by Cherrie Lynn
One of her biggest fears in life was to wake up one day old and alone, parents gone, no kids or grandkids coming to visit.
And wasn’t that a cheerful thought to have in a limo on the way to meet a celebrity?
They gazed out the windows at the Houston skyline as it appeared in the distance, a haze at first, looming ever closer and clearer as the orange glow of twilight set in. Savannah’s heart rate kicked up. Mike’s town. Zane’s town too. She’d been here a couple of times before, but years ago, and had liked it—the sprawling mix of urban and rural influence, the Tex-Mex, the barbecue. Yeah, as someone who loved to eat, she was prone to judging a city by its food. Of course, for that, in her opinion you couldn’t beat her hometown. It was in a completely different world.
She couldn’t help but wonder what life had been like for the Larson boys growing up among all this. Mike with his fighting, his intensity, Zane with his bleak, sullen lyrics . . . and no telling what stories their other brother had to tell.
If she saw Mike tonight, damn if she was going to shun him, no matter what Rowan thought. He had made this possible for them.
The Toyota Center was a massive venue nestled in downtown, and the line of people waiting to get inside as soon as the doors opened had already begun forming . . . and long ago, judging by the length of it. Heads turned as the limo cruised by, people pointed and craned their necks, obviously wondering who might be behind the blacked-out windows. Savannah chuckled to think what they’d say if they knew: just a couple of New Orleans nobodies with their noses practically pressed to the glass, marveling at the excitement of it all.
“I thought seeing all the fans at Tommy’s fights would have prepared me for this, but this is on a whole other level.”
“And Tommy never liked the spotlight, so he made a point of staying as far from the limelight as he could.”
“I never understood that,” said Rowan. “I mean, I understand why he didn’t like the attention. For him it was all about the fight. But if it was me, I’d love to get out of a car and have a huge crowd of people go berserk.”
“But the invasion of your privacy, the judgment about every little thing you do . . . I screw up enough without the whole world watching.”
“Yeah, that part would suck. You’d have to be able to shrug it off.”
Something that Savannah would probably be more capable of doing than Rowan, but she kept that opinion to herself. Rowan cared too much about what people thought of her. She would never be able to handle it.
The limo pulled around to the back of the venue, near the loading docks and backstage area. Crew, security, and roadies were everywhere, and Rowan practically bounced in her seat. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, we’re so close to meeting him, ohmigawwwd . . .”
“Are you going to live through this?”
“I don’t know. I have butterflies. I feel sick.”
“I really hope he’s all you want him to be.”
“Well, he can’t possibly be. I’m prepared for that.”
She said it, but Savannah wasn’t quite sure she believed it.
Chapter Seven
Mike stood beside his brother, arms crossed, surveying the crowd from his spot at side stage. The house lights were up and he could see several thousand faces in the audience, a sold-out crowd. The floor was full and the seats were filling up all the way into the nosebleeds, so far away they were nearly lost in shadow. It always made him nervous to think of his little brother on that stage in front of all those people where any maniac could pull a gun or some shit like that. He didn’t exactly have the utmost confidence in security checks.
But if Zane had any similar thoughts, you wouldn’t know it to look at him. His band had already huddled up, arms around each other, a little bonding moment they always shared before they took the stage. People scurried everywhere. Guitar techs made last-minute adjustments. Mic check was done. The stagehands began to clear out.
That was when Nicole sidled up to him, sliding a hand around his waist. For one completely, absolutely, out-of-his-fucking-mind insane moment, he thought it might be Savannah. “Hey, you,” she purred. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”
Yeah, taking another person’s life will do that to you. He had to stop thinking like this. But it irked him when people he hadn’t seen since the accident acted as if nothing had happened. His fucking world had reset, and they were able to ignore it. “I’m always around,” he told her nonchalantly.
