Prologue
Rayne
Three years ago . . .
Sitting behind my drums, house packed with a sold-out stadium, my eyes stay glued to the woman behind the microphone. As always, fascination takes hold of me as my baby sister has all eyes drawn to her while she belts out the lyrics to our newest release.
Uninhibited.
It went number one on the charts the day it was released. I wrote those lyrics based on the way I feel my relationship with Jacey is. We’ve known each other since we were in diapers. We were inseparable then, and even more so now. She’s managed our band since the day my sisters and I decided to give rock and roll a shot. I’m the only boy of the Wilde siblings.
Sibley holds her head up high, microphone angled above her mouth, as she lets the last chord drag on. Her voice is that of an angel. Even as the youngest, she sang herself and all of us to sleep each and every night. As soon as she learned to talk, it came out more of a musical melody than the typical blubbering of a toddler.
When Sibley came home, she was a lifelike doll in my other sisters’ eyes, but she was the star in my sky. I had an instant connection to her. I loved her the second she held my finger in her tiny hand. Not that Billie and Justine mean any less, but Sibley was new, exciting, unknown . . . and I needed that in my life then.
I was a depressed four-year-old child. My nana and papa died that year in a head-on collision with an eighteen-wheeler. My world crumbled around me. They had been my everything, my companions, my best friends, and I would beg and plead to stay with them as much as my parents would allow. Papa would stay outside for hours at a time, playing ball with me. Then, as soon as we’d come into the house, the smell of freshly baked cookies would hit my nose. I always knew to expect a special treat from Nana every single time I’d enter her home.
Jacey and her Pepaw, Samuel, would always come with Papa and me when we’d go fishing. I remember those days like they were yesterday—jumping up and down in celebration with the other if we’d catch a fish. Even something as small as a minnow was spectacular in our eyes back then.
As the lights dim around me, I realize our set is done and stand up, sticks in hand, then walk to the front to escort my sisters off the stage. Even with Billie’s stalker behind bars, I don’t trust a motherfucker for a second where the girls’ safety is concerned. I couldn’t care less that we have security. They let the asshole get too close for my comfort, and my trust has vanished where they’re concerned.
Fans are our bread and butter, but that doesn’t mean they’re trustworthy. Men flock to my sisters, all beauties, but I don’t like it. We want to entertain, but also be able to lead as close to normal lives as possible. Evan was posted to be Billie’s personal guard, and he turned out to be a psychopath disguised as a protector. Since then, we’ve been promised that all the guards have undergone an FBI background check and passed with flying colors. After that experience we went through, I couldn’t care less if they were the Queen of England’s chosen hands . . . they are not to be trusted with my sisters’ safety alone. I will maintain a close eye on the women in my life that I love. Plain and motherfucking simple as that.
Jacey
Time stands still every time I watch my man bang ruthlessly on those drums. His muscles flex under his wifebeater and my mouth salivates. What was once a close friendship, has now turned into the love of my life. After all the years he’s been in my life, he can still shock and surprise me down to my core. It keeps our relationship fresh since we are together morning, noon, and night.
As Rayne escorts his sisters from the stage, I’m startled by the guards talking through the earpiece. “The VIP section is hopping tonight, everyone be on high alert,” one of the guards says.
Rayne’s and my eyes lock, and I nod my head to let him know we need to keep our eyes wide open. He acknowledges my nod with one of his own as he protectively surrounds his sisters to the best of his abilities.
“All eyes need to be on the girls. Secure the hallway and VIP room before we head that way,” I instruct the others.
“Room’s been cleared,” is answered back.
“Is someone stationed inside to keep it that way?” I ask annoyingly.
“Yes, ma’am.”
Good to know they’re doing their jobs.
Ever since Billie was hurt by her guard, Evan, no one’s felt safe after a show. We trusted him and never in a million years thought he was the one stalking her. I step behind Rayne and the girls, trudging my way through the band’s adoring fans. This part of the job gets old. I understand how talented and good-looking the Wilde siblings are, but damn, it’s not like they’re going to look into a fan’s eyes, recognize their soulmate, and run into their arms. It’s a fantasy, not reality. Some of these people need to get lives.
1
Rayne
Last night was a blur of never-ending activity. Most towns we perform in have clubs that want us as exclusive guests. None of us enjoy doing this, but we go and begrudgingly attend for marketing and publicity purposes. Unraveling my arms from Jacey, I roll over and look at the bedside clock. Noticing the highlighted numbers from the hotel’s alarm clock, I see it’s only eleven a.m. We didn’t roll in from the club until three o’clock in the morning. I can’t believe my eyes are open after five hours of restless sleep.
Last night sucked—they allowed paid guests to stay and party with us in our designated section. Some damn bimbo couldn’t keep her hands off of me. Jacey wasn’t impressed and spent most of the night giving me the evil eye. I have a part to play. It doesn’t mean I enjoy it, but I can’t very well curse the women out and publicly proclaim my undying and unwavering love for Jacey. Our publicist would have my head on a chopping block. According to her, my appeal is my looks and availability. We need to keep our relationship secret so the groupies still feel as if they have a shot with me.
Ridiculous, I know. But what choice do I have? This band is everything to my siblings, and they’re everything to me. I will make whatever sacrifices need to be made in order to ensure their happiness.
It’s not a perfect world we live in, and that part of the job isn’t my favorite, because Jacey is the love of my life. It doesn’t stop her green-eyed monster from rearing its ugly head at times. Trust me, I get the heat of her anger and venomous words when we’re alone. I spent quite some time in the shower this morning, worshiping her and showing her what she means to me. My fire burns only for her, and sometimes I have to reassure her of this fact, though that’s getting old each time I have to put out her ire.
After all these years together, you’d think she trusted me. I may let these girls hang on me, but I’d never take one home or follow one to theirs. She demands I shower before getting into bed, which I drag her into with me. She says I wear the stench of perfume, but I believe she wants me to rub my skin raw from each place someone else’s hand touched me. I don’t mind taking layers of skin off of my body for her, but there are times I can barely keep my eyelids open and I just want to strip bare of my clothes and face-plant into bed.