Текст книги "Heart of Rock"

Автор книги: Karyn Gerrard

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Heart of Rock by Karyn Gerrard

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WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to 5 years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000."

Cover Artist: Lee Tiffin

Editor: Cynthia Mac Gregor

Heart of Rock © 2012 Karyn Gerrard

ISBN # 9781614955016

Attention Readers:This book uses US English.

All rights reserved.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.

PUBLISHER

  https://spsilverpublishing.com

Note from the Publisher

 Dear Reader,

 Thank you for your purchase of this title. The authors and staff of Silver Publishing hope you enjoy this read and that we will have a long and happy association together.

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Publisher

Silver Publishing

http://www.spsilverpublishing.com

Dedication

 To all the great singers and rock groups of the 1970's, thanks for the memories.

 Gratitude to my critique partner and friend, Gayl Taylor, for the support and advice.

 To my husband, who was my sounding board with this story as he is with so many others. Thanks for listening.

Rock on.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

AMA: Dick Clark Productions, Inc

Boston Garden: Delaware North Companies, Inc

Bowie, Ziggy Stardust: Jones, David R

Capitol Records: Capitol Records, Inc

Fender: Fender Musical Instruments Corporation

Gibson Les Paul 55: Gibson Guitar Corp

Grammy: National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences, Inc

Jack Daniel's: Jack Daniel's Properties, Inc

Malibu Barbie: Mattel Inc

MGB: MG Motor

Mustang: Ford Motor Company

Pepsi: Pepsico, Inc

Red Cross: American Red Cross

Rockford Files: Universal City Studios LLC

Rolling Stone: Rolling Stone LLC

Tyrconnell: Cooley Distillery PLC

Volkswagen: Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

Walgreens: Walgreen Co

Yamaha FG 160: Yamaha Corporation

Zippo: Zippmark, Inc

Prologue

Belfast, Ireland 1970

Brogan Byrne clasped his girlfriend's hand tighter and pulled her along behind him through the dark, foggy streets. Angry male voices followed in the distance. They were being hunted. All that was missing, Brogan thought, was the feckin' pitchforks and torches. Far-off gunfire peppered and sliced though the heavy night air. Just to add to the perilous mix, British soldiers were on patrol.

He glanced back at Tarrah. She looked frightened, as well she should be. He was originally from Dublin but had been living in Belfast the past three months to play his music at a few select pubs. His family told him he was daft for coming to Northern Ireland in the middle of 'the troubles', but he'd always loved an adventure—until tonight.

It turned out his family was right. He had the sick feeling a group of Ulsters was tracking them. Tarrah was Catholic, and he was Protestant. He tried to run faster, but Tarrah slowed him down. He had met her his first night at the Rose and Crown. She sat in the front perched on a barstool, mesmerized by his singing and guitar playing. She was a sweet little thing with her ginger hair and freckles. It didn't take long for her to find her way to his bed and his heart. Brogan was in love, a true, deep, all-encompassing love, for the first time in his life. The time spent with her was precious and had him making some long-term plans for both of them. This very morning, after making love and holding her in his arms, he told her he loved her and wanted her in his life forever. Tarrah cried and kissed him and said she loved him, too. Even now his heart ached with passionate tenderness for her. When they got out of this damned mess, he was taking her back to Dublin right away.

Tarrah tugged on his arm and brought his thoughts back to the present. "My cousin, he warned me—" she gasped, out of breath from their running.

Brogan rounded the corner. Shite.Dead end. The dark, ominous brick buildings on either side of the narrow alley seemed to close in. They were trapped good and proper. A dim, flickering yellow light bulb from a nearby lamppost cast an eerie glow on them.

He could hear the boots of a group of men clicking on the stones and getting closer. "What are you talking about?"

"Rory said word had got out about our relationship. He warned me to break it off with you, but I couldn't." Her hand reached up to cup his cheek tenderly.

"Is there any way out of this alley?"

Tarrah was about to reply when four men appeared in the alley. They stood side by side to block their escape. Two held wooden handles of some sort. Another held a knife. Brogan immediately stepped in front of Tarrah.

"We don't want any trouble."

"Too late, boyo—you found it. You fucked a papist slut. Now you pay."

