1
The private party at the restaurant across the road from the Enmore was packed to the rafters with…Fuck, who in thehell are all these people?Rafe Moreno shouldered through the crowd to the back of the room where the rest of his band were gathered. With its ornate ceiling, gold-inlaid wall panels, dark curtains, dimly lit wall sconces, and glittering chandeliers, the abundant elegance was in contrast to the roughness of the guys who made up HyperOctane.
“Bloody hell.” Rafe dropped onto the leather Chesterfield sofa next to Gibbo. “I didn’t think we even knew this many people.” He spoke loudly to be heard over the music and conversation—the throb of rock most definitely at odds with the visual opulence of the location, creating an unusual ambience.
John Gibson, better known as Gibbo, laughed and handed him a drink. “I don’t recognise a single face, mate.”
“Me, either,” RG echoed from where he sat in a huge throne-like armchair. Rafe glanced his way but could barely see their drummer around the woman perched on his lap. It didn’t surprise Rafe that Antony, or RG as they called him, had picked up a random girl from the crowd. They didn’t call him RG, short for Road Gig, for nothing—he was the master of the one-and-done, and had no trouble keeping his bed warm as they travelled the length and breadth of Australia. Rafe nodded a greeting to the girl, hoping to hell she knew what she was getting herself into.
“How the fuck did they get in then?” Rafe asked as he looked at the mass of seething bodies. “I thought this was supposed to be a small celebration for us to wrap up the end of the tour. You’d think we’d bloody know who was invited.”
Gibbo shrugged. “Beats me.” He relaxed back into the cushions and took a long swallow from the glass of bourbon in his hand. “I don’t give a fuck who they are. They’re probably on management’s guest list.”
“Well, you’d better start being interested.” A shiver ran through Rafe. “Remember the last gig up north and what went down.”
They’d played a venue in Fortitude Valley and the after-party had made headlines for all the wrong reasons. Too many people trying to rub shoulders with the members of the band and too much free booze. Not a good combination.
“Yeah, whatever.” Gibbo shrugged again. “We’ve increased security since then, so I’m sure it’s all under control.”
Gibbo had to be the most laid-back guy Rafe had ever met. The only thing he ever seemed to be concerned about was his bass guitar—his house could be on fire with his mother in it, and he’d most likely grab the bass first. Rafe’s gaze flicked to the couple of dark-suited men standing against the wall nearby as he subconsciously rubbed his shoulder.Thank fuck for those guys.He just hoped Gibbo was right and things wouldn’t degenerate into a brawl like last time.
“Hey, Harvey? You’re awfully quiet. What gives, man?”
Harvey grunted and slowly opened his eyes. “Fucking exhausted, mate. It’s been one long-arse tour. Give me a minute to down this,” he held up a bottle of beer, “and I’ll be right as rain.”
Ithadbeen a long tour—months on the road with venues ranging from small pubs to large auditoriums and a few outdoor concerts thrown in. Tonight’s show at the Enmore Theatre in their hometown of Sydney had been their last gig. For now. They’d barely have time to catch their breath before they were off again, but as Rafe thought of the upcoming trip, he couldn’t keep the grin from his face. Now this was something he could get behind.USA, here we come!
“You’ve got one week to recover, old man. One week till we piss off outta here.”
“Fuck you,” Harvey replied with a laugh. As the oldest band member at thirty-one, he was used to getting shit about his age. He held out his bottle.
Rafe leaned across and tapped the bottle with his glass. “Here’s to things getting better with age.” He threw back the shot of whisky, the alcohol stealing his breath. With his own birthday—the big 3-0—just around the corner, he probablyshouldlay off the old man jokes.Jesus, thirty years old.Who’d have thought I’d get this far in one piece.Fuck! It’s been a crazy ride.
From the corner of his vision, Rafe saw a couple of guys approach. He tensed, but their security detail stepped forward and he relaxed slightly. He relaxed even more when Harvey jumped up to greet the newcomers with enthusiasm. “Ravi! Parker! Glad you could make it.” He gave each man a hearty backslap before slinging an arm around the shoulders of the smaller auburn-haired man and looking to them all. “Guys, I want you to meet my mate Ravi. And this here’s Parker. They travelled across from Perth to catch the show.”
Rafe stood and reluctantly tore his eyes from the man tucked under Harvey’s arm. He focused on shaking Ravi’s hand first. “Nice to meet you. I hope you enjoyed the concert.”
“It was awesome, man.”
“So worth the four-hour flight across the country?”
“You bet.” Ravi gave Rafe a broad smile, then turned to Harvey. “Thanks for the tickets, mate.”
“Yeah, thanks for the concert tickets and the rest of the trip.” Rafe’s gaze was drawn back to the young guy who was still plastered to Harvey’s side.
“No worries.” Harvey beamed and squeezed the young guy’s shoulders, Rafe following the movement.
The guy turned his head to look at Rafe with the most unusual pale green eyes Rafe had ever seen. They were mesmerising. The guy thrust a hand out. “I’m Parker. It’s great to meet you.”
The jolt as they grasped hands was instantaneous. Parker’s hand was warm and dry, his fingers slender in Rafe’s large hand, but something in that simple meeting of hands sent a shiver up Rafe’s arm.Holy shit!He jerked his hand back and blinked hard to break eye contact.
“I… ah… I’m Rafe.” He tried to pull his thoughts together, his mind a jumble as his body had an immediate reaction to Parker’s presence.
Gibbo shoved him out of the way, and Rafe stumbled slightly. What on earth was happening to him? He rubbed his tingling palm against the soft denim of his jeans.
“Hi there. I’m John, but everyone calls me Gibbo.” He pointed a thumb towards RG, who was still on the couch. “And that there’s RG.”
RG raised a hand, then turned his attention back to the girl on his lap.
