She saw her own face on the giant screens all over the stadium and she froze.
“She’s covering rhythm guitar for us,” Max said. “Doing an excellent job.”
Reagan felt her cheeks flame. She nodded and then took a step away from the mic.
“I love you, Reagan,” some guy screamed in the audience and pulled up his shirt to flash his thin chest at her.
“That only works when chicks flash their tits at stage hands,” Dare said to the guy, pointing at him with his guitar pick. “No backstage pass for you.”
“‘Bite,’” Reagan heard Mad Dog announce the next song in her ear. “One. Two. Three.” The band followed his cue to start the abrupt beginning of the song. Logan apparently thought Reagan needed to get closer to the front of the stage. He leaned his back against hers and hopped backward, pushing her forward several steps. He repeated the motion and she almost missed a note.
“Stop it,” she growled at him.
“Relax, Reagan,” he said. “Have some fun.”
When she scowled at him, he shrugged and went to play his bass on the opposite end of the stage.
By the end of third song, Reagan was really feeling the pressure. And her feet were freaking killing her. She glanced over at the side of the stage and caught sight of Trey standing in the shadows. Feeling stronger and somehow relieved, she took a deep breath and trotted up to the front of the stage. The guys in the front row of the audience all surged against the barrier fence as if they wanted to grab her. She glanced at Dare who grinned at her. She lifted the neck of her guitar and gyrated against her instrument slightly. Nothing too extreme. Just a little sexy. One guy launched himself clean over the barrier fence and was promptly escorted to the end of the barrier and forced back into the crowd. Reagan went down on one knee to play the next stanza and her little cluster of fanboys cheered her on. This was kind of fun. She had to be careful not to lose Max’s sound though. She couldn’t get too carried away.
The song ended and Max made a low growling sound in his microphone. “I see Reagan has broken out of her shell for you. Do you like it?”
The crowd cheered and Reagan found herself displayed on all the screens in the stadium again.
Reagan walked over to the nearest microphone and asked, “Would anyone be horribly offended if I took off these fucking boots? They’re killing my feet.”
The crowd started chanting. “Take it off. Take it off.”
She popped her feet out of both boots, tossed them to a stage runner, and stood barefoot on the stage wriggling her toes in delight. “Now I can get my rock on.”
She played a random string of notes that sent the crowd into a frenzy. Okay, so this was a lot of fun. She dug her fingers into her hair, messing it all up and feeling damned good about it. She threw up her devil horns on both fists, shaking her extended pinkies and index fingers at the crowd.
“I’m ready to get dirty,” Reagan said.
Dare chuckled into his microphone. “Oh hell yeah,” he said in a sexy growl.
“I’ll get dirty with you, Reagan,” Logan said.
“Let’s all get dirty,” Max yelled, and the band segued into their gritty ballad, “Stained.”
Reagan made an effort to get involved in the rest of the show. Not too involved. She didn’t want to overstep her bounds and upstage anyone else in the band. She felt she did an excellent job mimicking Max’s guitar work and was rather proud of that, even though she felt a little disconnected from the music the entire time.
When the final lights went down and she stepped off the stage, she looked for Trey, but he’d vanished. He probably didn’t want her to know that he’d been watching when she’d specifically told him not to. Ethan was there though and he gave her an encouraging pat on the back.
“You were awesome!”
“Thanks,” she said.
“Good show,” multiple people said to her as she was ushered through the crowd back to her dressing room. She was expected at the after-party, which was being held at the hotel across the parking lot. She wanted to find some shoes that didn’t cripple her toes before she headed over.
“Nice work,” Dare said to her just outside her dressing room door. “We’ll rehearse again before tomorrow night’s show in San Francisco. See if we can’t figure out what’s causing your disconnect.”
So he’d noticed that, huh? She bit her lip and nodded.
“I’ll see you at the after-party,” he said and left her standing there feeling unsure of herself.
“What disconnect?” Ethan asked her.
“I’m not really feeling the music.”
“I couldn’t tell. You were fabulous up there. Everyone loved you.”
She smiled. “I thought it went well. After I got rid of those fucking boots.”
She entered her dressing room and reached for a bottle of water. She chugged half of it before she noticed the bouquet of flowers sitting on her dressing table. How thoughtful. Who had sent her flowers? Trey? Obviously not Ethan, because he looked as surprised to see them as Reagan did. Maybe one of her friends. Someone from the record company. Or dare she hope they were from her daddy?
She practically skipped across the room and pulled the card from the bright assortment of gerbera daisies.
Her name was printed neatly on the outer envelope. She tugged the card free and read it. Her smile faded.
You took what was mine, bitch. Don’t think you’ll keep it for much longer.
Ethan snatched the card out of her hand. “Fucking son of a bitch,” he growled. He lifted the vase and looked at the bottom, examined the card more closely, and then the envelope. Looking for clues. A habit left over from his past police work.
“You go to the party and have fun. Just don’t allow yourself to be caught alone,” Ethan said, giving her an encouraging squeeze and rubbing her arm briskly. “I’ll find out who sent this to you and fuck him up.”
Chapter 30
The ballroom of the hotel was packed wall-to-wall with people. Reagan searched the crowd until she caught sight of Trey surrounded by his usual posse of admirers. She hurried to his side, ignoring curious stares and the few people who called out to her as she passed. She needed to decompress and she wanted to spend some time alone with Trey. To thank him for being there when she hadn’t known she’d needed him to be. And to pretend she wasn’t afraid of whoever kept sending her threatening messages.
She caught the tail end of Trey’s conversation when she stopped beside him. “… he never did find his pants.”
No fewer than ten people laughed at whatever Trey happened to be talking about. She touched his arm and he glanced at her. A huge smile spread across his face. “Hey, Reagan. I was wondering when you’d make it. Somebody get the newest member of Exodus End a beer.”
Three beers were thrust in her direction. “No thanks,” she said.
“Would you like something else? Open bar tonight.” He lifted his beer and his enamored audience cheered.
She shook her head and leaned close to whisper in his ear. “I want to go up to my room for a little while. Will you come with me?”
“Are rhinos always horny?”
She hesitated, her brain even more exhausted than her body was. “Um. Yes?”
He chuckled. “Right answer.” He took a swig of his half-finished beer, handed the remainder to the nearest person, and took Reagan’s hand. “Have a great night,” he said to his entourage.
“Are you leaving?” asked a gorgeous redhead in a figure-hugging, purple evening dress.