Chapter One
MAJOR MELTDOWN! Isla Rose collapses after sold-out show at the Troubadour in West Hollywood.
By Jen Kael, Hot Radar
Isla Rose, lead singer for Iris Blue, sang her heart out to a sold-out crowd at the Troubadour last Saturday night and then walked off stage and collapsed. As the crowd clamored and cheered, hoping for an encore, the other members of Iris Blue took the stage again and played two instrumental songs while paramedics rushed the crumpled singer to the nearest hospital.
The fans had no idea what was going on backstage. “I thought it was a little strange that Isla Rose didn’t come back onstage with the rest of the band,” one fan told Hot Radar after the show had ended.
“She gave a damn good performance. I hope she’s okay. We love you Isla!” another fan gushed upon learning of the singer’s frenzied rush to the hospital.
Isla Rose is the lead singer of Iris Blue—a band whose start began in Los Angeles. Just coming off of a sixteen-state tour with Hinder and Black Stone Cherry, exhaustion was the explanation for Isla Rose’s breakdown in a statement given by the band’s manager, Kent Sherwood.
Hot Radar has discovered that for several days prior to the show at the Troubadour, the band’s drummer, Benz, and Isla Rose have been arguing nonstop. Just last Thursday, patrons at one of the couple’s favorite hangouts, Burger Haven, overheard them shouting at each other to the point where Isla Rose jumped up and stormed out of the restaurant.
“Things have been very tense between Isla and Benz,” an insider claimed.
Even though Kent Sherwood has downplayed the relationship between them, fans have been capturing pictures of the two kissing, holding hands, or simply embracing one another, then posting them to Instagram. Those who follow the band want nothing more than for Isla Rose and Benz to stay blissfully in love, but from the way things have been going as of late, it doesn’t look like this couple is ready for their “happily ever after” any time soon. The question remains as to whether Isla Rose and Benz are, in fact, even still together. Benz, known as a notorious womanizer, seems like a hard man to tame. Could there be another woman behind this couple’s trouble?
Since Isla’s discharge from the hospital, Kent Sherwood has released a statement announcing that the band is taking a well-deserved break to record and get some much-needed rest. Iris Blue has been performing and touring nonstop for the past three years. No one’s talking on where the band has gone to record or relax. Why is this such a secret?
Stay tuned as Hot Radar continues reporting on this story.
Sangre skimmed the six-month-old article again then looked at the photo of Iris Blue he had in the file. His gaze drifted to the woman in the middle surrounded by four men. She wore tight leather pants, a crop top, and a ton of makeup painted on her face. What the hell did I get myself into? She looks like a fucking diva.
“Having second thoughts?” Eagle asked as he sank into the chair in front of Sangre’s desk.
Sangre ran his hands through his thick blond hair. “Yeah. I mean, the chick has high maintenance written all over her.” He slid the photo toward Eagle, who picked it up and stared at it.
“She’s hot,” Eagle said.
“And I’m sure a major pain in the ass. What the hell do we know about rock stars?”
“That they have a lot of money. I can’t believe how much the band’s paying for this gig.”
“I think it’s Isla Rose who’s shelling out the dough.” He glanced at the article again. “Seems like she’s got some emotional stuff going on with one of the dudes in the band.”
“I’d think that’s reasonably common when you’re together so much. This should be a pretty easy gig. We just need to watch her until they go back to LA.” Eagle leaned back into the chair, then he added, “Jon’s a big fan of the band, so he’s looking forward to it. I’ve never heard of them though, have you?”
He shook his head. “Nah, but then I don’t do Instagram or Facebook or any of that other social media bullshit. Seems like that’s how they got their start, and it’s just been growing.” He glanced down at the contract again: Bodyguard services needed while Isla Rose was in Alina.
Sangre had opened Precision Security over a year ago, bringing Eagle and Cueball into his company: Eagle as manager and Cueball as security supervisor. Since opening the business, he was busy as hell, providing security for businesses, parties, rallies, festivals, and concerts around the county. Normally, he passed on bodyguard services because they were rather time-consuming and spread out his employees too thin. He also had to balance his time overseeing Precision Security with his duties to the Night Rebels. As a club officer, he had certain responsibilities, and like every member, he was required to be available at all times. But Eagle was right about the money—it was damn good, so he’d taken the bodyguard gig while the singer was in town.
