Annette Paige bowed her head as the light over the stage dimmed. Her black, tulle skirt fluttered against her thighs from the breeze of the side stage fans. The white, one strap corset with a sporadic ink-stain design she wore constricted her ribs, but she managed to pull in all the air she’d need to keep singing. The pressure on her ribs was an illusion. The material covering her fit perfectly.

The doubt that settled over her like a second skin felt wrong.

Her pulse hammered in her skull, matching the rhythm of the drums, growing louder and louder. The band’s popular opening number was a hit with the crowd, but this next song—their newest single—might sink the momentum completely. The sales were pathetic. The money they’d spent recording was considered a loss.

Their ex-manager hadn’t wanted them to waste time singing a potential bust on the biggest stage the band had achieved in the last two years. As the opening band on a European tour, their proven work should be the sole focus.

But the guys trusted her. She’d talked them into performing The Long Walk. It wasn’t on the official setlist. A low murmur from the crowd proved their few fans were confused. Lackluster promotion meant they likely hadn’t heard this song at all.

Performing it now was a huge risk. One Annette was willing to take because this song was all her.

XVI Hours, her band, played the opening notes of The Long Walk, somber as a death march. Fitting, since this could be the end of them if she didn’t capture the crowd. North Beauregard, the lead singer, held back, letting her take center stage for the first time. And she loved him for it.

Hell, she loved them all.

As the drums and guitars intensified the rhythm to a fever pitch, off chord with a carefully orchestrated chaos of sound, she inhaled slowly and began to sing the haunting lyrics.

At the chorus, she let the full range of her voice out loud and clear, shaking as she poured her emotions into the song. She didn’t expect anyone to truly understand the meaning behind the words. But the emotion? If she gave her all, they’d feel the urgency. The desperation. They’d understand the journey that had saved so many.

Back home in Canada, some knew how important the journey had been, but too many heard the name, Laura Secord, and only thought about chocolate and ice cream, not a heroine who’d played a huge part in Canadian history. Name a man and the story was important. Blood and battles and pride. But a woman?

Yeah, details got kinda blurry. And maybe she couldn’t fix that with a heavy metal song.

But she could try.

North joined her at the chorus, growling into the mic.

That got the crowd’s attention. Easy words to repeat. She kept going.

Baring his teeth in a sexy smirk, North growled again, with the crowd joining in.

The band had the people moving, throwing up their fists. The energy hit her like the best fucking high. She lifted the mic from the stand and threw her head back as the piercing crescendo of her voice filled the room, ending in a broken cry.

Wrapping both hands around his mic, North let out a feral scream that pierced through the air like a knife slicing through them all, cutting any doubts into bloody pieces. She could feel the warmth of his determination as though they were back in time. Facing enemies, knowing the fate of the country rested on her shoulders.

Complete silence. The music cut dead. The lights went out. Trigger, their lighting technician who ran the performance like a well-oiled machine, reacted right on cue.

She dropped to her knees as the spotlight hit her.

Lifting her head, she glared at the crowd.

The rising chord tore at her throat, but she could hold it. And she did, until North took over, roaring a battle cry into the mic as though he’d gotten the message. As though, because of her, his men would be saved.

Ripping through the chorus came the guitar solo from their lead guitarist, Kace Raybourne. The battle played out between him and the deep tones from their bassist, Orion Mclnick. A long scream from North. She followed with another desperate cry of her own. The mic slipped in her sweaty palms, but they’d reached the end of the song and let their drummer, Quinton Durand, take over with a wild beat that slowed to a dying pulse.

Then nothing. The crowd hadn’t known what to expect. The silence had her shaking. Waiting.

All around her, lights flickered. Like candles surrounding the stage, but instead, it was the crowd, holding up their phones. Swaying as though they could still hear the music.

A cheer erupted and she pressed her eyes shut. She couldn’t move. Clapping and stomping and screams poured around her in a wave. This was everything she’d hoped for and more.

