Текст книги "Heart of Rock"

Автор книги: Karyn Gerrard

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Brogan's knees suddenly gave out, and he was flat on his back staring at the stucco ceiling.

Carly and Gio once more rushed to his side. "Did you hurt yourself? Are you okay? Are you going to be sick again?"

He didn't hear anger in her voice nor did he hear the nails on a chalkboard cadence for once. Carly's soft, feminine voice sounded concerned and compassionate. She got on her knees and pulled him to lean against her.

He reached up and wiped the burning, unshed tears from his eyes. "She left me. She hates me—"

"Do you want Gio to put you on the bed?" she asked gently. He wasn't used to this caring tone from her. In the short time of their acquaintance they had usually argued.

Suddenly the bed seemed like a great, unreachable height. "No. Just let the room stop spinning first."

"Look, Byrne, there can't be any more drugs, booze, or broads, or it will kill you. It almost did tonight." Carly smiled at him slightly and nodded her head in the direction of Gio. "Besides, next time I'll have Gio perform CPR and mouth-to-mouth on you." She chuckled softly, and the Volkswagen snarled and crossed his huge arms.

"Love, that's just bloody great," he muttered.

"Gio, go down to the restaurant—I know it's late—ask for some chicken broth and toast, and pay them anything."

When Gio left, Carly lifted his head. "What were you thinking? Death? Finality?"

"No. I just wanted to numb the feckin' pain," he croaked. "I didn't take enough pills to kill myself."

"No," she sighed. "Instead you almost choked to death on your own vomit. Smooth move, Byrne."

Carly got him to sit upright. He leaned against her chest. Carly smelled of clean soap, baby powder, and mint. Her silk pajamas felt cool against his raging, sensitive skin.

"I'm in real trouble here, Montgomery," he rasped. His throat still burned from his vomiting. "I gave my girlfriend VD—gonorrhea to be specific. I better get tested."

"No shit. We'll see a doctor as soon as possible. I'll make the call in a few minutes. Byrne, you're a damned mess."

"Thanks, love," he said softly.

Her hand gently stroked his chest, and the motion comforted him. Her voice sounded matter-of-fact and not judgmental. "So she dropped you. Do what other broken-hearted musicians do and write a song about your torment. It sells records. When was the last time you wrote anything?"

Carly spoke the truth. He had been touring on his last album for the past year and had done nothing new. He still had one record left on his contract with Cascade. He was bloody daft. He didn't think he was a stupid gob-shite, but obviously he was. He almost choked on his puke. Real bleedin' class.His cheeks flooded with heat and shame.

One of Carly's hands touched his hair. When was the last time someone just held him and comforted him? He burrowed the back of his head in between her breasts. She had more there than he'd thought. He was getting turned on, but he wanted the soothing reassurance of her touch even more. He sighed deeply and contentedly. His head's insistent throbbing started to subside. He closed his eyes. He could sleep right here in her embrace.

* * * *

Dear God, but the man was stunning. Having him lean against her like this seared her skin. She couldn't stop touching him. One hand tunneled through his silky two-tone hair, and the other stroked his bare chest. Did he just sigh, or did she? She should be raging with indignant anger; instead she comforted Byrne like a lost little boy. She was going to feed him damned chicken broth. All that was missing was the bedtime story. She had told him the truth. He was a mess, and worse than she originally thought. What dramas were next—paternity suits? Carly was surprised he didn't have a couple already. Every male rock star did, and considering how careless he seemed to be sex-wise, it was only a matter of time.

Her heart hitched behind her ribs. He had come so close to dying. Yes, her original thoughts might have been cold and calculating as she thought only of the headlines and of Nigel's reaction. Deep down, however, her emotions were more complicated and muddled. Holding him like this sparked a protective feeling she didn't even know she possessed. She had to admit physically he was everything she could ever want in a man. Her interest was sparked from her first gaze at him naked face-down on a bed.

Carly's hand continued to caress his chest. Byrne's body was muscled, tight, sculpted, and irresistible. Don't get her started on his voice. She'd read his file. He had an amazing three-octave range, each note sounding crystal clear and pure. He could have sung opera, he was so damned good. At first, Nigel wanted to go glam rock, much like Bowie did with his Ziggy Stardust persona, but Byrne refused. Probably because his vocal range and depth were often compared to Bowie, or maybe wearing glitter eye shadow and sequined jumpsuits just didn't appeal to him.

