by Tania Joyce
The lights in the auditorium dimmed. She swallowed hard and licked her lips. Time to sing. Get in the zone. She nudged each guy in the arm, mouthed, “Love you guys,” and moved into position.
When their backup band hit the first note, the screaming fans hit a new frenzy. Music filled her ears. Her sweaty hand cramped around her mic. She scanned the auditorium—people jumped, screamed, and waved their screen-lit cell phones, and cameras flashed. Was anything out of place? Anyone causing havoc? Anything unusual?
No . . . focus.
Wait. Taylah? Where’s Taylah?
She scoured the front seats and counted back eight rows. Shit! She couldn’t see. Her heart bombarded her ribcage with hard, pounding jolts. Lasers seesawed across the stage. Smoke billowed across the floor. The spotlights beamed bright. Everhide were on.
Running to the center of the stage, they hit their first song, “Maybe We Should.” Everhide were not dancers, but every detail of their shows was meticulously choreographed. Every set, every song, every word. Everything was timed to perfection. Walk stage left; swap position; head to stage right. They’d performed this song so many times, Gemma could do it with her eyes shut.
Except they weren’t. Not tonight. She watched everything on high alert. The security on the walkway in front of the stage. The camera crew hiding behind lenses. The crowd. She searched for anything that wasn’t a water bottle, a drink cup or phone.
Damn it. Stop. Concentrate.
Leading into their second song, she struggled to regulate her breathing. Hated herself for not being able to hold her high notes for long. That scored her sharp glares from both guys. During the third song, her head spun, dizzy and woozy. Shit! She wiped her brow on her arm. She usually didn’t perspire this much so soon into a performance. What was wrong with her?
The band struck the introduction to their final song, “Traveled,” their latest number-one hit. One more song.
But nothing helped.
Something didn’t feel right. The lights blinded her. She scanned the crowd.
Hunter hit the first verse, standing right on the edge of the stage, swooning at the girls.
I had so many dreams I wanted to chase,
Had so many demons I had to face.
Had to find something to call my own,
Worst thing was leaving you alone.
Took time to know you held my heart,
Now I know I never want to be apart.
The lyrics Kyle wrote for her warped into a new meaning for Gemma. The fan obsessing over Kyle filled her mind. Don’t be stupid. Sing. She struck her pose in the middle of the stage, gripping extra tight onto her mic.
I’ve traveled the world all over,
Each mile draws us closer and closer.
With your love I’ve found my home,
With you I’m no longer alone.
Can’t breathe when you’re not near me,
Together, forever, we’re meant to be.
Everyone in the audience stood out of their seats, singing and dancing. But there. In the crowd. What was that? A girl. Screaming. Angry. Clambering over the chairs. Crap. Gemma’s legs wobbled. The spotlight spun and she lost sight of her.
Kyle took to the mic.
I’d sit in my hotel room every night,
Lying awake with you on my mind.
I knew I had to make you mine,
Even if it took ‘til the end of time.
Can’t believe you’re the dream I’ve been chasing,
You’re the only one who gets my heart racing.
The lighting changed.
There. Gemma caught sight of the girl again. One security guard moved forward.
Oh shit. What was happening? Gemma’s lungs seized. She stepped back from the front of the stage. One. Two. Three. A ringing in her ears took over the music in her in-ears. Piercing. Deafening. Fuck! Kyle and Hunter kept performing. Worry glistened in their eyes when they glanced in her direction. Couldn’t they see what was happening? Security moved in on the girl. What was she holding? What was in her hand?
Gemma wanted to scream, drop to the floor, warn and protect the guys, save the crowd. But her throat choked. Her whole body trembled. Hands. Knees. Stomach.
The security guard dived on the girl in the third row.
Holy shit!
Gemma’s eyes blurred. Perspiration dripped down her face. As her heartbeat strangled her throat, she dashed from the stage.
Sophie gaped and Chester caught her on the arm.
“Gem, what’s wrong?” Sophie asked, taking Gemma’s mic.
Gemma ripped out her in-ears, bent over and clutched her knees. Taking a deep breath, she straightened and flapped her hands in front of her face. “Someone. In the crowd. Security got them. Are the guys okay?”
