Fascinated by her story, intrigued by her passion, Kane frowned.
“And yet, here you are.” He looked around the room before fixing his gaze on Joplin. “Why?”
“Because I love my job,” she said with a shrug. “Most of all, I love music. Even the bad—and believe me, I’ve sat through some truly horrendous acts. But for the most part, the good outweighs the awful.”
“Why us? What made our band different?”
Kane didn’t ask because his ego needed Joplin’s praise. He knew Razor’s Edge was good, one day, potentially great. However, he was curious about what she saw that brought her back weekend after weekend. What, with all the music she’d heard, all the musicians she’d witnessed, made his little group so special?
Instead of gushing with false enthusiasm, Joplin took a moment as though gathering her thoughts. When she spoke, her voice was low and steady. Yet, each word vibrated with passion and sincerity.
“You have chemistry. Stage presence. The love of what you’re doing beams off you and onto your audience.” She smiled. “First and foremost, I’m a fan. After the first time I heard your music, I walked away humming the melodies. The words were stuck in my head, and I couldn’t wait for your next performance. Nothing like that has happened to me before.”
“And now, you plan to make us stars?” Kane still wasn’t convinced. “What if you fail?”
“I won’t.” Taking a seat, Joplin leaned forward. “What I’m asking won’t be easy, Kane. You, Jax, Morgan, Beck. You’ll work harder than you imagined possible.”
“Hard work doesn’t scare me,” Kane said. “Broken promises are a different matter. Jax’s whole life is wrapped up in Razor’s Edge. He deserves to be a star. He’s earned this chance. If you aren’t what you seem, all sweetness and light, he’ll be crushed.”
“What about you?”
“Me?” Kane’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “I’ll make you pay.”
Bigger, tougher characters than Joplin had wilted under Kane’s intense stare. She didn’t even flinch.
“I meant, what about your dreams?” Joplin asked with a quizzical gaze. “I get that you and Jax are best friends, but why are his dreams more important than yours? Unless you’re more than friends?”
Joplin wasn’t the first person to suggest he and Jax were gay. Normally, he ignored the comments. Since she asked without malice, he decided, this time only, to explain.
“I love the guy with all my heart, but we aren’t lovers.” The very idea made him laugh.
“Jax is Australian. You’re American. How did you meet?”
Surprised by how easy Joplin was to talk to, Kane answered her question, and more.
“My father’s work took us to Sydney.” Kane didn’t lie, he just didn’t fill in the seedier details. “Eventually, we traveled west. That’s when I met Jax.”
Perhaps she sensed Kane’s reticence. Whatever the reason, she didn’t push for more. Not that he would have shared. The subject of his childhood, how he was raised, the abuse he suffered at the hands of the man who was supposed to protect him, was off limits.
Joplin rose to her feet. Opening a small, portable cooler, she took out a bottle of water.
“Want one?”
The urge for a drink had diminished from a burning need to a nagging itch. But, damn, something with a kick sounded good.
“Have anything stronger?”
“Diet root beer?” Joplin asked, holding up a frosty can.
Not the kind of beer Kane had in mind, but he accepted Joplin’s offering without complaint.
“You came back to America, Jax with you, and formed Razor’s Edge.” Back on the bed, Joplin curled her legs under her body. “When did you add Morgan and Beck?”
“Couple of years ago. We weren’t actively looking, but suddenly, there they were. The fit was right. More important, Morgan and Beckett are damn fine musicians. More important, they added depth to our sound.”
“No disagreements or infighting?” Joplin asked.
“Trapped in an old van for hours on end. Sharing one motel room.” Kane shrugged. “We wouldn’t be human if we didn’t argue now and then.”
“Good,” she said with a satisfied nod.
“You want us to fight?”
“No.” Joplin smiled. “I was curious about your answer. We’re going to spend a lot of time together over the next year. Better if we don’t start with a lie.”
“Which brings us back to my original question,” Kane said. “What exactly will your job entail?”
