Karyn Gerrard: Heart of Rock

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Cover Artist: Lee Tiffin

Editor: Cynthia Mac Gregor

Heart of Rock © 2012 Karyn Gerrard

ISBN # 9781614955016

Attention Readers:This book uses US English.

All rights reserved.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental. The Licensed Art Material is being used for illustrative purposes only; any person depicted in the Licensed Art Material, is a model.

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Silver Publishing

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Dedication

To all the great singers and rock groups of the 1970's, thanks for the memories.

Gratitude to my critique partner and friend, Gayl Taylor, for the support and advice.

To my husband, who was my sounding board with this story as he is with so many others. Thanks for listening.

Rock on.

Trademarks Acknowledgement

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

AMA : Dick Clark Productions, Inc

Boston Garden : Delaware North Companies, Inc

Bowie, Ziggy Stardust : Jones, David R

Capitol Records : Capitol Records, Inc

Fender : Fender Musical Instruments Corporation

Gibson Les Paul 55 : Gibson Guitar Corp

Grammy : National Academy of Recording Arts & Sciences, Inc

Jack Daniel's : Jack Daniel's Properties, Inc

Malibu Barbie : Mattel Inc

MGB : MG Motor

Mustang : Ford Motor Company

Pepsi : Pepsico, Inc

Red Cross : American Red Cross

Rockford Files : Universal City Studios LLC

Rolling Stone : Rolling Stone LLC

Tyrconnell : Cooley Distillery PLC

Volkswagen : Volkswagen Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

Walgreens : Walgreen Co

Yamaha FG 160 : Yamaha Corporation

Zippo : Zippmark, Inc

Brogan Byrne clasped his girlfriend's hand tighter and pulled her along behind him through the dark, foggy streets. Angry male voices followed in the distance. They were being hunted. All that was missing, Brogan thought, was the feckin' pitchforks and torches. Far-off gunfire peppered and sliced though the heavy night air. Just to add to the perilous mix, British soldiers were on patrol.

He glanced back at Tarrah. She looked frightened, as well she should be. He was originally from Dublin but had been living in Belfast the past three months to play his music at a few select pubs. His family told him he was daft for coming to Northern Ireland in the middle of 'the troubles', but he'd always loved an adventure—until tonight.

It turned out his family was right. He had the sick feeling a group of Ulsters was tracking them. Tarrah was Catholic, and he was Protestant. He tried to run faster, but Tarrah slowed him down. He had met her his first night at the Rose and Crown. She sat in the front perched on a barstool, mesmerized by his singing and guitar playing. She was a sweet little thing with her ginger hair and freckles. It didn't take long for her to find her way to his bed and his heart. Brogan was in love, a true, deep, all-encompassing love, for the first time in his life. The time spent with her was precious and had him making some long-term plans for both of them. This very morning, after making love and holding her in his arms, he told her he loved her and wanted her in his life forever. Tarrah cried and kissed him and said she loved him, too. Even now his heart ached with passionate tenderness for her. When they got out of this damned mess, he was taking her back to Dublin right away.

Tarrah tugged on his arm and brought his thoughts back to the present. "My cousin, he warned me—" she gasped, out of breath from their running.

Brogan rounded the corner. Shite. Dead end. The dark, ominous brick buildings on either side of the narrow alley seemed to close in. They were trapped good and proper. A dim, flickering yellow light bulb from a nearby lamppost cast an eerie glow on them.

He could hear the boots of a group of men clicking on the stones and getting closer. "What are you talking about?"

"Rory said word had got out about our relationship. He warned me to break it off with you, but I couldn't." Her hand reached up to cup his cheek tenderly.

"Is there any way out of this alley?"

Tarrah was about to reply when four men appeared in the alley. They stood side by side to block their escape. Two held wooden handles of some sort. Another held a knife. Brogan immediately stepped in front of Tarrah.

"We don't want any trouble."

"Too late, boyo—you found it. You fucked a papist slut. Now you pay."

The men moved closer. In the distance whistles and shouting cut through the cool night air. Soldiers. They were all out after curfew. Right now he would welcome being arrested. With lightning quick speed the man holding the knife lunged toward Brogan before he could react.

"No!" Tarrah screamed.

She darted in front of Brogan and took the full frontal thrust of the long serrated blade. The knife was buried to the hilt in her stomach. The man had a tight hold of the handle. He laughed cruelly and pulled it upward. The sickening sound of ripping skin and flesh and the sticky, sweet odor of blood filled the alley.