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1
PIPER
Onstage, I was in my element. I felt like nothing could touch me. The music took hold of me, making my blood sing as I hit the high notes. From the moment my bow touched the strings of my electric violin, I turned off the rest of the world and let the music consume me. I didn’t really see the brutal overhead lights or the people closest to the stage. The cameras didn’t even register.
There was just me, my band, and the music…
The first hint I got that something was wrong was when Hymn missed a chord. That never happened. She was so talented, so amazing on any instrument, but the guitar was where she was home. The mistake surprised me so much that I stumbled over the next verse.
A glance in her direction showed me that, outwardly, she looked fine. She was sitting in her chair to my left, her fingers moving over the guitar strings like the heavenly creature she was. Wearing a pair of wraparound sunglasses to protect her sensitive eyes from the harsh stage lighting, she was rocking out like she usually did, but her slender shoulders were tense when they normally would have been relaxed as she got lost in the music.
Sensing that she needed me, I drifted closer. Catching sight of her tears spilling down her cheeks, I moved faster. Hymn was not a crier. In all the years I’d known her, I could count the times I’d witnessed her crying on one hand with fingers to spare. If she was upset enough to shed tears—especially while onstage in front of thousands of people—then something was definitely off.
I’d met Hymn at Juilliard. The beautiful girl with long blond hair and the huge German shepherd guide dog at her side had caught everyone’s attention. Then she’d sat down at the piano, and the most beautiful music I’d ever heard had filled my ears. Everyone in the room had gone from wondering if she was blind to being entranced by the ethereal sounds her long, graceful fingers had created so effortlessly.
She’d mastered the piano at the age of three, and by the time she’d started at Juilliard, she’d already been performing around the world for years. Her parents had been banking off her talent and success from the moment she was born, but she’d emancipated from them and, with the help of a good lawyer, had gained control over her life.
When I’d gotten my record deal and needed to put a band together, Hymn was the first person I thought of. Piano was what she was famous for, but guitar was her passion. She didn’t even hesitate to take me up on my offer, and for the last five years, she’d been my salvation during the summer tours.
Seeing her so upset that she was missing chords and actually crying onstage was almost too much for me.
The closer I got, the clearer the picture became. Behind her, Robbie, my newest bass player, was glaring at the back of Hymn’s head. He stepped closer to her, and I watched her ponytail swish as the end of his guitar purposely brushed over it. Less than a second later, she shook as he kicked her chair, causing her to miss another chord.
My vision went red around the edges. Everything around me disappeared. I didn’t see the flashing lights or hear the music. The thousands of screaming people in front of the stage faded out of my peripheral, and I just let the rage consume me. At least twenty thousand cameras were out, recording, and a part of my brain tried to warn me that what I was about to do would go viral within the next hour.
But I didn’t give a single fuck.
The bass player’s eyes went huge when he saw me, his face paling when he realized I was aware of what he’d been doing to my best friend and favorite person in the universe. The look on his face told me his life was flashing before his eyes—and for good reason, because I was about to destroy him.
I dropped my violin on the stage, and the bow went flying just as I took a leap, ready to rip Robbie apart.
My angry scream was drowned out by the drums, Hymn, and the crowd going crazy behind me. I’d given up on singing, and the fans were unsure why the lyrics had stopped but the music continued, but when they saw me take a running leap at one of my bandmates, they started to get oddly quiet. Those who hadn’t been recording only seconds before were now reaching for their phones to capture Piper Bryant turning into a savage onstage at the first concert of her summer tour.
Before I could wrap my hands around Robbie’s throat, strong arms snaked around my waist like a vise, and I was lifted high into the air. My sights were locked on the piece of shit in front of me, however, and my only goal was to end his life. I struggled against the hold, and I felt more than heard my captor’s pained grunt.
“Pipes!” a voice bellowed close to my ear as I fought against him as he carried me off the stage.
My drummer and Hymn had finally stopped playing, and there was no sound but the low murmurs of the fans demanding to know what was going on, but all I really heard was the ringing in my ears.
“Let me go!” I shouted. “I’m going to kill him!”
“Calm down!” my captor commanded.
I was placed on my feet but not released. One of the arms around my waist lifted, but only to turn me so he could grasp hold of my swinging fists. One of those fists connected with something hard, and some of the red around the edges of my vision began to clear when I heard his pained howl. Realizing it was Cannon holding on to me, I sagged against him for all of two seconds before I started struggling again.
“Let go of me,” I gritted through clenched teeth. “I’m going to kill that motherfucker.”
“Piper!” It wasn’t so much his bellow but him using my name and not “Pipes” that caused my heart to stop for a moment. He tightened his hands harder around my arms, and he jerked me against him. I felt his lips touch the top of my head as he inhaled deeply.
I sucked in a breath, taking in the scent of his body wash and cologne. Closing my eyes, I savored the smells even as I hated that they had the ability to soothe me. The irony that my childhood tormentor was the one trying to keep me from murdering another bully wasn’t completely lost on me.
Around us, I could hear the roadies rushing about, trying to figure out what was happening and what they should do. Someone tried to ask Cannon, but he growled, “Not now!” and I saw their feet scurry away.
“You okay now?” he asked after a full minute had passed.