The crowd saying that one word over and over like a dream come true.

Pull it together, Annette!

She laughed and rose to her feet. Began Die for you Again, the song that had gotten them to where they were now, opening for a band that dominated the charts in the US. XVI Hours had only managed to make it on this tour because of this song. They’d sold it to Marvel for more money than any of them had ever seen. The song would be on the playlist for a huge movie.

All kinds of awesome. The money had covered plane tickets to Germany, travel expenses, a small tour bus, and some promo. But they still weren’t headlining.

That honor went to Winter’s Wrath.

But XVI Hours had been accepted as one of the few bands on tour with them.

No small accomplishment…

Annette wanted more.

For the next few songs, she took her place as backup to North. He had the crowd in the palm of his hand and the energy rising up as he finished and they chanted his name was incredible. She smiled at him as they left the stage, sure he’d be all hyped up after how well they’d been received.

He didn’t smile back. Uncertainty crept into his pale grey eyes and he ran his hand through his hair as they reached the greenroom. It was almost like he was afraid to be excited, and she understood, even though she wished he’d have some faith in the band. And in himself.

Before starting XVI Hours two years ago, he’d been with another band. One who’d reached the top of the charts before falling apart.

The metal blogs called him the king of ‘One-hit Wonders’. One song with his former band, Blood Play, had made it big before half the band got bored and got married and moved on. And now one song with XVI Hours had people talking. The jaded bloggers called XVI Hours young and reckless. Then always gave a not-so-subtle dig at metal bands who had female members.

When XVI Hours had been formed, Annette was only twenty, naïve about the lifestyle, and dreaming big. A few weeks on the road with North had been a huge reality check, but his effort to protect her from the worst parts of the industry backfired. While he’d fallen in love with her voice and seen her potential, she’d fallen in love with him.

Her stupid crush had almost split the band in two. She’d told North how she felt. And he’d been brutally honest about how things were gonna be. If she was into him, if fucking her would keep her around, he’d do it. Which worked at first. But then jealous fits and fights that threatened to ruin their chemistry on stage changed their dynamics. North introduced her to his deviant sex life and she’d been convinced that meant they had something special.

Damn, she’d been stupid back then.

“Babe, you can sing. I need you. And I’ll tell them to go away. But I don’t love you.” He raked his hand into her hair while she was still shuddering from the last orgy. One of many. “I. Do. Not. Love. You. And I never will. You’ll always find me with these girls. And guys.”

“I don’t care.”

Back then she’d believed it. And she’d proven she could play his twisted game.

She fucked all his groupies. Guys and girls. And she enjoyed them.

But she wanted more from him than he could give.

About a year into their turbulent ‘relationship’, she’d woken in the arms of a random fan, while North cuddled with some chick he’d just met… His warning finally hit her. She’d been plastered and he’d given her to another man.

He truly didn’t care.

Since then, they shared the music. And had fun sometimes. She’d let her heart grow cold to meet the man on his terms because she couldn’t quite quit him—hell, he was fucking good in bed—but her focus was on the band. She refused to let him, to let anyone, distract her.

She expected nothing. North satisfied her occasional needs, and she satisfied his.

Why did sex have to mean anything anyway?

The truce she’d offered kept the band together. They all tolerated the arrangement between her and North. So long as they performed well on stage, the underlying tension between the band’s vocalists wasn’t an issue.

But one day it might be.

“Why so miserable, shorty?” Quinton looped an arm around her shoulders as they made their way to the back exit. The drummer’s light brown eyes were partially hidden by the reflective glare of the glasses he’d put on before leaving the stage, but she could still feel the warmth of his gaze as he studied her face. His brow furrowed at her shrug. “You were awesome out there.”

“Thanks.” She gave him a one-armed hug, tipping her head back to grin up at him. “But don’t call me ‘shorty’. It’s not my fault you’re freakishly tall.”

