsed as he held his breath and the stolen car weaved in and out of traffic at breakneck speed. Cut off at an exit ramp, the car fishtailed when the driver slammed on the brakes to avoid smashing into the officers. A swat load of motherfucking cops converged on the car like the occupant was on the FBI’s top ten most wanted terrorist list. The door was wrenched open and his sister dragged from the driver seat. She grinned and gave the helicopters the one-finger salute.

Jesus
, that was my sister evading the law in a stolen Mase-fucking-rati
!

Jase
’s grip tightened on the cell, his knuckles whitening. Her blasé attitude tipped him from terrified for her safety to enraged by her stupidity.

In
a matter of moments the cops flung her face first against the vehicle with her wrists bracketed in handcuffs, and she still smiled like a goddamn lunatic! Was she trying to kill his career or just give him a damned heart attack? Didn’t she understand if something happened to her, they might as well put him in the coffin with her? Sam was all he had.

What the fuck
had gotten into his baby sister? It’d started with base jumping and escalated to bar brawls, and knifing chicks—to name a few of her more scandalous moments. Now, apparently carjacking was her latest hoorah. If she were fifteen he’d know how to handle her—start by cutting off her cell. But she was twenty and had a fucking fortune in a trust fund he’d gifted to her on her eighteenth birthday. He couldn’t cut off jack-shit any longer.

For the love of Christ, he wasn
’t sure how he’d get her out of this mess.

He chucked his phone across the room as hard as he could. The device hit the wall and splintered into pieces.

Elbows resting on his knees, he dropped his face into his palms. After the bar fight she said she wanted to return home to Alabama and escape Hollywood. Thanks to his rise to fame, she’d never be able to dodge celebrity status regardless of where she resided.

The last time he bailed her out he
’d told her not to call him the next time she got arrested. Of course the statement had been a threat and only an intimidation tactic he’d hoped would scare her straight.

Should he le
t her sit in jail contemplating the seriousness of his statement or go bail out her ungrateful ass?

Come to think of it why hadn
’t she called Fang or one of the other band members, Keys and Derringer? Any of the three would’ve picked her up. Unless one of the cops had gotten tired of her bullshit too and decided to teach her a lesson. Someone needed to!

He
pinched the bridge of his nose. Best to find out where they stood this go round and what favors he’d have to promise to get her out of hot water. He dressed in a pair of gray sweat pants and a T-shirt from his closet.

Barefoot, he finally located
Fang sitting at the piano working out the notes to a new song. When he strolled in, his best friend and lead singer of Hot Wired halted. Fang’s wary gaze watched him approach.

“
Do I look like I’m about to explode?” Jase scratched his jaw. Unlike Fang, he disliked facial hair and needed to shave everyday.

“
Not really.” His buddy shrugged. “I figured if you watched the ViewTube video Keys sent, you might implode.”

He almost
had. “Any news which precinct has her locked up?”

“
That’d be us.” Fang placed his pencil on top of the piano. “I picked her up last night before you got home.”

“
Why didn’t you call?”

“
I did. Check your messages.”

“
I kinda smashed my cell after I watched Sam’s high-speed, cop chase.” He ran his palm across his nape. Recalling that video sent shivers of unease down his spine. “I can’t imagine what’s gotten into her.”

“
Think about it, Jase. She doesn’t know who she is or what she wants to do. Paparazzi hound her. The only real friend she has is from her youth, all the others just want a piece of us.”

“
I’m her friend!
You’re
her friend.”

“
You’re her brother. Big difference. I’m… yeah, I’m her friend, but I guess kinda like her brother too. It’s not like I’ve ever taken her with me to socialize.” Fang swiveled on the bench and straddled the seat. “Think about the last girlfriend she went shopping with.”

“
Brittany.” His former, longish-term two month girlfriend had forced Sam to ‘shop until we drop’ at the mall.

“
Exactly. Over a year ago and we both know how that turned out.”

Jase laughed. Sam had threatened to cut his dick off if he forced her to go off with Brittany again. Then had detailed how
‘Brittany whored herself to the press’. She’d been right. He’d known his girlfriend was interested only in his money and the gig that came with being the eye-candy on his arm. But she’d been a good lay, up for
anything,
so he’d kept her around.

“
I don’t know what to do with her.” Thinking of that damn video sobered him fast. “If she goes back to Bama she’ll be more accessible to the press. At least here in LA we protect her.”

“
I’ve got an idea.” Fang licked his lips. Was his buddy nervous about something? “Let me deal with her for a while. You focus on being her supportive brother. I’ll be her…
friend
.”

Something about the way Fang said
the word ‘friend’ hit Jase wrong. It didn’t help that Fang refused to meet his gaze.

Jase
found his hell raiser sister in the kitchen doing her second favorite thing… cooking. What a mundane hobby in comparison to her newest adrenaline rush of catastrophic idiocy she engaged in.

Sam
glanced up when he walked into the room. “Hey,” she said in soft voice.

“
I don’t want to talk about it.”

Her jaw dropped
, and he grinned to himself for taking her by surprise. “You on drugs or something? I expected a bitching.”

“
You know better. Just tell me when your court date is.”

Tossing him a wary
glance, she went back to mixing the stir-fry. “No court date. Apparently Heath sold his soul or something.”

“
You owe him.” He sat on the barstool, propped his elbow on the counter, and settled his chin in his palm. “I smashed my phone. You owe me a new one.”

She rolled her eyes.
“Right. Let me dip into my trust fund, and you can buy yourself a new one with the money you gave me.”

“
Goddamn it, how many times do I need to tell you that’s your money?”

Food abandoned, she turned to glare at him.
She shook the spatula at him. “Probably as many times as I have to tell you I want to go home.”

“
Shut up,” Fang snapped, strolling into the kitchen. “Your bitching gets on my last fucking nerve. Both of you drop the money issue. And the home issue. Ever heard of old news?”

“
Piss off.” Sam turned back to the stir-fry.

“
Sam, I have a party to attend tomorrow night in Hollywood Hills.” Fang straddled the barstool next to Jase.

“
I was gonna cook your favorite meal tomorrow, but I can put that off to the next night.” Sam rolled her shoulders like they ached. “Thanks for letting me know.”

“
I want you to go with me.”

Jase watched as his sister
’s entire body went tense at Fang’s statement.

“
Why?” She didn’t even look in Fang’s direction, but mistrust was evident in her cautious tone.

“
You need to get out, meet some people that don’t give two-fucks who you are. They’re more famous than you.”

“
Great. A pity party. Fuck you very much, Heath.”

His best friend grinned.
“Think of it as intervention. You either go, or I call the Judge, and the grand theft auto charges can be reinstated.”

Fang’s cat
, Big Al, meowed and wove around her ankles begging for offerings.

Gaze narrowed on his friend, Sam hissed,
“You wouldn’t.”

Fang pulled his cell out of his jean pocket
and fiddled with the phone before flipping the device around to show her the lit screen. “Judge Moody. Should I make the call?”

Oh,
Fang is good
. Calling her bluff with a straight face. At least he thought his friend called her bluff. No wonder he always lost at poker to Fang when they played.

Crinkles fanned outward from the corners of her eyes.
“That’s blackmail.”

“
That’s intervention, brat.”