Shattered Dreams (Boys of Bellerose, #3)(9)
They’d been tipped off, but it was too late.
When we’d been driving for a few minutes, weaving through the midmorning traffic in downtown Naples, I had to ask them the question burning through my brain. “Where is Jace? Did he move in too?”
The silence was strong for seconds, as if no one really wanted to talk about Bellerose’s lead singer.
“We’re having a little break from Jace this week,” Rhett said. I turned to find his expression neutral. “He’s mostly been in the hospital with Angelo anyway.”
Angelo. I’d been doing my best not to think about my former best friend turned lover, turned enemy, then fake baby daddy. He’d been hurt the worst in the attack, and the one time I’d managed to drag myself to the ICU to visit him, I’d broken down in gut-wrenching sobs and moans.
Not that it had mattered. Angelo was in a coma and had no idea I was even there. I’d sat at his bedside for an hour until his “bestie” showed up. That had been Jace and my first fight post attack, done in whispered, hate-filled accusations. Everything had gone downhill after that, and I’d found myself involuntarily admitted to the psych ward.
Fuck Jace.
“No news about Angelo still?” I asked, wondering if they’d heard anything. My last update had been three days ago from one of the nurses who was a Bellerose fan and had tried to stay on my good side by slipping me extra treats with my meals and keeping me updated about Angelo and the others.
“Jace isn’t exactly talking to us,” Grayson said shortly. “That bastard needs therapy too, if you ask me.”
“All of us need therapy,” Rhett said with a sigh. “What do you really think of this chick, Billie? Can we trust her not to sell our story to the press?”
That was an excellent question. I liked her for sure, but money turned even the nicest people. “I honestly don’t know. Maybe we should wait and see if any of my sob story makes it into Dirty Truths.”
The loss of Penelope when I was sixteen wasn’t common knowledge yet, but it also wouldn’t be that hard for people to dig up that information. My name was known. I’d gone to the hospital after the fire and miscarriage. The information was there for them to find with enough determination and dodgy bribes. Maybe I needed to tell the therapist something that wasn’t known by anyone else and see what made it into the news.
“If I get a chance, I’ll test her professionalism,” I told the guys. “Then we can decide if she’s a good fit for the rest of the band.”
“I don’t love you being the sacrificial lamb for this,” Rhett muttered, his brow drawn in a sullen frown in the mirror. “Just go about your normal sessions. You’ll figure out her true intentions soon enough. It always becomes obvious over time.”
If anyone would know, it was these famous guys.
Rhett continued, “The ship has sailed on trusting anyone, but I reckon we’re about due one loyal person coming out to bat for our team.”
Gray and I exchanged a look, then my lips twitched with a smile as I turned to look at Rhett in the backseat. “How many metaphors did you just mix, Zep? I thought you were supposed to be a songwriter.”
His own mouth curved in an answering smile, the mood instantly lightening. “Mixed metaphors are the spice of life, Thorn, and should be used liberally. Like butter. Or lube.” He shot me a wink, and my body flushed with heat. Oh yeah, I’d definitely missed him.
“Well, I’m glad that she’s helping you, little hedgehog,” Gray said, reaching out to place a hand on my leg. I loved when he gave me those little affectionate touches, so at odds with his whole tough-man image. I covered his hand with my own, keeping it.
The three of us slipped back into oddly comfortable silence for the rest of the drive to Grayson’s house, and on arrival I quietly noted some new security upgrades. Not the least of which was a perimeter fence with electronic gates where you used to be able to walk right up to the front porch.
“How’d you get this done the week before Christmas?” I asked, blinking at the fresh work.
Gray shot me a quick smirk. “I know people.”
Rhett scoffed. “He means that he paid people. Anyone will work over the holidays so long as they’re well compensated for it.”
My brows lifted, but Gray just shrugged as he parked the SUV in his garage. “We have a little surprise for you, Prickles.”
Butterflies fluttered through my chest. A surprise? Were they going to cover themselves in chocolate sauce and let me lick it off? Wow. One week without sex and I was turning into a man, constantly thinking about it.
Eager to see what they were talking about, I clambered out of the car and followed Gray into the house with Rhett behind me. Whether they’d done that deliberately or not, I wasn’t sure. But it gave me a calm sense of security to be surrounded by my guys.
“Billie!” A high-pitched scream echoed through Gray’s house, and I sucked in a sharp breath of fright. It eased a second later when Vee shoved Grayson aside and threw herself at me like an amorous octopus. “Oh my god, you’re here! And you look amazing! How do you feel? I can’t believe they kept you so long!”
“Fucking hell, Valentina, let the girl breathe,” Rhett growled, gently peeling my new growth off and giving me a scrap of space. “At least let her sit down before you grill her.”