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Authors: Carolyn Gray

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“Even if my hands don’t move?” Mutt said.

Lee liked it. He pushed off from the wall. “I’ll be on his other side, Travis behind him. I’ll

watch the crowd. It won’t throw me off.”

“I can help out too, in the audience,” Greg said. He was almost as imposing as Mutt.

Nick looked triumphantly up at the detective. “The fans went through a metal detector

coming in, right?”

The detective spread his hands in defeat. “Yes, and nothing dangerous was found. All

right, Mr. Kilmain, have your show. Once I get my people into place.”

Lee placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Send Tommy out to entertain the crowd a few

minutes after Siobhan gets off. That should buy enough time.”

Sam clapped Tommy on the shoulder. “Yeah, we can darken the stage; he can explain

there’s a slight technical problem with the lights, and if it’s not fixed in ten minutes, we’ll come

out anyway and play with flashlights.”

The expression on Tommy’s face was priceless. He looked like a kid with a shiny new toy.

“Yes! Please, Nick? I’d love to. You never let me have guitar solos anymore.”

“Can’t do a solo from a hospital bed, dork,” Nick said. “Okay, go. Charm the crowd;

they’ll love seeing you. But we’ll be out there soon as we’re given the go-ahead, okay?”

Tommy bounced on his toes, then flew from the room.

“Are we sure that boy was nearly blown to bits ten months ago?” Sam said before he

trailed after Tommy with the rest following.

The detective turned to Nick. “Wait here.”

Long Way Home

9

Nick folded his arms over his chest. “No. I’ll wait backstage. With Lee.”

Durham did not looked pleased, but he gave up and left.

Nick immediately whirled on Marisa. “You supported this.”

Her eyes widened. “Of course I did. After all you’ve been through, I’ll never, ever take a

death threat lightly.” She folded her arms over her chest, meeting his glare with one of her own.

Nick threw up his hands. “Fine. Okay. I’m sorry—you’re right. I promise I don’t have a

death wish. We’ll go out there and prove that we don’t scare easily. Okay? And then,” he added

gleefully to Lee, “we’ll talk more about the ballet and what else we can do in Dallas that’s fun.”

He took off then, leaving Lee with Marisa. “He’s going to be the death of me,” she said.

“I’m glad you’re going with him to this ballet, though. Who sent him the tickets?”

“Don’t know.”

“Any chance you can talk him out of going?”

“No, but I’d be happy to try.” Boy, would he.

She smirked at that. “Good luck with that. I wish I could shake this bad feeling, but it

simply won’t leave me alone, you know?”

“I know. I can’t shake it either.” He followed her out of the greenroom to track down Nick.

But despite the supposed death threat, it wasn’t Nick he was worried about. It was himself.

10

Carolyn Gray

Chapter Two

The concert went off without a hitch.

Lee kept his mind only half on his playing, his gaze constantly sweeping the crowd,

looking for a hint, any hint, of who could’ve sent that threat. But the crowd was no different than

any other crowd, full of screaming, happy fans, all of whom, he knew, felt a special bond with

Dream’s singer. Nick was very good at using that connection, though he never gave a hint he

wasn’t genuinely thrilled. And, of course, he was.

Lee had hoped, once Tommy rejoined them and the hell of the last year was firmly behind

them, life would settle back into its usual routine. That he could permanently forget about the

horror of Nick’s captivity and all the memories of Lee’s own past it had evoked. Nick carried

many physical scars from his time in that sadist’s hands, but his spirit hadn’t broken—though

it’d come close when it was Brandon hurting, not himself. He had endured as only a man could

who knew he was deeply loved by his erstwhile partner, his friends, and yes, his fans.

Lee envied him.

Those fans now were held in rapture as Nick sang one of the quieter songs, a song Lee had

helped Brandon write back in days gone by, when he was still touring with them. Lee’d never

tried his hand at writing music before then, but the deep tones of the bass absolutely set off

Nick’s voice.

He’d played the song so long, he could do it automatically, even engrossed with studying

the crowd around him. For the first time that evening, he realized how tiring keeping vigilant

was.