Carly had recently re-listened to his debut record, Within the Flames. The heights to which his voice soared gave her goose bumps and sent thrilling shivers down her spine. He was killing her softly with his song. She smiled at her own music pun. If Byrne's singing voice wasn't mesmerizing enough, when he spoke she swore hot liquid gushed from the deepest parts of her. The smoky, sexy Irish lilt only enhanced the undeniable appeal. His voice was musical in its cadence and smooth as dark chocolate. His damned unique scent was as appealing as his come-to-bed voice. Byrne exuded a spicy aroma that went beyond the generic hotel soap Gio had just used on him. No way. She wasn't going to let this egotistical rock monster get under her skin.

No fucking way.

Chapter Four

The odor of roast turkey filled his nostrils as soon as he opened the door. Brogan stepped across the threshold into the private banquet room of the Fairmount Plaza in Boston. The concert was tomorrow night at the Boston Garden, and then on to Newark. Three days had passed since his 'puke incident,' as Carly referred to it. His gaze fell upon the huge buffet laid out in front of him. As if he wanted to eat anything. When was the last time he had a decent meal with veg and the works?

Brogan's eyes grazed over Carly. He had to admit she was a hot chick. Besides the shapely, trim figure she had the loveliest expressive hazel eyes. The purple leather pants and matching purple leopard jacket were a turn on. She dressed the part of rock manager. Brogan thought she looked the most appealing in her oversized silk pajamas with her face fresh scrubbed like a little girl ready for bed. The way she'd held him…

What the hell was he doing? Abbie had thrown him aside only three nights ago, and already he was on the prowl? No, he really wasn't, if the insistent ache in his heart had anything to say about the matter. If he were to admit it, the ache had always been there since the night Tarrah was killed brutally in front of him. A surprising development since he supposedly willed his heart to turn to rock the very same night.

* * * *

Carly sucked air between her teeth as she watched Byrne stride confidently toward her. Good God almighty, the man was a stunner. She had to stop this inward drooling. She couldn't put her finger on why he appealed to her outside the obvious good looks. There were layers of hurt and heartbreak in this man, and not just his recent smash-up with the Malibu Barbie girlfriend. There was more. It fueled him, drove him, and maybe fed the demon inside him. She knew he had one. The tortured look she caught in his eyes was proof. Damn, it made him even more appealing. She could not show her interest, ever. So much for her determination to keep her emotions tightly masked. She would have to try harder.

"Hope you're hungry, Byrne. I expect you to chow down here," she said.

Byrne picked up a plate and served some food for himself. "Who in the feck is going to eat all this? The turkey is the size of a small child."

"Funny, Byrne. Didn't know you could be. The crew can do mop-up. I said for them to come in an hour." She ladled string beans onto his plate. "Don't forget your greens, baby."

He snarled quietly but took the food to the table.

Carly sat at the opposite end. She observed Byrne eyeing the white wine sitting on the table. Damn, she should have made sure there was no alcohol of any type. His eyes were wide and full of temptation as if he could drink the whole bottle. She observed his hands trembled slightly.

"Did you take your meds?" Carly asked.

"Aye, I'm a walking Walgreens. I'm taking two different types of antibiotic, Bennies for the alcohol withdrawal, and anti-anxiety pills. And let's not forget the sleeping pills. What is the feckin' difference between these drugs and what I was taking?" he growled.

"These ones are legal and prescribed from a doctor. You can't have any wine, no alcohol at all, Byrne. You heard the doctor; your liver enzymes are out of whack. Eat your turkey." Carly lifted a forkful of whipped mashed potatoes to her mouth.

"Thanks, mum. Want to wipe my arse too?"

"No, I'll leave that for Gio," she said sweetly.

She gazed down the table at Byrne. Jesus, did she have to cut up his meat too? He looked so forlorn and lost. He reached for his fork and began to eat. The doctor had said his blood sugars were screwy as well. He wasn't healthy, and he had just turned thirty. Frankly, she was worried. Maybe too much so.

"I don't mean to nag," she said in a gentler voice. "Believe it or not, there are people concerned about you."

"Worried I won't make them money, you mean," he snapped.

"Well, yes. Byrne, there are dozens and dozens of people relying on you for their welfare and their income. You have to keep it together."

"Jaysus, put more bloody pressure on me, why don't you?"

"I don't mean to," she replied softly.