“Everything,” Joplin told him. “The tour is The Ryder Hart Band’s gig. They’ll bring in the crowds, Razor’s Edge will ride their wave.”
“Well, sure,” Kane said. “No one’s ever heard of us.”
“Believe me, your anonymity won’t last long.” Joplin tossed her empty water bottle into the trash with impressive accuracy before she continued. “My job will be to make certain everyone knows your name. I’ll get you in front of the media, online and in person. And while you will share The Ryder Hart Band’s private jet—”
“Really? No shit?” Not much impressed Kane, but a private jet? Wow!
“Wouldn’t make sense to make you fly commercial,” Joplin chuckled. “On the ground, I take over. Hotel rooms, transportation, wardrobe. I make certain everything is in place and runs without a hitch. If you have a problem, big or small, I’m your solution.”
“What if I need to get laid?”
To her credit, Joplin didn’t react beyond rolling her eyes. In a short amount of time, Kane had learned a lot about her. He could add that she wasn’t a prude about sex.
“In general, do you have trouble finding a bed partner?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“In general, can’t say that I have,” Kane said. “But you never know.”
“I’m not your pimp,” she told him in no uncertain terms. “However, with your new rock star status, getting laid will be the least of your worries.”
Kane laughed. Something about those particular words coming from Joplin’s mouth tickled his funny bone harder than anything had in a long time. When her lips twitched, he added another fact about her to his growing list. She had a sense of humor.
“Out of curiosity. If sex is the least of my worries, what should I watch out for?”
“Everyone is different,” she said. “My best advice? Don’t be a guy.”
“Meaning?”
“If you have a problem, tell me. Or talk it out with your friends. Don’t let the little things build until they become a huge pain in everyone’s backside.”
Kane didn’t like the way Joplin projected her concerns onto him. What made her think he would be the problem? Then again, he was the only other person in the room.
“You plan to have a cautionary conversation with everyone?” he inquired.
“I do.”
“Fair enough.” Kane relaxed. “You’re awfully young to be such a know it all.”
“Instead of fairytales and picture books, my childhood was filled with stories about the music industry.” A wry glint of humor in her eyes, Joplin rubbed her neck. “My uncle didn’t spare me the gory details. Before I started the first grade, I was privy to the kind of gossip that could end careers. Danny taught me to keep secrets and how to handle everything from a last-minute broken guitar string to a full-fledged scandal.”
“Heavy lifting for a kid.”
“Danny treated me like an adult, an equal—a fact I appreciated,” Joplin said. “Helped that I took to the business like a duck to water.”
“Webbed feet and all?” Kane teased.
Shaking her head, Joplin grinned.
“Will I make mistakes? Yes. Can you trust me to do whatever is necessary to take Razor’s Edge to the top? Absolutely. I will protect you and your bandmates.”
“Even if I shoot a man in Reno just to watch him die?”
Joplin’s laugh traveled the distance betwe
en them like a sweet, seductive song. Damn, Kane sighed. Any woman who understood his Johnny Cash reference, a woman who got his sense of humor, wasn’t simply one in a million. She was dangerous to his peace of mind.
“Do you plan to kill anyone?” she asked.
“Can’t say I do,” he returned, his lips quirking into a smile.
“Then we’re good.”
They were good. Too good. Tempted as he was to make another move on her, Kane reminded himself that for everyone’s sake, Joplin was officially off-limits.
“I should go.”
“One thing.” Joplin followed him across the room. “About Skye Monroe.”
Kane’s hand dropped from the doorknob. The hesitation in Joplin’s voice gave him a bad feeling.
“The duet between Skye and Jax was a last-minute thing.” Kane crossed his arms. “She isn’t part of the band.”
“Skye added a strong shot of estrogen on a stage overflowing with testosterone.”
Just as Kane suspected, Joplin’s promise of success was too good to be true.
