Ten years later
The screams were deafening. Strobe lights blinded me. Smoke from the pyrotechnics crept around my ankles. On stage, my father sang, clutching a microphone with both hands. “You left me on the side of the road. A no-show. Our love a no-go.” I hummed along, the music rattling my bones, stirring my soul.
“One more song, Addy,” a voice yelled over the din. “We need to head back to the bus to finish your homework.” At those words, my lips pursed in a pout. I turned on my heel, crossing my arms. A petite redhead stared back at me, her body locked in a similar take-no-shit position. She’d been my nanny for years. After a series of nannies who hadn’t worked out because I hated them, or Billy slept with them, or I hated them and Billy slept with them, we’d finally settled on Daisy. Sweet Daisy. Fresh out of teaching college, Daisy was whip-smart, young and pretty. A sister I’d never had. Plus she refused put up with Billy’s bullshit. I adored her. Billy respected her, even fell in love with her. A perfect combination.
I tipped my chin up. “Three more songs.”
“Two.” She eyed me speculatively.
“Ha!” I said. “I only wanted to hear the first two anyway.”
“I would’ve let you stay for three.” Daisy grinned. “I’m going back to the bus. I’ll meet you there.” She poked me in the arm. “Twenty minutes, Addison. Or I’ll sic Trent on your ass.” A beefy, bald man with two gold front teeth, Trent was my father’s head of security. I’d seen him put down rabid fans as easy as tearing paper. Headlocks were a specialty of his. His other specialty? Wrangling me, of course.
I dragged a finger over my heart and promised, “Cross my heart, I’ll be in the bus in twenty minutes to face my death by algebra.” Like any seventeen-year-old girl, I had a flair for the dramatic.
Daisy waved and took off. I waited a moment to make sure she was gone. Across the stage, I spied Trent. He winked at me, gold teeth flashing. I mouthed “bathroom” and pointed in that direction. Trent jerked his head, giving silent permission. My steps were light as I slipped away.
Another thing about seventeen-year-old girls, we lie. I guess that’s unfair to teenagers. Let me amend. I lied. A lot.
I didn’t want to listen to more songs.
I didn’t want to do algebra for the next two hours.
And I sure as hell didn’t have to pee.
All sorts of things went on backstage during a concert. Scantily-clad women danced. Bottles of booze were chugged. Expensive drugs were snorted. I’d seen a lot. But I hadn’t done a lot—this all in spite of my father, who treated the world as his personal pleasure palace. Tonight I vowed to break my alcohol cherry.
I lifted a bottle from the open bar. Not a hard task. The bartender was busy ogling one of the aforementioned scantily-clad women. Clear bottle of who knew what kind of alcohol clutched to my chest, I stole away down a dimly lit back hallway. I ground to a halt. Six feet away a security guy stood, hands on his hips. I recognized his back, his bald head—Trent. He hadn’t seen me. There were two doors, one to the left and one to the right of me. I dodged left. Ducking into the room, I closed the door softly behind me, leaned against it, squeezed my eyes shut, and willed my heartbeat to calm.
“Hi.” A deep voice startled me.
My eyes flew open. My mind blanked.
My first coherent thought: Wow.
A guy lounged on a gray couch. Lamps scattered the room, but only one was lit, a piece of purple cloth strung over it. Half of him was in shadow, but the half I could see… it did things to me. Bad things. His hair was shaved on both sides, but long on top and slicked back. He had thick brows set over blue eyes the color of a glacier. His nose was straight and adorned by a septum piercing. A bull ring. Colorful tats, I couldn’t tell what of, ringed his neck and dipped below the collar of his plain tee. He licked his lips, drawing my attention.
“Whatcha doing?” he asked, arching a single brow.
Still in a daze, I held my pilfered bottle aloft. “Just looking for a private place to drink this.”
He stood and sauntered toward me, his muscled frame graceful. Two feet away he whistled low and took the bottle from my sweaty hands. “The hard stuff, I see.” He flashed the label at me. Seltzer water. Damn.
My cheeks flamed. “Oh. I guess the bartender gave me the wrong one. I wanted to party.” God, I sounded stupid. I wanted to slap myself. Hard.
He towered above me, a foot or more over my five feet two inches. I’d inherited Billy’s eyes and bone structure, but not his obscene height. The hot stranger chuckled. “That so?” He set my seltzer water down on a table. “How about a beer instead, party girl?”
