Giving Rhett a break from questions, I quickly filled Flo and Gray in on the information Billie had given us about the surveillance and Big Noise buy-out by Giovanni.
“What are we going to do about Angelo?” Grayson turned serious. “How long will we let this shit go on before we say enough?”
Angelo, that motherfucker. Part of me wanted to kill him, and another part missed my best friend. We’d grown up together, my family half raising him, since his family was filled with assholes and murderers. I’d never believed Giovanni would get to him, but in the end, Angelo hadn’t been able to break free. I mean, it was the fucking mafia, so I shouldn’t be surprised, but the idealistic kid in me had expected we’d all make music together forever, with no need for his family.
I’d lost both my best friends that day and, along with it, my moronic naivety.
Probably for the best.
“We can’t do anything,” I said when no one else answered. “She made her choice, and her choice was him.” Again. “So we have to do our best to move on and write more fucking Billie songs to appease our broken souls.”
Rhett let out a choked sob but didn’t say anything, his stare heavy-lidded as he watched the fire.
Poor bastard, he was too new at this. But it’d get easier.
Yeah, that was a fucking lie.
He’d get better at pretending at least.
“Let’s shelve the Billie talk for a beat,” Flo changed the subject, “and talk about the surveillance in the house. I vote we leave; I don’t want to have to watch everything I say and do so that some perverted cunt can record us. We are too goddamn rich and famous for this shit.”
The rich was debatable in her case, but for the most part, she was right.
“Let’s just stick it out for another week,” I said, “so we can get this song down to perfection. I don’t want to mess with our vibe, but after that, we’re out of here. Besides, it wouldn’t be any different in the content house, except we’d have paps camped out on the front lawn.”
No one argued, and for the first time in a long time, we felt like the old Bellerose: a cohesive unit that loved to make music together.
“I’ve got something to tell you all,” Grayson said suddenly, and whatever calm had fallen over us vanished in that one ominous statement.
Rhett even pushed himself up, as if the vertical position would help his buzzed brain concentrate better.
“I’m not from a nice family.”
One simple statement, and it wasn’t that any of us were surprised, considering the scary badass our bandmate was, but he’d never volunteered any personal information about his life before Bellerose.
“Bad in what way?” Rhett asked, sounding clearer.
“Bad in the same way that Angelo’s is,” Grayson replied. “And when Billie was first taken, I had to tap into some contacts to make sure she was okay.”
Part of me loved that asshole for caring so much. The other part hated that he’d even been in this position. Billie fucking Bellerose was a gorgeous pain in our asses. Destructive siren. Minus the singing ability.
“I’m only letting you know on the very small chance that this might drag me back into their world,” Grayson continued, staring at his hands. “And if that happens, it could be dangerous. For you all.” He let out a deep breath. “I can take care of myself, but it might be a good idea to have extra security until I can ensure that the past remains where it belongs.”
“You did what you had to, man,” I told him, not remotely upset. Our life was a bag of fuckups this year anyway, so did it really matter if we added one more criminal organization to the mix?
Grayson’s gaze met mine, his cool and a little detached. Not quite his scary face, but a close second. “I’ll take care of it, don’t worry. I just wanted to warn you all so you’re cautious moving forward. Don’t go out alone. Don’t take stupid risks. Don’t answer phone numbers you don’t know—the usual shit we do anyway because we’re Bellerose—but in this case, take extra precaution.”
He clearly wasn’t asking for input, and when we nodded, it appeared that conversation was done. The night was done, everyone heading back into the dark and quiet house. Billie and Angelo were already in bed, and I tried really fucking hard not to think about them behind that door together. Were they fucking quietly? His hand over her mouth to muffle her moans as he pounded her tight cunt?
More to the point, why did that mental image still make me sick with jealousy? Once upon a time, I’d been there too, bringing her more pleasure than her small frame could handle.
Fucking fuck.
Probably not a good idea to burst in and beat my former best friend to death in front of Billie. Especially if he was the father of her child. Child. She’d said something alarming earlier, and I knew I’d have to ask her about it eventually. I couldn’t find the strength to do it now.
I had the sense that the truth would be more than I could handle this week.
In the shower I palmed my dick, wishing that fucker didn’t turn into a rock every single time Billie was around, but this was her superpower. Billie Bellerose, the cock whisperer. Closing my eyes and dropping my head against the wall, I pictured her on her knees, perfect fucking lips wrapped around my dick, and it took only a few minutes before the tingles in my balls exploded up the shaft, and I came hard.
Motherfucker. I needed to get laid properly, and soon. This life of limited booze and pussy was killing me, and we weren’t even a week in. Too much time to think, too much time to mourn. When I was cleaned up, I pulled on a pair of shorts, since we were in a shared house and my usual naked attire wouldn’t work if I stumbled out half-asleep in the morning, and thankfully, fell asleep immediately.
It felt like minutes later that I was roughly shaken awake, heavy hands gripping my shoulders as I jerked up and started to shout. A hand covered my mouth before I made a sound. “There are people outside the house,” Grayson whispered near my ear. “They’re coming in dark, so I can only assume they’re here with bad intentions.”
He removed his hold on me, and I shook my head, a new surge of adrenaline helping to clear my sleep-addled state. “What do we do?” I rasped.
“You get Flo and Rhett, and I’ll get Billie and Angelo. That fucking gangster should have some weapons stashed in his shit. Then we’ll figure out the best route to get everyone to safety.”
“Oka—” I couldn’t even finish that one word before he was gone, and I was up and moving in the same instant.
Rhett was in the room beside me, Flo beside him, and I managed to wake both of them in a slightly gentler fashion than Grayson had used. We were all confused, pissed off, and more than a little worried by the time Grayson and Angelo strode along the hall, Billie between them.
The guys had guns in their hands, and I could see another weapon or two tucked into their jeans, since they must have slept fully fucking clothed in anticipation of being ambushed.
Thank fuck I’d at least put shorts on.
“Okay, here’s the plan,” Grayson said shortly in a drill-sergeant manner. “Angelo and I will be the distraction, take out those up front to scare the ones behind into thinking we are more armed and prepared than they expected. That will give all of you time to get out of the house and take off into the paddock with the horses. There’s a house three miles south of here, the closest neighbors. From there, you will call the police and Brenda and get a fucking armed guard here if necessary.”