“Why didn’t you say anything about Skye before now?” he demanded to know. “If the deal is contingent on her, you can take your promise of fame and fortune and shove your contract up your—”
“Whoa, fella. Back up,” Joplin said in a rush. She placed a hand on his arm and squeezed. “We want Razor’s Edge, no conditions. Skye would be a nice bonus—completely up to you and the other guys.”
The touch of Joplin’s palm on his bare skin did as much as her words to calm Kane’s ire. A crash of sexual awareness—an unexplainable connection—rushed through him like a freight train, but the feeling was something more than desire. Something bigger. Something terrifying.
Kane looked deep into Joplin’s impossibly green eyes and asked himself the question for which he wasn’t sure he would ever find the answer.
Who are you?
Joplin held his gaze, held onto his arm. She didn’t move away, nor did she move closer, content, it seemed, to stay exactly where she was.
“Razor’s Edge will do just fine without Skye.”
“Yes,” Kane agreed.
“Probably do okay without me.” When Kane didn’t comment, she smiled, a glint of cockiness entering her eyes. “Not as well or as fast.”
“Nothing wrong with slow,” Kane said, his deep voice dropping an octave lower. “Under the right circumstances.”
“Careful,” Joplin warned. “We drew a line, remember?”
Neither of them had put into words their desire for each other, nor had they spoken of the need to keep their libidos in check. Still, Kane considered their silent agreement to be binding. Breakable, to be sure, but not by him.
“The line is solid,” he assured her. “I won’t cross over without an invitation.”
Kane expected Joplin to assure him in no uncertain terms that she would never issue such a plea. Instead, she remained silent. Rather than strengthen his hands-off resolve, he was unsettled and wasn’t certain—did his conflicted feelings fall on the side of good or evil?
“Think about asking Skye to come on tour,” Joplin said. “Ask the rest of the group how they feel about adding her. I doubt Jax will put up an argument.”
The fact that she noticed the attraction between Jax and Skye didn’t surprise Kane. Joplin, as he’d already learned, didn’t miss much.
“We’ll let you know—after we have our lawyer look over the contract.”
“Music to my ears,” Joplin said with a grin. “The smarter you are from the get-go, the less overtime for me.”
Again, Kane made a move to leave. He paused, then turned back.
“Will you always be one step ahead of me?”
“Not always,” Joplin said. “Occasionally, I’ll be right by your side. However, one thing is certain.”
“What’s that?”
“If you need me, never look over your shoulder. I refuse to walk in any man’s shadow.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
♫~♫~♫
SOMETIMES, KANE HATED himself. Not always, just often enough to leave him with a faint but lingering bad taste in his mouth. And what was the best solution to wash away the bitterness from his tongue? Tequila. What else?
As he let himself into his shared motel room, Kane should have been riding high. Besides the tantalizing chance to tour with The Ryder Hart Band, he and Joplin were in a good place. They’d managed to spend over an hour together in a confined space without drawing blood or tearing each other’s clothes off.
In the short time he’d known her, Kane had been tempted by the urge to do both—separately and consecutively. Though he didn’t know how long their truce would last, for now, he felt good about their chances.
On the cusp of unimagined success and tipping toward a friendship with, of all people, a woman, Kane valiantly tried to settle into a place of tranquility. As usual, his mind, tormented by his past, his body, craving liquid relief, rebelled.
If luck were on his side, the motel room would be empty. His hand shaking, Kane pushed open the door. One bed was unoccupied but not the other—the one he shared with Jax.
Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkened room, Kane used the thin sliver of light that peeked through the curtains to find his duffel bag. Swallowing in anticipation of the bite of alcohol he knew was so close, he reached inside the canvas tote. When his fingers closed around the cool glass, every inch of his being sighed with relief.
Kane knew he should go outside, away from Jax’s prying eyes. But he couldn’t wait. One sip, he promised himself, just enough to chase the sensation that bugs were gnawing at his skin.
