Hot Ticket: Sinners on Tour (The Sinners on Tour)

by Olivia Cunning

  Jace glanced at the club’s door and released a frustrated sigh. He hadn’t gotten that wood-inducing dominatrix’s card, and he so needed to see her in private. Fighting tended to release some of his tension—that’s why he continued to box for recreation, even though he had a better gig in a rock band now—but getting in a bar fight didn’t sooth his soul’s turmoil. Not in the same way being whipped to the limits of his tolerance by a woman in spiked heels and black leather would.

  Sed scooped Trey off the sidewalk, tossed him over one broad shoulder, and headed to the pink ’57 Thunderbird parked at the curb. The sound of sirens grew increasingly loud.

  “Jace, let’s go!” Eric shouted.

  After one last look of longing at the club’s swinging doors, Jace climbed on his Harley, waited for Eric to settle down behind him, and then followed the car back to their tour bus behind the Mandalay Bay Hotel. Surely someone would report their vehicles. There were plenty of witnesses to the fight. Every member of his band was probably screwed. Busted. In huge trouble. Their manager, Jerry, had told them if any of them were arrested again, not to bother calling him. He refused to bail them out. He also threatened their stage crew with immediate termination should they lend their aid. Jerry didn’t make idle threats.

  When Jace pulled to a stop behind the tour bus, Trey stumbled out of Myrna’s car and leaned against the fender. At least he was conscious now. Jace rocked the bike back on its kickstand, shut off the engine, and went to check on Trey.

  “You all right, man?” Jace asked.

  None of his bandmates were what Jace would consider tan, but Trey looked downright ghostly.

  “Yeah. Just a little dizzy.” Trey pressed on his temples with both hands. “Fuck, my head hurts.”

  Brian leaned out the driver’s window. “Get back in the car, Trey, and we’ll take you to the hospital.”

  “Fuck that. You know I hate hospitals. Why do you think I never followed in my father’s footsteps?”

  “Because you’re too dumb to be a doctor,” Brian said. “Now get back in the car.”

  Sed unfolded his six-foot-four frame from the little car. “Listen to Brian, Trey. Get back in the car.” He grabbed Trey by the shoulders and tried to force him.

  Trey pulled out of his grasp. “Eric’s bleeding all over the fuckin’ place, and you aren’t threatening to take him to the hospital.”

  Sed shrugged. “Whatever. It’s just Eric.”

  “Thank you very fucking much for your concern, Sed,” Eric said. “Really. Appreciate it.” From the gash on the side of his head, blood continued to drip down Eric’s face and onto his black T-shirt.

  “Do you need stitches?” Jace asked.

  Eric’s brows drew together. “Do you?”

  Jace shook his head. “I’m not bleeding anywhere.”

  “And why is that, little man?”

  Jace shrugged, shifting his gaze to the ground to prevent Eric from recognizing that he’d managed to push his buttons. Again. He just couldn’t win with Eric. Ever. And he respected him too much to knock him on his ass. Jace took a deep breath and released it slowly as he stared at the ground. He took a lot of shit from Eric, but if that’s what he had to do to stay in this band, he’d continue to take it. Nothing else on this whole fucking planet meant more to him than these four brilliant musicians.

  “Sed, give me your sunglasses,” Brian said, now standing in their little huddle and waving a hand at Sed.

  “What the fuck do you need sunglasses for? It’s almost midnight.”

  “Just hand them over.”

  Sed retrieved his shades from his jacket pocket, handed them to Brian, and then took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m going in. Myrna is going to kill me for letting Brian get his ass kicked the night before their wedding.”

  “I didn’t get my ass kicked.”

  “You’ve looked better, my friend. Trust me on that.”

  Sed headed up the tour bus steps, followed by Eric.

  “You sure you’re okay, Trey?” Jace asked.

  “Yeah. I just need some ice.” Trey fingered the back of his head and winced. He followed Eric up the steps, only veering slightly to the left.

  “You go next,” Brian insisted of Jace.

  Jace grinned at him. “Afraid of Myrna?”

  “Hell, yeah, I’m afraid of Myrna. I hate arguing with her. She always wins. And she has every reason to be pissed at me. Who wants to stand at the altar with a guy who has two black eyes?”