A moment later, I heard the hiss of two bottles being opened. I still hadn’t looked up. A bottle waved under my nose. I studied the big hand attached to it—the short fingernails, the rough calluses. “You’re a guitar player?” I asked, taking the bottle.
“Party girl knows her musicians.” He stepped away and collapsed back on the couch. Legs spread wide, he took a long draw of his beer. “You a big fan of the band?”
“Band?”
“Man, you’re something. Wanks and Janks, you like them?” he asked.
“I’m kind of required to.” I fidgeted with my VIP badge, flipping it over, hiding my name, which declared me the illegitimate love child of Billy Wanks. I sipped the beer and nearly choked at the bitter taste.
Another chuckle. “You okay?” A frown creased his brow. “You’ve had beer before, right?”
“Oh, yeah.” To demonstrate, I gulped down the beer. “This is great. The taste, it’s very smooth,” I said in a rasp.
“Riiight,” he said.
I took a step and then another until I was by the couch. I sat down, placing myself in the corner. Our knees grazed. “What kind of guitar do you play?” I asked.
“Well, when I play it’s usually lead, but lately I’ve been on vocals. My brother and I switch out from time to time.” A whole fifteen seconds ticked by. “I’m War,” he said, hand outstretched.
I blame the beer for what I said next. “I’m Peace.” I slapped a hand over my mouth. Yeah, definitely the alcohol. What an awful time to discover I was a lightweight.
“Cute,” he said. “Real cute.” He studied me, gaze sliding down my body. I wore a skirt Daisy had stitched me from an old pair of jeans. We’d argued over the hemline with Billy. He wanted ankle length, “think Little House on the Prairie,” he’d said. I wanted mid-thigh. We’d compromised at just above the knee. My white tee had the Wanks and Janks insignia on it, a tiger jumping through a flaming hoop. No wonder War had asked if I was a fan of the band.
His big fingers wrapped around my wrist, gently removing my hand from my mouth. A sensual burn started at my elbow and blazed into my chest. The room felt too warm. “Do you always say shit like that?” he asked.
“Shit like what?”
“Whatever’s on your mind?”
“Unfortunately, yes. It’s a bad habit of mine.” Word vomit and I were very well acquainted, best friends even. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. I like it. What’s your real name?” He adjusted his body, knee knocking against mine, creating a frenzy in my nether regions. A mere brush of the skin and I was ready to explode.
“A-addy.” I tipped the bottle of beer to my lips to take another sip. It was empty. How had that happened? I sat it on the floor.
“Well, Addy, looked like you were hiding from something when you came in. Care to share what?”
“Death by numbers and overzealous security guards.” I smoothed my hands down my skirt. “Speaking of which, I should probably get going. It was nice to meet you.” I stuck out my hand. He left me hanging for a moment. But then he grabbed hold, his palm warm and dry in mine.
“Wild Minds,” he said, still holding my hand.
“What?” I asked, all out of breath.
“It’s the name of my band.”
“Oh.” I tried yanking my hand back but he held fast. Strong bastard.
“Party girl, Peace, Addy, can I ask you another question before you go?”
Our handshake had turned into some odd variation of hand-holding. “I don’t see why not.”
“You ever been kissed by a guy in a band?”
“No.” I didn’t add that I’d never been kissed period.
“You’re about to be.” A light entered his eyes just before he swooped down. A bottle crashed, breaking on the floor—the one from his hand. He’d dropped it. The smell of beer permeated the air. My arms moved of their own volition, looping around his neck. His skin was soft and smooth. His lips grazed mine. His tongue slipped into my mouth, teasing me. Stars exploded between my eyes. Everything inside me ignited.
He paused. Withdrew. Serious ice-blue eyes on me.
I frowned. “More, please.” I tightened my hold on him.
He chuckled, a husky sound I felt through my whole body. “The fucking things you say.”
“Less talky, more kissy.”
He smirked. From that day forward, I’d be a sucker for a smirk like that. His hand slid down over my waist, cupping my bare thigh. My legs moved, wrapping around his waist. He pressed into me, thrusting. I could feel his hardness. “Jesus, I’ve been hard since you came in this room,” he ground out. He trailed kisses on my neck, little love bites that ratcheted up the tension building in my belly.
I moaned.
He reared up but only to remove his tee. Beautiful ink covered his body. I only had a split second to view it before he came back down to kiss me again. My nails dug into his back.
