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

by Olivia Cunning

  Aggie’s nose wrinkled. “In eggs?”

  “And I’m starving. I need to eat.”

  Aggie kissed his lips and rose from the bed. “I’ve got you, baby. You rest.” She reached for her clothes.

  While Eric pretended to be the Swedish Chef from the Muppet Show, Aggie monitored his progress and cooked the bacon. Whenever he reached for a spice to sprinkle in the huge pan of eggs, Aggie smacked it out of his hand. Eric cooked like he did everything else: to the beat of a different drummer with all the heart and enthusiasm he could muster. And while she expected things to be weird between them now (she’d just washed his cum off her belly, after all), he didn’t act differently around her at all. If anything, he seemed more relaxed and friendlier than before.

  Aggie spread strips of bacon over a paper towel to collect the grease and dumped frozen hash browns into the bacon pan. She put a lid on the top to stop the grease from spattering.

  “Why don’t you make some toast? The bread’s in that cabinet there.” He pointed with his spatula.

  While she was occupied with opening the bread wrapper, Eric reached for the allspice.

  “No,” she said, grabbing the bottle from his hand.

  “It’s called allspice,” he said. “Doesn’t that mean it should be used to spice all?”

  “Eric, add that crap to your own eggs after everyone gets their safe serving.”

  “Safe? Boring, you mean.”

  “Eggs are supposed to be boring.”

  Jace opened the bedroom door and hobbled to the table. Wearing nothing but jeans and his sling (which he’d been using less, so its appearance must mean his shoulder was bothering him), he slid into the booth. Resting his left elbow on the table, he propped his forehead up with his hand.

  “You wore his ass out, Aggie. Look at him.”

  Oh, she was looking at him, all right.

  “Shut up, Sticks,” Jace murmured.

  The toast popped, and Aggie buttered a slice. She handed it to Jace. “Eat this while you wait for your eggs.”

  Jace lifted his head from his hand, patted her butt affectionately, and accepted the piece. “Thanks.”

  “I smell food,” Brian said, leaning out of his bunk. “Smells good. Who’s cooking?” He blinked his eyes in the light of the cabin until they focused on Eric at the stove. “Sticks? Never mind. I’ll starve.” He closed his curtain again.

  “Good,” Jace called, his mouth full of toast. “Leaves more for me.”

  “Aggie’s got him under control,” Trey said, hopping out of his bunk and stealing bacon from the counter.

  Trey sat across from Jace and handed him a piece of his bacon. “You okay, man?”

  “Yeah.”

  Sed climbed out of his bunk and slid next to Trey, his big body taking up more than its share of the booth. “I’m in,” he said. When he tried to help himself to Trey’s bacon, he got his hand slapped.

  Brian hopped down from his bunk. “I guess if the rest of you die of food poisoning, there’s no reason for me to go on alone.”

  “Think of Myrna,” Trey said.

  “I’m mostly thinking of my stomach.” Brian scooted in next to Jace. “Man, you sure you should be out of the hospital? You look like death warmed over.”

  Now Aggie felt guilty. She exchanged glances with Eric. “We should have let him sleep in this morning,” she whispered as she turned the hash browns.

  “He usually doesn’t get out of bed until noon. He always looks like shit in the morning.”

  Aggie went to the refrigerator and shoved the beer aside until she found a bottle of orange juice. She unscrewed the top and set it in front of Jace. “Here, baby, drink this.”

  He blushed at her sentiment, and it did not go unnoticed by the other guys. “Yeah, baby, dwink your juice all up,” Trey said. “Be a good widdle man.”

  Brian pinched Jace’s cheek. “Such a cute widdle baby, isn’t he? He needs to dwink his juice from his sippy cup.”

  Scowling, Jace slapped Brian’s hand away.

  Aggie grinned. The guys loved him. That’s why they teased him relentlessly. He was like their adored little brother. Why couldn’t Jace see that? Maybe Aggie needed to help him see what was already there.

  Chapter 34

  Jace stood behind the stage watching the roadies set up for the concert in Edmonton. He could hang out here until they were done. Then he’d have to leave because Jon would start rehearsing with the band for their show. He couldn’t force himself to watch that.