His cheeks reddened slightly. Then he shook his head. “Nice try. Don’t change the subject. You look like someone just crushed your pet turtle with an eighteen-wheeler.”

“Crushed my…” Annette snorted and gave the drummer a playful shove. “You’re so weird. I’m fine. Honest. This whole experience is just so…huge, you know? I keep expecting to wake up in the back of that old van, hoping we sell enough T-shirts to pay for gas.”

He inclined his head, a few strands of light brown hair falling from his short, sleek do she was sure he’d styled after Shannon Leto. He reached out to open the heavy metal door and let her pass. “I hear you. But we’re in freakin’ Germany! We’ve got this. Because we’ve got you.”

Leaning against his side, she inhaled roughly, her throat tightening. Quinton was her best friend and he always knew exactly what to say to get her out of her own way. She didn’t claim all the credit for XVI Hours’ success, but she knew she was a big part of how far they’d come. Being modest wouldn’t help them figure out how to take advantage of their whip-lash rise in popularity.

“I should’ve helped more.” Orion joined them off to the side of the exit, pulling out a joint and lighting it, not speaking again until he’d taken a deep drag. The moody bassist with shaggy, overgrown black hair and troubled dark brown eyes let the smoke out with a sigh of relief. “Fucking feels good to finally have enough money to pitch in.”

Quinton frowned and Annette squeezed his arm, knowing he felt bad that Orion still hadn’t gotten over paying less than his share of the band’s expenses. The drummer took in the emotions of everyone around him and wanted to find a way to help.

However, Orion was a proud man, and he wouldn’t accept sympathy. From the beginning, his meager earnings went toward supplementing the income of his mom, to support his three much younger siblings. The band had unanimously refused to take a cent from him. And while he’d appreciated everything they’d done for him and his family, he’d never talked much. Did his job and kept to himself—growing increasingly withdrawn until this tour.

Now that their lives had all changed for the better, he was more relaxed with the rest of the band. He smiled more and spoke up when they discussed everything from their next single to designs for swag.

She swiped the joint from between his fingers, drawing in deep, holding in the pungent smoke for a few seconds before letting it out with a laugh. “You wrote the song that brought us to the top of the charts, Orion. You’ve done more than your share.”

“I guess.” Orion retrieved his joint. “Don’t let North catch you smoking this shit. He’ll lose his fucking mind.”

And I care because…?

“He doesn’t get a say about what I do. When are you gonna get that?” Annette wouldn’t have said this if Kace was around, but neither the lead guitarist or North had come out. Quinton and Orion were loyal to her and wouldn’t repeat a word she said.

But Orion gave her a skeptical look as he brought the joint to his lips. “Please tell me you’re not fighting again.”

“We’re not.”

“Good.” Orion offered the joint to Quinton, who shook his head, as usual. Then he handed it over to Annette. “The contracts we’ve been offered so far were lame, but if we do well on this tour…”

“I know. I’ll behave myself, okay?” The exit opened and she quickly gave Orion his joint, just to prove how hard she’d try.

Not that North wouldn’t smell the shit on her, but she knew him. He wouldn’t comment unless he caught her in the act. He didn’t care about any member of the band getting stoned—hell, he indulged himself sometimes—but he was paranoid about anything that might ruin his voice.

Or hers.

North stepped out with Kace close to his side. He spared Orion a brief glance, then moved close to Annette, doing that thing he did, throwing off sensual vibes like some kind of sex demon. Evil fucker. He smelled damn good, even after sweating on stage. Like a balmy night near the ocean, warm and salty and alluring.

And from the look in his pale blue eyes, he wanted something. Something she should say no to before he even asked. But then his dark brown hair fell over one eye and her brain went stupid. His charming smile, that damn dimple…

He knew exactly how to play her. She’d gotten a break from his twisted games for a few weeks, but his effect on her hadn’t eased up at all.

“We’re going to the after-party.” North drew out a flask, pulling a small pill from the pocket of his snug black jeans and placing it on his tongue. He took a swig, then turned his sly smile to full watt. A man on a mission. “I have a new obsession.”