Nicole was a friend. When both of them were bored or lonely or horny or all three, she was a little more. He’d known she was coming out tonight, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t bump into her. Knowing Savannah was on the scene, he wasn’t in the mood for fending off Nicole’s advances. And that didn’t make any sense to him, really, but when he examined the source of his unease at Nicole’s sudden appearance at his side, he discovered the tall New Orleans beauty at its core.
Nicole briefly laid her head against his shoulder while he shifted uncomfortably, resisting the urge to shrug her off. “Well, I missed you.”
“You got my number.”
“Rude,” she teased, but he had no doubts by the sultry sweetness of her voice that one of the three criteria for their hooking up was on the table tonight.
He chose not to reply. For the moment. Across the stage, he saw Rowan and Savannah materialize in front of the small side-stage crowd while a roadie set down a chair for Rowan’s use.
Fuck. Savannah. If she could be standing beside him right now, he wouldn’t be plotting an escape for anything in the world. But for now, all he could do was watch. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight if he had any choice in the matter.
But he didn’t, and never would.
“What?” Rowan asked accusingly after catching Savannah looking at her for the third time.
Savannah snatched her gaze away. “Nothing.”
“Savvy. Something’s on your brain.”
“If you must know . . . yeah, that conversation we had in the car on the way to the airport is on my brain.”
Rowan didn’t have to ask which conversation that was. She said a quick thanks to the crew member who set her a chair at the front of the side-stage crowd and perched on it. Savannah knelt down so she could hear her over the restless hum of the crowd. “We were just talking.”
Rowan had spent an alarming amount of time in Zane’s dressing room after his assistant had come to fetch her soon after the girls reached the venue. Savannah had been invited, but she’d declined, preferring to let Rowan have her moment. Now she wondered if that had been a good idea. “What did you talk about?”
“The tour, how much I love his music—the same boring shit he probably hears from his fans day after day after day. He was very cool to let us hang out like that. I get the feeling not many people get to.”
And you have Mike to thank for that, she wanted to point out, but she held her tongue on the matter. It was getting too loud and rowdy to have a conversation in here, anyway.
She stood up, and all at once every light in the arena went out. A roar rose from the crowd, surging and shifting in the air like a living thing, electric, raising the hair at Savannah’s nape. Across the sea of people, tiny lights sprang up—people holding up their cell phones. Beside her, Rowan shot up from her chair and clutched Savannah’s arm in excitement. A sudden flashback to Tommy’s funeral when Rowan had leaned on her for support shook her for a second, making her breath shudder out and kicking her heart rate into double time. Dizziness washed over her, and then a voice sounded in the darkness, alone and soaring and competing with the explosion of adulation from the audience. Even over it all, Savannah heard Rowan shriek beside her, and everything was okay again.
Okay, so he’s pretty good after all, she thought, just as a blue spotlight hit Zane’s solitary figure on the stage. The white of his clothes glowed eerily as he sang into the mic in front of him, completely still. She didn’t know many of the band’s songs, and caught up in the moment, she didn’t pay much attention t
o the lyrics he sang in a rich, deep vibrato. It was difficult to reconcile that soaring voice with the guy she’d spoken with only a little while ago.
After his a cappella opening, the music kicked in all at once with a roll of thundering bass and grinding guitars. Even the most hardened critic couldn’t have resisted bouncing with that beat, and Savannah found herself nodding along beside her giddy sister-in-law. Side stage. At a rock concert. Never in a million years would she ever have imagined herself here. But it was pretty amazing nevertheless.
She might have misgivings about Zane, but there was no doubt he made Rowan smile again. Seeing her have fun was the best part, that utterly blissed-out look on her face, singing every word and swaying and dancing beside her while he prowled the stage and whipped the crowd into a heated frenzy. She was so different from that unrecognizable, broken woman a few weeks ago. For that reason, and that one alone, Savannah could have found Mike and kissed him.
And there was a thought she didn’t need to entertain, because it shimmered through her like lightning. No sooner had she trounced it into the farthest reaches of her mind than she saw him standing on the other side of all the action on the stage, nearly lost among the shadows and the cluster of people.
