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“I
need to finish our set,” Trey said. “Take a few minutes to pull yourself
together before you go on.”

Reagan’s
stomach lurched. They wouldn’t expect her to perform tonight, would they? She
realized at once that they would.

How
would she face a crowd that thought she had to fuck her way into the band? A
crowd that thought she was capable of cheating on the wonder that was Trey
Mills? She nodded and accepted Trey’s kiss. She wasn’t going to let what that
tabloid said about her rattle her confidence—shaky as it had been before this
fiasco had been unleashed. No, she was going to hold her head high and show the
world that her personal life might be a bit unorthodox, but no one could refute
that she was a talented musician. She poured her soul into those six strings.
And her music was all that was—or should be—important to the public. Trey’s
gaze met Ethan’s, and they exchanged one of those telepathic kisses they’d been
forced to perfect over the past few weeks.

Forced
to accept because Reagan had insisted upon it.

It
was her fault they couldn’t show affection in public. Or maybe it was the
public’s fault for being close-minded. Or her fault for believing that the
public would never accept their relationship. Did it even matter whose fault it
was? When Trey turned to dash across the stage to his position, Reagan felt
like her heart was being torn in two. Half was affixed firmly to Trey as he
hurried away, the other half to Ethan standing beside her. But what choice did
it have when the two of them were forced to be apart? Even if their separation
was needed to maintain a ruse, it had to tear at them as much as it did her.

“Have
you seen Toni?” Logan asked. “She was here a few minutes ago.”

So
he still didn’t know that the woman he loved was a back-stabbing traitor.

“She’s
gone for good,” Reagan said, crossing her arms over her chest. “We fired her.”

Logan
blinked at her, his eyebrows scrunching together. “What are you talking about?”

“Let
Butch explain it to you,” Reagan said. “If I so much as hear that woman’s name
again, I’m going to hurt someone.”

“I
don’t under—”

“Find
Butch,” Ethan said. He wrapped an arm around Reagan’s back and tugged her to
his side. Logan scowled at Ethan’s harshness, but turned and asked someone if
they’d seen Butch.

Reagan
tried to concentrate on Max singing Sinners’ well-loved ballad “Goodbye is Not
Forever”—though his voice wasn’t as deep as Sed’s sultry baritone, Max sounded
amazing—but her gaze seemed determined to affix itself to Trey. He was playing
his guitar as he was supposed to, but his attention was focused inward and his
expression was tight and grim. He wasn’t playing from his heart the way he
usually did. Not even Brian could draw a smile from him. Reagan couldn’t stand
to see him like that.

“Are
you going to get ready for the show?” Ethan asked.

She’d
forgotten she still had to perform as soon as Sinners’ impromptu karaoke set
was over. “I don’t think I can do it.” She cringed when she realized she’d voiced
her fear.

Ethan’s
arm slid up her back and pressed her more securely to his side. “I know you can
do it. I’m sorry I got us into this mess.”

“You?”
Reagan caught his troubled gaze and shook her head at him.

“If
I hadn’t suggested I could fulfill Trey . . .” He was speaking
quietly, but still he checked to see if anyone was listening.

“If
anyone is at fault, it’s me,” she said. “I allowed it so I wouldn’t lose him.”
She pressed her hands into her eyes so she wouldn’t cry. She was glad things
had turned out as they had and that they’d forged a committed relationship
between the three of them. Using Ethan for sex, which had been their original
plan, wouldn’t have been fair to him and her heart wouldn’t have allowed it. He
meant too much to her. He always had. The time they’d spent as only friends and
roommates hadn’t changed how she’d felt about him. She’d never stopped loving
him. She understood that now.