“Do you think she’s in danger?” Eagle asked, crossing his legs, ankle over knee.
Sangre shook his head and tipped his chair back against the wall. “I think the whole ‘crazed fan’ scare is a ploy to garner more attention. These musicians, actors, and anyone else in the spotlight crave the attention and seemingly need to constantly be in the papers.” He held his hands up. “But I’m not here to fuckin’ analyze her. Like you said, the money’s good, so we’ll play bodyguard until she goes back to LA.”
“Let me see the copies of the letters.” After Sangre pushed the file toward him, Eagle opened it, pulled out some of the papers, and started scanning over them. “From the looks of it, I’d say they’re becoming more obsessed and in a dangerous way.” He scrubbed his face. “And they just started when the band got here a couple of weeks ago?”
“Seems that way. At least that’s what their manager’s saying, but I’m still thinking it’s probably a publicity stunt. The diva got here about four or five months ago, and yeah, the rest of the band didn’t come here until about two weeks ago.”
“The postmarks are from Tula, Silverado, Durango, Cortez, and Alina.”
“Yeah, I noticed that, but it’s not hard to do. Those places aren’t that far apart.”
Eagle nodded. “True, but it could be legit.” He pushed the file back toward Sangre.
“We’ll find out soon enough. We’ll give it our all and work it like Jack the fucking Ripper is after this chick.”
Eagle grinned. “By the way, Army’s offered help if we need it.”
“I’m sure he did. He’s been wanting to be a rock star for a long time.” The men laughed. “Brutus and Skull are down too. We may have to use them because I don’t wanna spread the guards out too thin on this gig. We need to be taking care of several other contracts too; she’s not the only one.”
“I’m working on that. I just hired the three guys you approved the other day. That should help. When do we start the babysitting?”
Sangre chuckled. “Tomorrow. The band has a show at Trailside tonight, so I’m gonna head over there and check them out. Do you wanna come?”
“I’ll think about it. Why the hell are they playing if she’s so scared?”
“Exactly. Maybe she knows she’s not really in danger.” A knock on the door stopped their conversation. “Come in.”
A guy in his early twenties opened the door. His brown eyes darted between Sangre and Eagle. With shoulders slumped and a tentative look crossing his face, the young man stepped inside the room.
“What can I do for you, Jon?” Sangre asked. Jon was the son of one of his dad’s friends who worked with him at Reland’s Candies. Sangre hired him as a favor to his dad. One of the main problems with Jon was that he was timid around people, so he usually put the young guard on graveyard shifts or at posts where there wasn’t any interaction with the public.
“I was just wondering if you need me to work the new gig.” The guard lowered his eyes.
“The new gig?” Sangre said.
Redness crept over Jon’s cheeks. “The Iris Blue one.” He crossed his arms and leaned against the door frame.
“I haven’t done the scheduling for the job yet. Eagle, Cueball, and I will handle the first few days until I assess the situation. I may need you to do a couple shifts, so I’ll let you know.” Sangre put his hands behind his head and smiled. “Eagle told me you’re a fan of the band.”
Jon bobbed his head. “Oh yeah, I love their music … they’re awesome. Isla Rose is one of the best vocalists. She can do rock and blues like no one else. I’ve been following them on Instagram for the last few years. It’s hard to believe they’re in Alina. Man, I can’t wait to check out their show tonight. I never thought I’d see them live.”
Sangre ran his eyes over the guard. The way he gushed and rambled on meant he’d be ineffective for the job. He needed men who didn’t give a shit who this Rose chick was or what band she was in. He couldn’t tie up Eagle and Cueball with this twenty-four seven gig in case they were needed at the club, so he was dreading having to put some long hours in watching a woman who was probably making up the whole thing.
“I’d be honored to protect Isla Rose. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to harm her. I’ll make sure she’s safe.” Jon narrowed his eyes, and Sangre saw his body stiffen.
“I’ll let you know. Anything else on your mind?”
Shaking his head, he stepped back. “I just wanted you to know I’m here to help any way I can.”
“Good to know. Thanks, Jon. I’ll probably see you at Trailside later on. I’m going to check out the band too. Close the door on your way out.” Jon turned around and pulled the door shut behind him. Sangre breathed out through his mouth. “He’s definitely not gonna help out with this job unless we’re totally desperate.”