I nodded, my cheek rubbing against his shirt—over his hard chest. Damn it, I didn’t want to think about his chest. It was so thick with muscles that it made me salivate with the need to lick every one of those chiseled lines and deep ravines.
At my assurance, he eased his hold a little so he could lean back enough to look down at me. “What happened?”
“Robbie made Hymn cry. I don’t know exactly what was going on, but he kicked her chair and was fucking with her.” Just remembering her tears made my vision blur again.
His jaw turned to stone. “You stay right here,” he instructed. “I’ll take care of this.”
Without giving me a chance to protest, he dropped a kiss on top of my head and then walked back out onto the stage. I ran after him but stopped just offstage to watch. Charlie, my drummer, was crouched down in front of Hymn, asking her if she was okay. Hymn was legally blind, and without her service dog or someone to help her navigate, she was basically stuck onstage for the moment. The music was too loud for the service dog to handle, so someone always helped Hymn to and from the stage.
I should have gone over to check on her myself, make sure Robbie hadn’t done anything to hurt her physically. But I couldn’t tear my eyes off Cannon.
Robbie was on the other side of the stage now, a smirk on his face as he pretended to tune his guitar. As Cannon walked onto the stage, the crowd that had been complaining loudly now screamed in excitement. Grown women burst into tears at the sight of him, but he didn’t even spare them a glance, when normally he would have been flashing that sexy-ass grin and popping those dimples at them all.
Right then, his gaze was locked on my bassist.
Seeing him coming, Robbie lost the smirk just as Cannon reached him. Robbie was about five foot ten, on the skinnier side, with shaggy brown hair and a goatee. Cannon was six foot three, his blond hair longer on top and with a high fade, his shoulders were nearly as wide as a door, and he always kept his face clean-shaven so the world could swoon over his damn dimples. The difference between them was almost laughable until Cannon grabbed Robbie by his shirt and jerked him forward.
I couldn’t hear what he said, but I could sense the menace from across the stage. Robbie held up his hands, a shaky grin on his face as he tried to reason with the pissed-off rocker in front of him. Cannon released his shirt and grabbed the guitar, jerking the strap over the other guy’s head. A roadie appeared as if by magic and carefully took it before backing into the shadows.
One moment, the two men were standing there, Cannon still yelling. The next, Robbie was being tossed offstage. There was a huge gap between the stage and the crowd, with security at the fence that separated the two. We were in a stadium, so Robbie landed on Astroturf, or whatever the hell that fake grass was.
Seeing him fly through the air and land with a thud that could be heard even over the crowd made me fold in half from laughing so hard.
A few of the security guards rushed forward to help him up, but Cannon had moved to the edge of the stage and yelled at them not to touch the piece of shit. On the other side of the stage, where the roadie had disappeared with the guitar moments before, an out-of-breath Trinity appeared.
Her eyes took everything in before she stomped over to Cannon. Even though he was one of my least favorite people, I couldn’t let him get bitched out for something that was mostly my fault. Running across the stage, I reached them just as Cannon commanded, “Get rid of that motherfucker and find her a new bass player.”
“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Trinity snapped. The hands she had on her hips made me think of her mom, but other than her blue-gray eyes, she looked nothing like Aunt Natalie. “I need to know what the hell happened!”
I pushed between the two of them, knowing if I didn’t, Trinity was likely to throw Cannon off the stage just as he’d done Robbie. “It’s my fault,” I explained. “Well, technically, it’s all Robbie’s fault. But I accept my role in this wholeheartedly. Robbie was mistreating Hymn during my last song, and things just escalated from there. If Cannon hadn’t been here, I probably would be in handcuffs for murder right now.”
Her eyes narrowed on me before looking back to where Robbie was struggling to get to his feet on his own steam. The guards had stepped back when Cannon yelled at them. It was obvious the guy had broken something from the way his leg kept buckling every time he tried to put weight on it.
With an exasperated sigh, Trinity turned her glare back on Cannon and then on me. “This is only the first stop of the tour. Do not let this be the tone for the entire summer.”
Cannon’s hands landed on my shoulders and squeezed. I wanted to moan at the pleasure his fingers caused, lean into him, and just let the last few minutes melt away. But trusting him enough to hold me up was the equivalent of giving him a loaded gun and telling him to pull the trigger while it was aimed at my chest.
“Of course not, Trin,” he assured her in that deceptively charming voice that had the ability to fool even me at times. I glanced up at him in time to see him flash her his killer grin, making his dimples pop. I had to look away quickly. His dimples were my weakness, one I didn’t want him or anyone else to be aware of. “I promised you I would be on my best behavior.”
She rolled her eyes, but her own dimples peeked out for all of two seconds before she glowered at him once again. “I swear on all that is holy, I will end up murdering someone myself this summer,” she grumbled as she walked away.
“You love me too much to murder me,” Cannon called after her, only to burst out laughing when she flipped him off as she kept walking.
I started to pull away, but he tightened his hands on my shoulders and tugged me back against him again. The adrenaline that had been coursing through my veins since I’d jumped at Robbie earlier was starting to fade, and I felt exhausted. At least that was my excuse for how easily I melted into him, savoring his touch and the warmth of his front pressing so firmly into my back.
Then someone screamed his name close to the stage, and I was jerked back into reality.
