9781488051265

by Reverb (epub)

  Mish slid her mouth down David’s neck, nipping at the flesh there. “Come for me.”

  He did, and that was beautiful, too. The way his hips rose off the couch, his closed eyes, open mouth. David’s whole body shook from the pleasure she’d asked him to find. A single perfect moment, one he’d given to her because she’d asked.

  This was power. And satisfaction. “Thank you.”

  David flicked open his eyes and smiled. “Pleasure was all mine.” Soft, soft words.

  “Not all.” She might not have come, but deep within her lay a calm that he’d given her with his actions.

  “Good.” He lolled his head. “I should put myself together.”

  “Mmm. Yeah.” Mish stole a kiss, then took her time with another—and that one got her a moan from him. When she pulled back, she grinned.

  “So I wasn’t a hundred percent quiet, but your lips are killer.”

  She laughed and climbed off the couch. “So are yours.” He was sexy and perfect especially tousled like he was, post orgasm. “Do you want more coffee?”

  “Yeah.” He closed his eyes. “After that, I need it.” When he looked up again, he was grinning. “Mish?”

  “Yeah?” God, every nerve in her body sparked like that smile.

  “I’m still up for you fucking me until I scream.”

  That turned her insides into a fucking volcano. “Oh good. We even have a hotel room tonight.”

  His laugh was glorious. She blew him a kiss, then sauntered up to the front of the bus to get more coffee. The guys looked amused, even Ray, despite his cold.

  Mish didn’t care. Tonight, she’d sing for all of them, and for David.

  * * *

  Tension laced through the air as David prowled through the venue. This time, they were playing in a concert hall—not the outdoor amphitheaters they’d been playing. Seats. Balconies. Even little boxes on the side. The building was easier to secure, and that led to a more intimate atmosphere. The stage seemed smaller, though it wasn’t by much.

  The band couldn’t hide the fact that Ray was sick, not with his voice on rest and everyone but him answering questions during the VIP event. Especially not after his coughing fit that had him looking miserable and put Zavier on edge. David had thought the drummer might split open the water bottle he clutched in his hand.

  Mish was their saving grace. Calm, cool, and beautiful, and so open and inviting with the fans. She took point during the VIP encounter, joking with the group, asking her own questions. Ribbing silent Ray and tense Zavier until they relaxed.

  Domino followed Mish’s lead, so the reviews of the encounter out on the ’net were positive, Adrian said. But everyone knew something was up with Ray. That was even evident in the conversations David overheard as he made his rounds. Fans nervous that Ray’d hurt his voice or wouldn’t sound good.

  Or that there’d be a last-minute cancellation. Everyone was primed for something to happen tonight.

  Part of the reason David was out in the venue was to get a sense of the vibe. Plus the band had sequestered themselves in their dressing rooms and even Adrian had been shooed away. To keep his own nerves from fraying, David focused on work.

  The audience here felt closer to the stage as well. They weren’t. The perception came from the closeness of the seating and the lack of a lawn. Didn’t help that he was well known now. Fans watched him and snapped photos. Someone had even asked for his autograph, and he’d had to beg off. He didn’t sign things. He was just security.

  Only he wasn’t anymore. He was dating Mish Sullivan. The proof of it was in all those photos on the internet. There was also that recording of him singing to Mish, out there for all to see. Including that reporter, Vicky Heydel, who spotted him at exactly the same time he saw her.

  Oh, fucking great. He couldn’t retreat, because there weren’t as many aisles to stomp down. Besides, Marcella had cautioned him to be nice. And truthful. While there still was no official comment on his and Mish’s relationship, they couldn’t demur anymore, so David stood his ground.

  “Ms. Heydel,” he said when she strode up to him.

  “Mr. Altet.” Her smile was triumphant. “Do you care to make a statement now?”

  Couldn’t help the painful chuckle. “Not really, no.”

  And yes, her lips twitched a little, hitching into satisfaction. “But you are dating Mish Sullivan, are you not?”

  There it was, the question he couldn’t avoid. He could play coy, or he could get this over with. “Yes. I am. We are.” He gave a shrug. “Probably obvious from the other night.”

  Heydel smirked. “It’s been obvious for a while. But I’d like to know why.”

  “Why what?” He racked his brain to come up with a reason for this line of questioning.

  “You’ve stated you’re security. Rumor has it that Mish Sullivan has been receiving some interesting comments online—certainly have been some of those on the photos of you two.” Her expression was shrewd and expectant.

  Shit. Shit. He had an inkling where this was going. “I can’t comment on social media postings.”

  “Can’t or won’t?”

  “Both.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ms. Heydel. I do have a job to do.” He made to disengage, but she blocked his path.

  “Mr. Altet, does Mish Sullivan have a stalker, and are you play-acting a relationship to flush him out?”

  David froze. “Play-acting?” He hated how his voice rose on the last syllable, even more when Heydel’s eyes glinted with that got you look. “We’re not play-acting.”

  “So, a real relationship, then? Not trying to draw out a stalker?”

  Damn it, damn it. “Could you not write about that?” The words were out before he had the sense not to say them.

  Much to his surprise, Heydel hesitated. “Shit, there is one?”