Eagle laughed. “I’d say he’s a rabid fan. I’ve decided I’ll join you tonight to see what all the fuss is about. I love hard rock and the blues. Maybe they’ll kick ass like AC/DC.” Eagle stood up and jerked his head back. “What? Stop looking at me like that.”
Fixing his gaze on Eagle, Sangre shook his head slightly. “To even hint that this chick and her band could remotely come close to AC/DC is fuckin’ blasphemy.”
“I’m not saying they are, I just meant they may give a good show. All right, I’m gonna check to make sure everyone’s going to be where they need to be, then I’ll see you at the clubhouse.”
“Is Manuel handling the phones tonight?” Sangre asked, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet.
“Yup. If anything’s fucked up, he’ll call you. Later, bro.” Eagle left the room.
Sangre grabbed Iris Blue’s folder off the desk and placed it in the file cabinet, then grabbed his keys and headed out to the parking lot. Minutes later, he was speeding down the open road in the direction of the clubhouse. Like the majority of the single members, Sangre lived at the club. He had a room on the second floor since he was an officer; he’d been treasurer for the past four years, and he took his position very seriously. The previous treasurer, Rooster, practically had the club in bankruptcy, and it took a lot of effort and tightening of the reins to bring it back around. Because of his efforts, the Night Rebels MC had a strong cash flow, and Steel had been talking to him about opening another business in addition to their other dealings: Lust Strip Bar, Skid Marks Bike and Auto Shop, Get Inked Tattoo Shop, Balls and Holes Pool Hall, and New Leaf Dispensary.
The new prospect, Ink, opened the iron gates, and Sangre rode into the parking lot and parked his Harley. The savory and sweet aroma of hickory and apple wood, coupled with the piquant scent of chili pepper and smoky cumin, wafted around him when he entered the main room. He saw Army and Skull sitting at one of the tables with plates of ribs, mashed potatoes, and coleslaw in front of them. He went over to the table, pulled out a chair, and sat down, stretching his long legs in front of him.
“Hey, how’s it going?” Sangre asked, glancing at their plates.
“Not bad. The ribs fuckin’ rock.” Army picked one up and bit into it, barbecue sauce slipping down his chin. Grabbing a napkin, he wiped his mouth. “Did you start the gig with that rock star chick?”
Sangre picked up the bottle of beer one of the prospects put in front of him. “Not yet.” He took a long pull. “I’m going to check out the band tonight. You interested in meeting me at Trailside?”
“Hell yeah. What time are you gonna be there?” Army picked up another rib.
“Around nine.”
“Sounds good.”
“Count me in too. I haven’t been to Trailside in a long time,” Skull said. “My kid sister will kill me if I don’t take her. She’s in love with the guitarist in Iris Blue.”
“I never heard of the band until their manager contacted me. I’m curious to see what all the fuss is about.” Sangre jerked his chin at the prospect when he set a plate of ribs and all the fixings in front of him. “How’s their music?”
Skull gave a half shrug. “I never heard them. I just know about ’em because my sister won’t shut the hell up about the damn guitarist. She’ll probably want her best friend to come too.”
“Anthony’s cool. I know him real well, so he’ll let them in. He’ll just mark them so they can’t booze it up.” Army pushed his empty plate away from him. “Do you wanna ride over?” he asked Sangre.
“I can’t. I’m going over to Skylar’s first.”
“Is she coming?” Skull put a toothpick in his mouth.
“Nope. I’m going over to talk with her.”
Army guffawed and turned around toward the bar. “Brutus, Shotgun, Jigger, Chains—get over here. I’m ready to win some money.” The four men sauntered over.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Sangre asked.
“What are you going to talk to Skylar about?” Army gave a lopsided grin.
Anger pricked his skin, and he wanted nothing more than to smack that infuriating look off Army’s face. “How in the fuck is it your business?”
“Just answer the question.” Army folded his arms and tipped his chair back.
Sangre pulled his leg in to avoid the temptation of kicking over the chair. “I have something I need to tell her.”
“Like you’re crazy in love with her?” Brutus said. The men laughed.
“Or you want to move in with her?” Chains added, winking at the other guys.
