Fuck. I wake up in a cold sweat just as the wheels touch down at JFK. The effects of the alcohol have long since worn off; I push that dream far from my mind as I exit the plane and scramble to rent a car. It’s seven a.m. and once I’m flying down the highway, I call Garrett. The band is playing in Hartford and I’m humping ass to get there.

“Hello,” he answers groggily, obviously asleep.

“I’m just leaving New York City. I’ll be there in two hours. Did you find her yet?”

“No, man. I’m sorry. No sign at all. She didn’t come back to the bus. We waited as long as we could. Leif said she told him after the show she’d meet us in Hartford. We still waited as long as we could before pulling out of New York.”

“Did she say anything else to Leif?”

“No. He asked her what was going on, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay. Call me if you hear anything else.”

“You know I will.”

“Thanks.”

Fuck, f**k, f**k. I hit the accelerator and pound my palms against the steering wheel. What the hell is going on?

• • •

Just shy of two hours later, I pull into the XL Center in Hartford, Connecticut. There are two tour buses there—one of them ours. I slam the car into PARK right next to it and pound on the door. John opens it. “Hey, buddy, where you been?”

I give him a cursory nod, but say nothing and head toward her room, crossing through the front lounge first. No one is around. I quickly stride to the galley, and find that it too is empty. When I hit the back lounge, all the guys are huddled around the table. Rubbing my hand over my stubbled jaw, I assess the room before walking through the door. She’s not in here, but three mouths drop open when the guys turn to look at me. My eyes catch Garrett’s first and I stare him down. He looks nervous as he stands up and heads my way. Stopping in front of me, he places his hand on my shoulder. “Hey, can we talk outside?”

I jerk away, feeling agitated and unnerved. “No, we can talk now. Where the f**k is she?”

“She’s here,” he mumbles.

I dart to her bedroom and fling the door open, but it’s empty. I spin around toward Leif, who’s behind me. “Where the hell is she?”

“I think you should sit down and let us explain.”

“Where is she?” I ask again, getting closer, my eyes flashing with fury.

He swallows a few times. “In the other bus, but we need to explain.”

I don’t need to hear any explanation. I take off like a bat out of hell to the other bus I saw when I pulled in. My heart pounds and my stomach is in knots as I approach. Pulling the doors open, I take the two steps in one and find myself face-to-face with a burly dude at least twice my girth. He levels a serious stare at me and I return the same to him.

He comes right up to my face and grabs my shirt with his fist, almost picking me up off the floor. “Any reason you felt you couldn’t knock?” he mutters, his lips flapping over his set of double chins.

I laugh. As if anything he thinks he can do is going to intimidate me or stop me.

“It’s okay, Johnny.” A voice colder than ice comes from behind the ninja assassin.

Johnny steps aside and then directly in front of me I see the ass**le himself—Damon Wolf. I lurch forward to drop him on the spot, but his bodyguard stops me. He’s got my arms twisted behind my back, so I use my feet and kick his shins—hard.

He doesn’t make a sound or move a muscle, except to pull tighter on my arms. It feels like he might pull them out of the sockets if he pulls any harder.

Turning my head, I try to spit in his face, but he picks me up and quickly slams my head into an overhead compartment. I can feel a faint trickle of liquid oozing down my face as he sets me down.

With my head throbbing, I stare at the man in front of me. “Where is she!”

“She’s safe with me. You don’t need to worry about her.” Hearing this, I want to punch the smug look right the f**k off his face.

“Ivy,” I yell and again flatten my work boot against the guy’s shin. This time he clocks my face on the small counter and I think my nose just might be broken. “Fuckkkk,” I yell and when I look up I see her.

“Stop it!” she screams.

I wipe the blood from my face and stare at her. She’s wearing a tight white dress that hugs her curves perfectly. The neck is high and so is the hemline. Her hair is pulled back and her sapphire earrings sparkle in the morning light shining through the windows. I let out a huge sigh of relief that she’s all right. Searching her body for signs of abuse, I see none—none that appear physical anyway. But she looks at me with a deep sadness I’ve never seen in her eyes before and my heart slams out of my rib cage. Adrenaline spikes through me and I manage to somehow free myself. I shove Damon out of my way and move toward her.

