Nic was jumping with the crowd, singing along with a huge smile on her wide mouth. Adam had shook his long curls free from his ever present hat to headbang with his wife.
Bella laughed and clapped along. The vibe and the energy of the crowd could not be denied. They rolled into Oblivion’s “The Becoming” and Deacon’s bass took up from where the drums left off in the last song.
Her husband-to-be was a master at making a setlist. From “Brown Eyed Girl” to “Ramble On” he hadn’t missed a step in the ninety minute set. When the lights went down, the crowd stomped and clapped for an encore.
Bella and Nic joined in on the hoots and hollers until a single spotlight flashed on at the edge of the stage. Logan was behind his upright piano, idly playing a nameless tune that she’d heard a million times at the house. He swiped a towel over his face as he positioned the mic. “I wanted to thank all of you for coming out. You helped to raise over four hundred thousand dollars for the King Foundation this weekend.”
The crowd went nuts again, until Logan held up his hand. “Music saved my life a million times over the years. When I lost my mother it was the only thing that pulled me away from the angry edge of destruction. I created the King Foundation to give back to kids and make sure they had a place to learn to play piano, guitar, drums, or even the tuba if they so desired. As promised, I’ll be matching that donation.”
Nic bumped into her. “Kinda a great guy you got there, sistah.”
Bella grinned at her best friend. “Yeah, he kinda is.”
The light piano piece he used to warm up flowed into the opening tones of a Journey song. “Music may have saved me as a teen, and as an adult it’s shaped me in immeasurable ways, but for the first time in my life I found someone that was equally as important to me. Some of you may have heard the news already, but that amazing lady is allowing me the distinct honor of being her husband.”
Isabella dabbed at the corners of her eyes.
Nic rested her head against her shoulder. “Do we get to sway now?”
Bella laughed and slid her arm around her best friend’s back. “I’ve got a real life loveline dedication going on here.”
“Damn right.”
“It might be a little overused, but it’s a classic for a reason. No one does it better than Journey when it comes to a love song. For my wife-to-be, Miss Isabella Grace.”
For the first verse, he played alone. The words to “Faithfully” could have been written by any musician, but it suited them to the ground. He closed his eyes and lost himself in the song.
Her chest tightened and another few tears made their escape. When the rest of the band joined in, she managed to dial it back. She slipped through the crowd and up the side stairs to backstage.
After a bit of ribbing from the guys, Logan gave a double middle finger to Zeke and they launched into a rousing cover of “Times Like These”. When the set came to an end they all poured off the stage.
Zeke caught her up in a sweaty hug. “You’re turning my best friend into a big ole sap.”
“You love it.”
“With him off the market, I certainly have a lot more fun.”
Bella rolled her eyes and yelped when a familiar arm looped around her waist and dragged her back against him.
“How’d we do?”
She twisted in his arms and heedless of his sweaty self, she laid a hot kiss on him.
When he pulled back, his green eyes were sparkling. “I’m going to say we did okay.”
“Just a tad.”
He laughed and hung an arm around her shoulders. “I need a shower, but I’ll meet you guys at the fair.” He looked over her shoulder. “Where’s Sarah?”
Isabella nodded to the side stairs. “There she is.”
“Don’t lose her, Izzy. It’s nuts here.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry.” She pecked him on the cheek. “I can’t believe you did that song.”
“I’m never going to live that song down.”
“Nope. I can guarantee it will live on in infamy thanks to YouTube,” Nick said as he passed by. “Video is going to be the death of me.”
Logan held out a hand. “Thanks so much for coming out.”
“Gray and the Pink Pixie wanted to come, but that baby has grounded her.”
“They’re welcome anytime, and so are you.”
“I’ll pass it along.” He nodded to Bella. “Have a good one.”
“I’m going to head to the store for a quick change and the raffle tickets for the guitar.”
Logan nodded. “That was a great idea. I swear it threw an extra few grand in the donations.”
“Memorabilia is always the way to go, darlin’.” She dragged him down for one more kiss. “I’ll see you at the sound booth.”
She hit the stairs running and met Sarah at the side of the room. She was standing with Nic and Adam. “Hey.”
“Could you kindly not run off on me?”
Bella laughed. “Sorry. Romantic fiancé moment. I got carried away.”
“Yeah, well, don’t.”
“Well, you’re here now. We have to go back to the store for the raffle tickets for the guitar and I need a new shirt.”
Nic nodded. “I swear I sweated as much as the almost hubs.”
“No chance of that,” Bella said with a smile.
They ducked out the back door and hit the back trails.
“You know I hate it back here.”
Bella jogged down the incline to the path that led to the other stage. “Yes, but we’ll never get through all those other people in time.”
Sarah scanned the dark woods. “We’re way too exposed.”
“This is the last time you’ll have to do this trail.”
“Thank fuck,” she muttered.
Bella hooked her arm into Nic’s. “I’ll be glad when tonight’s over. I passed tired yesterday.”