  Jace’s grin widened, and the warmth of embarrassment spread across his face. “Myrna does. She loves you.”

  Brian took a deep breath. “I hope you’re right. God, I can’t get that ring on her finger fast enough. Okay, Jace, go. Sed’s probably broken the news to her by now. I need multiple obstacles in her path, and I don’t think she’d actually hit you. She thinks you’re the sweet one.” Brian almost choked on his laugh.

  Jace had never given Myrna a reason to think otherwise. “Everything will be okay. Just grovel.”

  “Grovel?” Brian looked reflective for a moment, and then nodded. “Can do.”

  Jace climbed the steps to find Myrna, still wearing her business suit and looking all prim and proper, when she was decidedly not prim and proper by any stretch of the imagination, fussing over the cut near Eric’s temple. Eric ate up every minute of her concern. He had a little, make that big, crush on Brian’s woman, so any attention she paid him made him giddy and stupid. Trey was searching the freezer for ice. Sed stood next to the dining table looking like he’d robbed a bank.

  It didn’t even take two minutes for Myrna to put Brian in his place. She was conscious enough of the lack of privacy to take their argument to the bedroom at the back of the bus, but even with the door closed, Jace could hear Brian’s groveling. He was doing a fine job by Jace’s estimation, though Myrna still didn’t sound too forgiving about her fiancé’s matching black eyes.

  Jace rubbed his swollen knuckles, wondering how he was going to play the next night. He couldn’t let himself get into any more fights. If he hurt his hands, Sinners would undoubtedly get rid of him. He didn’t want to give them a reason to fire him from the band. Not after he’d worked so hard to become a part of it.

  Sed retrieved a bottle of aspirin from the bathroom and grinned as he handed it to Trey. He nodded toward the thin bedroom door. “I guess they made up.”

  No more sounds of Brian groveling. Just the unmistakable cries of ecstasy that Myrna produced on a very regular basis.

  Trey laughed. “Who can stay mad at Brian?” He swallowed several pills and passed the bottle to Eric.

  “I’m glad they made up,” Eric said, holding a bloody dish towel to his temple. “I’d have felt terrible if she called the wedding off.”

  “You should feel terrible,” Jace said, staring at the floor, as he knew his gaze would hold a challenge. Through all the lessons his father tried to teach him, keeping defiance out of his gaze had never stuck. “You started the whole thing.”

  “Well, I didn’t ask for your help, little man, now did I?” Eric said.

  Nope, he hadn’t. Jace should have stayed out of it and let those bouncers rearrange Eric’s face.

  Jace pursed his lips and nodded slightly. He left the bus without a word, not in the mood for another confrontation. Not with Eric. The man who had no idea how much of a positive impact he’d had on Jace’s life. If he’d thought of Eric as anything less than his hero, he would have punched him in the face years ago.

  Jace climbed on his Harley, secured his helmet, and started the bike. The engine roared to life beneath him. The freedom the sound represented instantly brought him peace of mind. He headed off, not really knowing where he was going, but his thoughts had settled on a black-haired beauty with a whip. That woman was exactly what he needed.

  He wondered if she was still at the club. He needed to pick up that card she’d promised him and make an appointment for her perfect abuse.

  Immediately.

  Chapter 2r />
  Jace pulled into the alley alongside the strip club. He shouldn’t even be there. While he’d always been good at remaining unnoticed, he knew he had a distinctive appearance, and bouncers didn’t take kindly to getting their asses kicked. If they caught sight of him, he’d probably spend the night in jail. Or worse, the hospital. Participating in a fight was one thing, being jumped by a group of musclemen, another thing entirely. But he was willing to risk it to see her again. Her. Whoever she was. Hell, he didn’t even know her name.

  Jace turned off the Harley’s ignition, shifted the bike backward to engage the kickstand, and climbed off. Leaning against the side of the seat with his helmet on, he waited outside the back exit for his beautiful demon in black leather to emerge. He hoped he hadn’t missed her. He needed her. In a bad way. He’d wait all night if he had to. It wasn’t as if he had anywhere else to be.

