by Cari Quinn
If she would even still go home with me after this.
If it even mattered who I had sex with, because I sure as hell wasn’t sleeping with her.
And most likely never would.
“Mr. Dallas? A word?”
I tore my gaze away from the dressing room area that Teagan had disappeared into. My shoulders relaxed as I spotted Riggs following her. Thank fuck.
I glanced back at Decker. “Now?”
He nodded. “If it’s possible.”
I gave Zane a quick smile and handed over my Sharpie. He held both hands up with a marker in each. “I’m signing for the big guy.”
A woman came forward and spun around. She had one of those backless shirts that tied at the neck. “Sign my back?”
Yep. I was out of there. Even if I had to talk to the suit.
I waited until Decker and I had made it past the densely packed group of fans. “Yeah?”
Decker was spinning his ring again. “I have a request.”
“That would be for Lila, man. I just bash the drums.”
His eyes narrowed. The unnatural blue of them made me want to look away. However, I’d learned long ago that showing any weakness just caused more trouble down the line.
“I doubt that very much, Mr. Dallas.”
“Just Dallas, or Coop. Whichever.”
He cracked his knuckles. “Look, we’re dumping formalities. Works for me. I’m a fan. This isn’t just a write-off.”
My eyebrow winged up. “Huh.”
Decker shrugged. “I bought this place so I could actually bring decent music into the area again. Goddamn techno is taking over most of the clubs.”
“Has its place.” I said it merely to be an asshole. I hated the shit, but I was still pissed about him licking his chops over Teag.
“Not in this place. Well, unless Jennifer Lopez wanted a meeting. Then I might be swayed.”
I tried not to smile. I didn’t want to like the guy. “She’s not techno.”
“No, but they remix the fuck out of her shit. Sacrilege.”
“So, your request isn’t going to be ‘Get Right’?”
Decker laughed. It was a full belly laugh with his head tilted back. “You know the name of one of her songs?”
“Dude, she’s ‘Jenny From the Block.’”
“Bronx girls ’til death.”
“Well, I started in Montana, but I’m an honorary New Yorker.”
“I won’t hold it against you.”
I shook my head. “Just don’t say ‘Freebird’.”
“While an amazing song, I was thinking a little more 90’s.”
“Please don’t say NSYNC.”
“Dear God.”
I crossed my arms and just gave up on hating the guy. “Should I keep guessing?”
“‘Black’.”
“As in “Paint it Black”?” Not that the original was from the 90’s, but I was pretty sure some of the covers had come out then.
“A solid choice, but I was thinking more of the Pearl Jam persuasion.”
“Oh.” Huh. Well, that was interesting. And one that we played often when we were just fucking around with instruments when we weren’t on stage. “Actually, Jamie does a killer version of it.”
Decker’s eyes brightened. “Is that right?”
“Yeah, she doesn’t sing often, but she’s got this Pat Benatar husky killer thing when she really lets it rip. Bet I can even get Oz to sing with her.” I rubbed my hands together. “Maybe this charity gig is going to rock, after all.”
“Thought that would be a harder sell.”
“What are we selling?”
“Speak of the devil.”
Jamie shook back her ultra-violet tipped hair. “Aww, and I forgot my horns.”
“Or you left them at with your kidnap victim,” I quipped.
“Dude, he was enjoying every second of his incarceration.”
Decker’s eyebrows shot up.
Jamie tapped one long finger against his lapel. “Care to be my next victim?” In her boots, she stood eye-to-eye with Decker. “I’ll only make you beg a little.” She licked her wine-colored lips. “Or a lot. Depends on the ask.”
“Down, girl.” I hooked my arm around her neck and drew her away from her future mark. The woman was shameless. “Decker here wanted to know if we could play a song.”
“Is that right?” Her voice cooled.
“Don’t worry it’s not something lame.”
She tucked her thumbs into her low-slung leather pants and cocked a hip. “Now I’m more interested.”