“Tell me about it. The sales sure were nice though.”
“That is the truth.”
They broke out onto Main Street and raided the lemonade tent before heading over to the store. A huge crowd of people were already gathered for All the King’s Men’s set. The Summer Festival had grown yet again, thanks to the amazing list of bands that had signed up.
She crossed the street to Between the Lines and typed in her passcode with a yawn. Just a few more hours and she could fall down for a week. Well, at least a day. Everyone followed her in. The night was muggy and the store was humid with it.
Sarah flicked on the lights and did a onceover of the room. “All right, girls, I can’t breathe in here. If you’re not back outside in three minutes, I will be yelling.”
Nic clicked her heels together and saluted.
“Smart ass,” Sarah mumbled. “Adam and I will be outside.”
Bella ran for the counter where she’d stashed her bag. “The tickets are on the piano bookcase,” she yelled over her shoulder.
“Got it.”
Bella flipped her top off behind the counter and tugged on a fresh cotton shirt. Just as she was tucking her top back into her overnighter, a wall of heat flared. She looked up and the counter blasted forward, slamming her into the window.
Her vision fractured and white hot pain bloomed against her left side.
Then there was nothing at all.
∞ ♦ ∞
Logan clinked glasses with Zeke. “It’s been a good night, brother.”
“No Aimee sightings, a good set, another one to go, and a sea of available women. This night couldn’t be better.”
He tossed back the twenty-year-old scotch that Morgan had smuggled onto the stage. With the watchful eyes of Sharon, that was a feat in itself.
He felt the ground rumble first. His first instinct was to look up. It was humid enough for a storm. The boom of shattering glass followed by an inferno of fire pluming into the sky froze him into place.
Tentacle-like fingers of black smoke twined around and through heavy licks of flame.
Across the st
reet. That was across the street.
“No!” Logan pushed Zeke out of the way and set out at a dead run. Screams scoured his ears then there was thick, cotton batting-filled silence as panic and terror took over. He blasted through the crowd of people as unfathomable heat shimmered around him.
The windows of Between the Lines were blown out and a billowing cloud of black smoke reached for the star-studded sky. Flames shot out of every broken pane.
Cops and security swarmed the area, trying to push back the thousands of people converging on Main Street.
“Sir! You can’t—”
Logan kept running. Adam lay in a crumpled heap beside Sarah.
“Izzy!” He screamed her name. The storefront was a twisting mess of wood and steel with glass blanketing every blessed inch. He fell to his knees, and the heat made him flinch away.
He kept low and crawled forward. The door had been blown off and he headed for it. He raised his arm against the heat, flinching when another crash of glass dropped down from the window next to the door. He spotted a hand under…God, was that their counter?
It had blown through the window. He altered course and pushed at the heavy wood. Familiar dark hair was tangled with blood.
So much blood.
He jammed his shoulder under the desk. Another set of hands came to his aid and they both shoved up.
“Nic.”
“It’s okay, baby. We’re going to get you out of here.” His voice shook as badly as his hands, but he held onto the desk. “Izzy, you stay with me.”
“Nic,” she said on a slur.
The other man, a huge guy hefted the desk up. “Get her out of there.”
Logan dropped to his knees and tugged her clear. She screamed out and blood slicked his hands. “No. You are not leaving me, you hear me?”
“You have to get Nic.”
Logan peered around the desk to the inside of the store and saw Nic pinned under the piano bookcase engulfed in flames. “I can’t get to her.”
“No.” Her voice was a whispered sob. “No, please.”
“Baby, she’s gone.”
He hauled her into his arms as the man that had helped him dropped the desk. Another tremor rocked the street. He covered her instinctively as glass exploded from the windows on the top floor.
Sirens blared and he spotted a fire truck. Then she was being pulled away from him. He recognized the uniform of a paramedic and his heart beat again. “Save her.”
“I’m damn well going to try.”
For more of Izzy and Logan please read the conclusion of the
WHEN YOU’RE GONE TRILOGY
EDGE OF FOREVER
AVAILABLE MARCH 24th 2015
PREORDER HERE
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Lost In Oblivion: Introduction
SEDUCED
CHAPTER ONE
NICK: LOSING IT
She’s my last hope, when hope can’t be found.
“Holy shit, Lita Ford had some nice tits.”
Nick Crandall set his guitar on the plaid monstrosity behind him and yanked the unlit cigarette out of his mouth. No wonder he couldn’t get in the right headspace. He’d been working on this song for days—okay, weeks—and the few lines of chicken scratch he’d come up with wouldn’t win any awards, that was for damn sure. “Seriously, Simon?”
“That’s not Lita Ford. Hot, but definitely not Lita.” Deacon manipulated his tuning keys instinctively, his eyes focused on the television.
“You sure?” Simon continued staring at the plasma TV, happily oblivious.
Nick scowled. So much for actually writing some freaking songs. Flash a pair of silicone boobs in some Day-Glo netting and the guys were gone.
