Release: A Ransom Novel

by Rachel Schurig

  Contents

  Title Page

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  About the Author

  Release

  A Ransom Novel

  Rachel Schurig

  Copyright © 2014 Rachel Schurig

  All rights reserved.

  Kindle Edition, License Notes

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

  To find out more about her books, visit Rachel at rachelschurig.com

  Join the mailing list for updates and exclusive content!

  Visit her author page on Facebook (https://www.facebook.com/RachelSchurigAuthor)

  Follow her on Twitter (https://twitter.com/rems330)

  dpgroup.org

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Thank you to Dragonfly Editing for all of your help.

  Big thanks to Najla Qamber, for once again going above and beyond in creating beautiful artwork for this series!

  Thanks, as ever, to Madeline Freeman for your help in formatting, plotting, finding my motivation, and general talking down from the cliff. You’re the best!

  Cover Photo by Lindee Robinson Photography

  Cover Designed by Najla Qamber Designs

  Models: Dan Tillery and Mikeala Galli

  dpgroup.org

  For Lucy,

  my most faithful friend.

  Thanks for keeping my feet warm.

  kkdpg

  Chapter One

  Paige

  It’s hard to describe that first moment at a Ransom show. When the lights finally start to go down and you know the music’s about to start. All the energy in the room has been growing, stretching, tightening... building to this moment. The screams and the chants pause for just a second, one instant of shared realization that it’s finally time, before the sound redoubles, the shrieks and whistles and pounding feet growing even louder, somehow, than they were a moment ago.

  And then, just when it all feels too overwhelming, like I’m about to go crazy with the tension and the desire, the music starts.

  I’ve seen this band play dozens of times. Though this is an exclusive fan club event, filled with only the most hard core Ransom fans, there are few people in this club who have experienced this moment as many times as I have. I’ve seen them play venues of every imaginable size, from the sprawling outdoor parks hosting festivals to the intimate theaters where they’ve done low-key acoustic sets, and everything in between. I’ve even had the somewhat surreal experience of watching them practice. I’ve actually been present at the creation of a few of their new songs. I’ve traveled thousands of miles on their tour bus, helped them sell their merchandise, packed their equipment, helped with set-up in a pinch. They long ago lost their mysterious rock God vibe for me—it’s hard not to see them as normal guys once you’ve been forced to share a tour bus bathroom with them.

  So, you’d think I’d be jaded by now. That their performances wouldn’t affect me anymore, that I’d be able to keep my cool.

  You’d be totally wrong.

  As the band starts playing their set, the thirty-fourth show I’ve seen them play, I’m screaming and jumping up and down, pretty much losing my shit, the same as all these fans who haven’t had a tenth of the exposure to them that I have.

  I just can’t help it. They’re so good live, their musicianship every bit as evident as it is in the studio. And watching them live allows you to experience their charisma in a way you can’t just by listening to the album. They have a way of drawing you in, every last one of them. From sex-god lead singer Daltrey on the piano, to quiet, broody Lennon on bass, to steady, sexy Reed on drums, and cocky, swoon-worthy Cash on lead guitar. It doesn’t matter how familiar with them I am in real life, I’m every bit as drawn to their rock and roll persona as any girl in the room.

  “I can’t believe we get to hear these songs early,” Karen yells in my ear, clutching my arm. My best friend is just as close to the band as I am, having worked on the tour last summer as well, yet she seems just as into the show as the rest of the fans. “Like, how lucky is it they picked Nashville for this?”

  “I know! Best Christmas present ever!”

  She leans in even closer, to be heard over the shrieking of the girls nearby. “I can’t believe you’re leaving me. You’re such a bitch, getting to go out on tour with them, again, while I’m stuck at school.”

  “Shh,” I hiss, looking around at the fans that surround us. The venue is on the smaller size and we’re really packed in here. “You want one of these girls to murder me in a jealous rage?”

  She grins at me and I shake my head. She does have a point, of course. I’m insanely lucky to be spending the next semester on the road with the band. And while last summer Karen and I had both had the chance to tag along on tour, due to our connection to Daisy Harris, Daltrey Ransome’s best friend/now girlfriend, this time I’ll be going without my oldest friend and dorm mate.

  Daisy had called me a month ago, so excited I could barely understand her at first. That in itself was a surprise—while not quite so stoic or sarcastic as Karen, Daisy is usually pretty calm. Of the three of us, I’m the one most likely to get so worked up no one can understand me.

  “What if you did your work-study with Ransom,” she repeated, making an obvious effort to slow down and keep her voice calm. “This spring, when they go on tour.”

  “Uh, Daisy,” I replied, sure I was missing something. I’d told her about my troubles finding a suitable site for a work-study in the small town our college is located, but I couldn’t see what that had to do with the tour. “My major is in graphic design. What does that have to do with a rock band’s tour?”

