The Forbidden Beat (A Stepbrother Romance) (15 page)

"I love you, Nik," he whispered into my ear after
his final shudder.

"I love you, too."

He took me in his arms, careful not to dislodge the IV line
or bump up against my wound, and he held me. I feel asleep in his arms.

Epilogue

"Nikki, wake up."

I felt a rough shove against my shoulder.

"Come on, Nik, wake up."

Another rough shove and music, which was playing low in the
background, blared out of the speaker.

I opened one eye. Dion hovered over me, his non-shoving hand
held a remote, a finger pressed the "louder" button.

"You don't want to sleep through this," he shouted
above the music.

"Dion, Mrs. Roper is going to call the cops," I
said, referring to my caftan wearing downstairs neighbor. Her name wasn't
really Mrs. Roper, but she reminded me of the crazy landlord from Three's
Company. Devlin and I used to let me watch the old show on DVD while we waited
in the van for my mom and Vince to finish their "alone time" on the
tour bus.

I made a groggy reach for the remote but Dion was too quick
for me. He held it above his head.

One song ended and a DJ started prattling off a rundown of
the top nine songs he already played. Just as he announced the song that landed
in the number one spot, a familiar chord progression began.

I bolted upright. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

Dion bounced up and down on the bed, unable to contain his
excitement. Ruined blared out of the speaker.

"Number one? Number one!"

He grabbed me and swept me into his arms.
"Number-fucking-one, baby!"

We twined our arms around each other in bed and listened to
our song hit number one on the Billboard alternative charts. He turned the
speaker off with the remote when it was over.

"You think we'll break Top 10 pop charts?" I
asked.

"Do you really want to?" he asked. "The trend
is pre-teen boy bands."

"Maybe we can break the trend, get real rock and roll
back in the top 40.

"I like your spirit," he said. His hands began to
wander over my body. "And your tits."

I laughed.

"This is no laughing matter," he said. "How
should we celebrate?"

"I can think of a few ways," I said, settling back
into my pillows and letting him kiss me. Just as we were getting to the good
stuff, there was a sound in the other room.

"That sounded like a knock," I murmured around his
kiss.

"Did it?" he asked, his hands pulling at my
underwear. "Maybe it was a woodpecker."

"You said woodpecker," I teased him, feeling his
hard-on through the confining cotton of his boxers.

Dion laughed. "What are you, a 10-year-old boy?"

Another knock, this time harder. I went limp against the
mattress in defeat.

"Nope, it's a knock," I said. "Probably Mrs.
Roper. I told you not to turn up the speakers like that."

I swung my legs over to the side of the bed and reached for
me robe. Immediately I regretted the swiftness of my movements. I dropped back
down onto the bed, dizzy.

"Whoa, Nik," Dion's arm was around my back,
holding me steady. "Slow down, babe. You only just got the stitches out.
I'll deal with Mrs. Roper."

He got up and plucked a pair of sweat pants up off the
floor. He stepped into them and I stared at his firm abs as he secured the
string around his hips. I kept one eye on his perfect ass as he walked out of
the bedroom to get the door.

 I pulled my robe around me and this time took my time
getting up. By the time I stepping into the living room, Presley was shrugging
off her denim jacket and pacing around the room.

"Pres, what's up?" I asked, tying the belt of robe
tighter around my waist.

"You got any coffee?" she asked. Her eyes, bare of
makeup, were bloodshot.

"I'll put a pot on," I said, heading to the coffee
maker.

"You sit, I got this," Dion said, jumping in front
of me.

"Dion, I can handle a pot of coffee."

"Hmmm," he said, looking me up and down. "Who
almost fell just getting out bed just now?"

"I got up too fast, that's all. A pot of coffee isn't
going to kill me," I responded. "Come on, the doctor said I should
try to do normal things. What's more normal than making coffee?"