  The next night there’d be a symphony playing in this venue, and the orchestra’s instruments had already been delivered. They were lined up along the back wall behind the stage area which made it challenging for the roadies to maneuver their stage sections into place. Feeling woozy from looking at the rigging, Jace meandered to the bench in front of the symphony’s grand piano. He sat heavily and took a deep breath. Maybe he should check himself into a hospital. He couldn’t regain his strength. That probably had to do with keeping Aggie satisfied. It was impossible to keep his hands off her. He didn’t bother trying.

  Jace leaned against the keyboard of the piano, and it pinged discordantly. Someone had forgotten to cover the keys. He turned on the bench, tossed back the heavy canvas covering the instrument, and reached for the little knob connected to the wooden lid. His wrist hit the keys. He paused, instantly transported back in time. He could almost feel his mother sitting beside him, her arm pressed against his shoulder, her leg against his. During those times, he pretended she cared about him.

  Jace shrugged his sling aside and allowed his fingers to settle on the keys, his feet on the pedals. He definitely felt Mother as his fingers found a familiar melody. He could hear her, speaking in that barely perceptible whisper of hers. Don’t play the music, Jason. Let the music play you. Give yourself over to it. Let it inside. It’s alive. Do you feel it?

  Music was alive. He did feel it. He always had. It was more real than his own existence.

  Jace let the melody take him, giving his fingers free rein. The keys beside him, where his mother’s fingers should have rested, remained still, but he heard her playing with him as surely as if she’d been sitting beside him. When he reached the end of the song, the final note rang and his mother faded away.

  “I didn’t know you played piano,” Aggie said. “That was beautiful.” She slid onto the bench beside him. “Play something else.”

  He shook his head and pulled the cover forward to hide the keyboard. He hurriedly slipped his arm back in his sling so she didn’t harass him about playing. Aggie took his left hand and squeezed. How did she always know when he was feeling most vulnerable? She sensed it like a vulture senses carrion, and circled overhead, waiting for the perfect opportunity to swoop down and rip his heart out.

  “Where did you learn to play?” She brushed his hair behind his ear with her free hand. It was getting too long to spike, and he needed to bleach his roots, but since he wasn’t performing, he didn’t bother.

  The shiny black cover that hid the keyboard blurred out of focus. “My mother taught me.”

  “She must have been talented.”

  “Yeah. Music was the only thing she really loved.”

  Aggie’s hand slid over his lower back, and she leaned against him. “And you. She loved you.”

  He shook his head slightly. “No. She never wanted me.”

  “I don’t believe that.”

  He found the anger—found it and clung to it. “I don’t give a fuck what you believe.”

  He shoved her away and tried to stand, but she grasped him around the waist and pulled him back on the bench.

  “I don’t believe that either. Talk.” She slid a hand up his face and turned his head. He couldn’t meet her eyes, so he stared at her chin. “Talk to me, Jace.”

  He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to fester. Why wouldn’t she leave him alone?

  “Tell me why you think your mother didn’t want you.”

  The ache in his chest sprea
d up his throat, stealing his air. “Because…” He took a deep shaky breath. “Because she told me. Every day she told me.”

  He fought the stinging ache behind his eyes. Men don’t cry, son. Yes, Father. I know. I know. It’s her fault. Aggie’s. She won’t leave me alone. She keeps pushing. And pushing.

  “What did she say exactly, Jace?” Aggie asked. “Maybe you misunderstood.”

  He laughed bitterly. “Yeah, I was just a dumb kid. I must have misunderstood.” He peeled her off his body and stood. He’d lock himself in the men’s room for a while until he got himself under control. Surely she wouldn’t follow him there.

  Aggie shoved him back down on the bench. His back hit the fall board covering the piano keys, and pain snaked through the healing wound in his shoulder. She straddled his lap, facing him, and grabbed his chin in one hand. She had that cold, dominatrix look in her eyes. It effectively got his attention.

  “You’re not going to get out of this that easily. You can pretend to be mad at me, but it won’t get me off your case.”