  “They have lots of work for a graphic designer! The website is updated several times a day; they’re constantly reworking the promo material based on ticket sales. We’re also looking into doing more merchandise design on the fly, you know, based on what’s selling well and what’s not. Paige, there would be tons of interesting stuff for you to do, I promise!”

  For the first time since her phone call, I started to feel a flicker of excitement. The months that Karen and I had spent on tour with Daisy and the band had been the most exciting and fun time of my life. I’d been able to travel all over the place, see tons of new cities, watch dozens of concerts, hang out with the band back stage... it had been amazing. And while I loved school and living in the dorm with Karen, there was no way I’d be able to find a local work-study that appealed to me more than what Daisy was describing.

  It had taken some hurried planning to get it all arranged with my advisor and Dan, the band’s manager, but everything is set now. I’ll be joining the
band on tour from mid-January until April, helping Dan with whatever graphic related work that needs doing, reporting remotely to the promotion team at the label and the band’s management company. I’m so excited about it that I can barely sit still whenever the thought crosses my mind. In addition to the whole rock band situation, I’ve missed Daisy terribly since she dropped out of school in the fall. I can’t wait to spend the next few months hanging out with her. Of course, it would be better if Karen was coming, too. And I do feel a little bad for abandoning her to do something so cool.

  She got over it pretty fast when Daisy revealed the second part of her plan. Over New Year’s, the brothers were planning a well-deserved vacation before the hard work and drudgery of the tour started. “The boys are going all out,” she had said. “They’ve pretty much worked non-stop since they left home two years ago—they’re in desperate need of a vacation. They invited a ton of people and they’re renting some huge villa at a resort in Mexico.”

  “Do they seriously want us to come?” I asked, causing Karen to pinch my leg, hard. “Hey!”

  “When someone offers you a trip to a fancy villa in Mexico you say yes!” she hissed.

  “I just want to make sure that we won’t be intruding,” I said, rubbing at the sore spot on my thigh. “Paying for a fancy vacation is a pretty big deal.”

  “They want you to come,” Daisy assured me. “They specifically requested your presence.” I could practically hear her smile over the phone. “More importantly, I want you to come. It’s going to be the guys and a bunch of their music industry friends. And,” she made a scathing noise, “let’s be honest—probably some skanky groupies, if Cash gets his way. I need you guys.”

  “Hey, you don’t have to twist my arm,” Karen shouted into the phone. “I was down the minute you said the words ‘beach vacation’.”

  I wanted to scream and squeal and say yes but there was a part of me that worried that Daisy would think we were taking advantage of her relationship with the boys. When I didn’t agree, she went on, somewhat smugly, “I’ve booked your tickets already, Paige. Just say yes, then shut up and get to bikini shopping.” I had finally laughed and told her that we would love to come.

  “We’re so lucky, Kar,” I squeal suddenly, bouncing a little on the balls of my feet. “Isn’t this like a fairy tale?”

  She rolls her eyes, though she’s still grinning happily. “Just don’t go getting it in your head that one of them will fall madly in love with you. Fairy tales only go so far, you know?”

  “Why do you always think I fantasize about boys falling madly in love with me?”

  “Because you do always fantasize about boys falling madly in love with you.”

  The girl in front of us turns suddenly, scowling. “Shh! Some of us are trying to listen!”

  “Sorry,” I shout back apologetically. The girl turns back to the stage, muttering about “bandwagon fans who don’t even care about the music.”

  In anticipation of the release of the new album and the related tour, the boys announced in the fall that they’d be playing four exclusive shows around the country over the Christmas season. They intended the no-charge, intimate shows to be a thank you to fan club members, a way to show the band’s appreciation by letting them hear the music from the new album before anyone else. They chose the venue locations for the four shows based on fan club membership numbers in various regions. Nashville was the South region stop—convenient for Karen and me, as Nashville was only an hour from our hometown. Of course, the nature of the shows meant that the majority of fans in attendance are really intense Ransom fans. The sleep-on-the-pavement-to-secure-good-seats kind of fans. I hadn’t been kidding when I told Karen these girls might kill me if they found out I was working on the tour.

  The boys play for just over an hour. The new music sounds great. At first listen, I think it’s slightly darker than some of the stuff off their first album, which makes me wonder how much of it was written by Daltrey while he and Daisy were estranged. The boys come out for two encores, playing Heartbreak and Sunshine Girl, major hits from the first album. The fans around us scream themselves hoarse.

  “We should probably try to get out of here before they finish up,” Karen shouts during the first chorus of Sunshine Girl. “This crowd is going to make it impossible to get back stage once the show’s over.”

  “Good idea.”