Chester spoke into his security radio and nodded.
The guys finished the song.
I’ve been to London and Rome,
To Tokyo and back home.
To LA and the stars,
I always wind up at the start.
Doesn’t matter where I’ve traveled,
Or if we have time apart,
I know you’re the one I love,
Yeah, you’re the one I need.
You own my heart. You own my heart.
Blowing kisses to the crowd, they waved farewell and ran offstage to join her.
“Gem, what’s wrong?” Kyle, catching his breath, reached out to hug her, but she pushed him away. She needed space. A moment to clear her head. Tears stung her eyes. God, this is so fucked.
Chester rushed them back to the dressing room. Concerns from other performers and crew wafted past her ears. “Gemma, are you okay?” “Are you sick?” “Can we get you anything?”
She ignored everyone.
Inside the dressing room, she threw her transmitter and gear onto the equipment table, grabbed a bottle of water and paced the floor. Sam and Mick burst through the door.
“What happened?” Sam asked, giving her space.
“You tell me?” Gemma waved toward the door. “What the fuck happened in the crowd in front of me? Security jumped over some girl in the third row.”
“Oh. Oh shit, Gem,” Sam’s shoulders sank as he wiped his hand across his chin. “It was just a drunken fan. She was pissed at the people in front for blocking her view.”
“What?” Gemma screeched, “Are you fucking kidding me? I thought she had a gun.”
Sam lowered his chin a fraction and shook his head. “It definitely wasn’t a gun. Just someone loaded with booze.”
She ripped her fingers into her hair and scrunched a handful against her scalp. “So it’s just me going insane?”
“Hey, come on, Gem.” Kyle stepped toward her, but she held up her hand to stop him again. She hated the hurt flickering through his eyes. But she felt like an utter idiot. He held his arms wide. “We’ve all had to leave the stage at some time. Throwing up. Busting for the loo. Not feeling well. Don’t worry about it.”
“Worry?” Fire flared in her veins. “You’re all turning me into a fucking nutcase. Sam should’ve never shown me those pictures tonight. I was fine until then.”
Nope . . . not at all. But she had to stay strong. Somehow.
Sam clutched his hand over heart. “I’m so sorry, Gemma.”
Gemma seethed through her teeth. “You made me look like a fucking fool.”
“No, I didn’t. You were great.” Sam’s deep voiced dived lower with mortification and regret.
Her performance was far from great. She’d self-torture and ridicule herself for days. Make sure this mistake never happened again.
Hunter grabbed a towel laid out ready for them on their chairs and wiped the sweat from his face. “You were fine, Gem. A bit off. We’ve all had days like that.”
“I don’t want days like this.” She clutched a handful of hair. “I don’t want to stress about anyone and everyone. I hate not feeling normal. I hate that I let you down.”
“Oh, Gem.” Kyle steppe
d in front of her and wrapped his arms around her. This time he didn’t let go. “You could never let us down. We nailed the set.”
Security and their entourage stood around, pity weighing in their eyes and worry graying their skin.
She closed her eyes and clutched at Kyle’s T-shirt. With her cheek pressed against his hot steamy chest, his warmth slowly lowered her blood pressure. Taking a deep breath, she melted in his embrace, felt safe. She’d come to Vegas with a purpose. To forget about her problems. But stuffing up tonight’s performance only enhanced her long list of worries. How long could she hide how scared she really was? Tonight, she’d cracked under pressure. Never. Again.
She had too much going for her. Her music. Kyle. Getting married.
With her friends flying into Vegas late tonight, it was time to rock it up for her bachelorette party. Two weeks until she got hitched. Then everything could reset. Be right. Be normal.
First, she needed to get out of there.
She pushed free of Kyle’s hold and straightened her top. “I think I’m going to skip the after-party. You guys go if you want. Chester can take me back to the hotel.”
Kyle shook his head slowly. “No chance of me leaving you by yourself.”
Hunter pointed his index fingers at her. “Same. So that means, drinks are on you. In your room.”
Maybe the night had rattled them, too. Chilling out with them and Kara to regroup her thoughts and zip away her nerves would be perfect. “Now that, I can do.”