“Oh?” Annette leaned back against Quinton, reaching to take his hand as she sensed the tension radiating through him. The drummer wanted to protect her from North. If she got fed up and split with the band, Quinton would leave with her. Orion likely would too.

Comforting, but she didn’t want the situation getting to that point. As much as North aroused and irritated her, she loved singing with him. He was temperamental and selfish. No surprise, most lead singers were.

She wasn’t because she’d fought her way into the metal scene. Had a daily reminder from ‘fans’ that she wasn’t what they wanted. She posted a picture and they called her a whore. Left her messages including details on how they hoped she would die. Real sweet stuff.

North had hardcore critics, but also obsessive fans who stroked his ego. Lately, he’d only listened to the latter. He gave her credit for her contribution to the music, but they both knew he was the one the fans drooled over. The one who’d been approached for the deal with Marvel. The one any label would want to talk to first.

The band indulged him. Hell, she was no better. She’d fucked him just last week before they’d taken their flight across the ocean. As always, there’d been adoring fans available, but he’d had a moment of uncertainty. Told her he needed her close. Told her she was special to him. Before clarifying that ‘special’ didn’t mean much.

And, damn it, she loved that asshole, but she wasn’t stupid over him anymore. She almost pitied his new ‘obsession’. The guys or girls he fixated on wouldn’t get the warnings. Wouldn’t hear what she had because he didn’t need them sticking around after. They’d have moments of bliss. Sweet words. The illusion of hope before cutting reality.

If North had seen his next target on the way down the hall, at least they were in the lifestyle. Might have built up some defense.

Leaning against the wall behind Kace, North casually hooked his fingers to the pockets of the lead guitarist’s leather pants, pulling the slender, brown-skinned man between his thighs. Annette wasn’t the only one he toyed with. Kace seemed to take it in stride, but she couldn’t help some concern. Unlike the rest of the band, who were sexually fluid, Kace was only attracted to men.

Which North played on shamelessly without offering a thing. As far as she knew, the two had never fucked. When North was feeling affectionate, he cuddled with Kace. And Kace took what he could get.

Maybe Kace didn’t want more. But she had to wonder. He didn’t seem to want anyone else either.

Meanwhile, North hadn’t elaborated on his latest target. And she wasn’t in the mood for guessing games.

“You gonna tell us who caught your eye? I need to rest.” She let out a fake cough. “Think I’m coming down with something.”

Orion snorted, but Quinton went still. Likely worried. She glanced back and shook her head, hoping he’d realize she wasn’t actually sick. She was trying to dissuade their crazy lead singer.

Quinton’s lips thinned.

North didn’t notice. “I want the drummer from Winter’s Wrath. He’s fucking irresistible. But they never leave him alone.” North slipped away from Kace and tipped her chin up with two fingers. “Help me. It will be fun.”

Is he fucking high?

Likely. The pill he’d popped wasn’t Aspirin.

The rest of the band watched her expectantly. None of them were afraid to take a stand against North if they had a problem with him, but they tended to wait for her reaction. They didn’t treat her like a backup singer. Like second-in-command. The leadership was divided equally between her and North.

With her being the voice of reason more often than not.

She brushed North’s hand away. “No.”

“‘No’? Just like that?” North’s jaw ticked. He glanced around, sucking his teeth when Quinton stepped to her side, arms folded over his chest, meeting North’s gaze with a hard one of his own. Finally, North relaxed, laughing and slinging his arm over Kace’s shoulders. “Damn, you’re no fun. But seriously, we need to go to the after-party. This is an opportunity to make strong connections in the industry.”

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Orion frowned at North. “Those connections can be made during the tour. Getting drunk with the bands accomplishes nothing.”

North slid the bassist a lazy smile. “When did you turn into a goddamn puritan, Orry?”

“Probably when you became a thoughtless, arrogant whore.”

