by Eden Summers
Now his stomach was dropping, the hollow organ sinking to his feet. He couldn’t stop himself from hungrily taking in the sight of her. His mouth dried in an instant as his focus glided over the black pumps accentuating muscled calves, to the knee-high charcoal business dress that fit her perfect body like a second skin, up to the perfection of her face adorned in light make-up. Had she taken the time to put on new underwear? Or was she bare, the smooth skin of her pussy easily accessible beneath her professional attire?
Fuck. He repositioned the base of his guitar to ensure the most enthusiastic part of his body was covered from all angles.
“Don’t be fooled by her aesthetic appeal.” Mason took the package from her hands to place it on the floor beside the microphone stand. “This woman can shrink a man’s balls with the raise of a brow.”
Leah inclined her head with a nod to the cheering crowd, unfazed by the taunts from the lead singer.
“You might also like to know this saucy lady has worked more stick than a NASCAR racer.” Mason chuckled. “Ain’t that right, honey?”
Shit. Ryan’s pulse tanked, the excitement of his dick evaporating under the humiliation Mason was dishing out. He’d kill the bastard. He’d fucking slay him.
He reached for his own mic, determined to retaliate when a hand came around his shoulder. He turned to Mitch standing at his side and pulled out the ear monitor that was making it impossible to hear what was being said through the guy’s moving lips.
“—your shit together. You’re making your feelings pretty obvious by the look on your face.”
Ryan turned his back to the microphone and glared. “He’s making a fool of her in front of thousands of people.”
“She can take it.”
“She shouldn’t have to take it,” he growled, the harsh sound unfamiliar to his own ears. “This is bullshit.”
“Thanks for the warm introduction, Mason,” Leah commanded the attention of everyone in the stadium, her voice too damn confident and sexy to be broadcasted in public. “I’m not going to hold up the performance any longer than necessary. All I wanted to do was thank those who made their way to the special table we had set up near the main doors to the building. Your participation is appreciated.”
Mason picked up the box off the floor and leaned into the microphone. “Blake, get your ass over here.”
Ryan turned to the tattooed bass guitarist, focusing anywhere other than the man who was provoking the need for bloodshed. Blake eyed Leah skeptically as he took steps toward the front of the stage.
“As you know,” she continued, “the first Reckless baby is due to enter the world in mere weeks, and all of us couldn’t be happier.” She held out a hand, wordlessly asking for Blake’s guitar so Mason could hand over the package.
“What are you guys up to?” Blake handed over his instrument and took the box. “I don’t like surprises.”
“This is a present from our Chicago fans to congratulate you on your upcoming parenthood.”
The man with harsh spiked hair and heavily inked skin seemed to fracture before everyone’s eyes, his face crumpling like tissue paper. He bent over, tore the wrapping from the box and opened the cardboard to peer inside. A smile tweaked his lips as he pulled out a large teddy bear, the material of its body adorned in permanent markers of all colors.
“Wow.” He glanced from Leah to Mason. “You guys are unbelievable.” He placed the bear under one arm and pulled out another item from the box—a large, soft, green blanket.
“Fans had the choice to either sign their name on the teddy or have it embroidered on the blanket. A local seamstress has been working non-stop since the start of the show to get as many names as possible on there.”
Blake shook his head, eying both the items in awe. “Fucking hell, guys.” He sniffed. “You need to pre-warn me about this shit so I don’t ruin my bad boy image.”
Leah leaned close and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Whispered words were shared that no one else could hear while Mason reclaimed the microphone stand.
“Come on, Leah, his stick is already taken. And you don’t want to make your Las Vegas lover jealous, do you?” Mason chuckled as he turned to the crowd. “A piece of Reckless trivia for you all—Did you know our saucy band manager had her clit pierced as a dare during Mitch’s wife’s bachelorette party?”
