Rock Star Romance: Dan (Contemporary New Adult Rockstar Bad Boy Romance) (Hard Rock Star Series Book 4) (86 page)

****

Mona was awakened by a loud crash a few mornings
after Ryan moved into Benny’s old house with her. She shot up in bed, surprised
and instantly scared. “What was that?” she yelped.

Ryan was sitting up beside her, awake and with
large eyes as he looked at her. “I don’t know,” he said, throwing the blankets
off of him. “It sounded like it came from the garage.”

He and Mona quietly and quickly crept down the
stairs towards the door to the garage that came off of the kitchen. He signaled
with a finger for her to not make a sound and he opened the door just a crack.

Sunlight shone through. The garage door was open!
After a cursory glance around revealed that no one was in the garage now, Ryan
pulled the door into the kitchen the rest of the way open. They didn’t even
have to step inside the garage to see what had happened.

“The Duke!” Mona shouted, shocked and horrified.
“It’s gone!”

The teal and white beauty, Benny’s pride and joy,
was no longer in its place of honor in the garage. The door appeared to have
been opened from the outside. Someone had clearly come in and stolen the bike.
Someone who shouldn’t have access to the garage…

Ryan rushed to the opened garage door, standing in
its wide doorway. He looked around for any sign of who had been there.
Suddenly, he saw something shining in a nearby bush. He reached down and
grabbed it.

It was the remote control garage opener.

Mona instinctively reached back and touched her
butt, feeling for her back pockets even though she was wearing silk pajama
bottoms. “Oh shit!” she exclaimed. “Oh my god. It must have fallen out… I
always had it. I… I made sure.”

She started to cry angry tears. “This is all my
fault. I’m so fucking stupid.” She crouched down on the short staircase that
led from the kitchen down to the garage. Ryan came back inside and went up to
her, wrapping his arms around her and resting his chin against her back.

“It’s going to be okay. It’s not your fault… Hey,
it’s going to be all right. We’ll figure this out. You probably even had it on
you and someone snatched it.”

Mona sniffled and shook her head. “It was on me
last night, but it… it could have fallen out anywhere, Ryan!”

He thought about that. It was possible that she’d
lost it while they were out at the arcade, or while they were riding to or
from. He hadn’t seen anyone that he knew, anyone that they shouldn’t trust.
Then again, they hadn’t really been paying that much attention to anyone other
than each other.

Ryan got out his cell phone and called the police.
“This is the second police report we’ve had to file this week,” he said as he
rubbed Mona’s back. “But whoever is doing this to us is being careless. These
two motorcycle-related incidents this close together? It’s obviously someone we
know who has a vendetta—Hello? Hi, yes, I need to report a theft. A motorcycle
has been stolen from 2223 North Bishop…”

He rose from his place on the steps and paced
around the garage, pausing to listen to the officer on the line and speaking
whenever he was asked for further details and information. “I’m the vice
president of a motorcycle club. My girlfriend lives here. This is her house.
She is the president and it’s her father’s motorcycle. Yes. Teal and white
Harley Davidson…”

He looked over at Mona. She watched him with her
face slightly contorted in her grief. She’d lost her dad and now she’d lost his
bike.

What a terrible daughter
, she thought
miserably. “I can’t run his club without someone getting hurt. I can’t keep his
bike safe…”

Ryan looked up at her and pouted, shaking his
head. “That’s it,” he told the officer over the phone. “Thank you. I’ll be in
touch. Bye.” He ended the call and put his phone back into his pocket. “It’s
going to be okay, Mona. I promise. We will get to the bottom of this and get
his bike back.”

“Weasel’s bike was
destroyed
,” she pointed
out, stressed about that still as well. “There may be no chance of ever seeing
Dad’s bike again.”

He sat beside her on the steps again, pulling her
into another hug. “Don’t be so negative. I will make this right again. Okay?”

Mona nodded against his back. She felt like
curling up into the fetal position and never leaving that spot, but soon enough
Ryan carried her inside and set her down by the breakfast table in the kitchen.

He fried some eggs for her and placed a plate of
them, plus a tall glass of orange juice, in front of her on the table. She stared
into space. She didn’t think it was possible, but she was now feeling even more
depressed than before.

“Who keeps doing these awful things?” she said
with a sad sigh and a shake of her head.

The universe responded with a knock on the door. Ryan
and Mona both jumped, and the air was thick with tension. They stood silently
in the kitchen for a moment, but the knock came again, and Mona finally started
to move.

