Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(82)
Jace took his position in front of the thousands of screaming fans. “What’s up, Berlin?” he yelled, and the crowd screamed back, only growing quiet when he spoke again. “We’re so excited to be here tonight in your beautiful city. So let’s get this fucking show on the road.”
Rhett’s guitar filled the stadium as he launched into the opening chords of the first song on their set list—a crowd favorite here in Berlin if the response was any indication.
It was also one of their few songs that wasn’t about me or the heartbreak of the past, and I felt like they’d done that deliberately. Angel joined in with Rhett a moment later, and the drums added the beat beneath them as Jace started to sing.
It was electric, and already emotional from my healing with Grayson, I wasn’t surprised when the burn of tears filled my eyes and throat. Vee, still holding my arm, pulled me even closer. She didn’t say a word, but her comforting presence was strong and sure as I let the what-ifs of the past crowd in on me.
This was the life I should have always had, on tour with Jace and Angel, my first loves—made even better by the newer loves in my life: Rhett and Grayson. The four of them completed my heart in a way I hadn’t understood until Grayson and I repaired the final quarter. That final crack that had been weeping for days, burning through my soul and happiness.
Now I was whole.
At least that part of me was, and in this moment, watching my boys—four of the most amazing, talented, hot-as-fuck musicians onstage this decade—I hoped that we would finally be able to put the past to rest. It wasn’t going to be easy, but I had a damn list, and I was determined to cross out each item.
Find out who ordered the hit on my parents.
Cut ties with Big Noise and, in turn, Angelo’s ties with Giovanni.
Free Vee from the cage of her family so she could love who she wanted.
Easy as fuck.
Well, if I could land four rock stars, I could do any fucking thing.
Right?
thirty-six
BILLIE
The first part of our plan worked flawlessly. The trucks were “hijacked” after they left the concert venue in Berlin in a highly dramatic highway robbery that resulted in a sickening amount of collateral damage—thankfully, only cars and property, no people. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t flawless because the mess left along the Autobahn wasn’t part of the plan… Maybe we should have specified hijacking on a road that actually had a speed limit.
Ether way, the drugs and money were gone and our hands were clean. For the next week of touring, we were inundated with news reports of the robbery and wild theories about what had been stolen. The popular fan theory was that someone stole Bellerose’s instruments—their babies—and we leaned into that idea by having the guys use their backup equipment at the next shows.
Giovanni lost his shit over it. Of course he did. He even sent some of his guys over under the guise of security to snoop around and work out what had happened, but we remained confident that they’d never tie it to us—easy enough, when Giovanni genuinely didn’t think we were capable of it. Angelo suffered a harsher inquiry, though, and Vee had to go into hiding as soon as we heard Ricci enforcers were joining the tour. She hadn’t wanted to go, more than happy to just “deal with things” if her family found her, but we outvoted her. She meant too much to Angelo—and to me since we’d been getting closer every day. Vee was my best girl, and I wouldn’t risk her getting shot by some mafia wannabee goon.
On the upside for Vee, the easiest place for her to hide was with Giana. So as sad as she’d been to leave us, I could see how badly she wanted to reunite with her love. I was disgustingly happy for her.
“Are you all looking forward to your break?” Hannah asked as we arrived in Monaco. We’d done all the travel since Berlin by road, since everything in Europe was so close, and Hannah had taken to travelling with us closer than ever. Which, on the one hand, pushed the guys into working on new music. On the other, it seriously tossed a dampener on our frenzied sex life.
So was I looking forward to spending a week in a luxury villa with just my four sexy rock stars and no interruptions? Hell yes. Hell freaking yes. I was so ready I was probably leaving a wet spot on my seat as I squirmed with excitement.
“Did the label make all the arrangements we asked for?” Jace asked in a bored voice, playing his celebrity role well.
Hannah nodded. “Yes, all confirmed. I’ll check it myself once we arrive, too.”
A ridiculous list of requirements was just expected of a famous music group while travelling, and vacationing, on tour. So we’d come up with a whole bunch of dumb shit like a freezer full of 42 Below Feijoa, a bowl of red peanut butter M&Ms, and—at Rhett’s request—sixteen flavors of lube. Amongst those diva requests, though, we had included things like one-way glazing on all the windows to prevent paparazzi shit and video surveillance and perimeter alarms on all doors, windows, and garbage chutes. If Giovanni wanted to try any shit, we’d know.
My knee bounced with nervous energy, and I checked my new phone for the thousandth time. Vee had text me earlier with a picture of her with Giana, the gorgeous bronze-skinned woman kissing her on the cheek.
“She looks happy,” Jace commented, looking over my shoulder.
I glanced up at him, meeting his eyes only a few inches away. “Yeah, she does. Is it weird that I miss her already? We haven’t exactly been friends for years.”