HALO (Fallen Angel Book 1)

by Ella Frank

  “My head isn’t up anyone’s ass,” I muttered. “And with what happened tonight, I’m not going to be getting any ass anytime soon. How’s your bed looking tonight, Kill? I don’t see anyone waiting outside for you like they usually do.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No, thanks. I don’t dip my dick where I work.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I wanted to take them back, and if Killian had been half the asshole I was, he would’ve taken the clear shot he had—but Killian didn’t work like that.

  “Watch yourself,” Killian said in a tone I knew well. It was the warning he gave before he was done playing the peacemaker. The signal that you were a step away from him not giving a shit one way or another about how you were feeling. And if you pushed him there, well, the only way to get back was to grovel like a motherfucker.

  Me, I didn’t like to grovel. So I backed up a step.

  “I don’t know, Kill.” Jagger ran a hand over his chin. “Maybe it would be better if he did walk. Then we could find someone who looks a little more like Trent? Or who’s the same age? Maybe Halo is too…different.”

  The words made something inside my gut twist and revolt. It felt wrong to be talking about Halo like this when he wasn’t there to defend himself, but I was hardly the one to be making any decisions tonight, not when I was three sheets to the wind. So instead of saying anything, I twisted the cap off the bottle of alcohol and tossed it on the ground.

  “I’m not trying to be an asshole here,” Jagger said. “But just because Halo is talented doesn’t mean shit—obviously. He’s not what our fans want. They want Trent.”

  And that was it right fucking there, wasn’t it?

  The fans wanted Trent.

  The record company wanted Trent.

  Bastard wouldn’t get the fuck out of our way, even though he’d walked out.

  “Well, that’s too damn bad,” Killian said. “Trent is gone. And he ain’t coming back. We all have to deal with it, or this, this band we all love, we might as well kiss it the fuck goodbye.”

  I didn’t want to acknowledge how the truth of Killian’s words chafed my ego. After all, it had been the three of us—Killian, Trent, and me—who’d started TBD over a decade ago, and the fact that the rest of us couldn’t sustain the band without Trent made me want to hurl the bottle in my hand across the room instead of finishing it off.

  “Then what’s the solution?” Slade asked as he dropped into the couch beside Jagger. “Where do we go from here?”

  With his hands pulling at his dark hair, Killian got to his feet and paced the floor. All the rest of us could do was watch, because what was the answer here? If there was no Trent, there was no TBD. And there was no way in hell I was giving up what we’d worked so hard for because that asshole had walked.

  With a sigh, Killian dropped his hands. “We pivot.”

  “We what?” Jagger said.

  “We pivot. Change directions. Start over.”

  “Start over?” Slade’s voice went high. “We’ve got half an album of new songs recorded—”

  “That MGA’s already trashed and burned by now,” Killian finished. “We can’t use ’em. We can’t write songs for someone who’s no longer here.”

  Shit. Was he kidding? That meant months of work gone.

  “I think it’s time we faced the inevitable.” Killian shrugged. “We’ve got to bury TBD—”

  “What? We’re not fucking quitting—” I started, but Killian put his hand up.

  “And rise again.”

  Rise again? And here I thought I was the one who’d had too much to drink. What the hell did that even mean?

  “Like a zombie?” Slade said.

  “Nah, man, like Jesus.” Jagger nodded along. “Yeah.”

  I glanced between them, my lip curled up. “Why the fuck are you two talking about zombies and Jesus?”

  “We’re talking about rising from the ashes,” Jagger said. “TBD’s dead. Tonight made that pretty damn clear. We’ve got to start over.”

  “Dead?” I shook my head. “We’re not dead. We just need to—”

  “Change,” Killian said firmly. “No one is gonna be able to take Trent’s place; Halo was our best shot. So something’s gotta change.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know.” Killian’s eyes swept over the three of us. “I need time to think about it more, but this…this makes sense.”

  Did it? I wasn’t so sure about that. Start over? Change? Throw away ten years of what we’d built? This was all becoming way too much for my brain to handle.

