Rock God (Hearts of Metal Book 3) (3 page)

She found a dark alcove shielded from the rain. There she sat down, her feet screaming as she rested her head against the concrete wall. She could hear the crowd cheering as a new song began, and the music was enticingly familiar. She’d heard the song before, a long time ago. In another lifetime. And the singer… God, his voice was beautiful. Shayna closed her eyes and gave herself over to aching nostalgia and bittersweet dreams.

When she woke, the music had stopped. Shayna thought it was the silence that roused her, but then a pair of dark shadows fell over her.

“Want some company, lady?” a drunken voice slurred.

Shayna’s eyes snapped open, and her soon-to-be attackers vanished into the light of the hospital room.

Hospital?

A nurse leaned over her and smiled, speaking words that Shayna only partially understood. Fatigue, dehydration, something about her feet… Confusion, a side effect. But a side effect of what?

Hoping she sounded coherent, Shayna struggled to ask how she’d gotten here. The nurse beamed and explained that a man had rescued her. Slowly, Shayna understood more of what was being said. Did Shayna want to thank the man?

Reflexively, she nodded. Shayna’s mother always said to express gratitude.

A shadowy figure filled the doorway, and a tremor of trepidation shimmied down Shayna’s spine. Suddenly, the idea of thanking her rescuer didn’t seem like a good one. The world still blurred in and out of focus. Who was he? What did he want? What if she made a fool of herself?

“Hello, Shayna,” the man said. “How are you feeling?”

His voice warmed her more than the thin hospital blanket. Shayna struggled to sit up, wincing as an IV dug into her arm. It took all of her willpower to get her eyes to focus on her visitor, but she managed. With his long black hair and chain-bedecked leather outfit, he should look dangerous, but he didn’t. If anything, he was handsome. Too damn handsome. Dark curls framed a chiseled face that reminded her of a movie star’s. Bright, friendly blue eyes with only a trace of laugh lines glimmered in harmony with a smile that made her belly flutter.

He was of medium height and slim, yet his presence felt larger. There was also something familiar about him, but that was probably her memory of his rescue trying to surface.

“I’m alright, considering.” Her voice came out groggy and cracked, but at least it was intelligible. “They said you paid my copay and offered to cover everything that the insurance won’t. I can’t thank you enough. I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t worry about it,” the man said, obviously not believing she was capable of handling her debt.

The amusement in his eyes gave her a twinge of annoyance. She was half tempted to explain that she had a few thousand dollars of book royalties put away, but it seemed ridiculous to claim she was an author when she didn’t know if she could ever bring herself to write again.

“Really,” she protested, desperate to assert she wasn’t completely helpless. “When I get out of here—”

“About that,” the man interrupted, plopping down in the chair by the bed. “I’ve decided that you’re coming home with me.”

At first his authoritative tone made her instinctively agree. Almost. But no, this wasn’t her husband.
Ex
-husband. This wasn’t her mother. This wasn’t anyone she knew or could trust, or even knew
not
to trust. He was a stranger.

Shayna choked off a horrified laugh. Who did he think he was?

“You
decided
? Sir, I don’t think—”

“Call me Dante,” the man said with a boyish smile. “‘Sir’ makes me feel old.”

Before Shayna could recover from that smile, the man changed the subject. “So, what happened to your feet? I overheard the nurses saying it looked like you walked here all the way from Portland.”

“I did,” Shayna answered without thinking. She bit her lip, wishing she could take back the words. Now he’d think she was crazy. But walking was the only thing that made sense. It had been the only calm in the storm of her life. During childhood, she’d preferred walking over taking the school bus unless the weather was bad. Ever since she’d married Shawn, she couldn’t make it through the day without at least a morning walk, rain or shine.

Shawn. Her husband’s cruel words echoed in her mind.
“I see no sense in pretending anymore. I’ll start the divorce proceedings tomorrow.”
The door had slammed behind him, and his car roared out of the driveway, no doubt on the way back to
her
place. Shayna had sunk to the floor, her heart reduced to an aching, dying mass. It wasn’t the affair that hurt the most; it was that he’d been with that other woman when Shayna needed him. That Shawn had been screwing around on her the night her world ended.