To Decker’s credit, his gaze didn’t drop to her bare midriff. Jamie used sex as a weapon more effectively than any woman on the planet. Lesser men had fallen victim to her charms. Most of them didn’t even mind the scars she left behind.
I laughed. “He’d like to hear Pearl Jam’s ‘Black’.”
Her slash of a mouth tipped up at one corner. “Now I’m intrigued.”
“Even better, you should sing it.”
“Barbie will love that.” She tapped an ebony-tipped finger against her belly. “Actually, she might like a break so she can suck on her Irishman’s face for a few minutes.” She stood up straighter and dropped the sex kitten mask. “This’ll be fun. I’ll go talk to Tarzan and see if he’s into it.”
She turned on her heel and disappeared into the crowd of fans.
“She’s a little terrifying.”
“More than a little.”
Decker dipped his hand into his pocket and checked his phone. “As much as I’m enjoying this, my club manager is about to lose her mind if I don’t show my face upstairs. She’s unaware I’m actually her boss.”
“Strong-willed females are sexy as fuck.”
“Indeed.” He held out his hand to me. “I knew having you guys head this benefit was a good choice.”
“Thanks, man.” I shook his hand, tightening my grip. “Look at Teagan like she’s a snack again, and I’ll break your neck.”
Decker’s grin turned into a full-fledged smile. “Understood.”
“Cool. See you after the show.”
Seven
So much for talking to Teagan before the show.
She made sure not to be in my sphere before we went onstage. God forbid I get a chance to explain what had happened with that fan.
I still didn’t know why I was bothering. One of the benefits to being single was not having to explain yourself to anyone.
Too bad I’d missed that memo.
The suit dude opened up the benefit. Decker talked to the crowd like a politician. Charm oozed from him like cologne as the spotlight trailed his every move. The audience was enraptured by him. Women’s eyes followed him as he walked the stage and spoke of the Brooklyn School of Music.
A lot of bands went global with their charities, but we tended to stay here in Brooklyn where most of us were from. I was a transplant, but I’d taken to New York like I’d been born there. I loved the differences from downstate to upstate. And no, I didn’t mean Scarsdale. I had a cabin in the mountains of New York, and I was happy to spend time there when we did have time off.
I’d been looking forward to it this past week, but shit had gone so sideways getting out of town on my own was definitely not on the itinerary. And part of the reason was the redhead watching Decker from the other side of the stage.
I knew I didn’t have that whole magnetic dude thing that some people had. Like Decker. I liked my spot in the back of the band, but just once, I’d like Teagan to watch me like that. I wasn’t sure that was ever going to happen.
My knuckles popped and my head throbbed. Nothing new when dealing with my feelings toward that particular woman.
“I know that look.” Oz came up beside me, his massive arms crossed over his chest. “If you grit your teeth any harder, your molars will be dust. Dentists suck. It’s not worth it.” He followed my gaze across the stage. “Pretty sure that constipated look isn’t for Decker.”
I didn’t s
ay anything. What the fuck could I say?
“Well, when you’re ready to talk, I’m around.”
I gave him some side-eye.
“What? I know what love does to a dude.”
“Who said anything about love?”
The crowd started clapping as Decker finished up his speech.
“Ahh, we’re still in phase one. Well, I’ve got the whiskey when you need it.” Oz looped his bass strap over his head and headed out onto the stage before I could tell him he was crazy.
The house lights went down and I moved out of the way for our tech crew. I wasn’t in love with her. I just…
Nope. I so wasn’t going there right now.
I climbed on my drum riser. The stage was too small for my full kit, but all I needed was something to smash. I could make anything work.
We opened with “Judgment”, which let me rip into my skins. Frustration was so close to the surface right now that my shoulders sang with the fierce power I threw into my sticks. Lindsey glanced back at me. A cue that I was playing too loud and too hard for the venue, but I couldn’t stop myself. I needed more pain to push everything down.
