Angel (Fallen Angel, #3)(48)

Halo took my hand, and I moved past him in the row so I could lead him down the aisle, Slade and Jagger bringing up the rear. He looked dazed as he seemed to finally clue in to the enormity of what was happening, and as we climbed the stairs, I squeezed his fingers, and he finally looked my way and grinned.

When we reached the podium, Jennifer was handing Killian the award. Then she turned to the rest of us and said, “Congratulations. I love ‘Invitation,’” and I was pretty sure my boyfriend’s head was about to spin right off.

As she walked by, Halo stared at her with wide eyes, and when she passed him, she patted his arm before standing off to the side to give us our moment.

Halo gaped after her and then looked at me. “Fuck. She likes my song.”

I chuckled. “You sound so surprised, Angel. You do remember what a kickass song it is, right? Aniston’s a smart woman.”

“No shit,” he said, still dazed. I could only imagine what was going through his head right now.

Killian looked back at the rest of us, and when we nodded for him to do the honors, he stepped up to the microphone to accept the award for us. But as my eyes swept across the auditorium, they landed on Trent, and suddenly, I had something to say after all.

I squeezed Halo’s hand before letting go and then stepped up beside Killian, who wrapped up the thank-yous and handed me the award. It was heavy in my hand, with a globe that sat on top of a triangular sculpture.

Levi had asked Halo to make me behave tonight, but he didn’t ask me, did he?

“I love you, Viper!” came a yell from the balcony, and I gave a cocky grin in that direction.

“I fuckin’ love you too,” I said, giving no shits about having to get bleeped on air. Not my problem.

As I rolled the award around in my hands, I looked straight in Trent’s direction. “I thought of something I wanted to say after all. Trent Knox,” I said, lifting the award up. “I’m sorry for being such a dick, but you leaving was the best thing that ever happened to us. The band, and me personally.”

Then I winked at Halo and grinned at Trent as I shot him the finger, chuckles and audible gasps ringing out across the room. But Trent smiled and shook his head before shooting me one right back. It was what he’d asked for, after all—an apology. And I’d given him one the only way I knew how.



“SO WE EACH get one of these?” Halo asked, as he looked down at the three statues in his hands. We’d just finished answering press questions after the show, and I’d pulled out my phone to snap a picture of him with the first of many awards to come for him.

“We don’t actually keep those,” I said, as Halo’s brilliant smile filled the screen and I took another shot. “But yeah, we’ll get engraved ones.”

“Wow.” He looked down at the statues again and bit his lip. “I don’t even know where to put these.”

“I gave mine to my mom,” Jagger said. “She likes to show ’em off to all her friends.”

“Oh yeah? Slade, where do you put yours?” Halo said.

Slade frowned. “I don’t actually know. I’m sure they’re somewhere…”

“Well, if it isn’t Fallen Angel,” came a deep, booming voice from behind us. The man sounded like no one else, and I knew who I’d see before I even turned around.

“Oh shit,” Killian said, grinning as he greeted The Warden—the guy who had taken Brian’s secret recording of “Invitation” and blasted it all over his social media. Basically, our success was in part to the tall rapper looking down at us.

“What’d I say?” The Warden said, a self-satisfied look on his face. “I knew that record was a fuckin’ hit.”

“Man, thank you for that,” Killian said. “You blew our shit wide.”

“Yo, you deserved it. The whole album is sick.” Someone in his crew tapped him on the shoulder then, and as he backed away, he said, “Y’all comin’ to the after-party?”

Jagger nodded. “Hell yes.”

The Warden gave a salute, and as he walked away, one of the show’s staff came by to take the statues we’d been given—duplicates for the show only, not the real thing—and then Levi led us out of the theater, where a long line of limos inched their way toward the exit. With everyone from inside now milling around outside waiting for their rides, the paparazzi swarmed.

“Fuck me, you’d think they’d have a better system for this shit,” I said.

“I bet we could walk there faster,” Killian agreed.

Levi shook his head. “There will be no walking anywhere except to your limo when it arrives.”

With a scoff, Killian said, “Course not. Because God forbid we break any rules or have any fun.”

His tone caught my attention, and when I looked his way, I noticed he was engaged in a stare-down with Levi, but whatever that look meant, I couldn’t guess, because about that time, Halo knocked into me, hard.

“Shit,” he said, as we both managed to catch ourselves before landing on our asses. For a moment, I thought maybe Halo had had too much to drink and had simply lost his balance, but then I remembered he’d only had the one when the show started.

Before I could ask him if he was okay, Halo shot a glare over his shoulder at a twentysomething punk-looking paparazzo.