The howl of a caged thing had torn from her throat. A voice in her mind spoke with irrefutable conviction:
Leave now. There is nothing for you here. To stay will give him more power over you.

The confident voice was right. If Shawn was in such a hurry to be rid of her, it was time to be rid of him. She would start the proceedings on her own terms. But why hadn’t that voice spoken up until now?

She had frantically dashed through the house, throwing things into a backpack with little thought. She had made a few phone calls—voice calm, belying her panic—and then stepped out of her immaculate suburban home in Portland, Oregon, and walked, stopping only at the courthouse to pick up divorce paperwork to fill out. After that…she’d walked farther than she ever had in her life, trying to outdistance the pain. As if her shame and grief were imprinted on her forehead, she avoided people, stopping only to eat and wash at truck stops and convenience stores. Sleep only came when she collapsed from exhaustion in an alley, or on a park bench; it didn’t matter where. When the nightmares woke her, she got up and walked them off.

“Damn,” Dante said slowly, bringing her back to the present. “May I ask why?”

A thread of steel in that dark blue gaze compelled her to answer…if she could only find the words.

She sighed. “It’s a long story.”

Dante leaned forward, dark hair falling over one eye. “Good, you’ll have plenty of time to tell me while you’re recovering at my place.” His expression sobered. “You need to rest, eat, and stay off your feet. Do you really think you’ll be able to do that at some homeless shelter?”

“No, but…but…why are you doing this?” she demanded. Panic gained the upper hand at the prospect of going home with a stranger, even one as good-looking as Dante.

To hell with his looks. He could be a serial killer!
her mother’s voice squawked in Shayna’s head.

The confident voice scoffed.
A serial killer? If he’s been waiting at the hospital so long and associating with me in front of so many witnesses, he’s a bad one. Besides, he doesn’t give off that vibe. Still, be careful.

She would, as autocratic as this man came across. The last thing Shayna needed was to be trapped under another man’s thumb.

Dante broke off her inner argument. He leaned forward, his gaze fixed on her, and said, “Because I want to help you. I swear I don’t have any other motives.”

Maybe she was dreaming. Nobody could have eyes this beautiful. They were the most striking shade of blue and seemed to peer into her very soul. Shayna took a deep, shuddering breath—which didn’t help because she caught a whiff of his masculine scent. Pheromones did unsettling things to her lower body, and she shivered. It had been too long since she’d been with anyone. Her husband hadn’t touched her since the pregnancy began to show.

Now, don’t go down that path,
her inner voice said sharply,
or you will be in danger, no matter what
.

“You can leave as soon as you want, I promise,” Dante added in a reassuring voice, though his eyes remained determined.

Shayna struggled to think straight. The nurse had said confusion was a normal symptom of fatigue, but this was getting ridiculous. She looked away from Dante and considered the odds. He didn’t have a predatory look to him like the guys who’d attacked her…but he was still a stranger, and a bossy one at that. Unfortunately, with how badly her feet throbbed, it was doubtful she’d be able to walk for a few days at least.

Tentatively, she wiggled her toes. Immediate, stabbing agony made her grit her teeth, underlining the fact that she had few choices. Furthermore, she still had no idea where she was walking to. Aside from the vague idea to head south in case winter struck while she was still on the road, Shayna had no real destination. Her common-sense voice had screamed at her to settle down and get an apartment or something, but Shayna had ignored it, unable to face reality just yet. Getting out from under Shawn’s control had been everything.

Despite the insanity of the situation, Shayna decided to take Dante up on his offer. After all, there were undoubtedly more strange men at the shelter, and this one looked harmless enough. From his appearance, he was still trying to live the glory days of his youth, but damn, the rocker look was
good
on him. With that skintight leather and long hair, Dante was the very antithesis of her corporate ex-hus—

She cut off that train of thought and focused on practicalities. Unbidden, her eyes strayed to his left hand, looking for a wedding ring. His fingers were bare. And what wife would allow her husband to dress up like that and go to rock concerts? Okay, she’d been worthless at preventing Shawn from doing whatever he wanted, but that was beside the point.