  “I need to get outta here.” Shoving up to my feet, I kept a tight grip on my bottle, as I went to walk past Killian to the door.

  “Viper. We have to at least try. And if we fail, we fail. We move on.”

  I ran a hand through my hair, every fiber in my body resistant toward this idea, even though it was the only thing we really could do at this stage, or MGA would drop our asses.

  “Are you with us?” Killian asked. The “us” didn’t escape my attention, because he already knew the other guys’ decisions without having to ask.

  “Don’t have much of a choice, do I?” I said, turning around to face him.

  “You always have a choice.”

  “What, quit?” With a snort, I glanced at Jagger and Slade, who were watching us with caution. They really thought I’d walk? Because of this? “I’m not a fucking quitter. But I’m not promising anything, either. Can I go now?” I said, then raised the bottle between us. “I’d really like to finish this in private.”

  Killian nodded, and when I pulled open the door, he held it there and turned back to Slade and Jagger. “How ’bout you two get the hell out too? I’m done for the night, and neither of you are going to be able to help me forget myself for a few hours.”

  Knowing Killian could have one, two—hell, five—men up at his hotel suite within thirty minutes, despite what I’d said earlier, I threw a wave in his direction and meandered off down the hall.

  I bypassed the door to my suite, not feeling like going in there and sitting in a silent room by myself, and instead took the elevator down to the lobby bar. I knew it was late, but it was Friday night—maybe there’d be stragglers and I could round up another drink.

  I made my way to the doors of the bar, and when I noticed them shut, I was about to chalk it up to the perfect end to my shit-tastic day. But as I went to turn away, the faint sound of a piano caught my attention and had my feet rounding back so I could move closer. With the bottle in one hand down by my leg, I reached out with my other to see if the door was unlocked, and when the door pulled back, I stepped inside.

  The bar was empty. There were no staff, no customers, completely and utterly empty. But the further I walked inside, the louder the music became, until I rounded a large pillar and my feet came to an abrupt halt.

  Sitting at the baby grand piano with his head bent down over the keys was Halo. The softly glowing security lights were the only ones on in the bar right then, but I’d know those blond curls anywhere.

  His almost-finished bottle of alcohol from earlier sat on the top of the piano, as his fingers flew across the keys, and he seemed oblivious to the rest of the world as he swayed in time to the music.

  My feet moved of their own accord then, drawing me closer. The music he was playing was unlike anything I’d heard before. It was inspired and passionate, and, not wanting to interrupt this moment he was having, I stood as still as I possibly could, completely and utterly blown away by the sheer talent pouring out of Halo.

  While we’d all been upstairs licking our wounds and drinking ourselves into a state of numbness, Halo had been down here losing himself in the one thing that should’ve brought all of us solace—his music.

  Feeling as though I were intruding on something that was highly personal, I slowly backed out of the bar area to the door, my eyes not leaving Halo as he continued to play. He was mesmerizing, and I couldn’t help but think that if the rest of the wo
rld would give him a chance, if they got to see him like this, to hear him play like this, there’d be no way they’d ever boo him off a damn stage again.

  Fifteen

  Halo

  AFTER HAVING A few days to cool off, Killian called for a band meeting at his place.

  I knew what that meant—I was out.

  It wasn’t something they’d want to do over the phone, so inviting me over, getting us all together so they could break it to me that I was no longer needed, was the most logical way. And even though my head knew what was coming, most of me stayed firmly in denial.

  I took a spot on one of the leather couches in Killian’s great room, where the rest of the band had gathered. The furniture had been moved into a semicircle so we could all face each other.

  Great. Bring on the firing.

  Killian looked around the room, nodding, and then rubbed his hands together. “Since we’re all here, we can get started.”

  Yes, please make it quick and as painless as possible, I thought, as I shifted on the couch.

  “We can all agree that what happened last weekend was a total shitfest,” Killian said. Curses rang out, everyone nodding in agreement. “So the question is now, what the hell do we do about it?”

