Rock God (Hearts of Metal Book 3) Read online

  So, Dante was single. He probably had a scruffy bachelor pad, she reasoned, so besides paying him back, she could clean up his place and cook him a few decent meals before she left for…wherever she was going to go.

  His scent teased her again, and her cheeks grew hot at the realization that she not only looked horrible, she no doubt smelled worse. Her feet had been cleaned and bandaged, and it looked like her arms had been given a half-hearted sponge, but that had only taken care of the first of many layers of filth. Her skin prickled as if she could feel the dirt and grime covering her body. Funny, how she hadn’t cared until now.

  “May I use your shower?” she asked. Her muscles tightened at the thought of moving, but her mind recoiled from remaining dirty in his presence. Her mother’s voice ranted in her head about the state of her hair, her nails, her face. Nervously, she licked chapped lips.

  “Of course.” That gorgeous smile returned, and Shayna’s belly fluttered.

  She fought off her trepidation and confusion and nodded. “Okay, then.”

  ***

  After she filed a quick police report with the resident officer at the hospital—which probably wouldn’t do any good since she didn’t have a good description of the men—a nurse helped Shayna into a wheelchair and gave her a supply of gauze and pain meds.

  Shayna looked up at Dante as he wheeled her out into the night and to a waiting cab. “You don’t have a car? How did we get here?”

  “We took the bus.”

  Shayna frowned as her mother’s voice returned. How did this guy expect to take care of her if he didn’t have transportation? Did he even have a job? And if he didn’t, how had he paid the hospital bill? What if he was a drug dealer? Her stomach churned with speculation. This was a bad idea. She should have taken her chances at the shelter and—

  The feel of his warm, hard body against hers as he lifted her from the wheelchair silenced the shrieking voice and made goose bumps rise up on her skin.

  “You don’t have to carry me,” she said softly, her head swimming.

  “I think I do.” His firm voice rumbled against her ear. His hair tickled her cheek.

  As the cab took off to their destination, Shayna had another horrifying thought. What if he still lived with his parents? That could explain the extra money he had to throw around on concerts and medical expenses for strangers, but if that was the case, what would his parents say about him bringing her home? Would he hide her like a middle-aged kid smuggling in a stray dog?

  “Does anyone else live with you?” she asked.

  “No, it’s just me,” he replied. “But I have company often.”

  “Oh,” she said. She’d just bet he did, with his gorgeous hair and eyes, and those kissable lips. A fierce surge of jealousy caught her off guard. Shayna considered asking him what he did for a living…and then discarded the idea. It sounded too much like a blind-date interview.

  Dante had lapsed into silence, staring out the window into the darkness. Shayna did the same, and her eyelids grew heavy.

  “We’re here.”

  She didn’t even remember falling asleep, but Dante’s voice woke her. Shayna’s eyes opened, and she jerked her head off his shoulder so fast her neck popped. Her cheeks flamed. She’d been more intimate with this man in the past few hours of knowing him than in the whole last year with her husband.

  He helped her out of the cab, picking her up as if she weighed nothing. Those muscles were strong and hard, belying his lean form. Shayna didn’t protest this time, either. Even in the darkness, the sight of Dante’s home knocked the breath from her body. It wasn’t a slummy apartment. It was a mansion.

  Her stomach dropped like a leaden weight as the truth of her situation slammed back down on her with painful clarity. She knew nothing about this man. Nothing at all.

  She peered over Dante’s shoulder to hide her gaping expression and caught a glimpse of the cab’s headlights blaring off back down the gated drive. Here she was, alone with a stranger. Who was he, and what, other than rich? Why would a rich guy offer to take her in? If only she hadn’t been too exhausted to attempt to learn more about him before she agreed to this. If only she’d had time to think this offer through. Why the hell had she agreed to it?

  Too late, her inner voice remarked.

  She opened her mouth to say something about the elaborate house, but then closed it as she couldn’t find a polite way to broach the subject. Her mother had ingrained in her that it was rude to pry.