Mutt seemed to be enjoying himself, set back a little behind Nick, a guitar stuck in his

hands. No one in the audience knew he couldn’t play a damn note—which was okay, since his

guitar wasn’t plugged in. Lee wondered what the reviews would say the next day about the new

guy showing up for the concert. Mutt would enjoy that, as well. And Greg would finally have

something to razz his partner about.

Tommy was enjoying himself too. Putting him out onstage first had been a good

precaution, and it’d certainly made Tommy a happy camper.

Lee took a deep breath, closing his eyes as Nick’s voice carried over the hushed room. It

was nice to enjoy some peace and quiet, as much as anyone could possibly get while on the stage

of a concert hall that held twenty-five thousand people. Lee’s fingers ran through the song, never

missing a note. One false note could destroy so much.

At last the concert was over, and exhausted but jubilant, as nothing bad had happened, they

left the packing to the crew and headed for the airport. Everyone except him was excited about

going to Dallas, but there was no escape. Unfortunately. While the others boarded the plane, he

straggled behind, the last to board. He put his gear away and took his place next to Mutt. After

strapping in, he closed his eyes.

Long Way Home

11

“You’re not thinking of ways to escape going to the ballet with me, are you?”

No, though he wished he could skip Dallas altogether. Lee opened one eye. Nick sat in his

seat, facing Lee. He didn’t like to sit backward, as he called it. It made him sick. “I said I would

go.” And Lee regretted that now. Not like he’d had a choice, though—he’d always found it

pretty impossible to refuse Nick.

Nick tapped his fingers on the armrest. “I looked up where it’s going to be. A theater called

the Majestic. It has an interesting history.”

Lee debated whether to admit he’d seen it, been in it. Then he thought, why not? “It’s

small, but it’s pretty nice. What are they dancing, anyway?”

“You know it? The theater, I mean?”

“I’ve been to Dallas,” Lee said.

Nick shrugged. “I knew that, but that doesn’t mean you’d been to the theater. I should get a

tracker device for you. I never know where you go or what you do. Drives me crazy.”

Lee said to Siobhan, who sat on his other side, “You’d cut it off for me, right?”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “What are friends for?”

Nick scowled at her. “I should separate you two,” he muttered. He pulled his iPhone out,

and after a few minutes, he whistled. “This
is
nice. Actually, it’s a program with different kinds

of modern dance and classical dance. So we’ll get a nice variety.” He waggled his eyebrows as

he scrolled through the Web site. “Nice nice,” he murmured.

“Let me guess. The dancers,” Siobhan teased. “Pretties to look at, that’s why you’re

excited.”

He pointed at her. “And this is why I hired you. Wise beyond your ken.”

Siobhan caught Lee’s eye; he was grateful for her easy relationship with Nick. He settled

back in his chair, closing his eyes for a moment, imagining his own reaction to the dancers. He’d

always liked the type—the lithe bodies, the strength, the way they moved.

Tommy plopped next to Nick and strapped in. “Sam’s already asleep, and we haven’t even

left yet. What are you looking at?” He peered at Nick’s iPhone. “Oh. Ballet.” He tapped the

iPhone. “Hey now, that boy’s kinda cute. Does Brandon know you’re drooling over ballet

dancers?”

Nick eyed him. “I’m only looking, you know.”

“He does realize you’re going, right?”

“Of course he does. He told me I had to.”

Greg looked up from his magazine. “Those weren’t for you. They were for Lee.”

Lee startled, but Nick’s exclamation covered his reaction. “For Lee? You gave them to

me.”

Greg laughed. “And you were going into his dressing room, remember? I asked you to give

them to him.”

“Oh.”

“Obviously you were distracted.”

“Brandon called, so I forgot.” Nick looked sheepish. “Sorry, Lee. I guess I hijacked your

tickets.”

12

Carolyn Gray

Lee pulled the envelope out of his pocket and looked at the tickets again, turning them over

in his hand. Still no clues, but now that he knew they’d been sent to him, that vaguely disturbed

feeling was back. Which, of course, was ridiculous. It wasn’t completely unheard of for him to

get gifts from fans too, even if he wasn’t the heartthrob of the group, not by a long shot. And this

was Dallas, so anything having to do with the city put him on edge.