The men moved closer. In the distance whistles and shouting cut through the cool night air. Soldiers. They were all out after curfew. Right now he would welcome being arrested. With lightning quick speed the man holding the knife lunged toward Brogan before he could react.

"No!" Tarrah screamed.

She darted in front of Brogan and took the full frontal thrust of the long serrated blade. The knife was buried to the hilt in her stomach. The man had a tight hold of the handle. He laughed cruelly and pulled it upward. The sickening sound of ripping skin and flesh and the sticky, sweet odor of blood filled the alley.

The man pulled out the knife and was ready to thrust at Brogan when one of the others yelled, "Soldiers!"

Tarrah's hands grabbed her mid-section. She looked at Brogan in shock, her face drained of all color except for the slight yellow cast from the lamppost, and then she slumped to the damp cobblestones.

The men ran like scalded cats. Brogan kneeled next to Tarrah and lifted her partly into his lap. Jaysus, the blood.He went to move her hand to inspect the damage, but she whispered, "Don't."

Dear God, she was holding her guts in. The Ulster pig had gutted her good and proper. He tried to shout, but not a sound came out of his mouth. It hung open in a silent scream of torment. As tears poured down his cheeks, he pulled her closer. He still made no sound, but his heart contracted in agony. He felt it might break and knew if it did, it would be the end of him, forever. He couldn't lose her, not after their promise of love this very morn. He'd promised to protect her, and then when Tarrah needed him most, he'd failed her. Brogan swallowed deeply and sobbed.

"Help! For Christ's sake we need help!" his voice cried out.

Two British soldiers stepped into the alley while two others started the pursuit of the men.

"You're under arrest," the soldier shouted.

"Aye, fine, just get her some help!"

One of Tarrah's bloody hands shakily reached up to touch his cheek. "I love you, Brogan Byrne. Never forget what we shared." Their gazes locked. Her eyes were moist. One single tear escaped and trailed down her pale cheek.

Brogan watched as that divine spark called life left her beautiful gray eyes until they were like those of a china doll: empty, dead, lifeless. Her breathing slowed and hitched in perceptible stops.

Her hand dropped like a sack of wet cement to the cobbles.

"She's done for, lad," the soldier stated.

Brogan was covered in her blood, his lap soaked. He reached with trembling fingers and closed her sightless eyes. He leaned down and gently kissed her lips. He could do nothing to save her. She'd given up her life—for him. How could he live with the knowledge? To know he could do nothing to protect the woman he loved? As the soldiers pulled him roughly to his feet, his body turned to stone and his heart to solid rock. Feck it all.

Chapter One

1974, a hotel in Baltimore

Someone was sucking his cock. Brogan opened an eye and gazed down the length of his naked body. She had blonde hair, whoever this bird was. He heard soft snoring intermixed with a slight wheeze. A naked black chick slept at his feet on the king-size bed.

The lipstick-smeared mouth eagerly sucked and licked, and his hips rose off the bed in raw, lustful gratification. Jaysus, she was good.He closed his eyes, and the memories of the last few hours played in his head like an eight mm porn film. He'd fucked the black chick from behind, pounding into her sweet, hot pussy while the white bird lay under the black one and sucked on her tits and fingered her clit. Another memory flash had him flat on his back, the blonde riding his cock hard with him eagerly licking the black girl as she writhed and groaned above his face. Her knees clamped his head tight while he stroked her pussy deep with his talented tongue. His prick twitched in response to his flashbacks and grew harder. Brogan had been doing this a lot lately, two at a time.

Brogan opened his filmy eyes again and tried to focus. He was close to shooting his wad. He gripped the back of the head of the unknown woman and held her in place as he began to thrust. He was not getting true enjoyment out of this. All he wanted was release. He groaned aloud as his hot cum spurted down her throat. She backed away and wiped her mouth, leaving a streak of blood-red lipstick and semen on her cheek.

Brogan pushed her aside in indifference. He sniffed the air. Sex, sweat, and Christ knew what else lingered and permeated the atmosphere. His stomach roiled and lurched in protest.

What had he taken last night?He never shot up since he usually appeared shirtless on stage. He couldn't puncture himself full of holes. So he usually took pills, or on occasion snorted coke. Booze, however, was his main stimulant.

He had no sooner stumbled out of bed than he collapsed to his knees on the cold tile floor and promptly puked his guts out.

