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Bella’s lips twitched. “She’s probably a trip.”
“She’s amazing. But she’s scares the crap out of me, too.” Skye’s expressive dark eyes widened and she quickly made the sign of the cross.
“I suppose that’s what grandmothers do. I don’t really remember mine except she always looked like she was sucking on a lemon.” Maybe that was why her mother had such a sour disposition. She learned it in the womb.
“I have so many cousins that I have an app on my phone to keep the family tree straight.”
“I can’t even imagine. I have one sister that moved to Paris when she got out of college. She never came home. We were never close. My only family was Nic and Adam and their parents. And now I’ve lost all of them because of this woman.”
“Not your only family. Logan is your family now.”
Maybe that was her greatest fear yet.
Because he really was her everything now.
Bella patted Skye’s hand. “Thanks for the talk. I can’t say I feel better, but at least I can put one foot in front of the other again.”
Skye stood up and went to the door. “Well, with me dressing you at least they will be stylish feet. Wait until you see what Ember did with the dress. It’s gorgeous.” She smiled and sailed through the door into her bedroom.
Bella reached for her towel. It was time to get ready.
Thirty-Eight
Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. He absolutely understood the need for security, but if one of Marcus’s men interrupted his soundcheck again, he was going to steal one of their Tasers and use it on them.
There was a swarm of fans outside awaiting soundcheck because his ever brilliant and opportunistic manager had sold tickets for exorbitant fees. Since all of it was going to Adam and Nic’s family, what was he going to do? Say no?
Fuck.
“You have murder in your eyes, mate.”
Logan turned around. “Nash, you shit. You made it.”
“I don’t recall having a choice. I believe you called in your second marker. You realize that leaves you with only one?”
Logan slapped Alex Nash on the back. They’d done a lot of running together in their twenties. Both London and Dublin alleyways had been equal opportunities for too much booze, a dive bar that paid shit, and music that soared into the rafters until sunrise. The fact that Nash had a better set of fists than Logan meant he got into trouble a time too often. Logan had bailed him out of a Sheffield jail on a Monday and a London one on Wednesday of the same week.
Nash hadn’t heard the end of it nearly fifteen years later. Promising not to bust his ass about it was a tall order. Especially when his friend had been too drunk to remember it, so the story got more embellished every year.
He’d miss those drinking stories. But this was worth it.
“Think you can behave yourself? Lindsey’s in town for this one.”
Nash’s face closed off. “She’s safe from the likes of me, Logan. You know that.”
“Right.” He’d seen how Nash looked at her. Like recognized like. His eyes had been hungry the moment he’d laid eyes on the gorgeous lead singer of Brooklyn Dawn the previous summer. Logan understood that look. Saw it in the mirror daily.
Nash gave him a raised brow of disgust and took over Logan’s piano. “November Rain” soared up with Nash’s signature aggression. Guns N’ Roses played it with a little more of a gentle slide into the epic accompaniment.
Nash didn’t know the word gentle.
Not when he got behind the ivories.
Two stunning women, the yin and yang of each other came out of the side stage shadows. The dark haired one picked up a violent purple guitar and played Slash’s piece to the song with flawless precision. Her hair fell forward and the sheet of silky hair hid her completely.
The only flash of color was her guitar and the denim blue tips of her jet black hair. Jamison was the lead guitarist for Brooklyn Dawn. Logan had worked with Lindsey a few times now, but never Jamie.
She was intense.
