Rock Hard (Sinners on Tour 2)

She spun on her heel and stalked toward the bedroom at the back of the bus.

“Myrna.” Brian started after her.

“Do not talk to me.” She pushed Sed aside. “You were supposed to make sure he got home safely,” she spat at Sed.

“Myrna,” Sed said, but she brushed past him and entered the bedroom. The slam of the door echoed through the entire bus.

Brian rushed down the hallway and knocked. “Myrna? Sweetheart…”

“You should let her cool down,” Sed advised.

“Go away!” she yelled from inside the bedroom.

There was a thunk as something hit the other side of the door.

Brian opened it, sidestepped an airborne high-heeled shoe, and closed himself in the room with the angry tigress. There was a whole lot of high-pitched yelling for several minutes, and Brian’s lower pitched voice, calm and consoling. The rest of the band sat quietly nursing their injuries.

“What are we going to do about the concert tomorrow?” Eric asked. “Can you sing, Sed?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. My throat is bothering me. I can call Dare if you want, Trey.”

“They won’t have time to find a replacement to open for them. We might as well wait until morning and see how we feel,” Trey said. “God, my head hurts. Do we have any aspirin?”

One of the bouncers had whacked Trey in the back of the head with an aluminum bat. By the time Sed had entered the fray, it had been over. He hadn’t even gotten to throw a punch.

“Do you need to see a doctor? You blacked out for a couple of minutes.”

“My head’s harder than a bat. I don’t think it’s even bleeding.” Trey fingered the goose egg on the back of his head and examined his fingertips for signs of blood. “I do need an aspirin though.”

Sed retrieved a bottle from the tiny bathroom near the bedroom. The sound of Myrna calling Brian’s name in ecstasy had already replaced the angry yelling.

Sed grinned and nodded toward the thin bedroom door as he handed a bottle of aspirin to Trey. “I guess they made up.”

Trey chuckled. “Who can stay mad at Brian?” He swallowed several pills and passed the bottle to Eric.

“I’m glad they made up,” Eric said, holding the dish towel to the gash above his eyebrow. “I’d have felt terrible if she called off the wedding.”

“You should feel terrible,” Jace said, his voice quiet, his brown-eyed gaze focused downward. “You started the whole thing.”

“Well, I didn’t ask for your help, little man, now did I?” Eric said.

Jace pursed his lips and nodded slightly. He left the bus without a word. Outside his Harley roared to life and the motorcycle’s rumble faded into the distance.

“Why do you always torment him, Eric?” Sed asked.

Eric shrugged.

“He didn’t hesitate to jump into your fight when you were outnumbered.”

Eric rubbed a hand over his pursed lips and then squeezed his cleft chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Yeah, I know. It’s just… He’s not Jon, you know?”

Thank God for small favors. Sed knew that Eric and their previous bassist, Jon, had been close friends, but the guy had been bad news. They were much better off with Jace in the band.

Trey licked at the blood at the corner of his mouth. “Did you see the way Jace fought? I’ve never seen him fight before. I was like, holy shit. He pounded the crap out of three bouncers all by himself. I’m pretty sure little man could kick your ass if he wanted to, Eric.”

“Shut up, Trey.” Eric scowled.

Trey shrugged and glanced up at Sed, who stood leaning against the back of the booth. “So what are you going to do about Jessica?”

Sed’s heart skipped a beat at the mention of her name. “Nothing. Obviously.”

“Obviously?” Trey turned over his towel of ice, pressed it to the back of his head, and winced. “You pulled her offstage at a strip club. There’s no obviously about that.”

“I was just… surprised. I don’t give a shit what she does with her life.”

“Uh-huh.” Trey sounded almost as convinced as Sed felt.

Chapter 7

Jessica’s heart sank. “Fired? You can’t fire me over this. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

Roy, the club owner, cleared his throat, refusing to look at her. He reminded Jessica of a bloated Elvis, minus The King’s good looks. Men should not wear white spandex or sequins—separately or in combination. Especially not hairy, overweight men. “Have you seen the condition of my bouncers? Your friends—”

“They aren’t my friends.”

“Then why are you protecting them?”

Jessica shook her head, her eyes wide with feigned innocence. “I’m not.”

“By the time the cops got here last night, they were long gone. If you’re not protecting them, tell me their names and where to find them, so I can press charges.”

“I don’t know them.”

“I don’t believe you.” He considered her for a long moment. “Clear out your dressing table, Feather. I don’t want to see you in my club again.”

“But I need this job.” She’d only been working for three weeks. She didn’t have enough saved up for school yet. Not by a long shot. “It’s just for the summer.”

“Sorry, babe. I don’t need your kind of trouble. You’re beautiful and sexy, but I’ve got a long line of applicants who want your job and they don’t bring their thugs into my club.”

“They’re not thugs.”

“I thought you didn’t know them.”

“I don’t.”

He slid an envelope across his desk toward her. “Your pay.”

She snatched the envelope off the desk and stormed from Roy’s office.

Sed never ceased to f**k up her life.

Jessica burst into the dressing room and tossed all of her crap into a bag. She almost ran into Aggie on her way out. The black-haired beauty grabbed her by both arms to steady her.

“Hey, kitten, what’s the rush?”

“Roy just fired me.” She needed to get out of the place. Her throat ached with unshed tears and she didn’t want anyone to know how upset she was. It was just a stupid job. Just another failure.

“What? How could he fire you? You’re already a local favorite.”

“This is all Sed’s fault,” she said. “When I see him, I’m going to rip him a new ass**le.”