  “Who’s pretending?”

  “You are. Tell me what your mother said that hurt you so deeply.”

  “I’m not hurt.”

  “You are hurt, you dummy, and that pain won’t ever go away unless you let it go. I want to help you, but I don’t know what I’m up against, Jace. Talk to me. Tell me.”

  “Maybe I don’t want it to go away. Maybe I like it. You’re the one who made me admit I like pain.”

  She hit him in the chest with both palms. “This isn’t a game anymore, dammit. Don’t you get it?” She hugged him unexpectedly, pressing her nose into his neck. Her warm breath brushed his skin beneath his ear. “I’m sorry I hit you. I’m so frustrated. What did she say to you, sweetheart? What did she say? Go away? Give me a minute to myself? Go play in your room for a while, Mommy’s busy right now? What? Just tell me.”

  Jace snorted. If Mother had only been so kind. He repeated his mother’s mantra to Aggie in the same low whisper she’d always used. Mother had always whispered it close to his ear, as if she wasn’t really saying those hurtful words, if she said them quietly enough, if no one heard them but him. “If it weren’t for you, Jason, I could have had my dream. If it weren’t for you, Jason, I wouldn’t have had to marry your father. Why did I get pregnant? I should have given you up for adoption. I never wanted you. You’re the reason I live like this. In this hovel. With that man. I could have been a concert pianist. I could have been somebody. And now, you know what I am? I’m just your mother. That’s all I am. His wife. Your mother. I am no one. I don’t want to be your mother, Jason. I never did. I’ll give you away. Give you to someone who can stand to look at you.”

  His hands gripped Aggie’s waist as old fears found their way into his heart. “She left me places, Aggie. She pretended she was happy to see me when the cops brought me home. ‘He’s always wandering off by himself,’ she’d tell them and then give them coffee and cookies while she told them stories about my wandering ways. They’d laugh about how cute I was. ‘He’s adorable. You’re lucky no one took him,’ they’d say. I was afraid to leave the house with her. I never knew where she’d leave me. When we were out, I didn’t dare go to the bathroom or turn my back or let her out of my sight, because if I did, she’d be gone. I could never find her. I’d look for her and call for her, but she’d be gone. She didn’t want me, Aggie. She never wanted me. But when we played piano together, I felt something—some closeness to her. I don’t know what it was.” Something hot and wet slipped down his cheek. “She loved that fucking piano, but she never loved me.” He dashed a tear away angrily. “Do you see why I don’t want to talk about this? Now I’m fuckin’ crying like a little girl.”

  Aggie crushed his face into her chest, her body shaking with sobs. What was she crying about? She’d wanted him to tell her, so he had. And now she was crying? Women. He didn’t understand them.

  Aggie kissed the top of his head, rubbing her face against his hair. Getting it wet with tears. Messing it up. Making him feel like a total ass. What if one of the guys saw them like this? He’d never hear the end of it.

  “She’s gone, Jace. She can’t hurt you anymore.”

  She was gone. His mother. And before she died, he never got to tell her it didn’t matter that she didn’t love him. He loved her. And that fucking piano of hers? He loved it too. A week after she’d been buried, his father had donated her piano to some school—gotten rid of it because it reminded him of her. That had been worse for Jace, somehow, than her actual death. Father wanted no reminders of her in his house. The woman had been everything to him. Not just his wife. His life. He’d changed after she’d died. He became crueler than Jace’s mother had ever thought of being, because Dad needed someone to blame for the love of his life’s premature death, and Jace had been the only one available to hold responsible.

  Jace closed his eyes tightly, blocking thoughts of his father from his mind.

  Aggie kissed his temple tenderly. “I think she did love you, Jace, but it doesn’t matter. She’s gone, and I’m here. I love you. I do. I love you.”

  Fear paralyzed him. He couldn’t move when every instinct told him to run. “Don’t,” he whispered.

  “Shhh,” Aggie murmured. “It’s okay. I know you don’t know how to respond. I understand. I won’t ever abandon you. I’ll be here whenever you need me.”

