The Girl's Got Secrets (Forbidden Men #7) (17 page)

Oh, Jesus. This was more than I could take. Pick knew. He knew everything.

“So...all this time...you already knew?”

He nodded.

I gasped a second for air, scared shitless, and then it dawned on me. He knew...had known a while, and he hadn’t fired me or kicked me out of his life yet.

“And you’re still okay with...” I waved a finger between us. “Us?”

Pick arched surprised eyebrows. “Were you really worried I wouldn’t want to be your...?” He paused and glanced uneasily toward Sticks.

My drummer hunched deeper into himself, totally caught eavesdropping on our very personal conversation.

But I snorted and waved a hand his way. “He already knows.”

That seemed to take Pick by surprise. “Really?”

I nodded, not concerned about Sticks. “Why is my dad here? Is he still in the building? Did he—”

“No, he’s gone. Knox and I—mostly Knox—escorted him to the door and let him know he was never welcome under this roof again.”

Relief swamped me. “You kicked him out?” Good. But then renewed worry rose. What the hell had Miller Hart being doing inside Forbidden? Wiping a hand over my face, I eased myself down to sit on Pick’s couch. “I wonder when he got out. I thought he still had a couple years left.”

“I can answer that one,” Remy spoke up. When I glanced his way, he explained the closing of Statesburg. And I could only shake my head.

“Well...fuck.”

Sticks huffed out a sound of surprise. “Is that all you have to say?”

With a confused shrug, I asked, “What else am I supposed to say?”

“Oh, no sé. How about...where’s the nearest place we can get you a restraining order?”

I huffed out a laugh. “Excuse me? Why the hell would I need one of those?”

“Think about it, Asher. He just got out of prison after spending how many years there?”

“Uh...” I did a quick calculation in my head. “About sixteen.”

“Sixteen
years
behind bars, and where is the first place he goes when he’s released? Here! The very place where the son—who testified against him and ultimately put him in jail—works.”

My brain whirled at his words. I hadn’t ever thought of it that way. But I had been the only person to testify in that trial with an eyewitness account, hadn’t I? The old man probably
was
a bit pissed at me over that.

Huh.

“We need to get you some protection,” Sticks stated adamantly, surprising me with how seriously he was taking this whole thing.

I snorted. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“¡Dios mío!” He threw up his hands in outrage. “How can you just blow this off as no big deal? He came here...because of
you
. Maybe I’m the only one, but I find that pretty damn alarming.”

“No, you’re not the only one,” Pick murmured.

I glanced at my brother who had his arms crossed over his chest and was brushing his thumb knuckle over his bottom lip ring in thoughtful consternation.

Jesus, both of them were truly, honestly worried about me.

Yes, my father had been the big bad monster in my life when I’d been young. He’d scared the shit out of me back then, and I’d dreaded every moment I’d been forced to enter the same room as him. But a couple years ago, I’d visited the prison where he’d been held, determined to face my demons.

He hadn’t recognized me. After asking me who I was, he wanted to know if I was his new legal representation and he started going on about how he was sure he could still get out if we played the murder off as self-defense. I never corrected him and ended up playing along before I left him with a lie, saying I’d be in contact.

The entire visit had left me...empty inside. No love lost for the man who’d terrorized me, and no fright retained either. He’d aged badly behind bars. He’d just been a weak, pathetic old man who hadn’t stirred an ounce of fear in me.

So it was hard for me to summon any now.

“Or maybe he doesn’t have a nefarious thought in his head,” I told Pick and Remy. “Maybe the guy just wants to reconnect with his son.”

“Yeah,” Remy agreed with a sarcastic roll of his eyes, and he crossed his arms over his chest. “Because he was just the
soul
of fatherly love and devotion before, raising his precious little boy in a drug house and beating on him and his mother whenever the whim struck.
Right
.”

I scowled at him, deciding I’d definitely told him too much about myself. But, damn it, he did have a point. “Okay, fine, then. I’m his only living relative left. Who else is he going to go to for money or a place to crash? Honestly, if you’d just gotten out of jail after sixteen years, where would you go? He needs shit, and I’m sure he thinks I owe him.”

“Well, he’s not getting shit
from
you.”

Remy’s resolute proclamation made me laugh. “Really? And here I was planning on giving him everything I owned.”

He didn’t seem to appreciate my sarcasm. Spinning toward Pick, he pointed to me. “Talk some damn sense into him.”

Pick sighed and scrubbed his face. “Look,” he told me as he dropped his hands. “No matter what his motive is, I don’t want him near you either. And just to be on the safe side, I think a couple extra measures of protection would be wise.”

“Okay, fine.” I held up my hands as if surrendering to their will, but then I gripped my hair. “I will take everything both of you said into consideration, and I thank you for your concern, but honestly, this isn’t your problem.” When they opened their mouths, looking ready to argue with me, I quickly kept talking. “And if he ever returns, looking for me, just let me
deal
with him. I’ll shoo him off myself. He’s a weak old man now. He no longer scares me, and I’ll be damned before I ever let him spook me again.”

With that, I swung toward the door.

Pick leapt forward, panic in his eyes. “Where’re you going?”

I sighed. It was kind of nice to know he cared enough to worry about me, but over this particular topic, it annoyed me. “Back to work. If you haven’t noticed, we’re still open, it’s as busy as hell as out there, and I’m on the clock.”