He tried to stand, and then heard a deep voice call out to him. "Again, Brogan? Bloody hell, you need a keeper."

He hadn't even heard his brother enter the room. Brogan coughed up some green phlegm and spat on the tile. "Want the job?"

His younger brother, Nevan, strolled over to where he knelt on the floor, dry heaving like some sick hound dog. Nevan helped him to his feet. "Tell me you at least used protection before you stuffed your cock into those whores."

Brogan paused. "I can't remember. I don't think I did."

"Stupid bastard. Do I have to go out and buy a box of rubber johnnies for you? I will. What did you take this time?"

"Ah—coke. I think. Not sure. Over there, in the sugar bowl."

Nevan yelled to the women, "Oi! Get dressed and get the hell out of here, now!"

The women grumbled, stumbled about, and picked up their clothes. They were mercifully gone within minutes.

"Brogan, you look like shite, mate. You can't keep this pace. The women, the drugs, and the booze. You're losing weight. I can feel your damned ribs."

Nevan slung Brogan's arm around his shoulders and propped him up.

Brogan slumped against his younger brother, grateful for the support. "I can handle it," he croaked, not very convincingly.

"When is your next concert? How can you even stand in front of a crowd? You should see a doctor, my brother. You are not well. Let me take you."

Brogan could hear the affection in Nevan's voice. His brother hardly ever showed concern or warmth, so he couldn't dismiss this overture. "Okay, Nev, sure. Doctor."

Nevan led him back toward the bed, kicking empty beer and scotch bottles out of the way. He stripped off the smelly sheets and threw them on the floor. He laid Brogan back on the pillows.

"Big feckin' rock star with your own bloody band, Byrne 'N' Flame. You've got two gold records and more money than you can count. And more often than not, this is how I find you," Nevan muttered. He walked to the closet, pulled out a blanket, and covered Brogan.

"I'll get the maid up here to clean up the puke and other body fluids. Sleep now, my brother."

Brogan's eyes fluttered. He fought the urge to sleep. For in slumber, the nightmares came. His destructive behavior was the only thing keeping the demon at bay. His conduct disgusted even himself, which said plenty. Nonetheless, he continued to indulge, putting his meteoric rise in the rock world in jeopardy.

He coughed, and then rolled over to try to get comfortable. He had an upcoming concert in Philadelphia, although Brogan dreaded the gig. Not so much the music—performing on stage was one of the few times he felt at peace. The feeling of tranquility was far too fleeting.

A veil of darkness covered him, and he was transported back to the damp, musky alleyway in Belfast.

Cue up the nightmare.

Two days later, Philadelphia

Reese Byrne, younger brother of Nevan and Brogan, had a tight hold of Abbie Ryan's hand. Brogan's current girlfriend also happened to be the woman Reese was secretly in love with. He and Nevan had come to the States nearly two years ago, when Brogan hit the big time with his first record, Within the Flames. They were both on Brogan's payroll as assistants. Basically, they were around to keep Brogan company and occasionally herd his groupies and clean up his puke. Frankly, Reese was tired of the whole thing. There wasn't much glamour in being with a rock star. Going home to Dublin looked better all the time.

Reese glanced at Abbie: long blonde hair, killer figure, sky blue eyes, and sensual lips. Despite the outer sex kitten package, Abbie really was a nice girl and far too good for Brogan. Reese and Abbie navigated the labyrinth of underground tunnels at the Spectrum, flashing their backstage passes as they went. They were trying to find Brogan's dressing room. Reese had brought Abbie to the concert as a surprise. Brogan didn't know she was here. Months had gone by since the couple had seen each other, thanks to his brutal touring schedule. Reese recognized one of Brogan's bully bodyguards standing outside a door. This must be the room.

"Reese Byrne, Brogan's brother, and this is his girlfriend. We have passes—"

Reese pushed his way past the guy. It wasn't hard. All the Byrne brothers were well over six feet in height and solidly built.

"Whoa, man, hold up. Brogan is not to be disturbed. His orders—no exceptions. Wait!"

Reese opened the door anyhow, and they soon saw the reason for the order. A skinny, naked girl hung off Brogan's bare back like a cape, her hands caressing his shoulders and chest. Another naked girl knelt in front of him, giving him a world-class blow job. The bodyguard held up his hands in surrender and quietly backed out of the room.