  And that was far more terrifying than being six years old and left alone in the reptile house at the zoo. At least there, the things that frightened him were in cages. They couldn’t get to him. But Aggie got to him. And it scared the hell out of him. “Will you hurt me?” he asked. “I need it.” The pain was too raw. He needed help burying it again.

  She cupped his face in both hands—kissed his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his lips. “Yes. I’ll hurt you. I know what to do now.”

  Panic flooded his chest. She knew what to do? What did she mean by that?

  “We need someplace private,” she murmured. “Do you think the guys would be willing to install a soundproof room on the tour bus?”

  Jace laughed. “You know, they might. We wouldn’t be the only ones to benefit from that.”

  She kissed him again, smiling down at him. “Let’s go.”

  ***

  Aggie approached Sed, who sat slouched on the couch watching television in a trancelike state next to Eric. Jace headed straight for the bedroom.

  Sed glanced at her. “What’s up?”

  “Do you think you could get everyone to stay off this bus for about an hour? Jace and I need a little privacy. Well, a lot of privacy.”

  “It’s just me and Eric here. Don’t mind us. We’ve heard it all before.”

  “Can I watch?” Eric asked eagerly.

  “No, this is different. He won’t let me in if he thinks you guys can hear him.” She leaned close to the guys and whispered so Jace couldn’t overhear. “He always worries about what you guys think of him—that you won’t accept him for who he is. We’ll work on that eventually, but right now, I need to help him bury his mother.”

  “His mother died?” Sed asked, looking stunned. “When?”

  “Around fifteen years ago. You didn’t know?”

  Sed shook his head. Both he and Eric glanced down the corridor at Jace, who was trying to play it cool by leaning against the door frame. He looked ready to leap out of his skin.

  “He never talks about himself,” Sed said. “He has this wall thing he does.”

  Aggie knew exactly what Sed meant. Jace’s wall. He hid behind it often, and once he put it up, it was nearly impossible to tear it down. “I’m working on that too,” Aggie said. “So, do you think you could get lost for an hour?”

  Sed climbed to his feet. “Yep. I could use a workout anyway.”

  “And keep everyone off the bus?” Aggie added.

  Eric pulled a drumstick from the inner pocket of his leather vest and held it across his chest like a sword. “I shall guard this dwelling, m’lady, a
nd vanquish all who dare attempt to trespass.” He took a stab at Sed with his improvised weapon. “Back, foul beast.”

  “With this guy as your knight, you’d better be sure to lock the door.” Sed slipped into his jacket and headed down the bus steps.

  Eric winked at her and loped after Sed. Aggie closed the bus door and secured it. She took a deep breath and let Mistress V come to the surface. As much as Aggie would have loved to help Jace by talking, listening, and showering him with love, she knew she wouldn’t get through to him that way. But Mistress V could. Mistress V could break him. Mistress V would break him.

  She stalked down the hall. “Get in there,” she demanded, shoving him toward the bedroom. He stumbled sideways through the open doorway.

  “Why did Sed and Eric leave?”

  “Do you want them to hear you beg?”

  “I won’t.”

  She lifted her eyebrows. “Wanna bet?”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, actually—”

  “Take off your clothes.” She went to the closet and lugged his big suitcase out. There had to be something in there she could use.

  She found the chain and the cuffs on top of his tools of pleasure and climbed on the bed to suspend them from the ceiling.

  “Aggie, what—”

  She hopped off the bed and grabbed him by the ear. “Mistress V,” she corrected.

  “Mistress V,” he said breathlessly.

  “I told you to strip. Take off the sling too.” She released him and returned to the suitcase. She found a paddle, slapped it against her thigh, and set it aside.

  Jace made short work of his clothes and moved to stand over her shoulder, peering into the suitcase. “I think there’s a riding crop in there somewhere.”

  “Did I say you could speak? Go tip the mattress and box spring against the wall.”

  “Why?”

  “Don’t question me.”

  He did as she asked and revealed a wooden platform under the mattresses. Perfect.

  “Stand there,” she pointed to the center of the platform, right beneath the restraints.