I was not in love with her.
Somehow, I resisted watching her. Proving that she wasn’t the center of my universe was my only focus for tonight. Instead of searching for the bright flash of her hair, I looked out into the crowd.
This was all for the fans. They were the ones who mattered most.
One song blended into another until a fine sheen of sweat gathered over my shoulders and between my shoulder blades.
By the fourth song, I’d lost my T-shirt and Jamie had climbed up behind me.
“You’re on fire tonight,” she said before lengthening her guitar solo during “Ruin”.
I stood behind my kit as we swayed together. Her fingers were relentless on the frets. She climbed up with both her fingers, lengthening notes. I didn’t know how she did it, but she made the crowd of the rich and famous happily embrace their rock side.
I saw an actress with her arms up, rock on fingers high and proud. One of the guys on her sitcom lifted her to get a better view.
Here and there, I noticed other celebrity types mixed in with a few fan club members who had paid good money to attend. All of them were enjoying the hell out of our show.
The way it should be.
Then I spotted the massive shoulders of Deacon McCoy and his wife along the back. I didn’t know them well, but it was a surprise to see them—especially with all that had been going on lately. But his wife, Harper, seemed to be in work clothes, so maybe she was doing the food for the shindig.
Tables were set along the back of the club with meals and intense floral centerpieces. I had damn good vision, but it seemed way more than a rock concert merited. However, most of the tables had been deserted once we started the show.
People crushed the front of the stage. Sparkly gowns and suits—hell, even some tuxedos—were no match for the music-loving crew in the club. I glanced up at the balcony section to find our big boss up there. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually seen him at a show.
His arms were crossed as he leaned against the rail, his finger tapping along his forearm.
What a fucking crazy night.
“We’re going to slow it down for a few minutes.” Lindsey’s husky voice curled through the venue. “I’m afraid to actually stop.” She laughed then threw back her miles of curls. “I don’t think I’ve had this kind of energy even in a sold out arena. You guys are amazing.”
I’d say she was laying it on thick, but there was no denying the intensity of the crowd tonight. Maybe some of it was just us excited to play again. To feel normal instead of like caged animals,
Or maybe that was just me.
My gaze drifted to Teagan. I’d managed to hold off for a damn long time, but she was like my north star in a show. It should be Lindsey, it should be Oz’s bass—anything but her. And yet every show, my energy mirrored Teagan’s.
If she was off, I acted the fool to get her to laugh and get back into the groove.
If she was on fire, I fed off of it.
Chump.
Ugh. I was a fucking chump.
Was this what love was? Or was it just fascination?
Hell, I didn’t know the difference. I’d been with a few women seriously over the years—one right before I’d gone into the Rangers—but that had fizzled quickly. The brotherhood of my unit had been too strong to compete with a fleeting love that was too young to get off the ground.
Then it had been the Rangers. Missions and rowdy downtime didn’t make for a good place for me to find the one. Just the one for the night.
The rockstar life had quickly overshadowed even the thrill of being in the Rangers. I’d found another family. One that allowed me to make connections without worrying about them landing in a bloody pile by my boots.
I shook my head. Hell, no, I wasn’t going there tonight.
I pushed back my stool and stood, opening my arms to stretch the tendons and muscles that were quivering in tension. A whistle from the crowd had me grinning. The actress again.
God, what was her name? Shelby Clark.
Teagan’s blazing red hair flipped over her shoulder as she heard the whistle in the quiet of the room. Then her attention zinged my way. Those bluebell eyes that haunted my damn dreams were snapping fire.
Huh. Well then.
I lifted my sticks and started off the power ballad that was next on the setlist. It was a slow build. I was fucking vibrating, but I had to find some goddamn control. Luckily, the drums built quickly as Lindsey’s husky voice exploded after the initial slow, sexy opening.
The pianos came in to crash and bleed through Zane’s solo.