But on the drive back to the hotel, too many what-ifs played through her mind. What if it had been a gun? What if she’d been shot? What if the guys had been hurt? What if she was losing her mind? The psycho fan may not have made their move tonight but would they soon? The niggle in the back of Gemma’s neck twisted into a tighter tangled knot.
Ergh! She had to stop overthinking. Live in the present. Enjoy and cherish every moment she had with the guys and her friends. She loved music and performing. She’d never give it up. Tonight was a wakeup call to treasure every second of life. She’d be resilient. For Kyle. She’d send him off on his wild bachelor party and she’d make damn sure she’d celebrate in style with the girls. It was time to say goodbye to the single life.
It was time to party.
Chapter 9
“Go.” Gemma pushed against Kyle’s chest, but he caught her by the hands and pulled her in for a kiss.
Standing in the open double doorway of their suite’s master bedroom, he smiled so wide his cheeks ached. “Why are you so eager to get rid of me?”
Half teasing, half not, he didn’t want to leave her. Not for one second. She hadn’t bounced back to her normal self after last night’s festival performance. Not even after several JDs. Worst of all, she’d pushed him away. Twice. She’d never done that before. It crushed him. All he wanted to do was hold her.
He hated that the threats had broken her tough exterior. The pressure was too much. Was it wrong he’d much rather stay with her and watch a movie than go out, get drunk and be inundated with strippers at his bachelor party?
Shit. I’ve become a homebody. I’ve gone all Chris Hemsworth.
As the afternoon sun filtered through the huge windows of their three-bedroom apartment at Wynn with a view toward the mountains, Kara and Lexi flitted out of their rooms and darted around the sofas and tables, lining the bar’s marble countertop with plastic tiaras, black and silver sashes, shot glasses and liquor.
Gemma rose on her tippy-toes to kiss Kyle’s lips. “The other girls will be here soon.” Her voice slid to a sultry, seductive slither. “There’ll be lots of drinking games and fun before we head out to see buffed men get their gear off.”
He’d gladly do a private strip show for Gemma. Any day.
With extra-tight security, Everhide’s entourage, and only a few close friends from New York here for their parties, he had to believe she’d be safe. His body ached from lack of decent sleep. He lay awake for hours each night, ever since the first letter had been planted in Gemma’s bag in Brooklyn, with potential suspects other than Taylah spinning through his mind. He always came up blank.
He cupped the back of Gemma’s head and ran his hand down her back. “Maybe I should stay because I’m very interested in seeing what you do with those.” He jutted his chin toward the bowls of penis-shaped candy and squishy toys on the glass-topped coffee table. “I might get a complex. Although . . .” He led Gemma into the living room, grabbed a lollipop from the dish and swiveled it between his fingertips. “. . . I don’t think I have too much to worry about. I’m much better endowed than this.”
Gemma snaked her hands around his waist and clutched his ass. She tilted her head back. God, she was beautiful. Dressed in slim black dress pants and a leather vest, with only a hint of makeup, she warmed his blood and sent it rushing south.
Her eyes twinkled and she smiled a lopsided smile. The smile she always gave him when his body reacted to her touch, her kisses and holding her close. She snatched the candy from his hand. “Yes. And you’re much more satisfying. But you have to leave. It’s time to party.”
He expected nothing less than wild Gemma to be unleashed tonight. It would do her good to have fun with the girls. She needed it after everything that had happened.
He brushed the tip of her nose with his fingertip. “Are you going to behave?”
“Absolutely.” Gemma’s voice may have been slathered thick with innocence, but her eyes hinted at all kinds of trouble.
“Liar.” He kissed her forehead.
Her cheeks flushed. He knew her too well. Knew she was trying to be brave. Somehow, she’d glued her resilience back into place, but he knew it was paper thin.
“And what about you?” Cute wrinkles lined the bridge of her nose.
Kyle tilted his head back, skimmed over the huge golden chandelier and returned to Gemma’s inquisitive gaze. “I have absolutely no idea what Hunter and Hayden have planned. As long as they don’t shave off my eyebrows or ink me with more tattoos, well . . . no weird ones, anyway, I’m down with anything.”
