Rock Reclaimed (Rock Revenge Trilogy 2)

“Would that be one of the reasons I’ve got my camera gear?”

“Possibly.”

I gave him a baleful stare.

“I have a fitting with that designer bloke, Roman. They want me to get some new clothes for the show.”

“Oh. Well, there’s nothing bad there.”

“You’re not the one who has to be a human pin-cushion.”

“That’s very true. Can’t say I mind watching, though.”

His eyebrow winged up. “Is that right?”

I grinned at him. “It’s for the art, of course.”

He tugged me closer. “Is that what you’re going with?” When I just smiled, he threaded his fingers into my hair. “So, about the whole Monterey thing…”

I tucked my fingers into the belt loops of his jeans. “Yeah. What about it?”

“Did I mention it was a tour bus we’d be on?”

I gripped his shirt. “No. No, you did not.”

He smiled wide. “Surprise.”

Twenty-Two

When Frank dropped us off at Ripper Records, I wasn’t quite prepared for their version of a tour bus. In my mind, I’d been imagining a sleek silver bullet with lots of chrome and shine. What I got was…an RV’s second cousin, twice removed.

The belly of the bus was open, with instrument cases stacked in like a musical Tetris game. A lanky guy with more beard than face was tucking in the last of the pieces on the curb.

Ian was frowning at the cases as he set down his weekender, mine, and the costume bag from Roman.

“What?”

“That’s a new drum kit. Never had purple sequins all over the kick drum case before.” He tugged on his bottom lip. “At least that I remember.”

Mr. Beard had a cigarette bobbing from his lips as he took our bags. “Some new talent on the bus, Mr. Kagan.”

My eyebrow winged up. Mr. Kagan? I glanced up at Ian. His frown deepened as he raked his fingers through his hair. Uh-oh, that was never good.

“Oh, there you are.” A decidedly sexy female voice came from the bus.

Ian’s head swiveled. “Who are you?”

A girl with black spiky hair hopped off the bus with a wide grin. Her eyes were made up in that beauty YouTuber style that always made me feel like I’d gotten an extra dash of cranky artist instead of any female ability for fashion. Most of the time, I didn’t care. I was usually too covered in paint and ink to want to do up my eyes with some crazy eyeliner wing thing. However, this girl made me rethink a lot of damn things.

She stalked over to us with her arm out. “I’m Perry, your new drummer.”

“Really?”

She tipped her head to the side. “Didn’t get the memo, huh?”

“Not so much.”

I pinched Ian’s arm and he gave me a surly frown. I was used to his flirty gaze with a bit of charm and wooing. Evidently, there was a bit of cranky artist in my guy too. I stared him down and he shook the girl’s hand. “Ian.”