Quinton coughed out a laugh.

Annette elbowed him lightly in the ribs, then took a deep breath. Time to step in before the discussion turned nasty. “You’re both right.” She smirked as North’s brow lifted. “Deny it. You’re fucking shameless. But we love you anyway.”

North’s lips quirked as he inclined his head.

“And we should go to the after-party. At least for a bit.” She reached out to squeeze Orion’s arm when he cursed under his breath. He hated big crowds. On stage was one thing, he wasn’t surrounded by a close press of people. At clubs, the bodies all around stressed him out. Hopefully, they could find a private section to hang out. “If it’s too much, you can head back to the hotel after we talk to the headliners. Say fifteen, twenty minutes?”

“Yeah, I guess that’d be all right.” Orion rolled his shoulders. “Let’s get the equipment packed. Then I’m gonna chill until it’s time to go.”

Annette smiled, leaning forward to give Orion a quick hug. This was hard for him, but he was dedicated to the band. She wouldn’t even have asked him to come, but making an appearance was important. If nothing else, the photo ops would give them some much-needed promotion.

Decisions like this sucked, but they didn’t have a manager anymore to steer them in the right direction. North had gone to law school before starting his first band, so he managed the contracts, his negotiation skills imperative to their success. Quinton managed the budget—the drummer had a knack for numbers.

Promotion was left to Annette, Orion, and Kace. Kace was an awesome artist, so he designed everything for swag and T-shirts while Orion and Annette juggled the band’s online presence.

They could afford to hire someone, at least part-time, to take over some of the work, but they’d been screwed over too often to trust anyone. Their first manager had skimmed money—which Quinton figured out after swiping the man’s accounting book from his suitcase one day—and their second had been a misogynistic asshole who North had fired just last week when he’d tried to convince the band to cut Annette out of the tour. One of their roadies had turned out to be a hardcore drug dealer, who was arrested on tour, forcing the band to hire a lawyer to prove they hadn’t been involved.

Sure, they smoked up now and then. And Kace and North took ecstasy sometimes—and some other shit she didn’t want to know about. But they didn’t sell drugs to anyone, never mind the minors the fucktard roadie had been selling to at their damn merch stand.

Following Quinton back inside, Annette grabbed one of the smaller amps. She turned fast, slamming into a big body. Her lips parted as she stared at a solid chest, her eyes moving up to meet the deep azure eyes of the man standing over her.

He put a steadying hand under her elbow and smiled. “Careful.”

“Sorry.” She swallowed hard, her mouth completely dry. The man was intense. And hot. And about twice her age, but she’d never found the sprinkling of grey in a man’s hair so attractive. He looked like a soldier, all clean cut and powerful. But he was wearing a black shirt that said ‘Security’ in bold yellow letters.

“I came to see if you needed any help.” He looked from her to North, who was regarding him with interest. “You’re XVI Hours?”

“Yes, sir.” North stepped up, holding out his hand. “I’m the lead singer, North Beauregard. This is Annette Paige. And we’d appreciate all the help we can get.”

The man nodded. “Pleasure to meet you. I’m Balthazar and I work for Winter’s Wrath. My boys are resting before the show, so I have some free time.” He glanced over, noticing Quinton struggling with a piece of his drum kit. “Here, let me get that for you.”

Effortlessly lifting the heavy black and silver flight case, Balthazar waited as Quinton grabbed one of the smaller ones and followed him out to the back lot. Annette trailed after them, snapping a glare back at North when he whispered about ‘That fine ass’.

Not that she didn’t agree. She had to fight not to stare.

Balthazar was solid absolutely everywhere, but the way his butt filled in his black jeans was worth a second—and third and fourth—glance.

Three more trips and they had all the band’s equipment packed under the bus. Orion brought out a case of beer and handed the bottles out. Then he lit a cigarette.