“Come with me,” I tell her, wiping my palms on my jeans before trying to take her hand.

“I can’t,” she whispers and pulls her hands behind her back.

My knees buckle at her words, and the ninja is on me again.

“Leave him alone,” she orders in a much sterner voice. She then looks at Damon. “You said you’d leave him alone.”

“And I will, my angel, when he leaves us alone.”

Us. I feel like I might puke right here. I look at Ivy and then I can see it—her eyes are red and swollen, her face looks lifeless, but she regards me with what I think is pity.

“That’s not going to happen.” I direct the statement to Damon and shift slightly before finding her eyes again. “Ivy, what’s going on?”

She doesn’t answer me, but repeats herself, this time screaming at Damon. “You said you’d leave him alone.”

My eyes are narrowed on her and I’m moving closer now that there is room. “I don’t need you or anyone else to fight my battles.” The closer I get to her, the faster my heart beats. Without any hesitation, I run my hand down her cheek. But before I can talk to her, the wind is knocked out of me by a swift punch in my side, and then my arms are restrained again. Sucking in a painful breath, I narrow my eyes at Damon. I would kill him in a minute if I knew I could get away with it.

“How about you and me outside—now,” I hiss.

“Xander, Xander, Xander. So much like your father.”

My eyes slam to Ivy, who noticeably flinches, and back to him. Everything about him is revolting. His words infuriate me, set my blood on fire, and I turn, trying to move toward him, consumed by a rage I haven’t felt since the day I saw my sister’s fingers bleeding. But again I’m blocked by his bodyguard. “Now, listen, Xander. You don’t want to end up like your father, do you?”

My father’s last words haunt me—Damon Wolf. I spit in his face and this time I hit my mark. “What do you know about my father?” I spit out.

Removing a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping his cheek, he says, “I’ll give you that one, but now you need to walk away and know she’ll be happy with me.”

Ivy’s cries turn into sobs.

“Ivy, angel, stop crying and come here.”

She doesn’t move.

“Ivy! Come over here so we don’t have to shout,” he commands, his eyes speaking to her in a language I don’t understand. She walks with trepidation toward him. She’s shaking and I know she’s scared. He takes her hand and I cringe, again trying to free myself.

“We have an announcement and you’re going to be the first to hear it. In fact, you can be the first to congratulate us. We got married today.”

Her face pleads with me for something—understanding, maybe—and the sudden pain that strikes my body is unbearable. I try to struggle free, but the adrenaline surge I had is gone.

She looks at me a moment longer before his barking voice commands, “Angel, tell him how much you missed me. Tell him how you begged me to forgive you, to take you back because you loved me. How much you regretted leaving me. Tell him how it took him to make you see I was right for you.”

“Damon, please stop,” she says to him, with tears streaming down her face.

My gut twists with disgust. “Ivy?”

Her body trembles.

Still unable to believe it, I finally ask, “Is it true? Did you marry him?”

She nods her head.

“Why?” I don’t even recognize my own voice at this point.

“Let it be, Xander,” she pleads.

I look around at the posh surroundings. “Does this have to do with money?” I ask her.

Her face turns to anger.

“You need money. Is that why you joined the band so eagerly? Is that what this was all about?”

“Yes,” she cries out, but for some reason I feel like she’s saying no.

Damon laughs. “Keep trying to figure it out and you’ll keep coming back to square one. Love speaks for itself. She just couldn’t stand to be without me. She loves me. Has for years. Her mother told me about you two when the picture surfaced and I’ve forgiven her for her slight misjudgment.”

I flinch. I’m the misjudgment? That makes me want to laugh.

“I’m sorry,” she mouths silently, and when our eyes connect for that one moment, I know she’s trying to tell me something. I know she is, but I can’t get any sound to come from my throat to ask what.