“Or—”
“Just shut the fuck up,” Sangre gritted to Skull. “I’m breaking up with her, that’s all. End of fuckin’ story.”
Army leapt out of the chair, his fist punching the air. “Yes! It’s only been three months.” He looked at each of the men crowded around the table. “Pay up.” Laughing, he extended his hand.
“Fuck,” Brutus muttered. “I thought you’d make it at least five months with this one.”
Sangre watched as his brothers took out their wallets and turned over their money to Army. “You fuckin’ bet on how long Skylar and I were gonna be together?”
“That’s right, brother. You’re making me a rich man with all your chicks.” Army shoved the money in his pocket.
“I thought for sure you were gonna last four months. That’s what I betted on,” Chains said, picking up his beer.
“I can’t believe you assholes are betting on this. At least I have relationships, not like you losers.” The men burst out laughing, and Sangre pushed away from the table, knocking over a few beer bottles as he rose to his feet. “Fuck this.” He walked away, his fists clenching at the sound of the loud guffaws behind him. Taking the steps two at a time, he arrived at his room in no time.
As he changed his clothes, he thought of Skylar and how he hated going over and breaking it off with her. He couldn’t explain why he didn’t want to see her anymore. Compared to all the other women he’d been involved with, she was, by far, one of the best girlfriends as of yet: She didn’t nag him, liked her independence, was damn hot in bed, and mostly went along with what he wanted. Then why the hell am I breaking up with her? He couldn’t say. He went over to the window and looked out at the San Juan Mountains silhouetted against the darkening sky. Running a hand through his hair, he leaned against the windowsill. Fuck. It’s always the same damn thing.
He’d been through the upcoming scenario more times than he could remember, and it was always different forms of “I think we should see other people” or “It’s not you, it’s me.” Shaking his head, he laughed dryly. The truth was—it usually was him and not the woman. The women he picked tended to be variations of the same model: pretty, smart, interested in motorcycles—or at least pretended to be, not clingy, understood the camaraderie with his brothers, and willing to have fun in bed. Sex was very important to him, but having a woman who respected his space and didn’t try to change him was high on the list as well. Skylar checked all the boxes, yet he was going over to tell her they were done. He supposed she broke the one thing he didn’t want from any of the women he’d dated: getting too serious about him.
When they went out to dinner a few nights before, he could see the look in her eyes, the way she gripped his arm and clung to him. It was the small things that night, that told him she’d taken what they had to a new level, and he knew he had to bail out. The way he figured it, he was doing her and all the other women a favor. If he ended it early enough, they wouldn’t become that attached or hurt. Most of his relationships lasted three or four months, and a few times they’d go on for five or six months. It wasn’t like he planned on ending them, they just always did. When he looked at his brother and sisters, who’d been married for years and had kids, he wondered why he couldn’t be more like them. The reality was that he’d never been in love. After all the women he’d dated, the club girls he fucked, and the one-night stands he occasionally had between relationships, he’d never felt anything more than desire and lust. Sangre liked and respected the women he went out with, but the love thing just never happened. So, after a certain point—if what they had wasn’t going anywhere—that’d be when he took a hike. Yeah … it’s definitely me and not them. He pushed away from the window, picked up his keys, and headed out.
Two hours later he sat at the Trailside bar, a double shot of Jack in his hand and images of tears streaming down Skylar’s anguished face flitting across his mind. Each time he went through one of those scenes, he swore it would be the last, and then he’d find another woman and have some hope, but it always ended the same. It was like his love life was on a never-ending reel of the same story.
“So how’d it go?” Chains asked, sidling up to him.
Sangre slammed the drink back then shrugged. “Okay, I guess.” He motioned the bartender for another.
“It sucks, dude. That’s why I prefer going with the club women. They know the score, we have fun, and no one gets hurt. It’s a definite win-win.”
“Yeah. Did you come with Army and Brutus?”
Chains picked up his beer bottle. “Just Army. Brutus was occupied with Ruby.”
Sangre chuckled. “The band that’s on now isn’t bad. I’ve seen them before at Lion’s Lair. They’re local.”
“I’ve seen them too. The drummer’s the cousin of one of my friends. When does your band get on?”
“After this one.”
“Did I miss anything?” Army said, squeezing between Chains and Sangre.