Leaning against the bus beside her, Balthazar eyed the cigarette between Orion’s lips and shook his head. She had a feeling he was an ex-smoker, just like her. Quitting wasn’t easy, and the cravings never went away. She’d ditched the habit almost a year ago and still tripped up now and then. The stress of the tour tempted her to say fuck it, no matter how much North disapproved of the habit.

Reaching into his pocket, Balthazar pulled out a long black thing which she couldn’t make out at first. But when he brought it to his lips, she realized it was an ecig. She wrinkled her nose.

His lips slanted. “You judging me, little girl?”

“I am now.” She frowned at him. “’Little girl’? Seriously?”

“I apologize. No offense intended.” He took another puff from the ecig. Let out smoke with the aroma of a heavy cigar. “I know that look, though. Cigarettes are cooler, but I don’t give a fuck.”

Holding her tongue between her teeth, she studied the device. It wasn’t that weird looking. But she’d seen tons of memes mocking people who ‘vaped’. Balthazar didn’t seem the type to jump on a weird trend, but…did he know how dangerous they were?

“Aren’t you worried it will blow up in your face?”

He huffed out a laugh, his eyes sparkling as he glanced over at her. “No more worried than I am about my cell phone.”

“Huh.” The sweet scent made her mouth water. And Orion’s cigarette was tempting as hell. She shook her head and opened her beer. “Well, not judging. But haven’t seen much vaping in the metal scene.”

Balthazar rolled his shoulders, indifferent. “My lungs aren’t too concerned about what others are doing.” He arched a brow at her. “Did you want to try?”

All right, she wasn’t gonna lie. She was curious. Balthazar wasn’t like the pop icons who seemed to want to make vaping ‘a thing’. She didn’t hate on people who smoked, or did drugs—fuck, she wasn’t exactly innocent—but she did what she could to protect her voice and her career.

If vaping could curb the edge of the cravings, who cared if people laughed at her?

She smiled at Balthazar. “If you wouldn’t mind?”

“Not at all.” He held out the long black ecig. A little longer than a regular cigarette and twice as thick.

Not something you could casually hold between two fingers.

He chuckled as she fumbled with the thing. His hand covered hers, calloused and warm, sending a shiver through her. Adjusting the ecig between her thumb, index and middle finger, he turned it so the flat button was aligned with her finger. “Press and inhale.”

With him so close, breathing at all wasn’t easy. But she followed his instructions, quickly pulling the vapor into her lungs.

Her throat tightened and she jerked away from him, coughing and holding her throat. This was worse than the first time she’d had a joint. Her throat burned. Dizziness hit her hard and she blinked fast, trying to regain her composure.

To his credit, Balthazar patted her back. And didn’t laugh.

But North wasn’t so nice. He crouched down in front of her, a smirk on his lips. “Y’all right there, Annie?”

She smacked his shoulder, voice hoarse. “Fuck off. And don’t call me that.”

Backing away, he burst out laughing. “I told you not to smoke. But hey, what do I know?”

Balthazar’s hand went still between her shoulder blades. “That’s some superiority complex you have there, son.”

Eyes narrowed, North straightened. “Don’t you have a job to do, old man?”

Letting out a rough laugh, Balthazar rubbed the back of her neck, then drew away. “I do. It was a pleasure to meet you all.” He shook his head when Annette held out his ecig. “Keep it, I have others. Don’t take in quite so much. And let me know if it helps.”

The muscular security guard strode away, his posture relaxed, nodding to a few roadies as he made his way back into the venue. Annette watched him go, frowning as her skin cooled as though she’d been relaxing close to a campfire suddenly doused out by a downpour.

Her jaw clenched as North poured Balthazar’s abandoned beer on the pavement.

He stilled as though feeling her eyes on him. His brow furrowed. “What?”

“Why do you have to be such an ass?” She shook her head as he blinked at her. “You want to make good connections. Being a jerk to Winter’s Wrath’s crew is a fucked up way to pull that off.”