  But what if he’s a serial killer or something? the motherly voice screamed as well. Rich people have strange hobbies.

  Shayna’s instincts rejected that idea. There had been too much tenderness and empathy in his gaze. Still, there was something about Dante, like a half-remembered song—

  Her thoughts broke off as his hand shifted slightly higher on her thigh. Heat flared at the contact even as she panicked. Was he already trying to assert some sort of sexual claim on her?

  “I’m going to have to put you down a second so I can get the key.”

  “Okay,” Shayna squeaked.

  Her mind raced, but got nowhere, like a pack of hamsters in wheels. That sense she was missing something about him hovered in the corner of her consciousness, and she kept coming back to the concert where he’d rescued her. Something about a song…

  Her feet touched the ground, and pain exploded all the way up to the top of her skull, despite the thick bandaging and hospital booties. Shayna bit back a cry, only a whimper escaping. Black and white spots flashed before her eyes, and she began to sway.

  Dante steadied her. He murmured soothing nonsense words. The door opened, and he lifted her back into his arms.

  He entered the house. Shayna gaped at her surroundings as the lights went on. The place was immaculate, with gleaming hardwood floors, plush carpeting, and ornate furnishings that were either antique or expensive reproductions. She definitely didn’t belong here.

  Dante began to lower her onto a fluffy couch, and she stiffened. “No!”

  “What’s wrong?” he asked.

  “I need a bath,” she said, panic clawing at her throat. “I don’t want to touch anything until I’m clean.”

  She could practically see stink waves coming off her skin, like Pigpen from the Peanuts cartoons. Grime and sweat from her journey caked every inch of her body. Her hair was greasy and her scalp itched. If she touched anything, it would be contaminated forever.

  “Relax, Shayna. This isn’t a fu—damn shrine.” When she gazed up at him with pleading eyes, however, he sighed. “Fine, I’ll take you upstairs. Don’t squirm. I don’t want to drop you.”

  They made a careful trip up the carpeted stairs and into a fancy bedroom. “You can sleep here, and the bathroom’s in there.” Dante nodded at another door as he set her on the bed. “I’m going to see about getting us some dinner.”

  “Um…” Shayna was mortified that she had to bring up the subject, but it was that or face her host looking like Sasquatch if he happened to get a peek at her legs. “You wouldn’t happen to have an extra razor, would you?”

  Dante opened the bathroom door and pulled a disposable out of a medicine cabinet. His eyes narrowed. “You’re not going to do anything stupid with it, are you?”

  Shayna rolled her eyes. “If I’d wanted to die, I could have let those jerks take care of it earlier.”

  He glared at her, eyes dark as pewter. “That’s not funny,” he said in a cold, flat voice. “And considering what you did to your feet, I think I have the right to ask.”

  Shayna swallowed, but refused to flinch. “I’d really like to take a bath now.” She held her hand out for the razor.

  Dante sighed and handed it to her. “You’d better be out and in one piece in an hour. And be careful with your feet,” he commanded on the way out.

  “Yes, sir!” she fired back, irritated at his bossiness.

  He glanced over his shoulder and raised his eyebrow before closing the door.

  The bathtub was
soon full of blissfully steaming water. Shayna carefully undressed and unwrapped the bandages from her aching feet. The hospital had given her a ton of gauze and a giant tube of medicine, but it still seemed a waste to throw away the fresh bandages. But getting clean was her first priority.

  Getting into the tub, Shayna fully dedicated herself to scrubbing every trace of her long walk from her body. The grimy mess of her hair took forever. She saved her feet for last, biting back a cry as the soft sponge grazed her blisters. Thank goodness the ER staff had already cleaned them up pretty well.

  Just as she was getting ready to turn on the shower to rinse and wash her hair a second time, Dante knocked.

  “It hasn’t been an hour yet!” Shayna cried. She couldn’t help her pleading tone. The warm water felt so good.

  “I’m just setting out a shirt and sweats for you to wear…and making sure you’re okay.”