Byrne glared down the table at her. Yikes, he looked pissed off. He grumbled something about not needing her pity, then shoveled food into his mouth.

"So it's really over with your girlfriend," she ventured.

He slammed his fork on the table. "I gave her VD, cheated on her dozens of times, and lied. What do you think?" Byrne picked up his fork and began to eat again. "I'll live. I'll get over it, I always do."

Yes, there was more going on here than his so-called broken heart, and damn her eyes for being a curious kitty, but she wanted to know everything about this man. Yeah, she was remaining real detached here.

"So sluts are also off the menu." She cringed. Did she just say that?

"I guess I won't be fucking you then," he snarled.

Carly gasped aloud in shock but came right back. "Not with that diseased cock of yours!" Oh, God, her mouth was working before her brain again. "Look Byrne… I—"

"Kick a man while he's down. Thanks for reminding me I'm a messed up male whore."

She glanced up. His expression showed his pain, and she felt like shit. "You brought up the VD first! You wouldn't have caught VD if you… you… Damn. It's none of my business. I don't care, Byrne. You infected the beautiful princess and there are consequences. Do you want the health department coming after you for wantonly spreading a disease? God knows how many you've infected. You don't even know their names. Sounds like a male whore to me."

She'd done it again. She stuffed turkey in her mouth—anything to shut herself up. Why was he stirring such emotions in her, enough that she blurted whatever came to her mind? She had more control than this.

They ate quietly for the next ten minutes. Carly's insides were quaking. What possessed her to lecture him on his moral behavior? If he wanted to screw a brown paper bag it wasn't her concern. She was too involved with this man and his messed up life. She broke her own rules to stay removed, detached, and professional. She didn't dare ask Nigel to reassign her as this was a plum assignment. Nigel liked to use his own people as managers for his acts; the codicil was written in the contracts. The good of the record company came first. It wasn't exactly fair, but Nigel did treat all his people well. No one dreamed Byrne would become so famous. Capitol Records and some of the other bigger labels were already sniffing around him. Carly's job was to see to it Byrne was happy and stayed with Cascade, and she was screwing it up.

A snarl, almost animal-like in tone, came from the end of the table. Byrne leapt out of his chair, grabbed her arm, and pulled her against the wall. "Stop. I can see the pity on your face. Don't you ever feel pity for me," he saidangrily.

She shoved at his chest. "I don't, you Irish shit! Back off."

He stood way too close, and his nearness affected her. Byrne's potent presence surrounded her and made her body react, damn him. She could feel the anger and annoyance come off him in waves. Her hand brushed his rock hard chest. No wonder he went shirtless on stage. She ached to touch him again, but she pulled her hand away.

He leaned in close. "Why is your hair red and black? Couldn't make up your mind?"

"You're a fine one to talk," she mumbled.

"I like changing my hair color and style. It's like trying on a new persona." He laughed huskily.

"Yeah, you know all about that." She snorted.

"Come on—tell me the real color of your hair and I'll tell you mine."

"Enough games. Let me go. You're acting drunk." But she knew he wasn't. She had touched a nerve, and he gave her the full arrogant 'Rock God' façade.

He grabbed her wrists in one hand and held them against the wall above her head. Byrne's eyes scanned down her body. She was angry now, and her chest heaved in irritation. He looked down between her legs. "Love, I know a way I can find out your true hair color."

"Jesus, your brother was right: You area pig. Going to take me against the wall like you do those groupie whores? Just try it and I'll have Gio tear you to pieces."

Byrne began to laugh. "You know, Montgomery, I haven't been this entertained in ages."

"Let me go or I'll whistle for him."

He released her and backed away. "Just having some fun—"

"I'll show you fun." Carly reached down and grabbed his balls in a vise grip capable of cracking walnuts. Holy shit… her fingers brushed past quite the erection. He was turned on? He wasa pig! She squeezed tighter because, damn him, she was turned on as well. This man had her confused six ways from Sunday, and she didn't need this. Byrne cried out with a definite girly scream.

"Don't you everdo that to me again, back me against a wall and make lewd comments. You treat me with respect, or I will have these nailed to a wall. I don't take any abuse off any man, verbal or otherwise—got it?"

"Aye," he croaked an octave higher than he usually spoke.