  We push our way through the throng, earning several elbow jabs and indignant mutterings. Finally, we manage to reach the lobby, just as the band is taking their final bow. “Hurry!” Karen urges, grabbing my arm. “We’re about to get trampled.”

  We find a security guard at the door to the backstage area and I hurriedly pull our passes from my purse as the first fans start to spill out into the lobby. The security guy inspects our passes before opening the door with a curt nod.

  “Hey!” a girl yells behind us. “Why do they get to go back?”

  But the guard is already pulling the door shut behind us, blocking out the noise of the crowd. “That was close,” Karen says. “I think the fans are getting even crazier than they were on the first tour. You’re going to need to be careful.”

  “They’re just excited,” I tell her, making my way down the hall in search of Daisy or someone else that we know. Normally we’d be looking for Levi, the boys’ best friend and chief roadie, but I know he’s not here tonight. He and Daltrey had a huge falling out at the end of the last tour. Being here at the venue without him, it really hits me that he won’t be on tour this year. The thought makes me very sad—I always liked Levi.

  “There you are!” a familiar voice calls out from the end of the hall. “I was starting to think you were crushed in the throng.”

  “Daisy!” I break into a run, throwing my arms around our old friend and squeezing her tight before I remember that Daisy isn’t the most touchy-feely girl. But she surprises me by hugging me right back—she even reaches for Karen to embrace her as well. As she pulls back, I’m struck by how different she is. Her brown curls have a shine to them that was missing last summer, and her green eyes are alight and happy. She’s put on some weight too, no longer looking so gaunt.

  “You look fantastic!”

  She blushes a little, ducking her head—which is a lot more like the Daisy I remember—but I can see that she’s still smiling. “Thanks, I feel pretty good.”

  “That show was amazing,” Karen tells her.

  “Well, come on back and tell the boys all about it.” She rolls her eyes. “God know they’re short on positive reinforcement.”

  She leads us down a few narrow, winding halls filled with crewmembers rushing around. It feels even more crowded than I remember back stage, and I wonder just how much the band has grown since the last tour. There were some rumors going around that they’d be playing stadiums this time around, rather than clubs and concert halls, but I wasn’t sure if that was true—I hadn’t received my itinerary yet.

  “Hey, ladies,” Daltrey says, stepping out into the hall. “I was just coming to look for you.”

  Daisy’s arm goes immediately around his waist and he pulls her to his side, kissing the top of her head. She seems to relax a little, melting into him almost imperceptibly, as if she was waiting to be in his presence before allowing herself to be completely at ease.

  “Hi, Daltrey,” I say, reminding myself that’s there’s no reason to be shy. He doesn’t release Daisy but uses his other arm to give me a casual hug. “You guys were amazing!”

  “Thanks. We still have some bugs to work out on the new stuff, but I think it went reasonably well.” He repeats the action with Karen before gesturing us into the room he’d just left. “We’re all in here. Come on in and have a drink, say hi to the guys.”

  We find the rest of the band in the dressing room. Lennon and Reed are deep in conversation with a roadie I don’t recognize, while Cash is leaning on the far wall, whispering into the ear of a giggling girl with really unfortunate hair.

  “Look
who Daisy found,” Daltrey calls to the room as we enter.

  Even now, it’s a bit of a mind-fuck for the band—guys I just watched play a kick-ass show in front of hundreds of screaming girls—to all look in our direction, smiling, and shouting out welcomes and hellos.

  Someone has set up a bar on the long counter otherwise used for getting ready and Daltrey leads us there to get a drink. We both accept beers and I take the chance to gape at the boys a little bit, trying to get all of the star-struckness out of my system before I have to talk to any of them. They don’t look very different from the last time I saw them, back in August. Like Daltrey, Reed is tall and lean. They also share the same shock of white blond hair, though Reed wears his considerably longer, not quite touching his shoulders. And while Daltrey has bright blue eyes—the eyes that millions of girls have mooned over—Reed’s are a dark, chocolate brown. Cash and Lennon, on the other hand, are shorter and stockier, both with brown hair. Cash likes to keep his t-shirts as tight as possibly, thus properly demonstrating the muscles of his chest and arms, while Lennon seems content to pull on whatever jeans and shirt combo is closest to him, clean or not.

  I smile as Lennon approaches. Daisy told me once that he was her favorite brother, romantic feelings for Daltrey non-withstanding, and I can definitely see why. Out of all the boys he’s the most reserved, the most sensitive. He’s also the kindest, in my opinion, and it’s very easy to talk to him.

  “It’s good to see you, girls,” he says, giving us each a quick hug. “I’m really stoked you guys are coming to Mexico.”

  “I can’t wait,” I tell him, bouncing up and down a little. “Thank you so much for inviting us.”

  He waves away my thanks. “We’re happy to have you. And happy for Daisy to have her friends.”