The Rocker That Needs Me(3)

Shane burst into the trailer, followed by Nik. Neither said a word as they took in the scene. Outside I heard the sirens of the ambulance as I struggled against the cuffs. I wanted to finish what I had started before the paramedics got the chance to save the bastard.

“Drake!” My mom screamed as she followed the EMTs into the trailer. She had just come home from work and stepped into a war zone.

“Drake, what have you done?” She cried when she saw her husband lying motionless on her living room floor and me, her oldest son, in handcuffs. “Why did you do this?”

I clenched my jaw and refused to meet her eyes. “Because that piece of shit deserved it.”

“Mom!” Shane grabbed our mother. “Mom, there’s something you need to know.”

Something in my little brother’s voice made me glance over at him. He held onto Mom’s hands and spoke softly to her, but I still heard. “Rusty molested me when I was nine,” he explained, and I lost it.

All of it for nothing! The years of keeping the secret that haunted me night and day to protect him. I had turned to drinking myself to death just to sleep at night. And it was all for nothing! Rusty had still done to Shane what he had done to me.

I bucked the cops off me and somehow got to my feet despite the cuffs. Before I could reach Rusty, a third cop tackled me.

“No!” I screamed. “I’m going to kill him!”

Rusty Nelson was going to die for touching my little brother…





Chapter 1


Drake

I woke with the taste of stale Jack Daniels on my tongue, my head pounding and fighting the urge to vomit.

Yeah, my typical morning!

Nothing special about that or the nightmares that still lingered in my mind. They were what made me run for the bathroom. I barely made it before I started retching and emptied my dinner from the night before into the toilet.

I was brushing my teeth when Emmie waddled into my connecting bathroom and glared at me. Apparently she was still mad at me, and I still had no clue why. Damn pregnancy hormones!

“Grab a shower. You’re helping Jesse move Layla and her sisters into the guest house today.”

I groaned. “Emmie, my head is about to split open.”

“How is that different from any other day?” she called over her shoulder as she left the bathroom. “Hurry up. Jesse is leaving soon.”

Muttering a curse, I stepped into the shower. Thirty minutes later, I was riding shotgun in a rental with Jesse. He knew my head was killing me, and he didn’t talk much because of it. I rested my head against the back of the seat and prayed that the day would pass quickly. All I wanted was some Jack and a bed.

The apartment duplex Jesse pulled up in front of wasn’t the most seedy place I had ever seen, but it wasn’t the nicest either. We weren’t exactly in gang territory, but it was obvious that this wasn’t the safest of neighborhoods. I was kind of glad that Layla was moving into the guest house after seeing this place. I liked her and wanted her somewhere safer.

The sun was bright and I regretted not wearing my sunglasses as I climbed the stairs to the second floor behind Jesse. He knocked and the door opened.

“Jesse, hey,” Layla’s raspy voice greeted the drummer.

I stood there in the glaring sun and watched them devour each other with their eyes. Yeah, there wasn’t anything going on there! “Sometime today, Jesse. Stop eye fucking the chick and let’s get this show started, man.” Layla’s cheeks flushed, and she stepped back to let us into the apartment. “I wasn’t expecting you guys to help me.”

I dropped down on a couch that reminded me of the one my mom had loved so much when I was a kid. This one was probably as old as I was.

“Neither were we,” I muttered.

“What Drake means is that he is here under duress. This is his punishment for pissing Emmie off last night,” Jesse informed her.

“I still don’t understand what I did,” I grumbled. “One minute she’s all smiles and the next she’s screaming at me.” I shook my head and my long hair fell in my face. “I hate pregnancy hormones. Cannot wait for that demon child to get out of her!” I wanted my sweet little Emmie back.

Okay, she wasn’t sweet, but she was ours, and I wouldn’t trade her for anyone else. But lately she wasn’t the same girl that the guys and I had practically raised. She had been taken over by the spawn growing in her belly.

Layla laughed and it was a sweet sound. “That isn’t going to help,” she assured me. “After the baby is born, she’s going to be worse. Take my word for it, sweetie. Postpartum is worse than the mood swings she’s having now.”