Leah stiffened, her spine jerking ramrod straight. Her gaze met Ryan’s, a glimpse of regret hitting him head on as she began walking toward him. He didn’t know what to do. Didn’t know if he should show his cards and defend her. Or laugh it off. Or even encourage the humor to draw attention away from his cloying feelings.
Play along, she’d said. Was this what she meant?
She got within feet of him and Mitch, her eyes stark as she grabbed his microphone. “Mason, I’m sure the crowd doesn’t want to hear about my past.” She glanced over her shoulder hitting the lead singer with a lethal smile. “But maybe you could tell them about the time you fell for a cross dresser and almost became a bi-sexual without your knowledge.”
The mic drop wasn’t literal, but figuratively she threw the device to the ground and gave a checkmate smirk before stalking from the stage.
He watched her leave, the sound of his heavily pounding chest unheard over the hysteria from the crowd.
“She’s OK.” Mitch’s voice barely carried over the insanity. “Focus on getting through the next two songs. You can kill him later.”
Focus? He wasn’t sure he knew how anymore. Leah seemed to strip the ability from him, making thought and sense impossible.
Ryan gave a jerky nod and placed his in-ear monitor back in place.
“I think that’s my cue to get this show back on the road.” Mason lifted his chin in Sean’s direction, signaling the drummer to lead them into the next song.
“You sure you don’t want to share the story?” Sean asked. “It sounds like they’d love to hear it.”
“Start the fucking song,” Mason growled, cupping the stand in front of him.
There was a chuckle and then the intro beat to Devil Woman. Ryan stood motionless, his fingers unmoving as the band played through the first chorus without him. He was numb. Lost to Leah’s humiliation. Lost to his own. He didn’t want the world invested in her relationship with another man. He didn’t want their focus on something that ended months ago.
He wanted the acknowledgement Blake had with Gabi. Or Mitch with Alana. Mason with Sidney. Sean with Melody. He was sick of being left out. First, he’d been the only married guy surrounded by singles. Then the tables turned. Now he was finally on an even level, yet his feelings for Leah were ignored.
Mason shot him a look as he sang, the silent question answered with a hard glare. Ryan didn’t hold back his frustration. It was clear for his so-called friend to see. The lead singer dipped his head, the small acknowledgement of the upcoming shit-storm taken without a pause in his voice.
Asshole. Fucking asshole.
Ryan should’ve walked from the stage. Should’ve, but didn’t. Instead, he glided his fingers over his guitar strings and joined in with the chorus, trying to focus on getting lost in the music. Minutes later, the song ended without a dint in his frustration. The encore didn’t calm him either. When the final note was strummed and the last lyric echoed through innumerable speakers, he strode for Jack, his guitar tech, dumping his instrument in the guy’s hands.
“You’ll have to share those stories about Leah,” Jack joked as Ryan untangled the wires leading to the battery pack hooked on to his pants. “I’m not surprised about the piercing. She seems like the kinky type.”
“Stupid, fucking Mason,” he muttered under his breath, the words inaudible above the crowd’s waning cheers.
The man in question walked by, entering the darkness of side-stage as Ryan handed over the ear-monitor equipment. This wouldn’t end well. He knew it even before he started striding after him. Even before he caught up and opened his mouth to yell, “What the fuck was that about?”
<
br /> Ryan still wasn’t sure why he did it, but his foot came out without warning, shoving between Mason’s legs as he continued forward. His friend stumbled, taking three steps to right himself as he ran into the backstage door.
“What the fuck was that about?” Ryan repeated.
Mason turned and grinned, appearing more impressed than annoyed. “I could ask the same fucking question. Did you just try to trip me? Like a five-year-old?” He reached for the door handle and pulled it open, slinking into the bright light of the hall leading to the dressing rooms.
“Fuck you.” Ryan didn’t do violence. He didn’t want to be that guy. But clearly, what he wanted didn’t play a part in the current situation. “Do I really need to threaten to break your pretty face before you’ll take me seriously?”