“Nope.” Sangre scooted the barstool down a bit.
“Hey, dudes,” Skull said as he came toward the trio, two teenage girls straggling behind him.
“This is so cool,” the dark-haired girl said, snapping pictures with her phone.
“Go sit over there.” Skull pointed to a table not too far from the bar.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friends?” she asked, her eyes scanning over Sangre’s face.
“Guys, this is my sister, Ella, and her friend, Zoe. Now both of you go sit at the table. I’ll bring you a couple of Cokes.”
Ella came closer to Sangre and pointed at his arms. “Cool tats.”
“Thanks.” He brought the shot glass to his lips.
“Who’s the one guarding Isla Rose?” she asked.
“Ella. Go over and sit down,” Skull said, giving her a little push.
“My company’s been hired to make sure she’s safe. I heard you’re a fan of the band,” Sangre said.
“I love, love, LOVE them!”
“Me too,” Zoe chirpped in, her curly hair bouncing around her shoulders as she moved in closer to Sangre.
“That’s cool. They’re coming on next,” he said.
“They’re headlining.” Ella looked over her shoulder at the stage. “Have you met Arsen yet?” Her brown eyes widened.
“I haven’t met any of them yet. I’m just checking out the music.” And seeing if anyone is acting weird or suspicious in the crowd.
“He’s the lead guitarist, and he’s so good. Way better than anyone out there.”
“For sure,” Zoe agreed.
“Better than Tony Iommi?” Sangre asked, a smile twitching on his lips.
“Who?” Ella asked.
“Is he in a local band?” Zoe said.
“Not only is he the Black Sabbath riff lord, he’s the founder of metal music.” Sangre turned to Skull. “How the fuck does your sister not know this?”
He held his hands up in front of him, laughing. “Don’t blame me. I’ve been on my own since I was eighteen. My mom’s favorite singer is Madonna. What can I say?” Sangre, Army, and Chains busted out laughing.
“Do you think you can introduce me—”
“Us,” Zoe chimed in.
Ella nodded. “Us to Arsen or Isla Rose?”
“Enough. I told you guys to go sit over there. Now go. We got shit to talk about.” Skull walked over to the table carrying two tall glasses in his hands.
“Please?” Ella whispered, her eyes darting from Sangre to Skull then back to Sangre.
“Sure. Why not? I’ll let you know when I can arrange it.”
Ella and Zoe squealed and grabbed each other’s arms as they jumped in place. “That’d be so cool. Thanks!”
“Yeah, thanks,” Zoe said as Ella tugged her toward the table.
Sangre chuckled and gestured the bartender for another shot.
“Thanks for making my sister and her goofy friend happy,” Skull said, leaning against the bar. Sangre lifted his chin and picked up his drink.
After the local band finished their set, excited chatter filled the room. He watched as roadies made sure the equipment was in the right places, and then people started filling in the area in front of the stage, their faces bathed in strained anticipation.
A lanky man in long hair, jeans, and an AC/DC T-shirt grabbed the microphone and asked if everyone was having “a good fucking time.” The crowd cheered, whistled, and clapped. He paused dramatically then stretched out his arm. “Let’s give a big fucking hand to IRIS BLUE!” The crowd erupted, and Sangre saw Ella and Zoe right in front, pressing against the stage. The lights went off and a lone riff echoed through the venue, and then red, blue, and yellow lights flashed, revealing the band. The crowd went wild.
Sangre saw the back of a woman, who was bent over, microphone in hand, slowly straighten up while holding a note so strong and pure a hush fell over the audience. Then the lead and rhythm guitarists began playing, and she spun around, her long dark hair moving with her. Blue and red lights bounced off of her black sequined jeans as she swayed her hips in perfect rhythm to the beat of the song. He watched her, mesmerized by her movement and confidence. And then she sang. The sound of her voice was thick and sweet like warm honey dripping over him. It was intoxicating, and it captivated him completely. He couldn’t turn away from her, even when Army handed him a drink. It was like she was pulling him in, and her voice was the magnet.
Damn. In that moment, he realized this wasn’t going to be any ordinary job. There was something exhilarating, mysterious, sensuous, and … familiar about her. It was like he knew her, but he didn’t.
All that in a matter of minutes.
Fuck.