Could he see her too? She kind of hoped so; maybe it would make him feel better to see them having fun for a change. Charged with the idea, she waved frantically at him, hoping Rowan wouldn’t notice—and she wouldn’t, because she was in her own little world, carried away by the music. Sure enough, even from this distance, Savannah saw the white of Mike’s smile and his casual wave in return.
Then her own smile faltered. Because he wasn’t alone. Beside him stood a statuesque blonde complete in corset, revealing an abundance of flesh, and tight ripped jeans with tall boots encasing her slim calves. No doubt those boots sported four-or five-inch heels; she looked incredibly tall standing beside him. And incredibly good. At first, Savannah could have surmised she was just a groupie who had wandered in, but when the woman put her hand on his shoulder and stood on tiptoe to speak into his ear, that idea died screaming.
Suddenly she felt sick.
A girlfriend? Had he had one all this time? Not that it was any of her business; it wasn’t as if she’d had any expectations at all. At all. They were only two people trying to come to grips with their new realities. To even contemplate it being anything more than that was crazy. But damn. She’d never really considered that he might be taken.
Rowan danced on, oblivious, but something had dulled the fragile magic of the night, and Savannah was left pondering exactly what that meant.
Nothing, it’s nothing. You had to expect it. He’s an attractive guy and built like a god. Why wouldn’t he have a goddess at his side? And why do you care?
Maybe because he had someone and she didn’t. Someone to hold her and help her endure the long, sad nights. Wouldn’t that make it all so much more bearable? If he had that and she didn’t, well, she was envious. And that was it.
The song ended and Rowan thrust both her arms in the air, cheering along with the rest of the crowd. Across the stage, Mike’s companion was doing the same thing. He stood still, though, his arms crossed over his broad chest, watching the crowd beneath the bill of his cap. When his head turned in Savannah’s direction again, his eyes were lost in shadow but somehow she felt them. She knew they were on her, that sharp blue ice roaming up and down her body.
A warm flush crept up her neck and she plucked at her shirt collar, fluttering it against her neck. So many people crowded in here, bodies pressed in on all sides. It was starting to make her sweat.
Song after song, Zane held the crowd in his thrall, but none more so than Rowan. Savannah had never seen the girl like this before. “Screeching fangirl” didn’t even begin to cover it. Raving lunatic was more like it.
“Do you need a break?” Savannah had to shout to be heard over the noise, and even then she had to repeat herself twice more. Rowan’s hair was sopping with sweat, but she shook her head adamantly as the band launched into the next song. It was good, but it was insanely loud and beginning to grate on Savannah’s nerves. Her ears were ringing. A steady throb had set up in her head.
Hoping a quick bathroom break would help, she slipped from the cluster of onlookers. Rowan wouldn’t miss her for a few minutes and besides, Zane had assigned a roadie to keep an eye on her and make sure no one tried to steal her spot at the front. But Savannah’s search for a bathroom took her through the labyrinthine backstage area, and before she knew what was happening, she was on the other side of the building, and suddenly Mike was in front of her.
She nearly leapt backward, and he stopped midstride. “Hey,” she blurted out dumbly, noticing at once that his woman wasn’t with him.
“Are you doing all right?” he asked, glancing behind her, probably looking for Rowan and trying to decide if he needed to dive around a corner.
“Sure, yeah, we’re great. I was just, um . . . I was looking for the restroom, actually.”
“Right back here,” he said, motioning for her to follow. As she obeyed, she tried not to check him out too much, but it was damn near impossible. Dark stubble shadowed his jaw tonight, and the short sleeves of his T-shirt revealed powerful, corded, and densely tattooed forearms. And those denim-stretching thighs. The man was so built, so big. Again, she’d practically forgotten what an intimidating physical presence he had. Grabbing his ass would have to be like squeezing a couple of ripe cantaloupes.
Jesus Christ! No! She nearly tripped over her own feet. He heard the scuffle of her shoes and turned to look at her. “You okay?”
