Raw Deal (Larson Brothers #1)(21)



“We have our Louisiana Creole grandmother to thank for it.”

“I know. Your mom showed me pictures once. She was gorgeous. And spoke fluent French, right?”

“Mais oui.”

“You sexy people who don’t even have to try make me want to vomit. No offense.”

“Trust me, Ro. I have to try.” As evidenced by the fact that she hadn’t had a man in . . . God, longer than she wanted to think about. She’d had some good relationships—one lasting over a year, a couple of others that made the eight-and ten-month mark. But in between those had been a whole lot of nothing, and the latest had ended almost two years ago. So yeah. She was only twenty-seven, but thirty was coming awfully fast. To hear her relatives tell it, forty came even faster.

One of her biggest fears in life was to wake up one day old and alone, parents gone, no kids or grandkids coming to visit.

And wasn’t that a cheerful thought to have in a limo on the way to meet a celebrity?

They gazed out the windows at the Houston skyline as it appeared in the distance, a haze at first, looming ever closer and clearer as the orange glow of twilight set in. Savannah’s heart rate kicked up. Mike’s town. Zane’s town too. She’d been here a couple of times before, but years ago, and had liked it—the sprawling mix of urban and rural influence, the Tex-Mex, the barbecue. Yeah, as someone who loved to eat, she was prone to judging a city by its food. Of course, for that, in her opinion you couldn’t beat her hometown. It was in a completely different world.

She couldn’t help but wonder what life had been like for the Larson boys growing up among all this. Mike with his fighting, his intensity, Zane with his bleak, sullen lyrics . . . and no telling what stories their other brother had to tell.

If she saw Mike tonight, damn if she was going to shun him, no matter what Rowan thought. He had made this possible for them.

The Toyota Center was a massive venue nestled in downtown, and the line of people waiting to get inside as soon as the doors opened had already begun forming . . . and long ago, judging by the length of it. Heads turned as the limo cruised by, people pointed and craned their necks, obviously wondering who might be behind the blacked-out windows. Savannah chuckled to think what they’d say if they knew: just a couple of New Orleans nobodies with their noses practically pressed to the glass, marveling at the excitement of it all.

“I thought seeing all the fans at Tommy’s fights would have prepared me for this, but this is on a whole other level.”

“And Tommy never liked the spotlight, so he made a point of staying as far from the limelight as he could.”

“I never understood that,” said Rowan. “I mean, I understand why he didn’t like the attention. For him it was all about the fight. But if it was me, I’d love to get out of a car and have a huge crowd of people go berserk.”

“But the invasion of your privacy, the judgment about every little thing you do . . . I screw up enough without the whole world watching.”

“Yeah, that part would suck. You’d have to be able to shrug it off.”

Something that Savannah would probably be more capable of doing than Rowan, but she kept that opinion to herself. Rowan cared too much about what people thought of her. She would never be able to handle it.

The limo pulled around to the back of the venue, near the loading docks and backstage area. Crew, security, and roadies were everywhere, and Rowan practically bounced in her seat. “Ohmigod, ohmigod, we’re so close to meeting him, ohmigawwwd . . .”

“Are you going to live through this?”

“I don’t know. I have butterflies. I feel sick.”

“I really hope he’s all you want him to be.”

“Well, he can’t possibly be. I’m prepared for that.”

She said it, but Savannah wasn’t quite sure she believed it.





Chapter Seven


Mike stood beside his brother, arms crossed, surveying the crowd from his spot at side stage. The house lights were up and he could see several thousand faces in the audience, a sold-out crowd. The floor was full and the seats were filling up all the way into the nosebleeds, so far away they were nearly lost in shadow. It always made him nervous to think of his little brother on that stage in front of all those people where any maniac could pull a gun or some shit like that. He didn’t exactly have the utmost confidence in security checks.

But if Zane had any similar thoughts, you wouldn’t know it to look at him. His band had already huddled up, arms around each other, a little bonding moment they always shared before they took the stage. People scurried everywhere. Guitar techs made last-minute adjustments. Mic check was done. The stagehands began to clear out.

That was when Nicole sidled up to him, sliding a hand around his waist. For one completely, absolutely, out-of-his-f*cking-mind insane moment, he thought it might be Savannah. “Hey, you,” she purred. “Haven’t seen you around for a while.”

Yeah, taking another person’s life will do that to you. He had to stop thinking like this. But it irked him when people he hadn’t seen since the accident acted as if nothing had happened. His f*cking world had reset, and they were able to ignore it. “I’m always around,” he told her nonchalantly.

Nicole was a friend. When both of them were bored or lonely or horny or all three, she was a little more. He’d known she was coming out tonight, but he’d hoped he wouldn’t bump into her. Knowing Savannah was on the scene, he wasn’t in the mood for fending off Nicole’s advances. And that didn’t make any sense to him, really, but when he examined the source of his unease at Nicole’s sudden appearance at his side, he discovered the tall New Orleans beauty at its core.

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