She let him go and walked away with a slight smile on her face. She could have brought him to his knees very easily; however, she'd held back. The rumors were true. Carly heard the talk of Byrne's prowess. All right, damn him. She heard he could strap his cock to his leg. Her anger quickly dissipated. She wished to hell she was a manager to Carole King or someone less trouble. The last week had certainly not been dull. She was annoyed but also intrigued.

* * * *

Brogan ached. Not only where she had grabbed him but in his raging, off-the-charts arousal. This woman interested him like no other in a long time, not even Abbie. His hand moved down over the front of his jeans. He was going to be sore there in more ways than one. To him, women and sex were a game. Her frank talk irritated him, but he was more fascinated than anything else. He wanted to see her reaction to his arrogant self. Carly stood up to him, and he admired her. Hell, he liked it. Her balls were bigger than his. Far out.

Chapter Five

Before the show in Newark and the concert dates in Canada, Brogan and the tour took a brief break. Cascade Records rented a small house in a secluded area of Cape Cod. The crew was at a nearby hotel while Brogan, Carly, and Gio relaxed at the seaside home. Brogan was sober for a week. All the damned drugs he was on certainly took the edge off, but the demon was still in there snarling silently.

Brogan walked on the small stretch of beach at dusk. He glanced at the house. Carly was inside discussing the upcoming concerts with Gio, working out security and other details that bored the shite out of him. They hadn't talked much since the turkey dinner. As one side-effect of their interaction, he had been in a constant state of arousal ever since she crushed his bollocks. Actually, he derived some amusement from watching her try to keep their dealings removed and professional. Aye, she couldn't hide the flush of her cheeks or the direction of her gaze. Carly constantly scanned his body with her intense stare, usually stopping the longest on his crotch. He made no effort to hide his interest. She no doubt had been aware of his stiff cock when she held his balls between her fingers.

Would he act on the obvious sizzle that simmered between them? He kicked at the sand with his boot. He had heard of Carly Montgomery along the Cascade Record grapevine but had never met her before now. Brogan didn't bother much with the office and the minions who worked under Nigel. He winced. Aye, he was arrogant. However, even though he'd heard she didn't sleep around, there was gossip of a short-term fling with a roadie two years ago.

Brogan stopped walking and gazed up at the star laden sky. It was a beautiful late summer night. A cool, bracing sea breeze skimmed in off the ocean. The hint of impending autumn teased the air. The half moon was bright, casting a soft illumination over the beach. The moon's cascading light also revealed a dinghy coming ashore. Inside the small boat were two scantily clad women. He had to admire their ingenuity. How did they even know where he was?

The two women giggled and hurried to him, gushing adoringly about his music, his voice, and his body. When they began to undress him and cover him with admiring kisses, he didn't protest. Nor did he complain when they brought bottles of beer ashore. No harm in a little foreplay or maybe a drink or two. He didn't have to have sex with them. Just some fun. He told the dark-haired chick she could wank him off but no oral or otherwise. Being worshipped and venerated by women had always appealed to him. Besides, he already had a hard-on before they appeared, and there was no sense putting a perfectly good erection to waste. The women giggled again and began to undress. He stretched out flat in the cool sand. The two women began to crawl all over him. The dark-haired one began to fondle his cock. She teased his swollen head briefly with her tongue and then picked up the pace of her hand strokes until he moaned for release. The dyed blonde was all but inhaling his mouth and tongue. He reached and cupped her breasts, and his thumbs rubbed her nipples into hardness. The chick leaned over him, dangling her tits enticingly. They looked as rich and succulent as low-hanging fruit. His mouth closed over one, and he sucked eagerly. Oh, yeah. More.

* * * *

Carly flipped through the stack of contracts and paper-clipped the relevant ones together. This was taking longer than she'd expected. Byrne's previous manager, Byron, left things in a bit of a mess toward the end. Gio stood, stretched, and walked to the large picture window overlooking the beach. "Is that a boat?"

Carly scrambled out of her seat and rushed to the window. She cupped her hand and peered out through the glass. Damn it, it was a boat, and Byrne was nowhere in sight.

"I'll check it out. I need a little fresh air anyway."

"Are you sure?"

"I'll yell if I need you. Have a drink and relax for a bit." She touched Gio briefly on his arm, and then moved toward the sliding doors. Gio, for all his brawn, had plenty of brains to spare. They had been working together for two years, and she considered him a good friend and not just her assistant. He was darkly handsome, and his Italian heritage was evident in the dusky olive tone of his skin and his dark, seductive eyes. She had never had any longings toward Gio. To her, he was the older brother she always wished she had. He was kind, funny, and protective.