Jamie was crawling off the side catwalk to the balconies. She jumped up and maneuvered her way around the U-shaped sections. I saw Noah take off after her, the air blue with his growls as he tried to keep pace with her long legs.
She was a fucking maniac, and I loved her to death, like a man who loved his insane sister. I already had one, and thank God Jamie and Jenny didn’t know one another well. I had a feeling I’d be doling out a lot of bail money if they did.
As for Noah, he deserved Jamie. And I had fifty in the little betting pool we had going that he was going to strangle her before we even got back on tour.
Finally, she climbed her way up to Donovan’s VIP balcony and sat on the rail. Donovan’s gaze was steady and cool as always. Jamie pulled her over the ear mic forward. Half the time, she took it off during a show, but when she had a wild hair to sing, it allowed her to click into the song wherever she was on stage.
The girl rarely was where she was supposed to be. On stage or off.
Once Jamie was sure she had all eyes on her, she pulled her guitar strap over her head and looked back at Donovan. “I heard from a little birdie that you used to play.”
Donovan’s reply was just an arched brow.
Jamie flipped her jet black hair over her shoulder and looked out over the crowd. “Did you all know that once upon a time, this uber rich mogul was a guitarist in a band?”
Christ, she was a bold bitch.
The wolf whistles that echoed in the club followed by chatter made me plop back on my stool. Well, this should be good.
Lindsey was talking furiously into the God Mic at the back of the stage.
I could only hear every fifth word. I didn’t really care either. If there had been popcorn near me, I would be eating it. This was way too good.
Donovan didn’t even look out into the audience. Instead, he slipped off his suit jacket and loosened his tie then held out his hand for her black Warlock guitar.
“No shit.” Zane leaned on my drum riser. “Didn’t see that one coming.”
Jamie gave a rare smile. “Fuck yeah.”
He fit the cobalt blue strap over his head and settled the guitar against his torso. I was expecting some standard fare. Maybe a little Zeppelin or Stones and that w
ould have been cool enough for the titan of music.
The dirty licks of “Machinehead” roared out from the guitar.
Lindsey’s head practically spun around and she skidded to her microphone. “Well, hello, Donovan.”
Donovan shredded the beginning of the song before trying to return the guitar. Jamie shook her head. “Hell no. Now we’re playing it.” She straddled the railing, and I was pretty sure Noah was going to literally haul her off, but Donovan gave him a mild shake of his head.
He started the song again, and Zane and Oz layered into the song with him. Jamie belted out the lyrics. She was literally a jukebox when it came to guitar solos, but she didn’t always go with the lyrics end. That tended to be Lindsey’s arena. One of the best things about our band was the fact that we loved all sorts of music. Bush was definitely in our wheelhouse. We’d covered their stuff a time or two, but not this song since it didn’t really suit Lindsey’s pipes.
But damn if Jamie didn’t have the guttural Rossdale style. At least for one song. And Donovan’s richie-rich fingers could fucking shred.
Who knew?
The crowd went crazy, and I was fairly sure Lewis would have the pick of the beauties beneath him if he wanted any of them. Not that I’d ever seen him hook up with anyone in all the years I’d been with Ripper. But then again, he was a private dude.
Finally, Lindsey seemed to settle into her groove. She jumped on the keyboard with Teagan, and they did their hand juggling thing on the keys as they created a new layer in a song that had never contained piano. As usual, they were a seamless pair.
Teagan had become an integral part of the band. She could take any song apart and work around extended solos when Jamie had a wild hair. During the rare times Zane decided to walk on the wild side, Teagan’s compositions always kept the rest of the band on track.
She was amazing. But when Lindsey moved in next to her, she almost always stepped back.
I stomped on my kick drum in frustration. My cymbals crashed and the audience lost their mind, completely unaware that I was playing through a haze of anger.
When the song ended, Lewis tried to hand back the guitar, but Jamie shook her head and leaned out over the railing. Noah came forward and grabbed her hair to yank her back.
