READ WHAT OTHERS HAVE SAID ABOUT
FURY
“A very entertaining book. I could not put it down. The charac-
ters will hook you right in, and you can imagine yourself touring with the band, through Europe. I would recommend this to anyone that's looking for a fun entertaining adventure! Would love
to see more from these authors.”
—Emily Horrell ( Amazon)
“In the mood for snarky, self-sufficient women? Hot rockers and
hot sex? A little mystery and world traveling? Welcome to the
perfect combination of all of these. This is the second book I
have read by these two co-authors, and they don't disappoint.”
—Sarah Griffin ( Amazon)
“Very well written and thought out by two new writers. It has a
touch of mystery, fun, passion, and adventure. The story tends to pull you in and make you part of it. Will definitely read more by these writers.”
—Anonymous ( Barnes & Noble)
“Sex, Drugs & Rock n' Roll. What else could you ask for? This tale was not too steamy and turned out to be a pretty quick and
enjoyable read.”
—Michelle ( Goodreads)
Tammy Coons
Michelle Pace
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagina-tion or are used fictitiously. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Copyright © 2013 Tammy Coons & Michelle Pace
Editor: Carmen Comeaux
Cover Design: Michelle Warren (Preast) of IndieBookCovers
Formatting: JT Formatting
All rights reserved. All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the above copyright owner of this book.
www.Facebook.com/MichellePaceAndTammyCoons
Printed in the United States of America
First Edition: December 2013
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Coons, Tammy
Pace, Michelle
Rage (The Sound Wave Series, Book Two) / 1st ed
ISBN-13: 978-1494280956
ISBN-10: 1494280957
1. Rage (The Sound Wave Series)—Fiction.
2. Fiction—Romance 3. Fiction—New Adult
Both authors would like to dedicate Rage to The Furies—
you demanded we tell the rest of the story.
Careful what you wish for…
And from Michelle—
And to my husband, Les.
It’s still written in the stars.
CHAPTER ONE
Phillip flicked a toothpick from one side of his mouth to the
other. His tongue felt like it was made of cotton, and he downed some water in an attempt to feel somewhat normal. He fidgeted
by the car as he watched people shuffling in and out of the en-
trance of St. Mary’s Hospital. Giving up cigarettes was a bitch, but completely worth the effort. The smoke set off his girlfriend Steph’s debilitating migraines, a fact she’d discovered when her chain-smoking roommate Cheyenne moved out. Quitting hadn’t
been quite as painful as he’d feared, but at the moment, his nervous oral fixation demanded appeasement. His meticulous plans
were falling into place, and adrenaline coursed through his veins with such momentum that he was sure he was going to have
some sort of cardiac event. At least he was in the right location for it. That’ll be my luck. I’ll pull out the ring and say “will you marry me, Stephanie?” Then I keel over dead on top of her and crush her with my corpse.
He ran a hand through his long, perfectly mussed blonde
hair, reminding himself he needed to shave his head. His band
mate, Nathan, had flipped him shit about losing an online “Hot-
test Hair” poll to a sparkly vampire. Nathan Clayton, he could
smack in the gob—it certainly wouldn’t affect his ability to play the keyboards. But Steph had chimed in, and he was powerless
against Stephanie’s taunts. She could cut him to the quick with a 1
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
disapproving glance. He smirked as he imagined her reaction if
he surprised her with a high and tight buzz cut, but the image
brought him back to his present situation, and his smirked melted into a worried frown. Rubbing a hand wearily across his stubble, he tried to shake away all self-doubt. He’d played Madison
Square Fucking Gardens, for the love of Christ. He jumped up
and down, shook out his shoulders, paced, and ran through his
mantras—all tricks for getting “in the zone” before a show. This was way bigger than Madison Square Gardens. He couldn’t remember a time when he’d been so tense, and the slow build of
anticipation had reached a fever pitch. If he had to rearrange his proposal because Steph unknowingly screwed up his timeline,
he’d collapse from exhaustion.
He nervously jingled his key ring, his hand clasping onto
the one to his new home. Nine months ago, before the band
kicked off their American tour, they’d been sequestered during a drug smuggling scandal involving their former manager. With
nothing to do but think about Stephanie, whose father’s maga-
zine broke the story (and whose appearance in his life rocked
him to his core), he’d hunted down the owner and purchased
their cottage. The one they’d sought refuge in when they were stranded by a flat tire. That amazing night was a turning point in their chaotic relationship. He’d known that even if she’d never
spoken to him again, he wanted the abandoned home that had
been their erotic sanctuary in the storm.
