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“What is that?” Tammy gasped, grasping for a sheet at the loud banging that erupted through my flat.
Now the shadow was at my door, rattling it off the hinges with the force of his knocks.
Fuck. Me.
I nudged Natasha out of the way so I could swing my legs over the side of the bed. Where were my jeans? My shirt? I couldn’t go out to confront the would-be robber—though what I’d take as a weapon, I had no clue, unless I wanted to use my guitars or my soiled bedsheets—without my pants at the very least.
“Looking for these?” Tammy smirked and leaned over to pluck my jeans off the floor on the other side of the bed, dangling them from her hot pink nails. So pink I could even see them in the moonlight.
I winced and snatched them, rotating my shoulders at the burn along my back. Nail marks. I vaguely remembered being between the blond’s legs. Not to fuck her, I didn’t think. My best guess was I’d stayed there just long enough to get her off while she mangled my back and made going without a shirt a lot more interesting.
Handy that my shirt was currently missing in action.
We must’ve knocked back quite a few drinks, though strangely I didn’t remember consuming all that much. Other than that flash of a sex memory, the rest of the night after the set at the pub was a blur. It wasn’t coming into any sharper focus the longer I was awake either.
And my head was vibrating like the floors at a rager.
The door was still shuddering from the fist denting it. Lovely. At least he wasn’t hiding his intentions, the wanker.
More proof that it wasn’t Jerry. Jerry was far more subtle—and dangerous.
I hauled up my jeans and shoved both hands through my unruly hair. I wasn’t meeting someone for tea. Good enough.
“Can you two, I don’t know, put some clothes on? Look presentable?”
When Natasha just skewered me with her eyes and Tammy giggled, I shook my head and moved to the ladder that led down to the main part of my flat. The loft level that held the bed was barely big enough for the mattress and a dresser, but I hadn’t picked this place for entertaining. My guests usually showed themselves out before dawn.
Clearly, I had to develop a better way of dealing with fans, now that I was finally beginning to have some. Sharing my dick with a pretty girl had worked when I was playing two-bit clubs, but my fortunes were changing.
My ship was about to sail the fuck in.
I descended the ladder, jumping down the last two rungs. My bare feet hit the floor and I glared at the door as it practically rattled from the man’s insistent rapping. Assuming it was a man. I didn’t know of any woman with that much force.
Though if there was one out there, I’d sure like to meet her.
“Mind the fists,” I shouted, undoing the locks and yanking open the door. “People live here, you know—”
I fell silent, my heart doing a slow roll before settling in my chest. “Well, then.” My fingers cramped around the edge of the door as I took in my brother’s face.
My brother. In the flesh. Hell of a way to meet for the first time.
So my little call-out on TV had worked. Which meant if Simon had gotten word, Jerry probably would as well.
Too late to cry about spilt milk now. And besides, Simon was here, wasn’t he?
Phase one underway.
“I wondered when you’d show yourself.” My voice sounded rusty and broken, but Simon wouldn’t know that.
He couldn’t know that simply seeing the person who had occupied so much of my thoughts and so many of my plans could rock me to the core.
Simon stared at me with enough malice that I wondered how the floor didn’t go to ashes beneath my feet. “Is that so, brother?” Derision dripped from his voice as he shoved past me into the flat.
Cocky American bastard.
I hung onto the door, more to give myself support than out of a desire to push Simon back out. I’d waited for this day. Planned for it, even if I’d sped up the timeline. Now that it was here, I couldn’t line up my thoughts.
That’s the weed, son. Not your unexpected family reunion.
