Page 34 of Pistol Whipped

How the hell he got here, I have no idea. In all the time we were together, the man had never owned a car, and he’d certainly never had the money to spring for a plane ticket to fly from Calder to Cambria. Our country is big, and those flights are priceyyyyyy.

I visibly recoil from the window, prompting the bouncer with me to ask, “So not your boyfriend, then?” He watches me closely. “Do you want us to bar him from the venue?”

My head is swimming, and my voice is failing me.

“Ms. Gamble?”

I’m too busy retreating away from the door and too shocked by Trey’s appearance to answer any of his questions. Like the last time I saw Trey, I run. This time it’s to my private dressing room so I can have a panic attack in peace.

The only problem is, Tina is still in there. She is packing up the last of her stuff as I crash through the door. But one look at me, and she drops her tools.

“Shit, girl. You look like you’ve seen a ghost?”

“Mmmhmmm,” is all I manage to squeak before I freak the fuck out completely. Bless her, Tina stays while I have a silent meltdown. I hold back scream after scream because I can’t go and ruin my throat before the show. The dam nearly breaks, but Tina grabs me by the shoulders and shakes.

“First, snap out of it. Second, tell me what the hell happened out there.” Something in her knowing expression breaks through my adrenaline-soaked brain, especially when she asks, “What did those dumbass men do to you?”

It’s obvious she thinks my freak-out is the guys’ fault, which any other time would probably be true. Now, it causes a nervous laugh to slip out, “Ha!”

The dam really does break then, and before I can stop my mouth from moving, the whole story comes oozing out of me. About my relationship with Trey, how it started, how it fucking ended. I even tell her about Lou putting me up in the Seascape. That makes her brown eyes go wide.

“Lou Braun doesn’t do something like that for nothing.”

“Tell me about it,” I confirm, and then I do something that might be seriously dumb, but the weight is becoming too crushing to keep carrying alone, so I tell her about my deal with Lou.

“Shittttt, those men of yours are gonna be pissed.”

“They aren’t mine, but you’re right about that second part.”

I groan, “I need to tell them.”

“Not right now, you don’t. You have a show to do first.”

Tina’s not wrong. And I’m a coward, so I let her persuade me into keeping my mouth shut while she spends the next twenty minutes calming me down. Good thing too, because by the time my heart is back to beating at a normal rhythm, there isn’t long before our stage call. Together, we resolve that if this show goes well, everyone will be in a good enough mood for me to tell them the overdue truth. Let’s just hope no more groupies or exes get in the way.

Lou Braun might be a world-class creep, but even a creep can do good things, occasionally, or more likely, by accident. And he’d done me a big fucking favour by hiring Tina. Confessing to her is a boon to my soul, and I nearly float my way to the front of the stage. The guys join me one by one. We don’t say much. We’re waiting for the curtain. Our in-ear mics start the countdown.

Three, two, one. Curtain drops. Stage lights on. The Quay comes to life before us. Only problem is there, right in the centre of the crowd, is Trey. His eyes never leave mine, and though it is impossible to hear him over the deafening roar of the crowd, I read his lips as he mouths, You are mine.

Chapter 17

Heavy Gloom

Dutch

I’m about three seconds from clocking this guy. He must be some sort of super fan, the way he’s shoved his way to the very front of the stage. From behind my kit, I’ve only caught a couple of glimpses of him during breaks between songs. As the show winds down, he seems to be getting pushier, and I can hear it in her voice, the slight warble that says he’s making Rain uncomfortable. The crowd can’t tell, but I can. My girl is rattled.

The bouncers near the front of the stage must have noticed at some point, because when the last round of applause fades and the curtain drops, the guy is nowhere to be seen. Five seconds and I’m halfway around my kit, ready to check on Rainy, only there’s no sign of her. She’s vanished like a tiny, purple-haired ghost.

God, her hair. I plan to buy Tina some flowers or some chocolates and shit. Because whatever she did to Rain’s hair meant that it shone like the night sky lit by a trillion stars. Mesmerizing. So much so that tonight I am going to dream of wrapping it around my fist while I sink my dick into the heaven that’s between those muscular thighs of hers. That’ll be the reward for future-Dutch after I find her and make sure she’s alright.

Cohen and Dallas are both still checking over their guitars before they get packed away, so I call out, “Did you guys see where Rain went?”

“Who gives a fuck?” Cohen grumbles.

Fucker can’t fool me though, I know he was watching that weirdo too. It’s my brother who actually answers, though not with words; that would be too much of a damn courtesy, but by pointing down the hall towards the dressing rooms.

I tear off in that direction. After any show, the hallways of a venue are always busy, between techs and roadies, artists and their entourage, but the back halls of The Quay are surprisingly quiet tonight. Great for me, because it means I don’t have to shove men out of the way as I careen towards her green room door. I don’t bother knocking. She’ll be pissed if she’s in there, but I’ll find a way to earn her forgiveness later.