So, Dante was single. He probably had a scruffy bachelor pad, she reasoned, so besides paying him back, she could clean up his place and cook him a few decent meals before she left for…wherever she was going to go.

His scent teased her again, and her cheeks grew hot at the realization that she not only looked horrible, she no doubt smelled worse. Her feet had been cleaned and bandaged, and it looked like her arms had been given a half-hearted sponge, but that had only taken care of the first of many layers of filth. Her skin prickled as if she could feel the dirt and grime covering her body. Funny, how she hadn’t cared until now.

“May I use your shower?” she asked. Her muscles tightened at the thought of moving, but her mind recoiled from remaining dirty in his presence. Her mother’s voice ranted in her head about the state of her hair, her nails, her face. Nervously, she licked chapped lips.

“Of course.” That gorgeous smile returned, and Shayna’s belly fluttered.

She fought off her trepidation and confusion and nodded. “Okay, then.”

***

After she filed a quick police report with the resident officer at the hospital—which probably wouldn’t do any good since she didn’t have a good description of the men—a nurse helped Shayna into a wheelchair and gave her a supply of gauze and pain meds.

Shayna looked up at Dante as he wheeled her out into the night and to a waiting cab. “You don’t have a car? How did we get here?”

“We took the bus.”

Shayna frowned as her mother’s voice returned. How did this guy expect to take care of her if he didn’t have transportation? Did he even have a job? And if he didn’t, how had he paid the hospital bill? What if he was a drug dealer? Her stomach churned with speculation. This was a bad idea. She should have taken her chances at the shelter and—

The feel of his warm, hard body against hers as he lifted her from the wheelchair silenced the shrieking voice and made goose bumps rise up on her skin.

“You don’t have to carry me,” she said softly, her head swimming.

“I think I do.” His firm voice rumbled against her ear. His hair tickled her cheek.

As the cab took off to their destination, Shayna had another horrifying thought. What if he still lived with his parents? That could explain the extra money he had to throw around on concerts and medical expenses for strangers, but if that was the case, what would his parents say about him bringing her home? Would he hide her like a middle-aged kid smuggling in a stray dog?

“Does anyone else live with you?” she asked.

“No, it’s just me,” he replied. “But I have company often.”

“Oh,” she said. She’d just bet he did, with his gorgeous hair and eyes, and those kissable lips. A fierce surge of jealousy caught her off guard. Shayna considered asking him what he did for a living…and then discarded the idea. It sounded too much like a blind-date interview.

Dante had lapsed into silence, staring out the window into the darkness. Shayna did the same, and her eyelids grew heavy.

“We’re here.”

She didn’t even remember falling asleep, but Dante’s voice woke her. Shayna’s eyes opened, and she jerked her head off his shoulder so fast her neck popped. Her cheeks flamed. She’d been more intimate with this man in the past few hours of knowing him than in the whole last year with her husband.

He helped her out of the cab, picking her up as if she weighed nothing. Those muscles were strong and hard, belying his lean form. Shayna didn’t protest this time, either. Even in the darkness, the sight of Dante’s home knocked the breath from her body. It wasn’t a slummy apartment. It was a mansion.

Her stomach dropped like a leaden weight as the truth of her situation slammed back down on her with painful clarity. She knew nothing about this man. Nothing at all.

She peered over Dante’s shoulder to hide her gaping expression and caught a glimpse of the cab’s headlights blaring off back down the gated drive. Here she was, alone with a stranger. Who was he, and what, other than rich? Why would a rich guy offer to take her in? If only she hadn’t been too exhausted to attempt to learn more about him before she agreed to this. If only she’d had time to think this offer through. Why the hell had she agreed to it?

Too late,
her inner voice remarked.

She opened her mouth to say something about the elaborate house, but then closed it as she couldn’t find a polite way to broach the subject. Her mother had ingrained in her that it was rude to pry.

But what if he’s a serial killer or something?
the motherly voice screamed as well.
Rich people have strange hobbies.