Wicked Beat

Chapter 2

Rebekah carried her suitcase up the stairs of the tour bus and came to a screeching halt. This was not the bus that had been ripped in half and caught on fire in Canada, was it? It couldn’t possibly be, but who could tell beneath the piles of debris that littered the aisles and every available surface?

A black-haired, tattooed man, wearing a pair of black, baggie jean shorts over red plaid boxers, emerged from one of the piles.

He had various chains connecting his nipple piercings to God-onlyknew-what in his pants. Rebekah hadn’t even noticed him sitting there on what might have been a sofa or a cardboard box or a stuffed grizzly bear trophy.

“You must be the new FOH engineer.”

A thrill of pride made her chest swell. Sure, it was mostly due to her brother’s misfortune that she, Rebekah Esther Blake, was Sinners’ temporary front of house soundboard operator, but she was here and ready to prove herself worthy. “That’s me,” she said, beaming. She quickly forced the ear-to-ear grin from her face. She should probably try to act a little more butch or these tough roadie guys would eat her for breakfast.

“I’m Travis. That’s Jake. Marcus should be here soon.”

Rebekah scanned the piles of debris until she saw the movement of a blond mohawk near what appeared to be a dining table under a mountain of laundry and beer cans.

Jake stood, wiped his hand on his black T-shirt, and then extended it in her direction. “Dave’s sister, right?”

“Um, yeah.” She took his hand and shook it. “I’m Rebekah, but most people call me Reb.”

“Are you sure that’s not short for rebel?” Jake asked as he took in her funky clothes and blue hair.

Travis laughed. “That would make more sense, if you and straightlaced Dave come from the same family.”

“My mother has disowned me no less than a hundred times.”

Rebekah grinned over memories of all those small victories. “She’s only disowned Dave about a dozen.”

Travis laughed, dark eyes twinkling with merriment, and shook her hand.

“So, where do I sleep?” she asked, wondering if there were even beds in this mess. And then she realized the mess was beds. Bunk after bunk filled with spare pillows, blankets, potentially clean clothes, and obviously dirty clothes. Obvious, because she could smell them from where she stood.

Someone stomped up the steps behind her. “I’ve come to rescue you,” a deep voice said behind her.

She turned and found Sinners’ drummer, Eric, standing behind her. She smiled at him, and he smiled back, looking like he’d just discovered the puppy he’d always wanted under the Christmas tree.

“Rescue me? From what?”

“Do you really think we’d make you stay on the pigsty bus?”

“I don’t mind,” she said.

“The place is highly toxic to sensible females.”

She laughed and slapped him on the arm. “Then I’ll be perfectly fine.”

Eric paused and raked a hand through his crazy hair.

For some inexplicable reason she wanted to run her fingers through it too. Like a work of art, Eric Stick’s hair demanded attention. It was long on one side—something to hold on to. The other half was sheared off short. She imagined it would feel soft and silky beneath her fingertips. A row of inch-long spikes ran from forehead to nape, separating long locks from short fuzz. It was shiny and ebony except for the long lock that curled around his throat and hung down to his left collarbone. By some strange coincidence it was dyed the same blue she’d chosen to dye hers—for the sole purpose of ticking off her mother—not a week ago.

She wondered if his was real hair or fake extensions. She reached up and ran a finger over the long, blue strands. They felt real. Silky.

Smooth. Warm from his body heat. She stroked the lock again between her fingers and his throat. His Adam’s apple dipped as he swallowed hard. She cocked her head at him, really seeing him for the first time. When she really looked at him, he was actually very attractive. Why hadn’t she ever noticed him before? Obscenely tall (from her low vantage point) and lean. Rugged features. Strong jaw.

Straight nose. Thin lips with a ready smile and a sexy cleft in the middle of his chin that begged to be stroked with her fingertip. He was no Trey Mills, but…

Rebekah’s gaze lifted to Eric’s eyes, which were the color of a clear winter sky. “Will Trey be on the other bus?” she asked.

Eric’s slim black brows drew together into a scowl. “Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

“Then I’m there.”

She turned, brushed past Eric, and trotted down the bus steps.

“Later, Reb,” she heard Travis call from inside the pigsty bus.

Eric loped down the steps and came to a halt beside her. She glanced around the parking lot looking for another bus. She’d only seen one bus when the taxi had dropped her off. It wasn’t like a big ol’ tour bus was something she could have easily overlooked. Behind the pigsty bus, she spotted the large, black moving van with Sinners’ red logo painted on the back, but nope, there was no other bus in sight. “Where’s the other bus?”

“Sed’s bringing it. He called and said he was on his way. And before you ask, yes, Trey is with him.” He rolled his eyes skyward and shook his head.