Dion scowled at me, but stepped out of my way. While I
puttered around the kitchen, Dion hovered. He grabbed things off shelves for
me, making sure I didn't exert too much energy. Exasperating as it was, he was
too damn adorable to stay annoyed with him for long.

Presley sat on a stool at the breakfast bar just watched the
two of us doing our kitchen dance. The silence was broken by the sound of the
coffee grinder and Presley's sniffles. Once the coffee was brewing and I was
seated next to my sister, Dion made a nod at the door.

"You two want some alone time or something?" he
asked.

Presley's sigh was filled with drama. "No, this
concerns both of you."

I chewed my lower lip and my eyes jumped between her and
Dion. "What'd we do now?"

"I thought we all agreed that the subject of and me and
Nikki was off limits," he fumed.

It took time, but Rafe, Presley and Jett were dealing with
our relationship. Vince was more circumspect than angry. His concern was Rogue
Nation. If Dion and I broke up, he didn't believe Rogue Nation would survive
it. I pointed out that No Doubt went on to have a fruitful career even after
Gwen Stefani and Tony Kanal split up. Of course, this ended up causing a big
fight between me and Dion. Dion insisted that we were for keeps. He was pissed
that I even considered breaking up an option. It was sweet.

Pamela, however, was furious. She exploded and threatened to
call the cops. Not like they could do anything. We were both of legal age and
we were not blood related. But she went so far as to dial 911 on her phone and
press send. Vince smacked the phone out of her hand, but since 911 was on the
line, they sent a car over and she threatened to press charges against Vince
for spousal battery. In short, it was a shit-show.

So of course it blew up the internet. Alice
"Banshee" Monroe spent close to a week fielding phone calls. She
cackled the entire time.

"It concerns you two but it has nothing to do with you
two," Presley said with a sniffle.

Dion leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over
his dead sexy chest. "Now that that's cryptically clarified."

"Have you been crying?" I asked. I felt like an
idiot, the lack of makeup, the sniffling. Of course she was crying.

"I've done something awful," she said, choking
back her tears.

My eyes went wide. "Presley, did you kill mom?"

Dion actually guffawed at that.

"I'm kind of being serious," I said to him.
Presley's relationship with Pamela was contentious on a good day.

Presley sighed. "In a manner of speaking, maybe
yes."

"Crap," I said, getting lightheaded as my blood
pressure spiked. "Dion, we need a lawyer, a good lawyer."

She shook her head. "No, she's still alive. I was using
a metaphor."

"Okay, so you didn't literally kill mom?" I asked
for clarification. I started breathing again. Damn Presley and her flair for
the dramatic.

"I may as well have, she's not taking it well."

"Taking what well," Dion pushed to get it out of
her.

"Vince and mom are splitting up," she said with a
rush of air. Then the sobbing started up again.

I slumped in relief just as the coffee machine gurgle and
spit out the last of the brew. I started to get up, but Dion was I the kitchen
pulling out mugs before I my ass left the bar stool. I smiled at my man. His
doddering was annoying but cute as hell.

"So why did you say you killed mom?" I asked.
"Vince is the one that did it."

"We got into a fight," she said. "And I
accidentally told her that he was filing for divorce."

Dion gave me a searching look. I just grimaced.
"Accidentally?"

"She got me so mad," Presley moaned. "And I
just lashed out."

"Why do you even know that Vince was filing for divorce?"
Dion asked. "He didn't even say anything to me or Rafe."

"Working on my solo album, we've been seeing a lot of
each other," she said, before adding a qualifier. "It just came out
when we were in the studio one night."

"Does Vince know you spilled the beans?" I asked.
She nodded. "Is he pissed?"

"A little, at first, but he said I did him a favor,
that he was just hanging on out of fear."

"Yeah, fear of alimony," Dion muttered. I bit my
lip to keep from laughing. Vince's divorce from Dion's mom was expensive. She
was more of a gold digger than Pamela, leaving Vince to raise Dion and Kyle so
she could party away the alimony checks.

