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Chapter One
“I’m going to string him up by his balls and then I’m going to leave his ass.” Denver Casey knew it was an empty threat, but it made her feel better to say it out loud. Freaking back-alley waste dump of a street and she was searching out the bane of her existence.
Oh, and he was also her best friend.
Couldn’t forget that part. Stupid asshole had quickly become the best part of her job with Warning Sign. Being the babysitter-slash-driver of one of the fastest-rising stars of the rock scene had its perks. She actually got paid to figure out every damn road in the country—her personal passion.
She was weird, and maybe a little obsessive about it, but it hadn’t steered her wrong yet. At least not in five years, twenty-four days.
Her nose wrinkled at the stench of stagnant dog piss and a Dumpster that had been forgotten since before time began. Sweet fuck, it was foul. She panned her palm-sized flashlight over the muck. A shudder raced up her spine as things with far too many legs scattered and eyes glowed out of the dark.
She glanced over her shoulder at a sound at the opposite end of the alley.
“Ryan Waters, where the fuck are you?” Denver glanced down at her phone to verify the GPS locater app she’d installed on Ryan’s phone. It said he was right here.
Jerk actually thought he was being slick. She’d been tracking him for the last week. Not maliciously—no, she’d never go there on anyone. Ever.
But this was her job. Deposit all artists from point A to point B. Period, end of job description. At least on the official documentation. In reality, she was herding cats and dogs with a side of squirrel. Ryan definitely fell into the last category lately.
He’d always been her steady one, and now…well, not so much.
At first, she’d just monitored him on the app. No one else needed the same intense babysitting. In fact, she wished a certain caveman would stop holing up so much. Malachi Shawcross, who’d seemed like the ultimate flight-risk addition to the band, actually had to be ejected from the bus these days. He’d sort of taken over the whole thing. She’d secretly renamed it the Boink Bus thanks to his extracurriculars.
Not so much with her best friend. Lately he’d been gone more than he was around.
Each day that passed, she had to worry about Ryan more and more. In all the time she’d known him, but he’d always been the steadiest one of the group. The most professional one out of all the crazies. He held her loyalty more than any of them. And now he was officially the most scattered. He’d been cutting it closer with each departure time for the last ten days. And today, a complete no-show.
He would not mess with her schedule, or her job. She’d finally found something she loved, and that actually fell into the parameters of her skill set. Her skill set nowadays, anyway. She’d tried the truck-driver thing, but it hadn’t suited her at all. Too much time alone with her thoughts.
Not a good idea.
Driving for Warning Sign was the perfect blend of solitude and action. The band was never boring, and they always kept her on her toes. But Ryan’s behavior was getting ridiculous.
Didn’t he realize he was actually the dispensable one in this circus act? He played harmony and rhythm on all his instruments. He was amazing, but he didn’t have an actual slot in the roster of the band. Jack-of-all-trades, master of none.
Actually, that wasn’t quite right either. He’d mastered every instrument he’d ever picked up. And that was the problem. Once he knew how something worked, he got bored. He could play circles around Michael and Elle, their lead guitarists, when he actually gave a shit.
It seemed like he’d been floundering lately. He was so scattered now that he never settled on one instrument in a song. It made for some amazing performances onstage. He had this steamer trunk full of toys that he opened as if he were Carrot Top in Vegas. She didn’t even know the names for half of them, but he could play every single one.
She’d watched their shows at nearly every stop on the tour. The band was tightening up more and more, but then there was this little pinball named Ryan.
He bounced in between each of his bandmates like a bee drunk on pollen. A fiddle, a flute, a ukulele, a slide guitar, a banjo, an accordion—no hand-held instrument was off limits to him.
It made him amazing, but it also left everyone scratching their heads as to what his place was in the band. Was this a stopgap for him? Was it the perfect foil for his boredom? Was he simply going to disappear one day?
She blasted the flashlight beam onto a higher setting. No, she wouldn’t let that happen. He was the best thing to happen to her in too many years to count. The only guy she’d trusted in forever. She’d do everything and anything to make sure he kept his head screwed on straight.
“Ryan!”
Her phone beeped like a homing p
igeon on meth and the little red dot that should be Ryan was right where she was standing. She panned her flashlight across the area. Something reflected from the corner that she didn’t want to think about. It was shiny and dark. She squinted. Liquid—no, that was a phone.
“Shit.”
Denver kicked at the pile of wet boxes next to a crooked Dumpster. Third one in this freaking alley, and this one smelled like death.
“Please, oh please.” Her teeth chattered and her stomach roiled. Memories, swift and scorching, burned behind her eyeballs. Another dark alley. A body more blood than skin. Thick-soled boots slamming—
No.
She shook her head.