By
the time Sinners’ set was over, Ethan had lent her enough strength to perform.
She wasn’t strong enough to change into her usual sexed-up stage costume and
have her hair and makeup done. Tonight the fans would be seeing the rawest
version of Reagan, the version she preferred. She didn’t think she was capable
of being fake both onstage and in the public version of her romantic
relationship, so if she had to be seen as a slut to protect Ethan and Trey from
being outed, she sure as hell wasn’t going to pretend she was a rock diva
tonight. Worn blue jeans, combat boots, a black T-shirt that read Fuck
Authority, no makeup and bed hair. Yep, that was the look she was embracing this
evening.

“You’re
going on like that?” Butch asked when she showed up near the entrance that led
to their start positions under the stage.

“You
got a problem with that?” she asked.

Butch
stepped back and raised both hands in surrender. “Nope.”

“I
can’t believe she’d do something like that,” Logan said to Steve as they hooked
up Logan’s bass guitar.

“She
had us all fooled,” Steve said, patting him on the back. “Don’t beat yourself
up for being a tool.”

“It
doesn’t make any sense, though,” Logan said. “She loved this job. She wanted to
make a career of it. Even if she didn’t like any of you . . .”

Reagan
noticed that he’d left himself out of his rationalization.

“. . . she
still wouldn’t jeopardize her future career for a few lousy bucks.”

“Give
it a rest, will you?” Steve said. “She played you for a sucker. She’s not the
first woman to fuck you over. She won’t be the last.”

Logan
shook his head. “But—”

“Will
you stop fucking talking about her?” Reagan shouted.

Both
men stepped back and raised their hands in surrender. Jeez, was she really
that
scary?

Dare
squeezed her shoulder. “Where did Trey wander off to? Is he okay with all of
this?”

“I
sent him to Sinners’ bus with Ethan.” Because she couldn’t stand to look at his
forlorn expression without being able to comfort him. Trey Mills should never
look depressed. He should only look sexy and mischievous and like he didn’t
have a care in the world. Reagan just had to figure out how to get him back to
that place of carefree happiness.

Dare
nodded as though he understood, but he looked almost as excited to perform
tonight as Reagan felt about it as he flipped his guitar strap over his head
and released a deep sigh.

Fucking
tabloids. Dare had been hurt by that rash of articles too. He was just taking
it better than Reagan had.

“Maybe
someone else wrote those articles,” Logan said, still on his mission to defend
Toni. “Do you have proof that she wrote them?”

Max
grabbed him by one arm and shook him. “Open your goddamned eyes, Logan! Did
anyone else have access to all that information?”

Logan
stared up at him, his blue eyes wide. Max was always so calm and cool. Reagan
had never seen him the least bit upset about anything.

“Did
anyone besides Toni know all those details?” Max asked.

“You,”
Logan said. “And all of us.”

“Are
you suggesting that one of us told the tabloids about Vic?”

Logan
cringed. “Of course not.”

“We’ve
managed to keep that story a secret for how many years?” Max asked, his nose an
inch from Logan’s. Reagan was starting to feel bad for the guy. She sure as
hell wouldn’t want to be on Max’s bad side. And Logan hadn’t done anything
wrong. Except fall for a back-stabbing bitch.

“I
don’t know,” Logan said. “Ten years or so. What does it matter?”

“Because
Toni Nichols is the only one outside of the band who learned about my
involvement with Vic. And a couple weeks later, that little tidbit is published
in the goddamned
American Inquirer
. Coincidence?”

“Maybe.”
Logan said, slapping Max’s hand off his arm.

“She
fucked you in more way than one, Lo,” Steve said, his voice defeated. “She
fucked us all.”

“She’s
not like that!” Logan insisted.

Steve
rolled his eyes at him. “I don’t mean she literally spread her legs and fucked
us. I meant—”

“Of
course she didn’t,” Logan blurted. “She also wouldn’t hurt any of us on
purpose. She’s kind and gentle and loving and . . . and
loyal
.”

“You
are delusional,” Steve said. “You better get your shit together before we fire
you too.”

Logan
crossed his arms over his chest and scowled. “Whatever.”

Reagan
sidled up to Logan and patted him on the arm. “No one blames you.”

“Of
course no one blames me,” he snapped.