  Here it was. I braced myself for impact.

  “It’s fairly obvious that Halo isn’t the right frontman for TBD—”

  My stomach dropped.

  “But it’s also apparent that unless Trent comes running through that door right now, no one’s going to be who the fans want.”

  “Not like we’d take his fucking ass back anyway,” Viper muttered, as the others nodded.

  “Before we discuss options, I need to know if we’re all in this. Whatever direction we go, we go together.” Killian looked around the room, and when his eyes landed on me, he said, “So? You in this with us?”

  My brows knitted together as I tried to understand what he was asking me. “So…hold up. You’re not firing me?”

  A hint of a smile quirked Killian’s lips. “Hell no.”

  “But…” Had they lost their minds? Did they want a repeat of last week’s show? Maybe that was it. They were masochists. “I don’t understand.”

  “You’re not goin’ anywhere, Angel,” Viper said, pinning me with a fierce look.

  “That’s right.” Killian sat on the couch beside me. “The problem’s not you, Halo. It’s not us, either. But the combination? With the songs Trent’s known for? It’s not sitting well with the fans. So that means we need a new direction. A new sound, new everything.”

  “As long as it’s not some country shit, I’m down,” Slade said, eliciting a groan from Viper.

  Killian smirked. “I think we can all agree on that. But we do need to find a new sound that fits all of us, so that’s why I called us here today.”

  As the room plunged into silence, I watched as the other guys avoided Killian’s gaze, looking everywhere but in his direction.

  I was still wondering how the hell I wasn’t already out the door.

  “Anyone? Ideas?” Killian said, as the silence dragged on. After a few minutes, he began to whistle the Jeopardy theme song. “Seriously, nothin’? What’d you guys do the past few days?”

  “Nicole,” Jagger said.

  “Drank a couple bottles of tequila and Netflixed five seasons of The Great British Baking Show.” When we all jerked our heads in Slade’s direction, he frowned. “What?”

  “And I thought I was the gay one,” Killian said, rolling his eyes. “All right, so no one’s given it any thought. Good start, guys. MGA will be so impressed.”

  “Fuck those guys,” Viper muttered.

  “Those guys pay our bills,” Killian pointed out. “Without a record company, we’re not getting very far, so maybe throw out a few ideas, yeah?”

  Viper’s mouth snapped shut, and we all resumed the quiet game.

  Half an hour passed. An hour. Two hours later, and we were all still sitting around with nothing to show for it. I sure as hell wasn’t about to throw out an idea first, especially since I still felt like the reason we were in this mess in the first place.

  “All right. Let’s take a break, grab a drink, smoke, whatever.” Killian stretched his legs and then got to his feet. He and Slade headed downstairs while Jagger stepped out to make a call, leaving me and Viper alone in the vast space.

  “I don’t know about you, but I could do with some food.” Viper made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bags of potato chips and a package of cookies out of the pantry, then set them on the counter.

  “You got barbecue?” I asked.

  Viper held up an unopened bag of chips. “Come and get it.”

  I rounded the island, and when he handed me the bag, I popped it open. As I tossed a handful of chips into my mouth, Viper said, “You didn’t really think I’d let you leave, did you?”

  I went still at the seductive edge in Viper’s voice. Those words didn’t sound at all innocent coming out of that lethal mouth, and as I forced my jaw to keep chewing, I took a good look at him. Those penetrating eyes looked right back. Viper hadn’t shaved in a few days, which others would probably say only added to his appeal, and as he finished off one of the chocolate chip cookies, some of the chocolate got left behind on his thumb. I was about to point it out, when Viper lifted his hand, his thumb disappearing between his lips as he licked it clean.

  I swallowed and looked away. “Yeah, well, it’s not like you get the only vote.”

  “You know better than that.”

  Did I? Yeah, I guess I did. The day I auditioned, I’d thought that my fate was in Viper’s hands. Had he given a thumbs-down, I never would’ve been invited back, even if the others voted in my favor. Why that was the way, I didn’t know, but it also said a lot about how I was still here.