I pushed a stack of napkins at Presley. "I don't know,
I think it's kind of a relief they're splitting up."

"Sure," Dion agreed, pouring out the coffee.
"They can't bitch about how the hillbilly step siblings are sleeping
together now."

I laughed out loud, and immediately winced in regret. It had
been a month since I was shot, but my side still ached at the force of pressure
that laughing exerted on my abs. Presley, however, didn't find that funny of
all. She choked back a sob. "Presley, I know you looked at Vince like a
father figure—"

"He was never a father figure," she snapped and I
recoiled like she slapped me.

Dion tried. "If this is about your solo career, he's
not going to stop working with you just because he's finally dumping
Pamela."

I shot him a look. "Let's not be insensitive
here."

 He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I'm just
saying, what we all know. Relationships with Vince aren't forever. You saw the
parade of maids in their Hustler Hollywood store outfits. Presley didn't tell
your mother something she didn't already know, even if Pamela refused to admit
it."

That just made Presley break down even more. She planted her
face into the soapstone countertop and her back heaved with each sob.

Dion slapped his hand over his face. Then he leaned over the
counter and whispered into my ear. "What the hell did I say?"

"I don't know," I whispered back, staring at my
older sister who was still crumpled across my countertop. "This is kind of
weird."

Dion and I sipped our coffee in silence and watched her.
After a minute, she finally raised her head and rubbed at her tear stained face
with a napkin.

"Presley," I said, weighing each word before I
said it. "This is strange reaction to have about mom and Vince splitting
up."

Her lower lip trembled. "I know," she said, her
voice so soft I could barely hear it. "But the reason why they are
splitting up...Is awful."

"What did mom do?" I asked.

Dion shook his head. "I think the question is what did
Vince do?"

"No, the question is what did Presley do," she
said around her sobs.

"Pres," I said, reaching over and rubbing her
back. "Mom's always jealous if Vince pays attention to anyone that's not
her."

"Hell, she was jealous of the Rafe, Kyle and me,"
Dion agreed.

I nodded in agreement. "Which is why the guys hated us
for so long."

"But her jealousy won't stop Vince from helping launch
your career," Dion added. "He lives for this shit. Say what you will
about my dad, but he loves the music business, playing, producing, managing.
Pamela has an issue with that, of course he's going to walk."

"Maybe she gave him an ultimatum," I mused.

"That's the fastest way to make my dad do exactly the
opposite of what you want," Dion said, opening the fridge and glancing in.
"Anyone want eggs?

"Yeah, right here, scrambled, " I said and then
turned my attention back to Presley. "Seriously, Pres, don't let mom make
you feel guilty for Vince helping you with your career. Hell, she gave us next
to nothing growing up. She owes you Vince at least."

Instead of cheering of Presley up, everything we said made
her cry harder. I sat there and rubbed her back while Dion scrambled up some
eggs. Every once in a while he'd shoot me a look, but I'd just shrug. Maybe
Presley had a raging bout of PMS. She taking Mom and Vince's divorce awfully
hard.

By the time Dion plopped three plates of scrambled eggs in
front of us, Presley was pretty much cried out. She pushed the eggs around on
her dish, but I dug right in. Hospital food made me appreciate something as
simple as scrambled eggs. And Dion excelled at egg dishes.

"You okay?" I asked around a mouth-full.

She sniffled. "Yeah, fine. Sorry. Just. Stuff."

"So was that why you came here? To tell us about...you
know." I didn't want to say it out loud in case it made her cry again.

She shook her head and rubbed her nose with her napkin.
"No, actually. I came here to see if you would be interested in the
Sisters releasing an album."

Dion's fork stopped in front of his mouth. The eggs on the
end dropped back into his plate.

"But I thought we agreed we should go on hiatus?"
I said.

 "Maybe that was a stupid idea," she admitted.