She set her suitcase at her feet to wait. Rebekah took another glance around the parking lot and noticed a vintage Stingray Corvette parked under a palm tree. That hadn’t been here when she’d arrived.

She’d have noticed it for sure. The car was a real beauty that had been manufactured in . Maybe ’. Shiny emerald green paint.

Its convertible top had been left down. Good thing it didn’t rain often in Southern California.

“Sweet!” she said, practically salivating over the car’s beauty and the raw power she knew would be under its hood.

“What?” Eric asked.

She pointed enthusiastically across the parking lot. “That gorgeous hunk of metal over there.”

Eric’s gaze followed the tip of her finger. He scratched behind his ear when his eyes located the object of her obsession. “You mean my car?”

She glanced at him, eyes wide. “That’s yours?”

He grinned and nodded. “Yeah. I’m so proud of her. She died at only two stoplights today.” He held up two fingers.

“She died?”

Eric scratched behind his ear again and stared up at the clear sky.

“I can’t seem to get her timing right. Or maybe I didn’t gap those new spark plugs correctly. I’m not sure.”

“Mind if I take a look?” Rebekah left her suitcase by the bus and was heading across the parking lot before he could answer. He caught up with her in two long-legged strides.

Before Rebekah’s failed stint as an oil-rigger and a crab fisherman, um, fisherwoman, she’d had a failed stint as an auto mechanic.

Not because she had been bad at it, but because no one took her seriously. She had been bad at rigging oil and fishing crab—fivefoot-two and a hundred and six pounds soaking wet did not make her suitable for many of the jobs she insisted she wanted.

When she reached the car, her heart sank. The camel-colored, leather interior was totally trashed. “What did you do to her?” she bellowed and turned on Eric, who took a step backward, his smile fading.

“She was like that when I got her.”

“And you just left her like this? How long have you had her?”

Eric tipped backward at the hips, lifted his toes off the ground, and stared at his black Converse high-tops. “Uh, around ten…”

“Ten days?”

“Uh…” He shook his head.

“Ten weeks?”

Eric cleared his throat. “Um… ten… years.” He whispered the last word.

She slapped him on the chest with the flat of her hand. “How could you? She’s a priceless work of art and you treat her like junk.”

“Junk? No, not junk. She’s my baby.” He patted the door affectionately.

“Your baby? That pisses me off even more.” Rebekah moved around to the front of the car to pop the hood. “If the engine looks as bad as the interior, I’m gonna scratch your eyes out.”

Eric covered his eyes with both hands.

And he had reason to. “Oh, dear,” Rebekah gasped as she tried to make heads or tails over what someone had done to the once glorious V- engine. “Is that? Is that… a coat hanger holding open the carburetor choke?”

“I tried to fix her,” Eric said, his eyes still protected by his longfingered hands.

He looked ridiculous. And somehow endearing. She smiled to herself and propped up the hood with a metal rod—another coat hanger.

“Are you sure you should be the one trying to fix her?”

“I have a repair manual for this model,” he said. “A really good one.”

“We’re going to need it to figure out how to straighten out this disaster.”

He lowered his hands from his eyes. “We’re going to need it?”

“I’m sorta a mechanic. Or I used to be. If you want, I’ll help you get her running properly. I don’t do interiors though.”

He hesitated.

“Do you have a better suggestion?” she asked, running a finger along the side of the engine block and finding seeping oil. Blown head gasket. Wonderful. She sighed heavily. This poor car. How could he claim that it was his baby?

Eric moved to stand beside her, looking at the completely fucked up engine with something that bordered on pride. “When I had her towed to my house from the junkyard, I promised myself that I’d do all the work on her myself. She does start now.” He glanced at Rebekah. “Sometimes.”

“I’m surprised she runs at all.”

He flushed and looked across the parking lot. Rebekah stared at him, perplexed. He hadn’t been this cute ten minutes ago, had he? Maybe because he was so close, she was able to get a better look at him. And he smelled good. A hint of leather and aftershave and something utterly male. She suddenly wanted him to notice her. As a woman.

Rebekah shifted sideways and brushed her arm against his, pretending it was an accident. He didn’t move away, but he didn’t increase the contact between them either.

“You can keep that promise. If I do help you,” she said, “you’ll be the one doing all the work. I’ll just supervise.”

His bright, genuine smile did something strange to her heart. It soared upward, fluttering in her throat or thereabouts.

“That sounds like a plan, Reb.”

His hand slid across her lower back. A thrill of excitement raced up her spine.

“I don’t expect you to volunteer your help,” he said. What would you like in repayment for your assistance?”