Ryan got to the living room just as she opened the
door to Lance Olsen – the tall, slim redhead with the silver tooth.

“What do you want?” the couple shouted.

Lance laughed and looked between them, his
copper-colored eyes wide in mock amazement. “Wow, in stereo and everything! Did
you two practice that?”

“What do you want, Lance?” Ryan repeated.

Mona stepped back to let the traitor in, her face
grim. “Come in.”

Ryan fixed a glare at Lance, who was now politely
examining the colorful Chihuly vase next to their fireplace while they spoke to
each other in hushed voices.

“Is he really this stupid?” Mona whispered.

“Have you met him?” Ryan shot back.

Lance had never been friendly, but he’d never been
unfriendly
, either. Ryan realized then that this was why he’d taken so
long to realize Lance was a problem. Lance walked the fine line between
charming and alarming better than anyone Ryan knew, and it had gone unnoticed
by everyone but he and Mona so far. It had even gone unnoticed by him until
Benny died.

Ryan looked at Lance now, sitting with one leg
crossed over his knee and humming something under his breath. Was Lance Olsen
there to hurt him again? Was he there to hurt Mona?

Ryan strode over to him, and Mona followed close
behind. “Talk.”

Lance gazed up at him and smiled, his rodent-like
face twitching in delight. “Nice to see you too, Ryan. You as well, Mona. I
didn’t expect to find you both here together. How interesting. How… new.”

Mona scoffed. “Just stop messing around and tell
us what you want, you jealous rat.”

The smile dropped from his face so quickly that Ryan’s
blood turned cold. “Now now, is that any way to treat your old friend? Your
dad’s old pal?”

Mona lunged for Lance, but Ryan caught her around
the waist. “Calm down!”

“This is my house! I can hit him if I want to!”

Lance laughed smugly. “Don’t you want to know why
I’m here?”

Mona stopped struggling to be released, and Ryan
immediately dropped his hands. “Yes. Tell us, and then get out.”

She and Ryan both felt convinced that they already
knew that Lance had stolen the bike. The question was whether he was going to
be quiet about it or gloat.

Lance sighed. “When are you going to be nice to me
Mona?”

Ryan wanted to spit in his face. “Never. Tell us
what you want, then leave.”

Anger flashed in Lance’s eyes, and he closed them.
“I want to race,” Lance said, keeping his voice steady and cool. “One or both
of you.”

The room was silent for so long that he opened his
eyes to find them gaping at him in shock.

“Well?” He prompted.

Ryan laughed, and it had an edge of hysteria. “You
came over here to offer us a
race?
Lance, you’re not even on our team
anymore. You’re also rude as hell. What could either of us gain from racing
you—besides getting you to shut the fuck up for a while?”

Lance smiled. “Remember The Duke?”

Mona let out a soft gasp; there was the confession
they were hoping for. Ryan had half a mind to call the cops right then and
there, but he held fast. He wanted to see what Lance was brewing up first. They
would be able to nab him better if they knew the motive and where the bastard
was keeping the bike…

Mona stepped close enough to Lance to smack him if
she wanted, and Ryan didn’t bother to get near enough to be able to stop her.
“You found The Duke?” She kept her voice slightly more casual, not accusatory,
in the hopes that they’d get more information out of him.

Lance’s smile became smug. “Well, found isn’t the
right word. I have it.”

“You
stole
it,” Ryan said immediately. “You
slimy asshole. You stole from Benny. You stole from Mona.”

The redheaded man shrugged. “I did what I had to
do.”

“Why did you
have
to do it?” Mona demanded,
and there were angry tears in her eyes. “Why’d you have to fuck your family
over?”

Lance laughed, but the sound was harsh to Ryan’s
ears. “None of you are my family. You’ve never been my family. I’ve been in
this group for five years, and none of you knew my last name until two years
ago. You don’t respect me, you don’t praise me, you don’t laugh at my
jokes—there’s no positivity from you people at all!” His voice had nearly risen
to a shout, so he paused to take a breath. “Anyway, I knew I’d need a
bargaining chip when one of you fucked up—well, initially, just Ryan.”

“Why not me?” Mona asked.

Lance smiled. “Because I had a thing for you, Mona.
But you never noticed…I guess because you hardly noticed me.”

Mona made a face of pure detestation.

Ryan cut in to save Mona the hassle of coming up
with a retort worthy of vocalizing. “So, let me get this straight… You want to
race me in order to reclaim Benny’s bike.”

“Uh huh,” Lance said, putting his hands on his
hips. “Are you game or are you chicken?”