“You couldn’t mess with my prettiness even if you tried.” Mason stopped inside the empty hall, the door easing shut behind them. “But it’s nice to finally see some enthusiasm. I wasn’t sure if you knew how to fight for a woman after all those pitiful years with Julie.”
Fucker.
Mason was right. He was so right Ryan slammed his forearm against the asshole’s throat and backed him into the wall from the humiliation of it. He hadn’t been enthusiastic for years. There’d been no emotion, no excitement. And now it was all pressing down on him, tenfold. He couldn’t breathe through the need to defend Leah. He couldn’t think past the necessity to make Mason pay.
“Why did you do that to her?” he demanded.
The door opened behind him, Blake, Mitch, and Sean coming to stand at his sides.
Mason rolled his eyes. “She asked for it.”
“She asked for it?” He pressed his arm harder. All it did was increase Mason’s smirk.
“Back off, Ryan,” Blake drawled, his voice lacking emotion.
“That’s it?” Mason tipped his head to the side, glancing behind Ryan’s shoulder. “That’s all the help I get?”
“Pretty much,” Mitch offered. “I’m kinda hoping he clocks you before Leah gets the chance. The lesser of two evils and all that.”
“How did she ask for it?” Ryan pressed his free hand against Mason’s shoulder. “What the hell could she have done to deserve that?”
“You don’t get it.” Mason snickered. “She asked for it. Literally.” He shoved at Ryan’s chest, reclaiming freedom. “If you’ve got issues, you need to bring it up with her.”
“What’s going on?” The familiar feminine voice carried down the hall, her authoritative tone shooting up his spine like a firecracker.
For once, he didn’t immediately turn to face her. He didn’t want to see her. More specifically, he didn’t want to be seen by her. Not when he couldn’t control all the shit clogging his veins. It’d been so long since he’d had anything to protect. Anything to cling to. Fight for. He was becoming lost in the delirium of panic.
“Can you guys give us a minute?” Her question came from beside him, followed by mutters of agreement. “And don’t think I’m not going to tear you a new one later, Mason.”
The four of them started down the hall, Blake, Mitch, and Sean all bumping or throwing soft punches at the lead singer before they disappeared into the dressing room and closed the door behind them.
“Are you going to tell me what that was about?”
“You need to ask?” He didn’t mean to snap. Fuck. He couldn’t help it. “You had an entire stadium laughing at you. Judging you. And now Mason tells me you asked him to do it?”
She remained quiet for long seconds. Not long enough to encourage him to drag his attention from the chipped paint of the cement wall.
“Our time alone this morning didn’t go unnoticed. One of the gossip sites that ran the initial photos of you and Felicity, mentioned us hiding out in a back room. I didn’t want any assumptions to be made. We can’t risk someone latching onto the possibility and digging deeper until they find the truth. So yes, I asked Mason to help divert the topic of my promiscuity in another direction. And, as usual, he used creative license and took the request way beyond my instruction.”
Motherfucking asshole.
“He needs to pay.”
“No.” She stepped closer, her slight frame taking up his periphery. “We all know what he’s like. Mason deflects emotion. Instead of showing he cares, he turns his feelings into a joke. It’s what he does. It’s what all of them do.”
“His bullshit attitude isn’t a defense.”
“Ryan.” Her tone was guttural as she slid in front of him, leaning down to meet his gaze. There was something in her eyes, something that put him on edge and built his concern with every blink of her lashes. “This—” she waved a hand between them, “—is exactly why there’s a clause in my contract. Your feelings for me can’t get in the way of my position or your friendship with the rest of the band. This reaction, and ones like it, will be the reason why I have to walk away.”
He stepped back, unable to mask the horror contorting his face. “So I quit caring and ignore how ten thousand fans are now talking about you and some tattoo artist from Vegas?” He squeezed his eyes shut. “Jesus. I need fresh air.”
The after-show adrenaline was getting to him. The accompanying ton of emotional baggage on top of it was unbearable. He made for the end of the hall, not wanting to take his instability out on her.
“Please don’t be angry with me,” she called after him.
