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He groaned and pulled her against his bare chest. “Now that you mention it . . .”
“You’re getting her all sweaty,” Raven complained loudly.
“I’m just getting started,” he assured her.
“What, you can’t keep your hands off her for a couple of hours?”
“Hell no.” Now that their secret was out in the open, he hadn’t just let off the brakes, he’d removed them entirely.
“The helicopter is landing!” Reagan shouted, and hugged the nearest person, who happened to be Max.
“Helicopter?” Steve glanced around and found Sam beaming with pride.
“Only the best for my stars,” he said.
“Who authorized this expense?” Max asked, patting Reagan, who was shaking with excitement.
“Don’t worry about that. You’re going to make a grand entrance at the castle after-party.”
“What castle?” Max asked.
“The one you rented for the night. I’d say ladies first, but we all know who the guests really want to see. The helicopter will come back and get the pretty ones after they drop off our meal tickets.” Sam had the nerve to laugh at his own joke.
“Are you daft?” Max asked him. “You keep reminding us that our record sales are down, and then you rent a castle and a helicopter for an after-party? What is wrong with you?”
“Keeping up appearances,” Sam said. “Now hurry. Time is money, and you’re wasting time. Be sure to schmooze your asses off. Your fifty ultra-VIP guests’ tickets more than paid for the helicopter, the hall rental, and the open bar.”
“Un-fucking-believable,” Steve grumbled, his previous good mood turning sour in an instant. He scarcely felt the swift kiss he offered Roux before he left her and climbed aboard the helicopter with his bandmates. The only one who was remotely excited about their flight was Reagan.
“Can we reevaluate when we’ll fire that dumbass?” Steve said, speaking loudly to be heard over the helicopter blades. “I know we decided to wait until after the tour, but if he keeps pulling this sort of extravagant bullshit, we need to ax him immediately.”
“He said it’s paid for,” Max said.
“I wonder what he charged our so-called ultra-VIP guests,” Dare said, likely doing the math in his head.
“If it’s ten bucks, it’s more than we’re worth,” Logan said with a laugh. He leaned toward the window and pointed down at a race circuit as they passed overhead. “They have motorcycle races down there. Speed bikes, not dirt, so more up Steve’s alley than mine.” He slapped Steve’s knee. “Hey, maybe we should rent the track and some bikes and have a race.”
Steve was too pissed to be slightly tempted by thoughts of racing a bike around the track. He refused to even admit that it sounded fun. Beyond the racetrack were fields of tents—the campsites of festivalgoers.
“So what are we going to do about Sam?” he asked, still talking loudly.
“I’ll talk to him,” Max yelled. “Try to reel him in a bit.”
“How about I reel him in completely by firing him? Tonight. I’m tired of his bullshit.”
“The lawyers advise against it,” Dare said.
Steve scowled. “What lawyers?”
“You don’t think we should forge ahead without legal advice, do you?” Max said.
Steve hadn’t thought about seeking legal counsel. He just wanted Sam to be gone. He turned to Logan. “Did you know about the lawyers?”
Logan shook his head.
Steve glanced from Dare to Max and back again. “So you two took it upon yourselves to hire lawyers without consulting me and Lo?”
“Oh, look at it!” Reagan squealed, pointing out the window at a large gray stone castle.
It was more of a rectangle than the sweeping spires Steve envisioned when he thought of castles, but impressive nonetheless. Had they really needed to rent a helicopter to fly such a short distance? How far had they flown? A mile or two? They could have easily walked that distance. Maybe not through the crowds that were making their way to the campgrounds between the racetrack and Donington Hall, but he didn’t need all the extravagance to feel like a rock star.
Steve’s stomach dropped as the helicopter descended rapidly toward a wide-open field near the castle. He hadn’t realized it before, but there were a lot of open fields around the place. It reminded him of his family home—sans the castle, racetrack, and thousands of tents.
“It’s my usual team of lawyers,” Dare said, drawing Steve’s attention back to the conversation. “I’ve also involved my accountant and my financial advisor.”
“And his psychic and palm reader,” Logan added.
Dare ignored the lame taunt. He had never been easy to bait, unless the cheap shots involved his younger brother. “We aren’t talking about just firing Baily. We’re going to destroy him legally and financially. He’ll never work in the entertainment industry again when we’re through with him. So be patient, okay? These things take time, and the less suspicious Sam is, the less he’ll try to cover his tracks, the more mistakes he’ll make, and the better our case.”
Steve did like the sound of destroying Sam legally and financially and knew they were doing the industry a favor by taking him down. Steve wasn’t sure how much longer he could be patient, however. Max had been keeping him on a tight rein for years, so now that he’d been given a bit of slack—of hope—he was chomping at the bit to run with this.
“Are you going after his fucking tabloid too?” Reagan asked, her face tightening into scowl. So she had been paying attention and not just gawking at the pretty castle. “You know how many people have been hurt by that stupid paper.”
The tabloid had hurt Reagan more than anyone, though it had tried to cut Steve and the rest of the band down as well. As a veteran of having shit spewed about him, Steve hadn’t been bothered by the most recent stories at all. He didn’t care what strangers thought of him.
“It will be dealt with,” Dare said, rubbing his sister-in-law’s lower back. “We’re working on a libel case, but we’re not sure it will fly. Tabloids are very good at leading the reader to believe their lies without actually stating them as facts. Unfortunately, that falls under freedom of speech laws.”
“Freedom of nastiness, you mean?” Reagan’s scowl didn’t lessen.
“You’re going after Bianca’s tabloid?” Steve asked. Not that he minded. He just never thought of the dumb tabloid as a huge issue. Not in the same league as Sam’s alleged embezzling, in any case.
The helicopter touched down lightly, but Steve was far from ready for this important conversation to be over. It wasn’t often that the five of them got to be entirely alone together where they didn’t have to worry about being overheard. Steve jerked his head toward the pilot, but the man was too busy with his control panels to pay them any mind. He hoped those headphones the pilot wore had blocked their conversation from potentially spying ears.
“It’s not her tabloid at all anymore, though she did manage to keep her job,” Dare said. “Tradespar West bought the American Inquirer out about six months ago, just days after Bianca filed for bankruptcy. Her bankruptcy case was then withdrawn. My lawyer is still digging for the connection between the events, but I have a feeling the specifics are known only by Sam and Bianca.”
Bankruptcy? After all the money he’d handed her in the divorce? And the only connection he knew of between Sam and Bianca was Exodus End—specifically Steve himself. “So when was I going to be informed about all of this?” Steve asked.
“We didn’t want to bother you,” Dare said with a grin. “You’ve been happy for the past few days. I was enjoying the new Steve, who isn’t pissed off all the time.”
Steve hadn’t been pissed off all the time. Just most of the time. But he silently thanked Dare for giving him a few days to be ignorantly, blissfully happy.
The loud chop of the helicopter blades began to wind down, so they didn’t have to talk quite as loud.
“Dare gets a report from his
team every Friday,” Max said. “It’s not like we’ve been sitting on this information for long.”
“Long enough for him to tell you,” Steve pointed out.
“Yeah, well, I pester him.”
Dare chuckled. “He does.”