That made Ryan smile wryly. “Oh, I’m definitely
not chicken, you asshole… Your rules or mine?”

It felt ridiculous to have to race the cocky son
of a bitch over Mona’s motorcycle. Especially because there was already a
police report on the theft. Ryan didn’t want to let this threat go, however.
There was a chance that he could beat the smarmy smile off of Lance’s face and
‘win’ the bike back before the police even needed to intervene.

Ryan didn’t back away from a race, even though he
should know better than to race using Lance’s rules…

Lance sniffed. “You and me, no spectators – except
the pretty Miss Mona Myers, of course.”

She spat at his feet, crossing her arms in front
of her chest and refusing to look at him any longer. Lance Olsen was the worst
kind of cretin. She wanted to bash his nose in for laying a finger on her dad’s
bike.

“We start in the alley behind Hog’s Grogs,” Lance
continued. “Tomorrow night, eight p.m. sharp. No late arrival. You arrive late,
you don’t bring home The Duke. Sound good?”

“No,” Ryan spat. “But it will have to do.”

She nodded in agreement with Ryan, and anxiety
started to eat at her muscles. “And if we lose?”

Lance clapped his hands together. “Ah. If you
lose…then
you
leave.”

There was silence again, and Ryan looked at Lance
for a long time. He saw that he was still basically a kid—only three years
younger than him, but still so full of malice and cunning that it was difficult
to look him in the eye. Lance was a monster—but Ryan also needed that Harley more
than Mona knew. He’d dreamed of getting it back for her and proving to her that
he was the man who could help her out and make her happy again. He wanted to
impress her, sure, but he also really wanted her to trust that he had her back.

Mona wasn’t having any of it, though. “Get out.
Now. Or I’ll hit you again, and I won’t stop this time.”

Lance stood up, and for a moment, he towered over Mona
and looked down at her with such hatred and disgust that Ryan started to move
between them. But he moved past them both and strode toward the door, his shoes
smacking on the wood floor.

He paused at the entryway with his hand on the
knob. “See you tomorrow night at Hog’s Grogs for the race, then, Ryan?”

Mona started to move toward the door, but Lance
slipped out and slammed it behind him. She took one deep breath, then another,
then several more while Ryan stood there, staring into space as he turned over
what had just happened in his mind. Mona walked over to him and slumped on the
couch, burying her face in her hands. At the same time, Ryan finished thinking,
and his heart felt lighter for having a plan. He wasn’t going to let Lance get
away with this—and he also wasn’t going to let the bike get away from them
again.

“What now?” Mona asked, her voice numb with shock.

Ryan sank to his knees and took her hands in his.
“Now? We get your bike back, and we get that motherfucker out of our family.”

Mona’s mouth opened in surprise, but her eyes were
sparkling with excitement. “
There’s
my tough guy.”

****

The following evening, Mona and Ryan stood in the
alley behind her bar, as planned. He had his CopyCat all shined and ready to
rumble, but she was starting to worry that they’d been tricked into being
there.

“Is he going to show?” she asked Ryan.

“He’ll show,” Ryan said with a nod. “He’s too
cocky to let an opportunity like this pass by.”

“If that bastard even gets one microscopic dent on
that bike—”

“Surprise surprise,” Lance’s voice said from
behind them, “I’m a few minutes late and you’re already talking shit about me.”

Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he looked at him. “You
said we had to be on time,” he pointed out.

“I guess that means you lose and we get The Duke
back,” Mona added.

Lance laughed harshly, more like a bark than a
human laugh. “You wish,” he said. He was leading the teal and white Harley into
the alley with him. It shown in the light of the streetlamps, just as beautiful
as Mona remembered.

Oh, please don’t let him hurt my baby…

Kicking one leg over The Duke, he got onto the
motorcycle and snapped his helmet in place atop his stupid orange-haired head.
“You ready to go, Kirby? Or do you need a permission slip from your mom?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Lance.” Ryan got onto his
sleek, black bike and put his helmet on as well.

Mona hoped that this race would be over quickly
and that no one would end up hurt… At least, not Ryan. Lance, on the other
hand, could use a few broken limbs. Maybe a broken face…

“Ready?” Lance called out.

The two young men lined up their bikes so they
were starting the race from the exact same place, parallel to a set of
dumpsters.

“On your marks,” Mona shouted. “Get set… GO!”

As soon as the two pristine Harleys were off down
the long stretch of road, Mona got out her cell phone and, sticking to Ryan’s
plan, called the police number he’d used before.