  “I saw you,” Viper said, stepping toward me, his head cocked to the side so a few strands of hair fell against his cheek. “In Savannah. Playing in the lounge after hours.”

  “You did?” I thought I’d been alone. I certainly would’ve remembered Viper being there, even with as drunk as I’d been.

  “I’ve never seen anyone play with as much passion as you do. You’re fucking talented, Angel. Why didn’t you tell us?”

  “I’m—” My words got stuck in my throat, and I shook my head. “I was just drunk.”

  “If that’s what you sound like under the influence, I’m dying to see what you can do without any interference. You need to show the guys.”

  “Show them the song? You liked it?”

  “Angel.” Viper’s voice dropped down low. “I couldn’t take my eyes off you.”

  There it was again. The provocative tone I never heard him use with the others, the one that slid over my skin like silk.

  “You’ve got a few crumbs…” Viper reached for my face, his thumb—the same one he’d sucked the chocolate off a few minutes ago—brushing across the edge of my mouth, and all of a sudden he was inches away from me, close, too close—

  I jerked away, turning my back to him so I could get some air. My face burned like I’d stepped too close to the fire and had moved away just in time. For fuck’s sake, Viper had barely touched me, and my chest heaved like I’d run a marathon. Get it together. It’s not like he was trying to kiss you or take your clothes off.

  That may be true, but I was getting some seriously confusing signals here. Or was I? The guy flirted with everything that moved, so was this just the way it was with him, or was he hitting on me? I’d made it clear from day one that I was straight, but maybe I needed to remind him of that fact again?

  I gripped my hair as I exhaled and turned back to face him. “Look, I appreciate your support. Really, I do. But if I’m going to be a part of this band, I feel like I need to make it clear that nothing’s gonna happen here.”

  He didn’t react. “Here?”

  “Yeah. Between me and you.”

  Viper’s lips quirked up at the sides, and something about his expre
ssion made my palms sweat.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay,” I repeated back to him like a moron, and then, just in case he didn’t get it the first time, I added, “I’m straight.”

  Viper chuckled and nodded. “I know. That doesn’t change the fact that what you played kicked ass. The guys’ll like it.”

  Shit. Okay, maybe I’d read his signals wrong. “Uh, I don’t know.” I wasn’t so sure about opening up that much here, in front of everyone. I wasn’t sure I wanted to be that vulnerable.

  Viper stepped around me, and as he headed back across the living space, he called over his shoulder, “There’s a piano in the rehearsal room. You need to go and show them.”

  Just as his words trailed off, Killian pushed through the front door and looked in my direction.

  “Show us what?” he asked, as he and the others headed back inside.

  “Nothin’,” I said quickly.

  Viper gave me a pointed look. “Didn’t sound like nothin’ to me the first time I heard it.”

  Jesus Christ, Viper, shut up.

  “I wanna hear it,” Jagger said.

  Slade nodded. “Me too.”

  And just like that, I was outnumbered.

  “Well…” I chewed my lower lip as I walked around the island. “I was just playing around with something the other night.”

  “And you’re only mentioning that now?” Killian said, as we headed into the rehearsal space.

  “I didn’t think it was your thing.”

  “Our thing?” Killian grinned. “Well, we’re lookin’ for a new thing now, so go for it.”

  My eyes darted around at the rest of the guys staring at me until they finally landed on Viper, who nodded toward the piano.

  Okay. I guess I was doing this.

  I took a seat behind the baby grand, and Viper backed away, giving me space. Thinking back to the melody, I exhaled and placed my fingers on the keys.

  Sixteen

  Viper

  ALL RIGHT, ANGEL. Show ’em what you got.

  Blowing out a breath, Halo laid his fingers atop the keys, and after several beats, he began to play the repeating piano riff I’d heard that night in the hotel lounge. His shoulders visibly relaxed as he went along, as though he’d managed to block us all out and only the music mattered.