Almost daring him to react with the look I sent him, I pulled the door open.

A resigned breath eased from his lungs. “Just...watch your six, will you?”

“Aye-aye, Captain.” I sent him a salute, sent Sticks a glance only to see him worriedly chewing on his fingernails, and I stepped into the hall. And what do you know, no Miller Hart leapt at me, intent to kill.

Both Pick and Remy found their way out to the bar a couple minutes later. They stuck around, chatting together over a beer, making me irritable with every minute they lingered.

I avoided both of them, not ready to talk any more about my father, or even think about him.

Except I couldn’t get him out of my head. Learning he was free had rattled me. All bound up inside, I wasn’t really sure exactly how the news affected me, I just knew it did. I wasn’t scared, like some people thought I should be, but I was shocked and...unsettled. I really didn’t want to face the old man. After my one and only visit to him behind bars, I’d put that part of my life behind me and moved on. I just wanted it to
stay
behind me.

Both of my self-appointed bodyguards finally left about an hour before closing, but either Pick had given Knox orders to escort me to my motorcycle or yet another person was worried about my safety.

That was weird, having people think about me and worry about me. I wasn’t sure how to deal with it, so I just thanked my coworker and waved him off as soon as I started my beast.

When I made it to my place, yes, fine, I checked around a little to see if the old man was there. But the alley that led to my front door was empty. I unlocked all the deadbolts, remembered to lock up behind me, and jogged down the steps into my tiny domain.

Mozart rattling around in his cage was the only thing to greet me.

“Hey, little fella,” I said, flipping on the main light, even though I’d left a dim nightlight on for him to see.

My entrance really set him off, racing even faster along the tunnels I’d made him to go from cage to cage until he was in the one closest to me. His excitement made me feel appreciated, even though I’m sure he wasn’t glad to see
me
specifically; he was most likely only eager for me to let him loose. So I granted him his wish, and popped open his door.

He shot out past me, a blur of brown fur leaping a good five feet toward the back of the couch. Then he scurried along the backrest and dove onto the floor where he disappeared under my bed.

I sighed. “Yeah, it’s nice to see you too, buddy.”

Oh, well. He was better company than nothing.

Kicking off my shoes, I strolled into the kitchenette area and opened the mini fridge to pull out a bottle of water. I hadn’t eaten since scarfing down half of Remy’s food at practice, but I wasn’t really hungry. And I didn’t feel like sleeping even though I was tired as well. I already knew I’d only toss and turn if I crawled into bed right now, and I hated getting bound up in my own sheets...unless maybe I had company of the feminine variety with me.

But I had no woman around, and thoughts of my dad free and roaming the streets somewhere out there had my head spinning. I might catch an hour or two of sleep later, but not yet. Slouching into a chair at the table, I pulled my notebook I’d left sitting open to me and picked up a pen.

My muse certainly didn’t feel as inspired as it had earlier, but this song was the only thing I wanted to work on. Except, shit, envisioning my dad, old and wrinkly at the prison, complaining about how unfairly he’d been treated, was the only thing I could focus on.

Scrubbing my face, I sat back in my chair and opened my mind. The first person to pop to the forefront of my thoughts was Incubus shirt girl, singing on stage and bumping her hip against that of the shorter redhead next to her. She’d been so sassy and relaxed up there, singing with confidence because she’d known she’d had it in the looks and the voice department, and she just wanted to have a little fun with both. It’d made me want to have a little fun with her.

But so much about her was blurry in my mind—I remembered too few actual details other than she’d had long dark hair. So I gave her the legs of the drummer chick who’d come to audition for us. I would’ve given her the drummer chick’s face too, but I couldn’t drag that up into my memory banks all that well either. I sucked at recalling faces. So, I guessed the legs and hair would have to do.

I imagined gripping handfuls of that silky, long dark hair while those incredible legs wrapped around me in the hopes of stirring forth a new line for the song.

Only I stirred up something else instead.

My jeans went tight in the lap area, so I slipped a little further down in my chair to make more room. But that didn’t help. It’d been too long since little Asher had come out to play, and once I woke him, he only wanted more attention, and he just kept growing, demanding I give him some. So I unzipped and reached down to adjust myself. One of the small perks of living alone; I could sit around with my junk hanging out, and no one cared.

But the thought of no one caring infused that spark of loneliness that’d been claiming me lately, and I had to make myself think of the Incubus shirt girl again with Drummer Chick’s legs to get over it. And yep, my dick just grew harder. Before I knew it, I was sliding my hand around the base of my cock and pumping it hard, not thinking about lyrics at all, but closing my eyes so I could daydream of soft, warm skin, long dark hair and a tight wet pussy that had me shooting my load all over my stomach in moments.

With a sigh of relief, I slunk further in my chair and rested my head against the backrest. But as I panted out the last remnants of my orgasm, I only felt more pathetic than ever. Even though hooking up with some random woman after a gig wasn’t my preference, it had to be better than jacking off alone in my apartment. At least I might get a little cuddle time in before she took off, claiming her girlfriends would never believe her when she told them she’d just bagged Asher Hart.

My buddies at Forbidden were right; I needed to get laid. Bad.