“Know anyone that would send them to you?” Siobhan asked.

“No,” Lee said. The only people he knew anymore in Dallas were his friend Ruby and

Stefan’s family. And they sure as hell wouldn’t send tickets to him.

It had to be random.

“I would’ve made you go with me anyway,” he said to Nick. Then, hoping he’d have an

answer but figuring not, “Greg, who gave them to you?”

“Some delivery guy said to give them to you.” Mutt cleared his throat. Greg rolled his eyes

at him. “And don’t look at me like that. The guy had on a courier outfit, and it was just an

envelope.”

“What company name was it?” Mutt said.

Greg hesitated. “I don’t know. I’m a chef, not a cop. Is it that big of a deal?”

“Probably not,” Mutt said. “But I’ll be going with you two,” he added to Nick and Lee.

“I thought you guys were headed to New York after Dallas,” Nick said.

“Not until Tuesday morning,” Greg said. “You’d be back Monday, right?”

“Yeah,” Mutt said. “Besides, it’ll take more than Lee to handle Nick a couple of extra

days.”

Nick made a face, and Lee chuckled as he was expected to, but he was relieved. Mutt being

there was a good thing for many reasons. Not just for Nick, either.

“I’m sure we can get another ticket. Where are the seats, Lee?”

The plane began to move then, and they didn’t say anything else until it’d taken off and

leveled out. Lee looked at the tickets while their flight attendant asked them what they would

like to drink. “They’re in a box,” he said.

Nick patted Tommy’s arm. “Hey, we can fit a lot of people in a box. You can go with us

too.”

Tommy pulled back. “Oh no. No, thanks! I, uh, when is it?”

“Sunday.”

“Oh, dear, have plans already.” He swiped the air with his hand. “I’ll be flying home to my

lovely lady’s waiting arms—and bed—Sunday morning.” He grinned, his face turning a vivid

shade of pink. “Uh, I have something to tell you guys, by the way.”

Siobhan said, “You’re pregnant?”

Tommy’s face fell. “How did you know?”

She settled back, smug. “Women know things.”

“Your grin’s goofier than usual,” Lee said.

Nick wrapped his arm around Tommy and pulled him down. He rubbed the guitarist’s head

with his knuckles, making him screech.

Sam woke up. “Hey, what the hell is going on?”

Long Way Home

13

Lee said, “Your buddy’s pregnant.”

“I’m not,” Tommy said. “Sylvie is!”

“Same thing,” Nick said.

Sam yawned and closed his eyes again. “Oh. That’s all? Nice.” His eyes shot open, and he

sat up. “Tommy’s gonna be a pop?”

Tommy preened. “Yup. Sylvie told me this morning. Couldn’t wait until I got home.

We’ve been trying, you know.”

“And trying and trying and trying…” Sam said sotto voce. “No wonder you didn’t rejoin

us until now.”

Nick sat back in his seat and slapped his leg. “This is awesome. Another baby to spoil

rotten.” He eyed Tommy. “Hope you intend to let us.”

“Of course.” Tommy looked mock-thoughtful, then gave Nick a sly look. “You’d better.”

The pilot came on and did his usual welcome and review of the flight. Everyone quieted,

Sam falling back to sleep almost instantly—a talent Lee envied—Nick returning to his iPhone to

play a game, and Tommy beaming happily out the window, watching the clouds. Mutt had

settled with his laptop, Greg with his cooking mags, and the others, farther back in the plane,

were talking about something, Marisa’s voice punctuating the conversation.

All was right and good in Dream’s world. Only Lee still felt different, out of place, out of

sync. One last city, one last plane ride, one last concert hall. Dallas. Returning to Texas, the

thought of which chilled him like nothing had in years.

He was going home.

* * * *

“I hope you enjoyed your stay with us, Mr. Smith,” the bright-faced desk clerk said. She

smiled at him, her gaze roving over his features briefly. The appreciation in her eyes made him

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