He‘d spared no expense, having it lovingly restored. The
carpenters and landscapers had finally finished a couple of
months ago, but he’d kept the purchase to himself, only confid-
ing in the guys in the band. The bassist, Scot, was an obnoxious newlywed and couldn’t keep his mouth shut like the other members of Fury. Scot gabbed to his wife, Cheyenne. Thankfully,
Cheyenne could keep her mouth shut, since she was Stephanie’s best friend. Cheyenne assured him that Steph had gushed about
the cottage to her many times and that she was sure Steph would
2
RAGE
be thrilled to find out he had bought it.
He hadn’t told the band that he was going to propose. He
planned to do it at his Grandparent’s estate, with all of his family as witnesses. When he finally let his grandparents in on his plan, Nana had practically hurled her ring at him. She’d lectured him
at length about how he’d led a charmed life and how marriage
was often hard and how he would have to often swallow his
pride. His grandparents loved Stephanie—quite possibly more
than they loved him. Sometimes he suspected that his grand-
mother may have actually sabotaged his tire the night they had
been stranded near the cottage, since it happened right after
they’d left his grandparent’s estate.
Phillip had flown Steph’s brother
Cedric in from Rome for
the proposal and what he hoped would be an impromptu en-
gagement party after. Cedric had tried at nauseating length to talk him out of it. He implored Phillip to, at the very least, “do it in private.” But Phillip had spent his life showing off, and making Steph his wife would be no exception. The knowledge of her
mere existence in the world had forever changed him. He was
immune to the throngs of groupies and models that were a con-
stant presence in his life. At first, this development disturbed him, and he fought it with a vengeance. Now his immunity gave
him a warm, contented feeling that would have gotten his ass
kicked by the band if he ever expressed it musically.
When Phillip made it clear he wouldn’t change his mind,
Cedric reluctantly agreed to meet and work out some details be-
fore Steph’s arrival. But when Cheyenne went into labor two
days before her due date, they were forced to come up with a
cover story because Stephanie dropped everything and hopped
the first flight to London. It worked out better anyhow; Steph
spent extra time with Cedric, and Cedric got to see Cheyenne
and Scot’s baby before moving onto Ireland for the surprise en-
gagement party. As far as Steph knew, Cedric was in London
under the guise of “blessing” Scot and Cheyenne’s newborn ba-
3
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
by. Phillip had little choice but to let Cheyenne and Scot in on his master plan at that point. After their hysterical laughter in response to the cover story died down, they were more than willing to play along. To Phillip’s horror, Cheyenne had offered similar advice to Cedric’s regarding Stephanie and popping the
question. Cheyenne felt he should “really discuss marriage and
family” with Steph before proposing “in a more intimate set-
ting.” Phillip scoffed. After months of stolen weekends and end-
less emails, Skype dates and phone calls,he had no doubt that she loved him. Though neither of them had ever said the words, he
felt passionately that he knew what her answer would be.
For a priest, Cedric was a remarkably polished liar. He’d
given a flawless performance at the hospital, and the raw emo-
tion on Cheyenne and Scot’s faces when he blessed their son had
been an unexpected bonus. Steph, who was the most cynical
woman he’d ever encountered, shed tears of joy at the sight of
the squawking newborn in Cedric’s arms. Phillip had felt just a
tad bit guilty about that.
Steph’s brother was currently on a flight to Ireland where
he’d planned to meet up with Steph’s dad, the owner of the mu-
sic magazine, The Sound Wave. Asking Steph’s dad for her hand had been terrifying. It was no exaggeration to say that he’d had to throw out the suit jacket he’d been wearing, since his profuse perspiring had utterly ruined it. Though Adam Brier was only 5’
5”, he was as commanding as Napoléon. After several veiled
threats to Phillip’s manhood should he ever hurt “his little girl”
and many compulsory shots of whisky, Phillip stumbled away
from The Sound Wave corporate offices with the permission he required.
Unfortunately, Stephanie had thrown the biggest wrench in-
to his orchestrations. She was so caught up in Cheyenne and
Scot’s new son, Liam, that he was afraid they’d never make their flight from London to Dublin. He’d already had to reschedule it
once. She’d planted herself in their room at the hospital, obnox-4
RAGE
iously riding the nursing staff and monopolizing the infant. Just before his pilot filed a new flight plan to Ireland, Steph had been contacted by Donna Moderna, an Italian fashion magazine, to do a spread in preparation for Milan Fall Fashion Week. She’d ne-gotiated to have two solid weeks with him, but now she’d only
be here for 10 days. He knew that her agent had already booked
her in Paris for a photo shoot for La Femme Actualle immediately after that. He chose not to brood about it, but couldn’t wait until the proposal was over with. When they were married, all
this incessant traveling would settle down, and they could finally be together on a regular basis.