“Sure, yeah, I’m great,” she stammered, then realized it was practically the same thing she’d said when he asked how they were doing. “Was that your girlfriend you were with?” It just tumbled out.
His dark brows lifted under the bill of his cap, but he waved a hand dismissively. “It’s an on-and-off thing, I guess. Off right now. But she never misses a chance to see Zane perform.”
Fuck buddy, Savannah supplied mentally. Got it. But she still didn’t like it, and that annoyed the crap out of her.
What the hell had changed here? She remembered facing this man on the worst day of her life and holding her own against him. A couple of phone calls and a nice gesture later, she was a stumbling idiot around him. She had to get a grip. Starting right now.
“Here you are,” he told her, gesturing to the restroom door. “I’ll get out of your way. Y’all have fun, all right?” With a smile tinged with sadness, he turned to go.
“Wait,” she blurted out, noticing the way his entire being went still, the way he looked so expectantly at her. So hopefully. It started a slow, melting ache in her chest. “I wanted to tell you that I didn’t necessarily want you to stay away all night. Rowan . . . she might feel differently. I’m sorry, I can’t do anything about that. But I don’t feel that way.”
God, he looked at her so long and so . . . reverently. Savannah didn’t realize how dry her mouth had become until she tried to lick her lips. Dehydration from dancing, she thought. Need water. But when she did that, his gaze dropped to her mouth, endlessly blue, and she couldn’t help but direct her own attention to his incredibly full, beautiful lips. “I’m glad to hear you say that,” he told her, his eyes flickering back up to hers.
“Really?”
He nodded, those lips tilting up a little now. “Would you want to hang out later? Talk?”
She would love that more than anything. “That sounds nice. Where?”
“You’re on my turf now, so anywhere you want. If you want quiet, we can head to Galveston. I have a beach house there.”
“I do love the beach,” she said softly. Out on the stage, the next number kicked off to a loud, appreciative cheer. “We only have swamps. But Rowan . . .”
“If you want to keep it on the down low,” he said, “I can pick you up at your hotel after the limo takes you back. She doesn’t ever have to know.”
Oh, God, what was ha
ppening? Whatever it was, it had her heart hammering and her breath ragged. This man had upheaved her entire life; why would she give him the power to upheave it even more by going anywhere with him? She didn’t know why she trusted him, but she did. Implicitly.
Clearing her throat and getting a grasp on her breathing, she managed to smile and nod at him. If she were smart, she would sever any and all temptation at the root and take her ass back to the hotel with Rowan after the concert. Go to bed, get herself off, and go the hell to sleep.
But she would regret it. She would lie awake at night and wish she could change it. She was so sick of regret. “That sounds amazing,” she told him. “But . . . I mean, as long as I’m back in a few hours. Is that okay? In case Rowan needs anything.”
“Whenever you want to leave is fine,” he assured her. “It’ll take an hour to get there, though, and another to get back.”
If you come, she heard, you’ll be staying the night. “Yes. I mean . . . that’s fine.”
“Shoot me a text when you’re ready for me to come get you,” he said.
“Okay. I’ll do that.” Smiling at each other, they parted ways, but she had to sneak a peek over her shoulder at him walking away. And he caught her looking, because he was doing the same thing.
Shit! Snapping her head back around, she plowed through the bathroom door before she crashed into it, making a beeline for the sink to splash some cold water on her face.
What are you doing what are you doing what are you . . . ?
Damn if she knew. Her parents would disown her, Rowan might never speak to her again, Tommy was probably flipping in his grave. But she couldn’t shake this gnawing belief that Mike wasn’t the villain they had him pegged for. He was a fighter who’d fought for everything in his life. Tommy had been a fighter who had everything handed to him in life. He’d fought for glory. Mike had fought for survival; maybe he knew no other way.
Looking up at her reflection in the mirror, she found herself disheveled and rather pale. Her dark hair had lost most of its big, loose curl, falling in lazy waves. But her eyes were bright and full of anticipation.