  Over the next half hour, several people, mostly other dancers, exited the club through the back door. Jace earned a few curious glances, but no one questioned his motives.

  When she finally emerged, his breath caught. She wore a long, black fur coat over her leather bustier, black satin panties, and thigh-high boots. Jace suppressed a shudder of primal longing. She paused at the bottom of the steps and reached into her pocket, searching for something. A cigarette, perhaps?

  Jace patted his pockets looking for a lighter, but she pulled out a pack of gum and popped a piece in her mouth. She turned her head in his direction.

  Noticed him.

  His cock stirred with excitement. Anticipation. Every inch of his skin tingled with longing.

  Her full, red lips curled into a sexy smile.

  Did she recognize him? He didn’t know how. He still wore his helmet with its black face shield down. Maybe she smiled like that at every guy. He wasn’t sure why that thought bothered him. He just wanted to buy her services for a few hours, not make her a permanent fixture in his life. But as fixtures went, she was in a class all her own. Dear God, the woman was positively luscious.

  She walked toward him, moving gracefully, like a prowling cat. The closer she got, the harder his heart thudded and the faster it raced. Jace stood straight, stepping away from the bike.

  She stopped directly in front of him. He could feel her body heat through his clothes. It caressed his skin. Heightened his awareness of her.

  He leaned toward her. Wanting to touch her. Taste her. Experience everything she was.

  But mostly, he wanted her to beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

  “I thought you might show up,” she murmured. “I still owe you a dance.”

  In her three-inch, thigh-high boots, she stood a couple inches taller than him. Without them, he probably had an inch on her. Her height didn’t bother him. Looking up at her excited him. Her long white neck excited him. The sharp angle of her jaw. Smooth cheek. Full eyelashes. Thick, black bangs. The musky scent of her perfume mingled with leather and spearmint gum. The soft, husky sound of her voice. Everything about her excited him. He needed her. Now. It took every shred of his willpower not to drag her body against his.

  “How did you know it was me?” he asked.

  She lifted the visor of his helmet and stared into his eyes. Her cerulean blue irises stood in shocking contrast to her jet-black hair and porcelain-white skin. “Besides the fact that you’re still wearing the same clothes?”

  Oh.

  “It’s the way you carry yourself, angel. The tension in your body. It pulsates off you. How long has it been since you’ve had release?”

  He knew what she meant. She didn’t mean sexual release. He could have that any time he wanted. She meant how long since he’d gotten what he needed. The release she could give him. “Almost a year.”

  She pursed her lips with sympathy. “Poor baby. I’ll fix it.” She touched his cheek. “Make it all better.”

  Ripples of delight snaked along his jaw, down his neck and belly. Grabbed him by the balls. He shuddered. Reached for her. Needing it. Her.

  She slapped his hand away. “No.”

  He clenched his hand into a fist and lowered it to his side. He knew she was a domme and used to men taking her orders, so he allowed her to retain her power. For now. “Let’s go.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah, now. Right now.”

  She laughed. The rich, husky sound made his spine tingle.

  “I’ve got to go back to work, sugar.”

  His breath came out in a frustrated huff. “Then when? When?”

  “Tomorrow night. Ten o’clock.”

  Jace’s stomach tightened. He shook his head. “I can’t wait that long.”

  Her hand cupped his crotch. His breath caught. She squeezed his balls. Not too hard. Just enough to gift him with delicious agony. It hurt so good, he bit his lip to stop himself from crying out in ecstasy.

  “You will wait,” she said evenly. “Say it.”

  He resisted.

  She squeezed harder. “Say it.”

  He drew the horrible, sweet pain inside, craving more of the same.

  She removed her hand, and he winced. His stomach roiled, but he wanted more pain. Lots more. And he knew she wouldn’t give it to him, ever, unless he obeyed her. “I will wait.”

  She smiled and slid something into his hand. A business card. “This is the address. Be on time, or I won’t answer the bell.”

  He glanced down at her plain black business card. There was just enough light in the alley to make out the blood red text.

  Mistress V

  Specializing in corporal punishment

  Corporal punishment? Lord, he almost came down his leg, just seeing it in print.