  His voice had taken on that talking-down-a-jumper tone again, and apologetic embarrassment knotted Shayna’s belly. “Oh. Thank you,” she said. She hadn’t thought of the clothing situation. “And I am fine, I promise.”

  She washed her hair again. As she did, she prayed her feet would heal quickly. If there was this much awkwardness between them now, it would only get worse as time went by.

  Chapter Three

  Dante shook his head, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. The woman argued with him. Shayna’s outspokenness was refreshing in a way. No one had protested anything he’d said or done in years. With his celebrity status and undisputed position as one of the most influential musicians in the heavy metal world, all but his closest friends seemed to tiptoe around him for fear of causing offense.

  He placed one of his T-shirts and a pair of sweats outside the bathroom door, but then he frowned. She didn’t have any clean underwear. Hell, she didn’t have anything clean. It seemed he’d have to do laundry before his housekeeper came in tomorrow.

  He headed back downstairs and put a frozen pizza in the oven since no one would deliver at three in the morning. Then he settled on the couch and went through Shayna’s backpack. The moment he got a closer look at the clothes, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Everything was torn and stained. Shayna needed a new wardrobe.

  Humming, he grabbed a pad of paper and a pen and went back to examining her clothes, jotting down the sizes on the tags, fully immersed in his new project. When that was finished, he threw the ripped up clothes in the garbage—but not the little blue blanket, which he put in the wash on the delicate cycle. That scrap of fabric seemed important. Dante then began writing down other stuff a woman like Shayna would need.

  He’d just gotten past the basic toiletries and into the more complex stuff —would she want nail polish?—when he heard a noise in the kitchen. Dante set down the notepad and went to investigate, and he found Shayna kneeling on the floor, rummaging in the cupboard under the sink.

  She had a very nice ass, he realized, and his cock stirred with agreement. Then guilt suffused him. It had been a long time since he’d been with a woman, and the last time was a disaster. This situation wouldn’t be any better. Making a move on a woman in a weakened state was simply not honorable, not to mention that he didn’t want the complication of a relationship ever again. Dante willed his body to calm. Shayna was a project, nothing more.

  The sight of her task chased away his lust, replacing desire with irritation that she was disregarding her feet again. She had to be in pain.

  “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.

  Shayna bolted upright, bumping her head on the cupboard. A can of Comet tumbled from one hand and rolled across the floor. She held a sponge in a death grip, and her eyes were terrified.

  Dante took one look and bit back a curse. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you,” he grumbled awkwardly. Maybe he wasn’t as good at being a caretaker as he’d thought.

  “It’s okay.” She picked up the cleanser and scrambled awkwardly to her feet. Her face contorted with pain. “I’m just going to clean out the tub.”

  Dante blinked. This woman had been attacked, passed out in his arms, and then spent hours in the hospital. She hadn’t even eaten, yet somehow she’d mustered the energy to hobble down to his kitchen for cleaning supplies? Was she crazy? Shaking his head, he strode forward and took the Comet away before she could protest.

  She held tight to the sponge.

  “No,” he said, “you won’t be cleaning anything. You’re going to eat and rest.”

  “But I don’t want you to see the mess I made!” she protested.

  His frown deepened. What kind of a life had she led to make her worry about something so trivial and impractical? He struggled to sound patient when he said, “I won’t see anything. The housekeeper will take care of it tomorrow.”

  At that, she seemed even more horrified, but the oven timer beeped just in time to halt the argument. He held out his hand.

  “That’s dinner. Come on now.”

  Reluctantly, she handed over the sponge. Dante frowned and set it on the counter with the Comet. If Shayna was a clean-freak, she’d drive him crazy before the week was over. Either that, or she and his housekeeper would have a brawl.

  Dante smiled. It was doubtful anyone could tangle with Rosa and come out on top.

  He took her arm and slowly guided Shayna out of the kitchen. When her breath hitched with pain, he scooped her up and carried her to the couch before returning to the kitchen to pull out the pizza.

  “That smells delicious,” Shayna said as he returned with their plates.