His thumb rubbed a small circle at the base of her spine. Her breath caught. Why were her nipples suddenly erect? She thrust her breasts forward, wanting him to observe them, and not sure why the thought of him seeing her arousal excited her. She chanced a glance at him and found his eyes closed. Her heart sank a little. He wasn’t paying attention to her. She turned away from him slightly. Not exactly out of his one-armed embrace, but to be less… engulfed by the man. He stood over a foot taller than her, which made her feel very feminine and small. She wasn’t sure she liked that feeling.

“Uh, what did you have in mind?” she asked breathlessly.

“I give a pretty good massage,” he said, his low voice drawing goose bumps along the side of her neck. His eyes opened and immediately fixated on the small bumps at the front of her thin tank top.

His breath caught. She tugged the hem of her shirt down, giving him a nice view of her cleavage as well. She pretended that was accidental too. He was definitely paying attention now.

Which would make now a good time to grab hold of the long side of his hair and pull those easy-to-smile lips against her throat.

Wait. What was she thinking? Trey—all cool, suave, and sexywas the band member she wanted to tease mercilessly, not this silly guy with the… with the… mesmeric hands. Oh. Just his thumb rubbing in circles along her lower back had her muscles melting. Her belly quivering. Her nipples straining.

Eric moved behind her, and his long fingers dug into her shoulders with just enough pressure to have her swaying back toward those wonderful hands in bliss. His thumbs massaged either side of her spine as he worked his way lower. Lower. Lower.

Mmmmm, lower.

“Sold!” she cried as a deep shudder shook her entire body. Dear God, this man’s hands…

Eric chuckled and those strong, long-fingered hands moved around her waist to splay over her belly. He drew her against his lean-muscled body. She tilted her head back and found his gaze locked on her neckline. He bent his head closer to her ear. “I’m good at other things too,” he murmured.

I’ll bet you are. “Just not fixing cars,” she teased.

His hands rubbed her belly, and she longed for him to move them a bit higher to massage her aching breasts. If his hands felt that good on her back and belly, what would they feel like there? Oh, and down there.

“That wasn’t nice, little Reb.”

“Who said I was nice?”

“You look very nice to me,” he murmured.

She tugged the neckline of her shirt a little lower. Her nipples were scarcely covered now.

Eric drew a shaky breath through his teeth. Did he want her?

She wanted him to want her. More like needed him to.

A loud, low rumble drew Rebekah’s attention. Thunder? On a sunny Californian day? A red Harley entered the parking lot and headed across the expanse of concrete in their direction. It pulled to a stop beside them, and its rider, dressed all in leather, shifted the bike on its kickstand.

“Tripod!” Eric greeted.

“Tripod?” Rebekah echoed.

The rider removed his helmet, revealing the cutest member of Sinners, bassist Jace Seymour. Jace was a perfect ten on the hottie scale. That dark beard stubble and bleached blond, spiked hair totally worked for him. Rebekah found each member of Sinners attractive in his own way. Lead guitarist Brian, with his cover model good looks, was a perfect ten. Vocalist Sed, all hunky and handsome, was another perfect ten. Rhythm guitarist Trey, sultry, sexy, with a heap of bad boy thrown in for good measure, was at least an eleven. And then there was Eric. Their drummer. She’d never really paid much attention to him. Too busy drooling over Trey. Trey—hummina, hummina, hummina—Mills. She wondered when he’d arrive.

Jace unhooked an elastic cord from the back of his bike and the cargo net snapped free. He tugged a duffel bag off the back of the seat and tossed it to Eric, who caught it.

“If you’re trying to impress her with your car, man,” Jace said, “I think you should reconsider your strategy.” He snorted as he attempted to withhold a laugh.

“She loves it,” Eric said.

“She’s just saying that so you don’t cry.”

Rebekah shook her head. “No, he’s right. I do love it. I can’t wait to help him restore the engine.”

Jace lifted one brown eyebrow at her. “You’re going to help him restore it?”

Before she could take Jace down a peg about women’s lib and all that, Eric said, “Apparently, she has mad mechanic skills. Right, Reb?”

“Uh, yeah. I guess.” She blushed. “Well, I get auto mechanics, but sometimes I’m not strong enough to… But I do have little hands, so I can reach into small places easily.” She held up her hands, fingers splayed wide, and tapped her fingertips together. “I prefer to work with big hunks of metal—”

“Big hunks of metal? You’ve signed up with the right band,” Eric said.

Jace snorted and slapped Eric’s shoulder.

She rolled her eyes at Eric and tried not to laugh. “As I was saying, I’m not a fan of electronic components. That’s why I love these older cars so much.” When she beamed a smile at Eric, he got that melty look that Dave sported when he gazed at his adorable little sister with sappy affection. Ugh! She hated when guys looked at her like that. Rebekah was not Eric’s adorable little sister. She was a strong-willed, sharp-minded, tough, independent, sensual creature, and he’d damned well better remember it.