“I’m not angry with you.” He stopped. “But I also can’t pretend like tonight was a walk in the park.”
She strode forward and lowered her voice. “Then take it out on me. It’s my fault. Not Mason’s.”
A derisive scoff escaped his lips.
“Please, Ryan.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
“Yep.” He threw his arms up in the air. “I’ll take it out on you. But it’ll be on my bus. Tonight.”
She shook her head. “You know I can’t do that. Especially not now.”
“Then don’t ask me not to take this further with the asshole who humiliated you.”
“Let me get this straight.” She cocked a hand against her hip. “You’re trying to manipulate me to get me on your bus tonight?”
“On my bus. In my bed.” He shrugged. “Either I take it up with you or I take it up with Mason. And I sure as shit won’t be using the same techniques.”
His angry expression subsided with the quirk of her lips.
“I don’t like Mason enough to risk getting caught.”
“Then I’ll take it up with him. Let the fucker know I’ll be waiting on the bus.”
* * *
Leah watched him walk away, her feet refusing to move until he turned the corner and vanished from sight. She’d never cared about the ire she’d previously earned from the guys when she had to make tough band decisions. But this was different. This was emotional and exactly what she needed to remove herself from ASAP.
She dragged herself to the dressing room door and knocked once, not bothering to wait for a response before she walked inside.
“Where’s Mason?”
“Hiding in the shower.” Blake rubbed a towel through his wet hair. He was naked from the waist up, displaying a new tattoo over his collarbone that read “She stole my heart but made me whole,” in delicate font.
“Where’s Ryan?” Sean sank into one of the arm chairs, a clean towel waiting in his lap.
“He said he needed fresh air.”
Mitch winced. “He wasn’t happy on stage. I thought I was going to have to hold him back from ripping Mason’s head off.”
It was her fault for not warning him. Her text message wasn’t good enough. Then again, she’d never expected him to flip from the calm, caring man she knew, into someone overrun with aggression. “Can you please keep an eye on him? Let him know you’re supporting him.”
Blake tugged a clean shirt over his head. “To be honest, Leah, I don’t think it’s us he needs.”
She winced, not appreciating the
affirmation of her own thoughts. “I can’t be enough for him right now. He’s got the paparazzi all over him due to the divorce and this crap with Slicker. I should be keeping my distance.”
“Is his old lady still stalling with the divorce proceedings?” Sean asked.
Mitch nodded. “I overheard him talking with his lawyer last night. She’s not letting up and refuses to negotiate any further until she can see him in person.”
“Seems like a dick move to me.” Blake came to her side and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “It’d only make me more adamant to give her nothing.”
She leaned into the embrace, thankful for the connection. “She must be working another angle.”
The bathroom door opened and Mason stepped forward through a wall of steam, a towel wrapped around his waist. “A displeasure to see you, as always, Leah.” He made for the duffle resting on the couch and pulled out a set of clothes. “Thanks for shoving me into a media nightmare. I’m going to have every vulture worldwide wanting the details of the cross dresser who tried to ram my dick down his throat.”
“Tried to ram your dick down his throat?” Sean laughed. “I wonder how your hard dick escaped your pants in the first place.”
“Let me remind you that you pushed first.” Leah crossed her arms over her chest. “You should know by now that I’ll bury you in return.”
“Yeah, I think the upcoming year filled with bi-sexual headlines will firmly cement that in my mind.” He glanced around the room. “Where’s Bennett?”
“Getting some air. Nice job causing him more stress, asshole.” Sean pushed to his feet and disappeared into the bathroom.
“This is my fault?” Mason dropped the towel, his ass on full display before he tugged on his underwear and jeans. “I was told to divert attention away from you and lover boy. In what way did I fail?”
“You didn’t fail,” Leah muttered. “I just wish you’d all realize how hard his life is at the moment. The only constant in his world is the four of you, and most of the time you’re all too busy or preoccupied to consider how he’s feeling.”