She stepped out on the large deck and closed the door. Carly inhaled the brisk sea air. She wished they could stay here a month and not just a few days. She headed down the steps leading to the beach area. The gentle waves lapped on the sand, but above the melodic sound of the ocean, Carly could hear female giggles.

Carly couldn't believe this. She glanced at the small boat bobbing up and down in the water by the shoreline. Did these bimbos have radar? How in hell did they know where to find him? She never dreamed she would have to put a guard on the beach, for Christ's sake!

She walked toward the giggles. Tucked away in a secluded area by the sand dunes were Byrne and two nearly naked women. She glanced down at Byrne stretched out on the beach like he was a picnic lunch with those bitch ants crawling all over him. She was about to say something sarcastic and snippy, but her throat closed over. It hit her then and there. She wanted to be one of those women. Hell, she wanted to be the onlywoman to crawl all over him like a cheap rug. Her mouth dropped open in shock. Feelings of hurt and disappointment roared though her, but why? For close to two weeks she had been fighting her attraction to Byrne and denying her emotions. The raw jealousy roaring through her body couldn't be denied. She did something against her very core. She turned and ran. Carly's stomach churned about this whole scenario and her surprising reaction to what she witnessed.

She heard one of the women say, "Did you invite another woman to join us?"

She glanced back to see Byrne scramble to his feet. Lord God, he was naked and fully aroused. Wow, he couldstrap his dick to his leg. He told the women to leave in not very friendly terms. They gathered their clothes, grumbled, and got back in the boat and headed farther down the shore. She looked away and kept running.

"Carly!"

Escaping the scene was difficult. Her high-heeled boots were sinking in the sand and slowing her progress. She could hear him chasing after her. Byrne caught her and brought them both down to their knees in the wet sand as the tide swirled about them. Carly struggled at first and then, without thinking, she lifted her hand to touch the back of his head. He was behind her, and she was wedged in between his muscular thighs and his huge erection. Byrne's hand cupped her breast, and his cock grew harder and larger at her back. He nuzzled her neck, and his tongue swirled her ear lobe.

"Carly," he whispered."I didn't drink anything,"

Like that would make everything all right. She didn't smell any booze on his breath, just hot, spicy, aroused male. He kissed her neck again, turned her head slightly, and then nibbled along her chin. Oh, God, she was turned on. His naked skin had a life force of its own. The heat he radiated. The sizzle of desire made her dizzy like she'd had those drinks herself. Byrne moved his hips in the sand and rocked her back against him. All she had to do was lift her short skirt… What the hell was she thinking?

* * * *

Brogan was naked, hard as stone, and he didn't care. He moved in front of her. He was still on his knees, as was she. His hand gently caressed Carly's face and her glorious hair.

"Beautiful—" He meant what he said, really meant it. Not the fake verbiage he had been spouting for ages to nameless women. He loved her freckles. Didn't even know she had freckles until the night he saw her with all the makeup off. He loved the way her full mouth curved in annoyance at him and the way her eyes flashed all manner of emotions even though she struggled to hide them. She was magnificent. He lowered his head. Just a taste.

The kiss was terrifyingly tender, slow, and languid. He did not force himself on her, just savored. Carly Montgomery tasted as no other woman before in his life. This was a revelation. Not even Tarrah, Abbie… none of them. Ever.She opened her mouth tentatively, and he slowly licked every corner of her sensual lushness. A small moan escaped her lips.

Carly pushed him to the sand, her hand firm on his bare thigh. She glanced down at his erect cock and then up to his face. They both stared at each other for a long time, their gazes fused with untold passion and want. He let her take the aggressive role. Brogan waited. Her hand was like a branding iron on his skin. She started a slow circular motion on his hip. He groaned. Take my cock in your hand, your mouth, your pussy, anywhere, I don't care.He could see the desire smoldering in her gaze. Jaysus, he wanted her. Just as he leaned upward to kiss her, she pulled back.

* * * *

Carly stood shakily to her feet and turned away from Byrne. She wanted him like a kid wants her favorite toy on Christmas morning. She couldn't do this. She was seconds away from lifting her skirt and impaling herself on his huge cock. Sure, people had on-the-road flings… hell, she'd had one or two over the years. They meant nothing. When she gazed into those whiskey-and-grass-colored eyes of his, she knew it would mean everything. He was hopeless. No, he hadn't drunk anything, but he'd let those women have their way with him. He was a whore, and she couldn't figure out why.