  “No comment.” But the cat was out of the bag, David knew. “Just...please don’t run with that? For Mish?”

  She blew out a breath and nodded. “I’ll table that topic for now.” There was a pause. “But what about your relationship with Mish?”

  “I really have no comment on that.” He did his best to slip past her without touching her.

  “Thing is,” she said to his back, “Mish doesn’t keep any of her lovers long. What happens to you after the tour, Mr. Altet?”

  He kept walking, throat tight and body tighter. That conversation had gotten completely out of hand, and he’d fucked up. Not that he’d said anything in particular, but too much could be inferred from his comments.

  God, he was a fool. This was why you didn’t mix business and pleasure. And then there was the thorn Heydel had shoved into his side at the end.

  What was going to happen when this tour was over? Touring was living in another reality, one where everything could happen—and had. But at some point, they would end up back in the real world, where he was a bodyguard and Mish was a huge rock star.

  Their lives meshed now, but in the world outside touring, outside of the job? If this relationship with Mish continued, he couldn’t keep his job with Twisted Wishes.

  David scrubbed a hand down his face. First things first: find Marcella and let her know what had happened. The rest he’d deal with later. Because this show? This show was Mish’s, and if nothing else, he’d be here and work his hardest for her, no matter what the future held.

  Thankfully, Marcella didn’t seem too concerned about Vicky Heydel. “She’s gonna dig and dig, David. The evidence is out there, as is the speculation. There’s nothing Heydel’s reporting that’s new.”

  At least there was that.

  “Something else eating you?” Marcella clicked her phone off and gave him all her attention.

  Shit. He schooled his face. “Nothing in particular.” A lie, but he covered it. “The fans know there’s something up.”

 
She gave him a long look. “Yeah. Adrian said the chatter about Ray’s gone up a ton. Fans were hit hard by his previous illness, so collectively, they worry about him almost as much as Zavier does.”

  Illness. That was a gentle way of putting Ray’s near-death experience. “I don’t blame them. Or Zavier, for that matter.”

  Another nod, then silence, until Marcella cleared her throat. “I know deflection when I see it. I’ve been in PR too long. I’m going to let it go—but you know we’re here for you. This whole ‘taking care of each other’ includes you, too.”

  “I’m not—” But Marcella had gotten him dead to rights. “Okay. I’ll keep that in mind.”

  That earned him a smile. “Doesn’t have to be me. Any of the guys would be there for you.”

  He gave her a little salute and headed down the hall. Two Times Strong would be on stage soon, so he should make one more round, and check in with their crew again. As David walked away, he realized that Marcella had meant “guys” as in the other men in their circle, which meant she’d guessed the source of his disquiet. Then again, that was probably obvious.

  After he’d checked in with Two Times Strong’s crew, he made his way toward the house seats, and ran into Adrian in the hall.

  “I’m sure it’s fine,” Adrian said, in lieu of a greeting.

  He stopped. “What’s fine?”

  “Whatever it is you’re off to check on now.” Adrian tucked his phone into his pocket.

  “Doing final rounds.” David didn’t have much time left.

  “You’ve done rounds three times already.” Adrian crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. “I’ve counted.”

  God, these people were so damn frustrating sometimes. But even as he glowered at Adrian, part of him took warmth in the man noticing.

  “Look, we all have ways of dealing with the stress. Yours is marching around like a man with a mission,” Adrian said. “One of mine’s cooking, which is really hard to do on the road, let me tell you.”

  “Hence the coffee?”

  A laugh, then Adrian sobered. “I also know you marching around isn’t all about tonight.”

  “God, not you, too.”

  Adrian pushed off the wall. “Oh really?”

  “Marcella. She...” David gave up and slapped a hand against his thigh. “You all are too perceptive.” He searched for words, but didn’t find the right ones. “I’m mulling my future, that’s all.” The one person he should discuss that with was the one he couldn’t. He wouldn’t distract Mish tonight—or any night—on the tour.

  Whatever happened between them would happen, and they’d figure out shit after they returned to New York.

  Heydel was right. Mish never settled on one lover for very long. While his heart ached with the thought of walking away, that was on the table. Had been from day one. Day one, when he’d known he shouldn’t have gotten involved.

  David met Adrian’s thoughtful expression. “I’ll be fine. These jobs are always weird when they get personal.”

  Something in Adrian’s expression shifted. “I see.”

  David’s muscles tightened. “I should go and...” He waved in the direction of the stage and the audience.

  “All right,” Adrian said. “But David...it’s not a job for us.”

  There was the line he had to decide whether to cross. “I know. Like I said. Thinking ahead.”

  He turned away, because he didn’t want to see how Adrian’s expression changed. How much all of these folks felt. They were family, one he could be a part of—maybe was. He didn’t know anymore.

  He was dating Mish Sullivan, and that seemed to shake up everything in his head. Worse when he thought about his paycheck and the contract he’d signed.

  Once out in the theater again, he pushed the turmoil aside. The focus had to be the job. Regardless of his feelings, he had to keep her and the band safe. If he couldn’t do what he’d been hired to do, then he might as well not be here at all.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Mish had expected her stomach to be in knots at the thought of taking the lead on singing. But the rhythm of getting ready for the show, the banter with Dom and Zavier, knowing David, Adrian, and Marcella were out there, had eased the anxiety from her mind.