  Jace took a steadying breath to clear his thoughts. He had other responsibilities to consider. Sinners had an important performance the next night. Would the concert be over by ten? Though they usually headlined, Sinners was opening tomorrow, so their set started earlier than usual. They should be done by nine thirty, so he’d have to hurry. “I’ll be there,” he said.

  “I look forward to making you beg for mercy,” she murmured.

  “Then you’ll be disappointed.” He slid her card into his pocket and climbed onto his bike. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life beneath him. “Until tomorrow.”

  Chapter 3

  Jace moved his ice pack from his left hand to this right. The swelling was starting to go down, but he knew he wouldn’t play for shit tonight. They were opening for Exodus End, in front of a sold out crowd. In fucking Las Vegas, Nevada. This should be a huge boost to their music careers, and they were all but guaranteed to suck. Sinners was moving up in the business, but Exodus End was at the top of the genre with no signs of slowing down. Could Sinners have picked a worse concert to be off their game? Not likely.

  Rock star hair wet from a recent shower, Eric sank onto the sofa beside Jace. “How’s the hand?”

  Jace shrugged. “I’ll live.”

  “Yeah, but more importantly, can you play?”

  Jace looked up at Eric, who had three thin strips of tape on his temple holding his wound closed. “Should be able to. How’s Trey?”

  “He’s taking a nap.”

  Jace drew his brows together. “A nap?” That didn’t sound like Trey. Shouldn’t he be out finding some girl to fuck for a couple hours? Or some guy? Trey didn’t care either way. “Maybe we should take him to the doctor.”

  “I think he’s kind of down about Brian getting married this afternoon. He won’t say anything, of course, but Brian isn’t going to have as much time for his best friend now that Wifey Sinclair is in the picture.”

  Jace guessed that made sense. Trey and Brian had been best friends for almost twenty years. They were even roommates. Trey was bound to feel left out now that Brian was married. “Yeah.”

  With no warning, Eric slapped Jace on the back of the head. “Why didn’t you ever mention that you fight like a UFC champion?”

  Jace glanced up at him. “You never asked.”

  “W
here did you learn to kick ass?”

  The cabin of the tour bus seemed to close in on Jace. He did not like to think about his past, much less talk about it. He stared at the ice pack on his hand and shrugged. “I dunno. How about you? You were kickin’ some ass.”

  Jace hoped to change the focus from himself to Eric. It usually worked to dissuade prying. Especially with Eric, attention whore extraordinaire.

  “I had no choice but to learn to fight. I was shuffled from foster home to foster home for fifteen years. I didn’t get the benefit of being matched with a sponsor who wanted to help kids or make a healthy family. They were all just looking for an easy paycheck. Half of them didn’t even feed me.” He shrugged, his blue eyes brightening as he effortlessly abandoned thoughts of his past. Jace wished he was capable of doing that. “Knocking heads together is fun though, right?”

  Fun? No, not really. Validating? Yeah, totally. “I guess. What started that fight anyway?”

  “You didn’t see that bouncer put Sed in a choke hold? He didn’t even release him when I told him he was a professional singer. I had to deck him one.”

  Jace would have probably decked him one too. Sed’s voice was one of those things that made Sinners so unique. Jace smiled slightly. “I’m glad we kicked their asses then.”

  “We should go rehearse.” Eric launched to his feet. “Our set is about half the length it usually is. I just know I’ll end up kicking off with the intro to ‘Twisted’ when I should be playing ‘Good-bye Is Not Forever.’”

  Jace chuckled. “I have the feeling we’re gonna suck tonight anyway.” He climbed from the comfortable leather sofa and tossed his melting ice pack in the tour bus’s small freezer.

  “No one will notice. The fans will be too excited to see Exodus End to give a rat’s ass what we do.”

  “I think they’ll notice that we suck.”

  Eric chuckled. “Don’t worry. No one ever listens to the bass guitarist. Suck as much as you want.”

  Jace bit his lip to prevent himself from telling Eric off. The tension was really starting to get to him, and he needed an outlet. How many hours until he could visit Mistress V? He glanced at the clock on the stereo. Shit. Four hours too many.