Rebekah grabbed Eric by the front of his white T-shirt and pulled him down to eye level, prepared to give him a good tonguelashing. “J-just because I’m s-small doesn’t mean I’m not capable of t-taking care of myself or that I’m not s-sexy.” She hated how she stammered when she was perturbed. It sorta took the significance from her words.

Eric just grinned at her, the heart-meltiness in his look intensifying. “Are you sure about that, precious?”

Maybe she’d get her point across better if she did something other than lash him with her tongue. She wasn’t precious. She wasn’t. She was bold. Daring. And more impulsive than strongwilled, sharp-minded, tough, independent, or sensual. Her free hand found the long hairs at the nape of his neck. She grabbed them with enough force to draw his lips against hers. He put up no resistance to her unexpected kiss, but didn’t exactly respond the way she’d hoped, or at all for that matter.

Rebekah kissed him hungrily, with an open mouth and a seeking tongue, as if they were red-hot lovers rather than barely acquainted.

Eric made a strange sound in the back of his throat, dropped Jace’s duffel bag between his feet, and drew her against him with both arms. Plastered against the solid length of his body, her feet rose off the ground as he stood straight. One strong hand pressed against the middle of her back, and the other slid down over her ass as he drew her closer and kissed her senseless.

Whoa! She hadn’t meant for this to happen. She’d meant it to be more of an exercise in “don’t underestimate my power” than “make my toes curl and my heart race.” Rebekah’s hands loosened their hold on Eric’s shirt and hair to slide over his solid shoulders. Yeah, solid. Everything about this guy felt solid. Well, at least bodily.

“Um,” a deep, quiet voice said from somewhere near Rebekah’s shins, “if you’ll just… let me… get my bag.” There was a loud umph as Jace pulled his duffel bag from beneath her feet. “I’ll get out of your way.”

Regaining a few of her marbles, Rebekah tugged her mouth away from Eric’s and opened her eyes. “Let that be your lesson,” she whispered breathlessly.

His lashes fluttered as he opened his eyes to gaze at her. “My lesson?”

“I’m not the most precious, adorable, little thing you’ve ever seen in your life.”

“Oh, yes… you are,” he murmured and closed the narrow gap between their lips to kiss her again.

Um… whoa! What the fuck? Her entire body was thrumming with unexpected sexual energy. She eased away, kissing Eric intermittently to wean her mouth slowly from the delight his gently sucking lips instigated. She even put a hand on his face and pushed in an attempt to restrict her mouth’s access to his. It was not very effectual, really. Even when he leaned back at her prompting, she leaned forward to follow. Damn, the man had strong lips. And hands. Hands. Hands… Dear Lord they felt good against her ass and lower back.

Rebekah forced her lips to break contact with Eric’s. Her hand slid to cup his cheek while she stared into his irresistible blue eyes.

“I’m not adorable,” she assured him, her eyes drifting closed again as she leaned in to steal another kiss. She just needed one more and she’d be set. Just one more. “I’m… I’m sexy and… Mmmm…” Or two. She kissed him again. And again. Shuddering when his tongue brushed her upper lip, she pulled away and then bit her bottom lip to make it behave and stop herself from craving his mouth so thoroughly. Rebekah opened her eyes, immediately got lost in his gaze again, and forgot what her point had been in the first place. “I’m sexy and… sensual and…” Still a woman.

“No arguments from me, little Reb. I just didn’t know if you were sure.”

A loud horn blared as a solid black tour bus with Sinners’ cherry red logo painted on the side turned into the parking lot and pulled to a halt next to the pigsty bus.

Eric lowered Rebekah to her feet and released her. He held onto her arm until she regained her balance and then turned to drop the hood on the Corvette before going around to the back of the car to open the trunk.

She was a bit confused by his sudden brusqueness. He’d probably lost all respect for her after she’d thrown herself at him like that. It wasn’t like she attacked good-looking guys on a regular basis. Or ever, actually. She just hadn’t expected to enjoy Eric’s kiss quite that much. She really had intended to use it to drive home her point. Which had been that… um… What had her point been? She touched her heated cheeks with cool fingertips.

Eric pulled a large duffel bag from the trunk and closed the hatch.

When he noticed her standing there uncertainly, he said, “Well, come on. Don’t you want to see the inside of the new bus?”

She smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

He bit his lip and shook his head at her. “I still say you’re the most precious, adorable, little thing I’ve ever seen.”

She gasped indignantly. Oh yes. That had been her point. “Eric Sticks, you don’t want me to teach you another lesson, now do you?”

He grinned and Rebekah’s heart raced.

“Yeah, actually, I do,” he said.