None of this scheduling madness was new. Steph’s photog-
raphy career made his songwriting sessions with Bret and the
recording schedule for Fury’s latest album appear as if he were
in retirement. Since leaving The Sound Wave and going free-lance, her calendar had been booked solid. The band agreed to
assemble later this week so that she could shoot them for the new album cover. Only half the songs were written, but they all
agreed they wanted Steph to do the photo, and they had to take
advantage of the break in her schedule. Most bands would’ve
killed for Stephanie Brier to photograph them, but few could af-
ford her. Steph’s fee for Fury’s shoot was a six pack of Guinness and a mixed CD from their drummer, David. (She was still a big
fan of good old DJ Dave’s remixes). And bragging rights, of
course. Their albums had gone triple platinum, and even Stepha-
nie, who was born rock n’ roll royalty, had been impressed with
their sweep at the Grammys and VMA’s this year. And she was
rarely impressed by anything; it would be nice to have her attention, if only from the other side of the camera lens.
This visit would be the first time he’d had more than three
days alone with her since they’d barricaded themselves in his
hotel suite in New York all those months ago. They’d ditched the party thrown in the band’s honor by her father’s magazine less
than an hour after he’d arrived. His manager still hadn’t forgiven 5
TAMMY COONS & MICHELLE PACE
him for that! But, blimey! What followed had been 72 hours of
perfection. He closed his eyes and daydreamed about how crack-
ing her ivory skin and fiery hair looked draped across that bed
with her gorgeous gown crumpled in a heap on the floor. He
tapped the velvet ring box with his fingertips, as if to confirm it was still there. It suddenly seemed to burn a hole in his pocket.
Truthfully, he was incredibly nervous about introducing
Steph to his parents and sisters. He was confident his dad would think she was hysterical, but the females of the Kersey clan?
That was…uncertain. As well traveled as she was, Steph could
be the epitome of an “ugly American.” He took comfort from the
fact that his grandparents were so taken with her and hoped the
rest of his family would soon feel the same. He also was hopeful that Steph would like them. She didn’t have any women in her
life (except Cheyenne), as far as he could tell. Her mom was
dead, and she had no sisters or close cousins. She got on well
enough with the girlfriends and wife of his band mates, but they seemed mostly like casual friendships of convenience. All that
would change after she said yes. He smiled at the thought of
Nanna, Mum, and the girls helping her plan her dream wedding.
“Hey, big boy. Can I hitch a ride?” Steph’s raspy American
accent had a Pavlovian effect on him, and he felt instantly
aroused. He forced himself to turn slowly, and the sight of her
knocked the wind out of him. Her blue green eyes were slightly
blood shot, but happy. She’d caught the red eye from Chicago
when Cheyenne’s water broke, so she hadn’t slept much in the
past two days. Steph was
even more pale than usual and had lost
more unnecessary weight in the few weeks since he’d last seen
her in The States. Her usually baby doll features appeared angu-
lar and harsh. She rushed to him, and her red wavy hair bounced
wildly as she flung herself into his arms. He could feel her ribs when he gripped onto her and as she wrapped her legs around
him. She weighed no more than a child. He silently cursed the
fashion folk she worked with. Their unwelcome impact on her
6
RAGE
self-image was one more reason to marry her and get her away
from that industry. His worry dissipated when he felt her warm
breath in his ear and her fingers gripping his hair.
“Pattinson can suck it. You still have ‘the hottest hair in the
UK’.” She locked eyes with him. Something on his face must
have betrayed his inner conflict, because she looked at him as if he’d slapped her. She pulled away from him, seemingly dejected
and tried to wriggle out of his grasp, but he tightened his hold on her. She stopped struggling and met his eyes reluctantly.
“Did you miss me?” She seemed suddenly shy.
“Always.” He replied and softly grazed her pouty lips with
his. The taste of her hadn’t changed one bit, and he allowed himself thirty heavenly seconds of her sweetness before he untan-
gled himself and placed her unceremoniously on her feet. He
needed to put space between them before he lost control. The
Atlantic Ocean had served as a significant hurdle for their ro-
mance. This not-so-tiny stumbling block had prolonged their
honeymoon phase to the point of agony. With the bloody tab-
loids always hounding him, they desperately needed privacy.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”
They managed to get as far as the front seat of the car be-
fore they were all over each other again. Steph reached for his
zipper when he clasped her wrist tightly.
“There are cameras everywhere, love.”
“Ugh, what the hell else is new? Bastards. Get a real job.”
She growled and reluctantly removed her delightful hands. He
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