Abbie cried out in shock. She sputtered, unable to form words.

"Brogan, you feckin' pig!" Reese roared.

* * * *

Brogan's drug-fogged mind tried to identify the voice. Reese? Here? Had he invited him? He couldn't remember. The sucking motion on his cock stopped, and the girl pulled his erection out of her mouth with a decided pop. What was the name of the girl on her knees with the cherry red hair? He couldn't remember that, either. The girls backed away from him. The one on her knees wiped her mouth and suddenly looked ashamed. He reached down and tucked his still-rampant arousal haphazardly back into his leather trousers.

He blinked twice, turned, and stared at Reese standing by the door—with Abbie .The girl hugged him again from behind as if seeking protection. He reached down and pulled the chick in front of him to her feet.

"Welcome. Don't know how you got in. Seems I better beef up security. But now you're here we can all party," he slurred.

Brogan fixed his gaze on a shocked Abbie. If he bothered to look hard enough, he could see the hurt and betrayal on her face. He chose to ignore her reactions. It had been a while since he'd had her. Bloody hell, she's gorgeous.How many times had he fantasized about him and Abbie and another woman? His prick hardened even more just thinking about the possibility.

"Reese, mate, take your pick of those two. They're up for anything. There's any type of booze, dope, or pills. Help yourself."

"Like hell I will!" Reese growled.

Brogan noticed Reese was trying to lead Abbie away, but she seemed stunned and frozen in place. Her eyes were glassy and filled with unshed tears. Why not have a wild party?His brother was handsome enough. All the Byrnes had rich, coffee-colored hair, though his own shoulder-length tresses were dyed white with three-inch ebony ends—all part of the rock persona. The atmosphere in the room grew awkward as the naked groupies struggled with their clothes. Flashing multi-colored lights cast an eerie green and red otherworldly glow over the proceedings. A nearby turntable played the Stones' "It's Only Rock and Roll." How feckin' true.

He was high and drunk. What had started out as an interesting three-way could now become an orgy. Why the hell not?

* * * *

Abbie was locked in place by Brogan's mesmerizing gaze. He walked toward her like a predatory jungle cat—a sexy jungle cat, six foot three inches tall, wearing low-slung, unzipped black leather pants. She could see his erection halfway exposed. The muscles of his torso moved with a fluid grace. His body was hard, honed, and beyond stunning. As disgusted and as angry as she felt, she could not look away from him. These rock star trappings just added to his aura. Brogan Byrne had always had charisma to spare. No wonder women were at his feet, literally. She'd believed him when he said he'd stayed faithful. How naive of her to trust him. Now her worst fears had come to pass. He was gorgeous, debauched, and sickening. Yet, God help her, she still wanted him.

"Abbie, come join me and one of the girls. I will introduce you to pleasures you've never had before. Hell, Reese can join in too. I think he fancies you a little. I know the girls will like Reese. All of us Byrne men are—what is the polite way to put it—'well endowed'." Brogan grabbed his crotch briefly. "But you know that already, don't you, love?" He chuckled and stumbled a few times as he walked closer.

Abbie was in shock. She did not know this man. What had happened to the Brogan she knew and imagined herself in love with? Brogan pushed Abbie against the door, boxing her in with his bare, muscular arms. She turned her head away in disgust. He stank of rancid, musky sweat. He no doubt hadn't showered after the concert. He smelled of booze, dope, and some cheap perfume that made her nose hairs twitch. His breath was foul like a sewer. No, this was not the Brogan she knew.

"Come on, love. Let's have a little fun. I know you like it when I stick my…"

"Say another word, brother, and I'll slit your throat where you stand," Reese snarled, menace in his voice.

"Little brother is jealous. He wants to lick you where only I've been. So sweet, so wet—"

Abbie gasped and glanced away. She was going to be sick.

Reese grabbed Brogan's arm. "You are going to pay for that, brother or no."

Finally Abbie willed herself to move. She pushed Brogan away and grabbed a hold of Reese's arm.

"No, don't. No fighting, please. Let's just get out of here."

She could feel the anger emanating from Reese, but he allowed her to lead him away. She didn't dare glance back. Abbie knew Brogan was glaring at her. She was turned on, and that churned her stomach worse.