  As expected, Ray’s voice was still a fucking mess, even though he’d been downing tea and not saying a word. He’d manage a few songs, but no more than three. They rearranged the set list, practiced with Ray singing and some songs with her singing, but only on ones she’d already sung, to keep that she’d be singing the majority of the night a secret. The meet-and-greet went well. And now? Now they were in the wings, waiting for the house lights to go down so they could burst out onto the stage.

  She could do this. She would do this. Ray clutched a bass guitar—another one of hers. He’d play some of her parts, too. He nodded at her, his smile wide and pleased.

  Yeah, they’d be fine. Maybe the show’d be messy on the edges, but they’d roll with it.

  The lights dimmed, the audience screamed—and they moved. A moment later, Zavier clicked his sticks to set the beat and they exploded into sound as the light bathed them in brightness and color.

  While the crowd had been loud before, they were tumultuous now. Mish danced across the stage to the opening bridge of “River of Pain,” then spun up to the mic and belted out the words that had been Ray’s, but that they all had felt at one point or another. Ray picked up her bass line as she slid her guitar out of the way, planted her feet, and sang her heart out.

  Oh god, what she got back. Like before, the screams, the outstretched hands she could spy from the first couple of rows before the stage lights robbed her of vision. The singing coming from the audience was magnified by the wooden walls of the theater, and it shook through her like they were standing inside a giant guitar.

  When another musical interlude broke through, she swung her bass around, and she and Ray played together until the lyrics came around again. She sang and sang.

  By the end of the song, the din from beyond the stage was wild.

  “Hey, Charlotte, how y’all doing?” She raised her hand to block out the stage lights enough to see some more of the theater. “Having a good time?”

  Of course, they screamed back at her.

  “Good.” She slung her bass off and a tech took it from her hand. “So we’re mixing it up tonight. You might have heard that Ray’s a little under the weather.”

  Ray put on his best pouting face, and it was a good one. Got him a bunch of laughs, including from Zavier.

  “He’s not quite up to singing the whole night for you. So if you don’t mind, I’m gonna sing a lot more.”

  Shouts and cheers.

  “Ray’ll sing, too, don’t you worry.”

  More clapping and thunder from the audience.

  “Right! So here we go!”

  Zavier started them off again, and they launched into another song. Mish sang and danced her way through two more before a tech handed her bass back and Ray took over with “Dare to Be,” which only he could do justice. His voice held out well enough, though he ended up heading behind the drum kit afterward for a coughing fit and to down some tea the crew had waiting for him. She mouthed over You okay? And he threw her a thumbs-up.

  As planned, she sang two more before Ray belted out another one—and then they threw in an instrumental before closing with Mish singing “Time Runs Out.”

  While they lurked in the wings and the fans stomped and clapped and demanded an encore, Zavier pulled Ray into a hug. “Can you manage one more?”

  Ray snorted and nodded against Zavier’s shoulder.

  “He ain’t gonna be talking tomorrow, though,” Dom said.

  Yeah. Knowing Zavier, Ray’d probably end up ensconced in bed for the entire day. “You guys ready for this?” She nodded at the stage.

&nbs
p; They all straightened and, following Ray, ran back out.

  Ray took the mic and gave it his all, his voice damn strong for being a wreck. The audience ate it up when he let them sing the chorus for him. They killed the first song of the encore.

  The second one? That was a little surprise. She turned and nodded to Zavier, and he started up a beat different from most of the Twisted Wishes songs—and Dom led them straight into a cover of Erasure’s “Chains of Love”—the same song David had sung for her.

  She grabbed the mic and sought David out where he usually stood for the last song—and found him gape-mouthed and staring back. She blew him a kiss, then launched into singing the words he’d sung to her.

  The fans? They danced and sang and shouted as she finished, screaming and clapping even when the band took their bows, left the stage, and the house lights came up.

  Backstage, Ray collapsed against the nearest wall and croaked out, “Fucking hell, we did it.” He pointed at Mish and gave two thumbs-up.

  They had done it. Every bit of Mish glowed, every part vibrating with energy. Thank god they had hotel rooms tonight. She needed about twenty hours of sleep, right after she fucked David into oblivion.

  Zavier drew Ray into his arms, his expression a combination of relief, worry, and protectiveness. “Up for the signing?”

  Ray nodded, and opened up a little space between them. “I’m not gonna die.”

  “I hate when you say that.” Zavier loosened his hold. His tone was mild.

  Mish understood. They all did. “Kiddo, you keep that voice of yours resting, and let your man take care of you.”

  Ray rolled his eyes, but smiled.

  “Speaking of your man...” Domino bumped Mish. “Yours is looking fine tonight.”

  Her man. Warmth bubbled up in Mish as David walked down the hall. He did look fine. Black jeans and a dark purple Twisted Wishes shirt. Wasn’t the clothes, though. He had this look that could melt paint from the wall. Passion and fire, all contained in those dark eyes and the way he sauntered toward them.