There was only one thing that would get them in the right frame of mind.
He stalked over to the flat screen and yanked the cord out of the wall. The platinum-haired woman in the video onscreen with her legs spread like a damn wishbone wailed into silence as the screen went black.
Groans sounded behind him. “Jesus fuck, really?” Simon pushed a hand through his dark hair and flopped on the couch beside Nick’s guitar. He shoved it aside harder than Nick preferred, but hey, a guy denied eye candy couldn’t be expected to be gentle with their goddamn equipment, right?
The same equipment that would maybe, just fucking maybe, someday lead to them getting a deal that would get them out of this shithole basement. They lived beneath a frigging laundromat, of all things. He’d woken up with the smell of flowery detergent burning his nostrils more times than he could count. Not that Simon seemed to care about that, since he spent many of his nights elsewhere with his latest woman of the hour.
Nick clambered over Deacon’s outstretched legs, currently propped on the coffee table, and shoved his cigarette back between his lips before he snatched his guitar. He kicked Simon’s leg out of the way, earning a grunt and a kick in return. “What’s your problem, dick?”
“My problem is you. Both of you,” Nick added. “Can’t you get some focus? And not on that screen. We have a gig this weekend.”
“What gig? We don’t have a drummer.” Deacon dropped his head on the back of the sofa. His shaggy brown hair fell away to reveal the scruff that drove the ladies wild.
Assuming they ever got in front of ladies—or anyone else—ever again.
“So what? We just roll over and play frigging dead? We’ll learn what we need to. And we have songs that don’t rely on—”
“Ballads.” Simon leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stabbed his fingers into his eyes. His bloodshot eyes. The ass hadn’t stopped drinking since yesterday, which didn’t help that whole attention-span thing. “You want us to sing damn harmonies like we’re some fuck-all choir?”
Nick bit down on the cigarette clamped between his teeth. He hadn’t smoked for six months and six days, but if he was going to break his streak any night, tonight would be it. “You got a better idea?”
“I do.” Deacon scrubbed his cheeks with both hands and sat up. “Cancel the gig until we figure this shit out. Maybe Snake will get clean. Or maybe we’ll find someone else.”
Nick stared at his two best friends as if he’d never seen them before. Right then he didn’t recognize the defeat on their faces, that was for damn sure. “Snake’s not getting out of detox for a while, which you damn well know.”
Simon unfolded himself from the lumpy sofa and strode across the room. He climbed the wooden step stool shoved against the wall and slammed open the window. The cool March breeze blew into the stuffy basement until Simon pushed his head and half his torso out. His naked stomach scraped the sill but he probably didn’t even feel it. Drunk motherfucker.
“What the hell are you doing?” Nick asked.
“Getting some goddamn air. Problem?”
“You’re letting all the heat out.”
Simon ducked back inside. “Quit your bitching. You don’t pay for it.”
“Mrs. Martine does,” Nick muttered. The old lady who owned the Fluff and Fold let them live there for free because they helped look out for things for her. At least he and Deak did. Simon didn’t look out for anything that didn’t begin with ‘S’ and end with ‘n’.
“It’s hot as hell in here. I swear those dryer vents are aimed right over my bunk.” Deacon crossed the room and dragged Simon off the stool. “Get in here, idiot.”
As usual,
Deacon diffused the tension between him and Simon. Or tried to anyway. Every time Nick looked at Simon lately he wanted to bury his fist into his too-pretty face.
Simon stumbled down and veered into the chipped crates they used for a coffee table. Only Deacon’s quick reflexes kept him from pitching head first onto the floor.
“Jesus.” Nick breathed in deep through his nose. “I pay the rest of the bills. I’m sorry if that makes me too responsible for you fuckwits.”
“Yeah, yeah, whine some more, why don’t you?” Simon dropped onto the purple club chair jammed into the corner, propping his foot on a Marshall amplifier. He pushed his hair out of his face. “You’re the only one who cares about the band. The only one who makes money to pay our bills. Deak and me are just the jerks who’re holding you back. Blah fucking blah. The song is as tired as your lyrics lately.”
Nick jerked up from the couch. “If you’re so fucking gifted, where are all your new songs then? Looks like you’re about as dry as I am.”
Simon staggered to his feet. “You got a problem?
Nick took a step forward and flashed a tight smile when Simon swayed. He’d enjoy giving his best friend a good pounding. It was a nice way to vent some frustration, and hell, it wouldn’t be the first time. “Maybe I do.”
“So get gone then. See if we give a flying fuck.”
Despite Nick’s own anger, Simon’s quick, careless response cut him deep. “So that’s how it is? You want me to go?”
Simon shrugged. “Don’t give a shit.”
“Want me out? You gotta kick me out.” Nick set his cig on the end table—he wasn’t wasting his last one—and flexed his fists. “Bring it, Pretty Boy.”
LOST IN OBLIVION
the Series
SEDUCED (intro)
ROCKED (book #1)
Bulletproof Weeks Page 16
