“C’mon. It’s our stop,” My words are husky, I have to cough to pretend to clear my throat so she won’t think I’m mental. I grab my guitar case and stand up. Ellie takes my offered hand and follows me as we walk in silence to the DK, weaving through the other pedestrians as the foot traffic becomes thicker near the pub district.
The big bouncer nods and lets us past the queue and we head directly for the back room to meet up with Dax and George, and unfortunately, George’s American nephew.
“Finally!” Dax says as Ellie and I enter the tiny space, which is even smaller now since there are three other blokes, plus Dax, squashed in with us.
“Adam! I wanted you to meet my nephew,” George bellows happily. Looks like someone has had a few pints already. George’s cheeks are ruddy and his small eyes are glassed over, his crooked smile wide and friendly.
“George, how’s it going?” I ask politely, subtly positioning myself between him and Ellie.
“Oh-oh! Who’s this lovely thing?” He strains to see around me so he can get a better look at her.
“Right, George this is Ellie. Ellie, George here owns the DK.” I stay firmly planted between them so George can’t give her one of his usual sweaty, touchy-feely hugs that the girls round here know to avoid when he’s had a few too many.
“Hello,” Ellie says graciously, ignoring his drunken state and instead giving George a brilliant smile.
George is speechless for once. Unable to come up with anything to say to her. I know it’s because she’s so freaking gorgeous. Hell, I’ve been struck dumb around her too. Any man with eyes would suffer the same effect.
“Uh, well yes. Ummmm, my nephew.” George steps back and nudges a tall, blond bloke forward. “Adam, this is my nephew, Gavin Walker. Gavin, this is Adam Reynolds, the other half of the acoustic duo with Dax here.”
We shake hands and Gavin gives me a big smile and a quick once over with his eyes, which is a little odd. Gavin is what I’d describe as beautiful. Most men aren’t beautiful, but Gavin sure is, almost abnormally so. He’s so good-looking, he should be doing aftershave ads or walking a runway in Italy, not standing in the backroom of a smoky pub with George.
“Nice to meet you. Uncle G. hasn’t stopped talking about you since you first auditioned.” His American accent isn’t harsh like most are. His voice is so striking that it’s almost melodic in a way. Gavin nods at Ellie who is still tucked slightly behind me. “Hey,” he says to her.
“So, where are you from?” I ask, not giving Ellie a chance to answer him. George’s flirting I can handle, this overly attractive guy? No fucking way.
“California. Los Angeles actually. This is my friend Hawke.” He flicks his perfectly disheveled hair out of his eyes and gracefully motions over his shoulder to the guy behind him.
“Hey man.” Hawke steps up to shake my hand. I note that he is also American. He’s covered in tattoos and piercings, wearing a hoodie and square black-frame glasses. Real nerdy rock and roll type. The type girls go crazy for because he’s edgy enough to be different but still harmless looking. My instinct tells me that Hawke isn’t as harmless as he appears.
“Hawke?” I ask, curious about his unusual name. Then I see Hawke’s sharp gaze land on Ellie, and the way he looks at her starts a fire in my gut that has me clenching my hands at my sides. Jesus, between the model and the tatted up rocker, it feels as if a fight to defend my girl will be inevitable.
Your girl, right Adam. She’s not your girl.
Hawke tears his greedy eyes from Ellie for two seconds to look at me and answer my question about his name. “Henry,” he shrugs, “but I’ve been called Hawke since I was a kid.”
I reach back and wrap my arm around El, pulling her into my side possessively so this Hawke guy will get the message. “This is Ellie,” I say, glaring at the two men angrily.
Gavin smiles kindly at my display of ownership, but Hawke’s eyes widen in understanding and he immediately backs off. Good, because with the healing gash in my side and the still sore bruises all over my body, there’s no way I could fight anyone tonight. I grudgingly allowed Ellie to cover the bruise on my face with concealer, but it’s still there, and it still aches.
“Well, I’m going to check out the bar area. You boys chat and I’ll be back when it’s time,” George says happily and he disappears out the door and into the crowd.
“So, what do you play?” Dax asks the two newcomers, joining our awkward little group.
“I play guitar, acoustic and electric. Mostly bass,” Gavin answers.
“Drums,” Hawke says as he air drums the space around him. “George says you guys are really talented, so we can’t wait to hear you. He has a surprisingly good ear for these things.”
Dax and I share a look and start unpacking our things, getting ready for our set. Ellie chats politely with the two Americans. I nearly blow a gasket watching them. Gavin has the nerve to touch her arm and I bristle immediately, spinning to punch the crap out of him. I don’t get a chance to make a move before I’m being pulled back by Dax’s strong hands.
“Don’t man,” he whispers. “Not here, not now, and certainly not while you’re still all fucked up. Plus, we can’t afford for you to mess up your hand again,” he growls under his breath. “They’re just talking so calm the fuck down.”
Breathing in and out deep and rhythmically, I attempt to control my emotions, thankful that Dax is able to keep me from screwing up. Fuck! She’s not even mine, so I have no right to feel this way and I know it. I just can’t even think of anyone else touching her, not when I’m literally aching to hold her in my arms.
“Fine, but I’m keeping my eyes on them,” I growl. My teeth are grinding together so hard that my jaw aches. I have no idea what I’m thinking right now, I’m not a fighter. In fact, I despise it. Living through my dad knocking my mum and me around more times than I can remember, I despise violence unless absolutely necessary, but when it comes to Ellie, it seems all bets are off.
Loud clapping precedes George as he
steps back into our tiny space. “You’re up! Let’s go boys!”