“Oh come on. We don’t need to suck up to roadies to make a good impression.” North rolled his eyes at her sigh. “A different roadie offered Kace coke not ten minutes ago. For free. Because he’s hot.” North gave Kace a hooded look and the guitarist flushed, which made the dark freckles on his nose stand out. North turned back to her. “Should I let that slide to be nice?”

“It’s not the same thing and you know it.” Pissed off, Annette brought the ecig to her lips, pressing the button down for a second and sucking in the light vapor carefully. She didn’t get much, but the subtle flavor lingered, and she got a nice little buzz. “You’re a dick when you’re high. I’m surprised you didn’t hit on him more. He’s your type.”

“Ha!” North shook his head. “I thought you knew me better than that. I like my toys wild. Sure, the man is hot, but he’s no fun.”

“I don’t know why I bother talking to you. You’re hopeless.” Annette shoved North away, tipping her beer to her lips for a few gulps and patting Kace’s shoulder as she passed. He would have fun tonight, even when North ignored him. He might be North’s right-hand man, but he had no problem sampling all the crazy, horny fans.

She should probably make sure they had enough condoms for the night. And stuff a few in her pockets. In case she needed them.

But first, she needed to change into something with pockets.

Inside the bus, she leaned into her bunk, pulling out a pair of black jeans and a shiny, gunmetal-colored, hooded crop top. She tugged at the knot of her corset, groaning when it stuck. Why had she let North talk her into dressing all fancy? Three damn wardrobe changes during an eight-song set was ridiculous.

Tossing her fresh outfit on the short, hard sofa in the lounge, she plunked down and took another puff from the ecig. A swig of her beer. And considered the scissors on the counter in the tiny kitchenette. She could cut herself free, but… She sighed and shook her head.

They might be making more off their music now, but she couldn’t stomach wasting money on new corset laces because she was annoyed.

Her life hadn’t been as rough as Orion’s, both her parents worked hard to keep food on the table, but there’d been a few times, when things had been so tight, late payments on bills had them living in the dark for days. Neither of her parents had graduated high school, so the jobs they found were usually minimum wage. Having three kids young hadn’t made things easy for them, but somehow, they found a way to provide her and her older siblings with a good life.

She smiled as she remembered going to her mother’s graduation, a year before her own. Melody Paige could pass for Annette’s sister—definitely didn’t look like she’d had three kids. In her late thirties, she’d finally managed to save up enough to take the courses needed to get her diploma. Years later she’d accomplished her dream of becoming a teacher.

But she’d done everything in her power to make sure Annette and her siblings could reach their dreams first.

With Annette’s older sister it had been easy. Debra was smart. She got scholarships and seemed addicted to learning. She was now working at the John H. Chapman Space Centre in Quebec, researching…the weather in space or something?

Annette was proud of her sister, but she didn’t pretend to understand what she did.

Clayton, her older brother, the middle child, was an officer in the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. His journey had been more difficult because he’d had a hard time in school. But Mom and Dad managed to get him a tutor who’d helped him through the worst. Thankfully, Beth had stopped charging after the first year. Which made sense, since they’d become high school sweethearts and married right after they graduated together.

While her siblings had normal goals, Annette had to be the crazy one, with dreams of singing on a huge stage. Not country or rock, which her parents both loved. She sang ACDC at talent shows and obsessed over Halestorm, practicing their songs over and over until both her brother and sister shut off the radio the second the band came on. They’d both thought she was nuts.

But her parents? They believed in her. To the extent that they’d worked overtime to get her vocal lessons for her sixteenth birthday. The lessons weren’t cheap, and they could only afford a few months, but those were the first step to making her dream a reality. They’d wanted to do more, but she’d insisted on getting a part-time job after school so she could pay for the lessons herself.

They’d reached an agreement. So long as she kept her grades up, she could do whatever it took a develop her talents. And the fact that they thought she was talented kept her going when her studies, her job at the pizza parlor, and her singing lessons had her completely drained. She graduated with honors.