“What the fuck is going on here?” I didn’t hear the door open. I didn’t recognize the voice, too caught up in War’s hands on my body.
“Get the fuck out, Billy,” Warren said against my throat. “This is a private party.”
Billy. Did he say Billy? It felt as if I’d been drenched in ice-cold water. I pushed against my sexy tormentor. Peering over his shoulder, I saw my father and Trent in the doorway. I sniffed. The bottom dropped out of my stomach.
What’s the worst thing that can happen to a teenage girl? Getting caught making out with an older guy… by her father.
My epic fuckup knew no bounds. Sure, I’d messed up plenty of times. Driving before I had a license. Adopting stray animals without permission. Spraying water on groupies. But I’d never broken the cardinal rule. My father’s only rule. His grand edict. “I don’t want you to date anyone, little bird. But I imagine you will whether I like it or not. You may date anyone you’d like. A stuffy suit. A sweaty jock. Some pathetic lowlife who still lives with his mother. Anyone. Except a rock star. You mind me, little bird. Musicians are the worst sorts of people. I should know. I am one. They are selfish, manipulative and only care about one thing. I’d sooner be dead than see you with one. They’ll always break your heart. And to see you with one would break mine,” he’d warned me often.
Everything happened so fast after I’d been caught with War. I was dragged back to the tour bus. Billy needed some time to cool down. He couldn’t look at me. Daisy ran off to talk some sense into him while I cried huge tears. Trent guarded the bus. No one got on, no one got off. Except Jett. He boarded and sat next to me on the black velvet couch. He tapped my knee. “Well, Wild Minds has been booted from the tour. Shame too, they were a great opening band.”
I hung my head. More tears fell.
Jett’s hand landed on my back, rubbing circles. “It’s bad, Addy. I think your dad would’ve rather found you doing lines of coke off a stripper than with some dude from a band.”
I hiccupped and swiped at my red cheeks.
Jett patted my back and stood. “You should try to get some sleep. Don’t think Billy’s going to be back soon.”
I did as he said and climbed into my bunk, rolling my body into the fetal position. Everything was my fault. I couldn’t imagine how things could get worse. I fell asleep wishing my dad wasn’t so mad, and wishing I could see Warren one more time.
I woke to the sound of hushed voices in the main cabin.
“You know I don’t want her to go,” Daisy whispered.
I edged from my bunk. The lights were low, the rest of the band asleep in their cubbies. The bus was moving. We were scheduled to make a “jump,” an all-night drive to get to the next venue, tonight. No matter what family drama was occurring, the show must go on. Creeping forward, I froze behind the curtain, eavesdropping.
“I don’t know, flower.” His nickname for Daisy. It was kind of sick how much he adored her. “I can’t imagine the tour without her,” Billy said.
“Me either.” Daisy laughed low. “Hell, if she goes I’m out of a job.”
“You know that’s not true. You’re part of our family. Little bird loves you. I love you.”
“That’s good to know,” sighed Daisy.
“She’ll hate me,” said Billy.
“She won’t hate you,” Daisy said, her voice placating. Billy made a sound of disbelief. “Well, she’ll say she does, and maybe it will feel that way for a time, but she’ll come around. Addy is bright and sensitive, she’ll understand your decision eventually.”
“We still keep in touch with that cop who found her, Pete Daniels. He always asks after her, asks for her to come for a visit. He has a son around her age. A good kid, plays football or something. Probably wears a fucking purity ring.”
I grimaced. Billy wanted me to live with Pete’s family?
“That sounds like a good option. It’s not forever, Billy. Have her go for the summer. It might do her some good to hang out with kids her own age. She’s growing up too fast here.”
“Fucking Warren Price and Wild Minds,” Billy said, tone distinctly pissed.
“Give the kid a break. He’s young too, only nineteen. You heard him, he thought Addy was a groupie.” Wow. That didn’t hurt much. Kind of like a knife tearing through my side. Warren had thought I was a groupie? A girl who dealt in rocker sexual conquests?
Billy inhaled noisily. “One summer?”
“While you’re on the U.S. leg of your tour.”
“What would I do without you, flower?” Billy murmured followed by kissing sounds.
I crawled back into my bunk. Beating my fists into my pillow made me feel a smidge better. Billy, my father, was going to send me away when he’d promised he never would. And for what? For making out with a guy two years older? Before Daisy, I’d seen Billy with girls nearly half his age. There was a double standard at play. I didn’t like it. Not at all. I’d never forgive him for this. Never.