There was no way she and Ryan were going to let
this race end in a victory for Lance Olsen. If everything went right tonight,
he was going to be ending this race in handcuffs.

Ryan shot up the hill, but Lance was surprisingly
able to keep his pace given that The Duke probably hadn’t run in a while. Ryan
looked over at Lance, and Lance held up his gloved middle finger and shouted
something unintelligible.

“What?” Ryan shouted back when he was close enough
beside the other rider.

It was another stretch of time before they were
able to hear each other again. “I saw your girlfriend on the phone!” Lance
yelled. “You call the cops on me, the deal is off!”

Lance took a sudden swerve and went off in a
direction that Ryan hadn’t anticipated, down a different alley and onto a large
and populated street.

Surprised, Ryan pulled back and turned so he could
follow Lance. He suddenly smiled when he realized where they were and how close
they were to the city center.

Lance seemed to have forgotten what could be found
in the city center.

Several police stations.

Ryan could hear the sirens before he saw the
police motorcycle following Lance at top speed. The dumbass didn’t stop, but
instead sped up, trying to outrun the cop in a highly populated area.

The race was over between Ryan and Lance. Cutting
off his engine, all Ryan could do now was sit and wait for the results. He
pulled out his cell phone and noticed that he’d received a text from Mona about
ten minutes ago.

“All cops are on the lookout for The Duke and The
Dick who’s riding it.”

Ryan grinned down at his phone. God damn did he
love this girl.

Lance was being pulled from The Duke by two
policemen not much bigger than him. Ryan heard Mona running up behind him, and he
removed his helmet. They exchanged proud grins and stood together watching from
a distance as the cops confronted Lance in tense silence. They shared a look before
Ryan dismounted, walking hand in hand with Mona over to the squad car so they
could hear the conversation better.

“Here! Here’s my license!”

The cop was unimpressed. “Hm. That’s funny; this
says Lance Olsen. This bike seems to be registered to a Benny Myers.”

Lance started to speak, but he stopped mid-word.
“This is
my
bike.”

The other cop grinned. “Really? Think I should run
the plates again?”

Lance bristled. “You just got here. How did you
have time to run my plates?”

“This bike has been reported stolen, son,” the
first cop said breezily. “Just yesterday, as a matter of fact—I don’t suppose
you knew that, did you?”

Ryan didn’t think it was possible to see Lance go
any paler, but he did. Then he turned around and saw Ryan and Mona standing
side by side. Mona waved flirtatiously, and Ryan smiled.

“They lent it to me!” Lance said, and Ryan was
impressed; he only sounded a little desperate, and he might have been
convincing if his voice wasn’t shaking. “They lent it to me the other day. I
guess they forget to tell you they found it.”

“I guess they did,” the cop said. “When they
reported it stolen yesterday morning, and mentioned you as a primary suspect.”

The second cop started to put Lance in handcuffs.
As he was being told his rights, Lance started to laugh—it was barely a laugh
at all, more of a jagged scream filled with hatred.

“I’ll be out soon!” Lance said, his copper eyes now
looking quite crazed. He was trying to jerk free of the handcuffs. “You can’t
do this to me! I’ll be out soon!”

Mona walked over to him and got close enough to
touch him—and she actually did, touching one hand to his cheek as gently as a
lover’s embrace. He stilled, surprised, and Mona smiled.

“I think you’d better drug test him,” she said.
“His eyes look pretty red.”

Lance looked so shocked he forgot to be angry. “I
haven’t had any drugs, you idiot.”

It was then that Ryan realized his eyes weren’t
red because of drugs – that was true. Lance’s eyes were red because he’d
started crying.

“Oh, this is one for the history books,” Ryan
taunted him as the cops got Lance into their car and slammed the door. “Lance
Olsen is literally crying like a baby.”

“We’ll see how that helps him in jail,” Mona said.

They stood, arm in arm, and waved at Lance as the
cops slowly pulled away and drove him back down the street to the precinct.

Approaching The Duke, Mona threw her arms around
the bike and hugged it as thought it was a person… As though it was her father.
“I’ve missed you, baby.”

“Hey, Myers,” Ryan said to her, tossing his
helmet. “How about it?”

She caught his shiny black helmet and looked at
him, surprised for a second before his meaning dawned on her. Giving a smirk,
she placed his helmet onto her head and buckled it. Mona hopped on board her
daddy’s old bike.

She took a deep breath and started its engine.
This was going to be easy. This was just going to be a quick ride back to the
bar. And she could take it as slowly as she needed to… Ryan was not going to
let her get hurt.