Unscrewing the top, he lifted the bottle to his lips. Naturally, a sip wasn’t enough. He swallowed the tequila, one desperate, pathetic gulp after another.
Yes, Kane hated himself. But, as the blessed alcohol rushed toward his bloodstream, he didn’t give a shit.
“You’re back early.”
Kane started at the sound of Jax’s voice. The tequila sloshed in the bottle, but he was too much of a pro—too greedy—to let a single drop spill. Kane licked his lips, closed his eyes, and let out a silent sigh of relief.
“Musicians are akin to vampires,” he said with a grimace as Jax flipped on the bedside lamp. “We need to be back in our lair before the break of dawn.”
Jax, bless him, didn’t comment as Kane drained the bottle. Though at times, the worry in his friend’s eyes was worse than a verbal lashing.
“We’re bloodsuckers?” Jax asked. His question was accompanied by a huge yawn.
“Close enough,” he muttered.
Suddenly tired beyond words, Kane toed off his boots, dropped his jeans and socks where he stood. Without looking, he tossed his jacket toward the nearby chair, missed, but didn’t give a damn. He crawled into bed and with his back to Jax, pulled the covers over his head.
Naturally, Jax was in the mood to talk.
“I’ve been thinking about Skye.”
“What else is new?” Kane snorted. “Do us all a favor, have sex with her before we leave for Los Angeles. Better yet, ask her to come on tour with us and spend the next year screwing each other’s brains out.”
Jax ripped the covers from Kane’s prostrate body. The sheet and blanket landed on the floor. His pillow followed—in case he had any ideas about burrowing away from the light.
“Son of a bitch!” Kane shouted. “Have some respect for the near-dead.”
“What did you say about Skye?”
Resigned, Kane flopped onto his back. However, his eyes remained firmly closed.
“Ask the woman to come on tour. Don’t tell me the idea hasn’t crossed your mind.”
“Maybe,” Jax admitted. “Even if she agreed, which is unlikely, dropping her into the group wouldn’t be fair to you and the guys. And what would Danny Graham say? He offered a contract to four, not five, people. Still, he did see the video of my duet with Skye, right? Perhaps adding
her to the tour wouldn’t be a problem.”
“Damn, son, you’re practically vibrating with excitement.” Kane had to laugh. “Skye has you twisted up like a frustrated corkscrew. Hit the shower and jack off before you blow.”
“You seem unduly concerned about Skye and my sex life.”
Kane didn’t care about the pretty blonde waitress. She seemed like a nice-enough person, but if he never saw her again, the memory of her would fade fast. His concern, as always, was for Jax.
If having Skye around made his friend happy, then Kane would move heaven and earth to make certain when their plane took flight to Los Angeles, she was with them.
“Don’t concern yourself about Skye and the tour. Or about Danny Graham.”
“Why not?” Jax demanded. “He’ll be our manager.”
“On paper, yes,” Kane agreed. “Where Razor’s Edge is concerned, Joplin Ashford is in charge of who goes on tour and who doesn’t.”
“Our future is in the hands of an untried kid?” Jax shook his head as if trying to settle the idea in his head. “Is Danny Graham out of his mind?”
Kane weighed the option of not telling everything he knew. He didn’t take long to decide. He didn’t owe Joplin his loyalty. He owned Jax everything.
“She’s Graham’s niece.”
“Well, fuck me,” Jax said. “How do you know?”
“She and I had a little talk.”
Kane started his story at the point he met Joplin in the parking lot and ended where he left her room. Though he edited out the more personal details, when he was done, he’d caught Jax up on everything he needed to know.
“You think she can do the job?”
“I think Joplin is young and hungry,” Kane said. “Which is better than old and lackadaisical.”
“Maybe.” Jax didn’t sound convinced.
“Two things might make you feel better.” Kane held up a finger. “One. We have a hotline straight to Danny Graham. If anything goes wrong—”
“We rat Joplin out?” Jax asked, his frown deepening.
“We express our concerns,” Kane corrected.
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