Gemma slid her hands up to his shoulders and linked her fingers behind his neck. “I’m sure they’ll have a variety of lurid and fetish-oriented strippers lined up for you.”
Kara halted beside them; a wary smile drew over her mouth. “Hunt’s told me a few things. Kyle, you’ll crave a quiet and boring life after tonight. Trust me.”
What am I in for?
The combination of excitement and nerves had one foot glued to the floor, the other dragging him toward the door. “Typical Vegas night out with the boys then?”
Gemma tugged on the collar of his leather jacket. “Damn it. I’m missing out. I hate that. We should’ve had a joint party.” She pouted before her lips morphed into a sexy smile. “But go. Enjoy your lap dances, your titty fests, your booze. Because us girls will be living it up too. Deal?”
He drew her into a hug. “You are the most amazing woman. You know that?”
“I know.” She slapped his ass. “Now get going.”
“Love you.” He kissed her long and hard, savoring her minty breath. Showering with her an hour ago had been more than satisfying. “Have fun. I’ll see you in the morning.”
He collected his overnight bag and headed out the door. It didn’t matter what the guys had planned. He had no intention of getting out of control.
***
Kyle’s head spun. His eyes blurred. The grin on his mouth was as wide as the Las Vegas Strip was long. The buzz coursing through his veins was from alcohol, not the topless stripper writhing on his lap. She gyrated her sequined-G-string against his groin. Thrust her tits into his face.
The late afternoon of beers around the pool and the pizza for dinner led to dropping a ridiculous amount of cash across the high-roller’s blackjack table, then out to a private function room at a strip club for a constant stream of JD, lingerie waitresses and strippers. Candy was stripper number two.
Thank God no phones or photos were allo
wed in here.
“Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls boomed from the room’s speakers. Kyle sat on the chair in the middle of the gold velvet-draped room, surrounded by his friends. With drinks in hand, they hovered by the bar, sat on high stools, or lingered near the billiard table, cheering him on.
“Sucks to be you, Kyle!” Hayden hollered.
“Get a load of those babies.” Slade, the new drummer in their backup band, hooted.
Candy grabbed Kyle’s hands and placed them over her breasts—more than a handful. Fake. Tight nipples. Pert. But they weren’t Gemma’s. Gemma’s may have been small, but they were real. And more than enough.
Would Gemma be groping some male stripper? Have her hands writhing over his body? Kyle closed his eyes, hating the thought of her touching someone else. The lap dancer pressed his hands harder into her breasts and rolled them around in circles. He chuckled and shook his head. This is ridiculous, but fun.
Hunter mimicked Kyle’s actions, rolling his hands in the air. “How they feel?”
Kade laughed a raucous laugh. “Gem needs to get a set of those puppies.”
Nope. Gemma’s boobs are perfect.
Candy arched her chest toward Kyle and pulled his face between her cleavage. God, he’d suffocate in there. He ripped his head back and gasped for air. She ignored him and continued her routine.
Then there were two strippers, whipped cream, and some girl-on-girl action. He couldn’t deny it was wicked to watch. Totally hot. Time disappeared and he lost track of how much he’d drunk. He covered his mouth and belched under his breath. He’d wanted to keep his wits about him. Not do anything he’d regret.
Hunter handed him another shot. “Drink up, bud. The night is still young.”
How could Kyle refuse?
He took the glass, sucked in a deep breath, and knocked it down. It took an effort to swallow. The whiskey burned the back of his throat and pooled heavy in this gut. Damn, he’d have one mother of a headache tomorrow. But it’d be worth it.
Sometime after midnight, Hayden and Hunter hooked their arms around his waist, and with his other friends and security trailing behind, they dragged him back to the nightclub at Wynn, and into the cordoned off VIP section. The atmosphere buzzed with the DJ pumping out deafening tunes. Lights bathed the area, blue, then red, then green. Patterned projections swirled across the carpet—snowflakes, squiggles and squares. In the center, the dance floor overflowed with guys and girls, gyrating to the beat. Kyle blinked to focus. What the hell? The girls were here? Shit. But where was Gemma?