He grabs her hand and shoves the ring in my face. “I think your visit has lasted long enough. Ivy will be performing tonight and she should rest. We’ll discuss the rest of the tour tomorrow. Oh, and Xander, Johnny will be with her at all times.” He nods to Johnny, who drags me down the aisle of the bus.

“Ivy, talk to me,” I yell. “How could you do this to us?”

“Xander, this is how it has to be,” she says in a soft voice, covering her face with her hands.

Damon steps closer and she steps back. It’s clear that what he says is love is not. Why did she marry him? I don’t have a chance to find out anything more, because the muscle throws me out of the bus and I land on my ass. In a haze I stand up. Ivy married Damon Wolf? I puke right there as thoughts of his hands on her send me to the pits of hell and devastation careens through my body. Looking around, I see Leif, Garrett, and Nix staring in disbelief and I stare back with the same feeling.

“Fuck, man, let’s get you cleaned up,” Nix says, throwing my arm over his shoulder. I walk with him, pissed and confused about what just happened, but knowing it is far from over . . . knowing something isn’t right . . . knowing sure as shit that Damon must have something over her. Because there is no other explanation I want to think about.

CHAPTER 14

Underneath It All

Morning had stretched into afternoon and before I know it, it’s evening. I spent the morning trying to convince myself not to turn my back on her like I did before. She loves me—or I thought she did. Fuck, for twelve years I’ve been flirting around, never finding anyone else who could light up my soul like her. I never paid much attention to it, either. Then once she was back in my arms, it was all there—she was the one I’d always needed. She brings out parts of me I never thought I had. I had spent the afternoon talking myself down off the ledge—I wanted to kill him, with my bare hands, strangle every last breath out of him. But then who would win? I have to keep my cool.

We’re huddled together for our drink and a prayer. But no one is praying tonight. I regard them all steadily as I sit in a chair and lean over. My head throbs, my nose hurts—the painkillers Leif gave me are wearing off. I’m starting to feel more than a little bit agitated and annoyed. The show begins in minutes and she’s not here yet. What the hell is going on? Did I imagine what we had? Why would she marry him? The questions are on constant repeat in my mind and I feel like I’m going to puke again.

The feeling gets even worse when I hear Damon’s voice taunt me. “Don’t tell me you’re feeling sorry for yourself.”

“Fuck you,” I say, not bothering to raise my head.

They walk in together, with the ninja right beside her, but I already felt her nearness. My body has come alive and her presence gives me the strength I need. I flick my eyes toward her. She looks just as sad as earlier. I need to talk to her—alone. But it’s too late—the music sounds and the band is announced, so she makes her way onstage with the guys. Thank f**k Damon disappears, but he forgot the ninja and the guy stays front and center at the curtain.

Since backstage is as empty as I feel, I watch for a bit and then suddenly feel like I can’t breathe. I’ll be back before the show ends. The outside air is hot, muggy, almost suffocating, and I try to block out everything as I make my way back to my small cubby on the bus. The walk feels like miles and when I look up toward the sky I see thousands of stars there to light my way, but the darkness is everywhere. The bus doors are open and John is asleep in his seat. I finally make it to my bed and throw myself down, then call my brother. I want to check on Dahlia, but when he asks me what’s wrong, I tell him. He tries to persuade me to keep my cool and not do anything stupid, but at the same time I’m sure he knows he’s talking to the wind. I want to kill that son of a bitch, I want to scream at Ivy and ask, “What the f**k are you thinking?” I want answers. And I’m going to get them.

An hour or so later I’m back in the empty area backstage and she’s announcing her last song. “How about ‘Sorry’ by Buckcherry?” she asks the crowd. They go crazy, like they always do whenever she sings a cover.

Vamping chords, then a wailing bass introduce the song. “I’m sorry I’m bad,” she croons into the mic with her eyes closed. Her voice goes even lower and she sounds raspy, beautiful, inspiring, as she continues with “I’m sorry about all the things he said to you.”