Two years later, she met North and XVI Hours was formed.

And her parents acted like she’d won gold in the biggest race in the world. Like they were just as proud of her as they were of Debra and Clayton. Which meant more than she could ever say. But she tried. Damn it, she hoped they knew how much she loved them.

Maybe she should call and tell them again.

Inhaling slowly, she shook her head. They were on their first vacation ever. And she’d talked to them yesterday. They didn’t get pissed often, but if they found out she hadn’t fully embraced this amazing experience, they definitely wouldn’t be happy. She was in Europe. Europe!

Footsteps coming from the front of the bus brought her head up. She smiled as Kace poked his head into the bunk area.

“Hey, you.” Her smile faded as he shook his head and sighed. “What’s wrong?”

“You.” He crooked a finger at her, motioning for her to stand and turn around. “You had help tying this thing. How long was it gonna take for you to admit you needed help getting out of it?”

Wrinkling her nose, Annette shrugged. “Another ten minutes, maybe?”

“Damn, I bet Quinton twenty bucks it would take you an hour. He said fifteen minutes.” He glanced at the worn leather strapped, gold watch on his wrist. “He wins.”

“An hour? Thanks a lot.” She inhaled deeply as the corset loosened. “You ever assume the guys will keep you waiting that long?”

“I’ve kept them waiting that long. But I have a better sense of fashion than you do.” His lips slanted and he ran his thumb lightly over his bottom lip, which had a pale beige gloss on it. Black eyeliner brought out the intensity of his emerald green eyes. “I’m not ragging on you being a girl. I’m bitching about you being too damn proud. You’re stressing all the time about how people see you. Don’t do that with us.”

“I’m trying not to.” She sighed and dropped the corset, not caring if Kace saw her boobs. It wouldn’t be the first time and he didn’t even blink. “I want the industry to take us seriously. They won’t if they’ve only got North representing us. I have to be the sane face of the band.”

Kace plunked down on the edge of her bunk and inclined his head. “True. And I get you letting him be the eccentric one. But have some fun tonight. I’ll watch him, okay?”

She stilled. Then arched a brow at his sweet, hopeful smile. “You’ll keep an eye on North?”

“Yes. I’m not an idiot, Annette. I know he’s not into me. He just likes the attention. And I like giving it to him.” Kace shrugged. “You and I are safe for him. He fucks you because it’s not a risk to his rep. He toys with me because I’m there. And I expect nothing. When he gets overwhelmed it’s us he retreats to. He’s playing all confident, but he’s as afraid of messing this up as the rest of us.”

“Maybe…” She shook her head and pulled on the shirt she’d dropped on the bed. Her tits were small, so she didn’t need a bra. Besides, the girls needed a break after being propped up in the damn corset. Slipping into the jeans, she placed her hands on her hips so Kace could give his typical nod of approval.

Instead, he wrinkled his nose. “Your stage makeup is way too dark for that outfit. Go wash your face.” He held up a hand before she could object. “I’ll fix you up after. Won’t take me long.”

“Deal.” Annette grinned and headed to the bathroom to remove the heavy eye-makeup and give her face a refreshing scrub. She wasn’t horrible at doing her own makeup, but Kace had mad skills. As expected, he had her looking sleek and sexy in half the time it would have taken her.

Now she got the nod.

She snickered as she pulled on her biker boots. “So… Doable?”

“Always.” Kace leaned over and pressed a kiss on her cheek. “Promise me something?”

Without hesitation, Annette straightened and nodded.

“Be that girl I met back at the club all those years ago.” Kace tucked his thumbs in the front pockets of his snug, acid-wash jeans. “I miss her.”

“That girl was wicked.” Back then Annette had been carefree and wild. Dancing with strangers, throwing back shots, having fun and letting nothing stand in her way. She looped her arm around Kace’s waist as they made their way to the front of the bus. Hesitating before starting down the steps, she leaned up to whisper in his ear. “And she hasn’t gone anywhere.”