His
temper threw Reagan off guard. He was usually so cheerful. This was a side of
Logan she’d never seen.

“And
no one should blame her either.”

“Did
you see what she wrote about you?” Steve said. “Besides where she insinuated
that we’re gay.” He leaned in close and made a biting motion next to Logan’s
ear. “With each other.”

Logan
shook his head, his normally tanned complexion pale and waxy. “What did it
say?”

“It
wasn’t nice,” Dare said. “Let’s get onstage. Everything real seems less
important from up there.”

The
five of them shambled under the stage and found their respective places. A few
moments later, Steve’s drum platform began to rise out of the stage behind
Reagan. Her heart would typically be racing with anticipation and excitement.
Tonight, however, while she felt obligated to do her best, she wasn’t eager to
get her place in the spotlight. Maybe she could hide out under the stage and
play her guitar out of sight. Before she could hop off her platform and secure
a handy hiding spot, the metal plate beneath her shook and began its ascent. She
played the proper notes of the song’s riff, but found she was abusing the
strings as her rage boiled over into her music.
Have to sleep my way into
the band, my ass
, she thought as her instrument wailed in perfect harmony
with Dare’s lead.
I might be a lot of things, but talentless isn’t one of
them, you fucking bitch.

The
crowd cheered as Max was launched upward out of the stage floor and landed in a
semi-crouched position, the note he carried reverberating through the stadium.
Max might be capable of impregnating a bandmate’s girlfriend, but he was an
amazing performer. And even if Dare had hated Max in the past, his skill on the
guitar was unmatched. That was what should matter, not their personal lives.
Not their looks or who they were fucking. Their talent. Their ability to
perform and make music that touched the world.

Logan
might have horrible taste in women, but when he played that bass, it made every
inch of Reagan’s body throb to his infectious rhythm. She couldn’t be the only
woman in the room who got off on that feeling. And, sure, Steve could be a
dick, and she didn’t really believe he was gay, but who fucking cared if he
was? His drumming was phenomenal. Why did people read that garbage? Why did
they slur the celebrities that brought them entertainment? Even if they didn’t
like metal music and saw no value in its dark, heavy sound and passionate
lyrics, the musicians were still people. They had feelings.

I
have feelings, she thought, punishing her guitar with an even heavier hand to
keep her tears in check.

Fuck
them all. It was her life, and she’d live it how she wanted to.

When
the song ended, Reagan lifted her head, surprised to find herself live in
concert. The crowd cheered with their usual enthusiasm, but she stepped back
into the darkest recesses of the stage just outside the perimeter of the
brightly lit drum kit to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. Dare
offered her a pleased smile and a thumbs-up. She had no idea why.

“That’s
our Reagan,” she heard Max say over the sound system. “A more badass version.”

Badass?
More like pissed off.

“You
can’t believe everything you read in the tabloids,” Max said.

Reagan
shrank back into the darkness several more steps. She’d hoped no one in the
audience had read the articles yet. No such luck.

“I
appreciate that,” Max said.

Who
was he talking to? Someone in the crowd? Reagan couldn’t hear a thing.

“We
made amends long ago,” Dare said into his microphone. “It’s not going to break
up the band.”

Apparently
the fans were concerned about tension between Max and Dare over Vic. And yeah,
she was sure that was far more important to the fans than finding out their
temporary rhythm guitarist spread her legs for two men. At least the article hadn’t
blatantly claimed that she took them simultaneously.

“I
can’t speak for Trey,” Dare said.

Reagan
still couldn’t hear what the fans were asking, so she eased forward, taking her
earpiece out and straining for the thread of the conversation.

Logan
was standing off to the side, near the stage wing, staring at the floor and
shaking his head. She could only imagine the thoughts swirling through his
mind. She felt bad for him. Toni had betrayed all of them, but they’d get over
it. Reagan wasn’t sure if Logan ever would. He’d fallen for Toni hard. His
heart must be breaking.