She heard him say, "Carly?" in a voice so raw, so emotional she almost ran back to him. But she didn't, she kept walking.

Newark, New Jersey

Nevan cooled his heels in Brogan's private suite. The concert was tomorrow night. He had called Carly, and she'd reserved him the room across the hall from Brogan. She wouldn't tell him much about his brother, which had him guessing a lot had happened. She said, "Ask your brother." The girlfriend dropped him, Reese had told him as much. What else had happened since Philadelphia, he wasn't sure he even wanted to know.

He crossed his arms and leaned back into the plush sofa. Brogan was a funny bloke, like he was one to talk. He certainly was the prettiest of all the brothers, which attracted the ladies. But Nevan had the feeling Brogan was broken inside and had been for a long time.

He wouldn't ask him any questions about whatever he carried inside him. Nevan had enough of his own secrets. Pity was the reason he'd decided to make the trip to Newark. Pity for Brogan, the rich rock star. Since Reese had washed his hands of him, and deservedly so, he couldn't abandon his older brother as well. He had to see for himself how Brogan was faring.

* * * *

Brogan walked into the suite. There was Nevan lounging on the couch. He had mixed feelings about having anyone from the family here. He was even more vulnerable, if it were possible. Growing up in Dublin, the Byrnes didn't have much. His father, Seamus, was a laborer, who barely kept the wolf from the door. In a family of seven children there wasn't much privacy either. The five boys were in one room and the two girls in another. Stacked like bleedin' cord wood. They had hand-me-down clothes, and it was a struggle to keep food on the table. With his first big royalty check, Brogan bought his parents a good-sized home on Marrowbone Lane. He gave all his siblings money. He brought Nevan and Reese over to the States and gave them high-paying jobs as his assistants. Times were tough in Ireland, so he was glad to help. Say what you will, he loved his family.

Brogan's thoughts drifted back to his parents. To this day they still loved each other deeply and made sure their home was alive in laughter and affection, then and now. So what was wrong with him or Nevan, for that matter? Neither of them had any lasting, meaningful relationship like their parents.

Nevan, who was eighteen months younger, never let anyone get close. He still didn't. Maybe Brogan should take a page from his book, but really who had he let close lately? Not even Abbie had understood him. He kept a part of himself removed from her and from everyone. The closest he'd come to opening his heart was when he kissed Carly on the beach. He thought about the devastating kiss constantly and thought about her. She acted as if the whole incident didn't happen. The women on the beach—what possessed him? He knew. The demon. He took a seat opposite Nevan.

"So, my brother, how's it been going? Able to keep sober?" Nevan asked pointedly.

"Barely. I'm on some prescriptions to help deal with it."

He wasn't telling anyone about the VD. He was shocked he'd told Carly. Abbie was ashamed, so she wouldn't tell. Frankly, he was a little ashamed himself. He certainly did not want to hear "I told you so, brother" from Nevan. Not today. Did anything rattle Nevan? Well, one thing he would tell him about was his brush with death. He wanted to talk to someone about it even though he had tried to put it out of his mind.

"I almost died in New York." He said the words in a firm strong voice. "Wasn't my intent, I just… Abbie broke up with me and I didn't take it well. I drank, swallowed down some pills, and almost choked to death on my own vomit. Carly saved me with CPR."

Nevan kept silent, but his steady, assessing gaze did not waver from Brogan.

"You think me a stupid wanker, don't you, Nevan? You always did. I can see the disdain in your eyes."

Nevan shrugged. "No more a wanker than the rest of us. But lately, aye. Do you blame the lass for giving you the kick? I don't. And Reese? You did some damage there. I'm not sure he will forgive you anytime soon."

Reese. God knows what he said in Philly. It had to be bad. Reese could be slow to anger, but once he was riled it would take the devil's own shoulder to shift him. "I'm a feckin' mess."

"Aye, my brother, you are. And the mess is not of a recent event, I'll wager. Whatever is smashed inside you manifests itself with this destructive behavior. I thought your music would be a productive outlet for whatever damage, but it seems to have made things worse."

Before Brogan could answer there was a sharp rap on the door. Carly entered, teetering precariously on red and orange platform shoes through the long shag carpet. Brogan's face lit up like the boardwalk in Blackpool at her appearance. The flush spread to his entire body.