  “Yeah, well, the doctor said you should eat high calories.” And he’d make sure she ate as much as possible. “You can’t get much higher than pizza, which is the best option at this hour since I just got back in town and haven’t restocked my fridge.”

  “You’re really taking this caretaker business seriously, aren’t you?”

  He glanced over at her. Her dark eyes were impossibly huge, and now that she was cleaned up he realized Shayna was a truly beautiful woman. With those eyes and that slightly pointed chin, she resembled a pixie. Her breasts were perky, if on the small side, making a tantalizing outline beneath the fabric of the Black Sabbath shirt he’d loaned her.

  Attraction sent an electric shiver up his spine, but Dante fought it off with a shrug. “Yeah, well, I take all of my projects seriously.”

  “Projects?” Her left eyebrow rose, and the corner of her mouth tilted in a way that made his knees weak. He really needed to stop reacting to her.

  “Yeah,” he managed, thrusting a plate into her hands. “Now follow the doc’s orders and eat.”

  Shayna frowned—probably at the blunt order, because she complied after he softened it with a smile.

  As she ate, Dante compiled a grocery list for Rosa, his housekeeper, along with an explanation for Shayna’s presence. He’d give Rosa a bonus for having an extra person to cook for and clean up after, too.

  Shayna was only able to eat two slices before she said she was full. Dante gave her a glass of water and had her take one of the pain pills the hospital gave her, and then he set to work on dressing her feet. She twitched as he applied the triple antibiotic ointment.

  “I didn’t know it was possible for something to hurt and tickle at the same time.”

  “I’m really trying to be careful,” he said, cringing every time he grazed one of her blisters. “So, what do you do? Or what did you do before you”—he attempted to word it casually—“decided to take a walk?”

  “I was a housewife.”

  Her voice was numb and emotionless, though her eyes glinted with an unspoken thought.

  Dante’s breath halted as he realized something else. “You’re married?”

  The revelation made his chest twinge for some reason. Then he remembered the torn photo.

  She shook her head, and his pulse slowed. “Not anymore, I think. Where’d you put my laptop? I need to check my email and see if the divorce has been finalized and I don’t have a phon
e.”

  “Your laptop’s broken. I think you cracked the screen over that guy’s head. You can use mine, but…” Dante held up a hand as she perked up. “Why don’t we wait until tomorrow for that? You need to focus on recovering, and you just took those meds. But…what happened?” He couldn’t resist asking, overwhelmed with curiosity about her history.

  She bit her lip. “I don’t want to talk about it. At least, not yet.”

  Had her husband beaten her? Was this why she’d walked so far? If so, why hadn’t she taken refuge in a women’s shelter or stayed with a friend? Did she have no one? And what about the baby? Had she left her child with the father or a relative? Dante fought off the urge to insist she elaborate and focused instead on wrapping her feet.

  “Fine, but I’ll get the story out of you eventually.”

  Her chin lifted, looking adorable with its little Band-Aid, so he changed the subject before she could argue.

  “So, what do you do for fun? Any hobbies?” Since he would have to leave her here alone on occasion, it would be good to find something to occupy her time.

  She gave him a wistful smile. “I read a lot.” She yawned. “And I write.”

  Dante smiled and mentally added a notebook to his shopping list. “I have a pretty big library. Though, half of it is medieval history. That’s something that’s always fascinated me.”

  Shayna perked up. “Really? Me too! Can I go see?”

  Her voice slurred slightly as the meds kicked in, so Dante put a hand on her shoulder, stopping her from getting up. “Not now. Tonight you need to rest.” He frowned. “You like medieval history?” Although it was wrong to stereotype housewives, he never would have imagined her having an interest in such a niche subject.

  “Yeah, the culture, technology, and politics made for an interesting period, though I suppose you could say that about any age. Still, there’s something about those days…” She trailed off with another yawn, her head drooping. “Anyway, what do you do when you’re not reading about knights and castles?”

  Dante chuckled and stared at the ceiling, carefully choosing his response. “I’m a musician. A singer, actually. You may have heard of me…”