Isabelle’s diamond ring rested at the end of a long silver chain tucked beneath his cutoff shirt. He had only removed the ring once since putting it on the necklace, and that was when he killed the Shifter who’d tried to drown Isabelle. Tonight, every note, every syllable, and every beat of his heart would be hers. Maybe he should have called her after that night in the motel, but he’d been so inspired by her that the band had been working day and night to write new music. He was going to let his music do all the talking, and it was something he’d been planning since the night he bought the ring.
The band made their way onstage as the lights cut off in the back. The stage lights behind them shone toward the crowd, creating a silhouette effect until an overhead blue light switched on above Jericho’s microphone. He turned his back to the crowd, and Joker tapped his sticks and kicked off the beat.
Jericho took the pick out of his mouth and sang the opening lines as Joker followed with a slow and steady rhythm. The bass rolled in next, and then Ren hit the chords. He peered over his shoulder and smiled when he caught a glimpse of Isabelle at the bar.
He’d die for that woman. Jericho proudly wore scars on his shoulder and leg. A bear claw hung on the outside of his shirt as a token of his kill. He’d taken it right after he and Wheeler dumped the Shifter on Isabelle’s car as an offering. They’d tried to get the carcass up the stairs but failed miserably.
It was a Shifter thing.
Trevor was killing it onstage. The audience ate up their performance like sweet cake, devouring Trevor’s sexy moves with his bass, and Ren worked the crowd on Jericho’s right. Even Joker was in rare form, playing at a level of magnificence they’d rarely seen. Human or not, that guy attacked his drums, and some of the girls were biting their knuckles as they watched him play.
Mid-song, Trevor fell to his knees and thrust his hips upward, creating a ripple of screams in the crowd. When he rose up and provided backup vocals, Jericho knew that Heat finally had a new audience. He had co-written a couple of songs with Trevor and planned to pass him the mic for a song or two. Trevor probably wouldn’t stick with them for long; the kid was awesome, but he wasn’t cut out for this lifestyle. So why not give him a few songs and let him in on their first recorded album? What an awesome memento. Their job required traveling, odd hours, no routine, lots of warm-ups, and the monotony of repeating the same act again and again, which wore out a lot of musicians. Still, he’d let Trevor enjoy it for as long as he wanted.
With impeccable timing, they went silent on the last note of the song. The crowd roared, and a thong flew over his shoulder and landed on Joker’s drums. There was always at least one in every crowd, especially the Shifter bars. Man, the buzz of energy swelled in the room, and Jericho had never felt more alive. Just knowing Isabelle was in the sea of faces—watching and listening—made this so damn worth it.
A woman suddenly rushed the stage, hobbling clumsily in heels, and planted a kiss on Trevor. Joker burst out laughing when the woman ripped off her wig, revealing she was a man.
Dammit, Joker. He’d taken his practical joke too far, not knowing Trevor was gay.
The crowd whistled and a few people laughed. So much for Trevor’s life in the spotlight.
But the joke was on them.
Trevor suddenly stepped forward and kissed the man hard, biting the guy’s lower lip in the most erotic way. To Jericho’s surprise, the women in the crowd were cheering—all for it.
In a Shifter bar, of all places. Shifters were one of the few Breeds who could have offspring, so they didn’t take it lightly when one of their own turned their nose up at it. Maybe they accepted it more readily because the band was putting on a performance, but in any case, Trevor got all the acceptance he needed. He pushed the guy away and started up a bass line, walking the stage like he owned it. And he did.
Joker turned beet red.
Jericho revealed himself to the crowd, slowly turning to prepare for the next song. A wave of surprise spread across their faces when some of them recognized they were staring at Jericho Sexton Cole.
But he didn’t see them. All he saw was the empty space where Isabelle had once been standing at the back of the bar.
Chapter 28
“Come on, come on, come on. Hurry up,” I chanted at the red light illuminating my windshield.
The moment Jericho hit the stage, I’d known right then and there that I loved him something fierce. I’d always known it, but that moment solidified everything I’d ever felt for him and everything I wanted to feel for the rest of my life.
There was only one thing left to do, and that was run.
Run home to get that damn Pink Floyd shirt and put it on!
Hell’s bells, I hoped Jericho hadn’t seen me running out, although I doubted with all the luscious women in the front row that he’d noticed me in the shadows.
Blink. The light turned green and I hit the gas, sailing down the street like a racecar driver. I’d left in such a hurry that I’d forgotten my purse.