Ripped: The Price of Loyalty by Tania Joyce

 

Chapter 2

Every concert-goer crammed into Madison Square Garden screamed and cried, clapped and chanted. Gemma stood at the end of the stage, closed her eyes, and clutched onto Hunter and Kyle’s sweaty shirts when their arms wrapped around her in a tight embrace. For two hours they had entertained the crowd. They’d rocked the opening with “Live My Life”; cranked out a heavy electric guitar set; ramped up the energy with a melody of hits; swooned everyone with their love ballad; then they’d closed with encores of “Rise Up” and “Escape”.

Tour was done.

Twenty-four countries. Fifty-three cities. Eighty-seven shows.

Done.

With her heart pounding in time to the crowd’s stamping feet, Gemma tilted her head back and let the gold confetti that had been blasted from cannons fall against her face. The fans yelled out, “Everhide . . . We Love You . . . More. More. More”. The decibels reached dangerous levels, and the reverberation shook The Garden’s walls.

“We did it.” Gemma didn’t know whether to cry or shout for joy. Exhaustion ached every bone in her body, but adrenaline still charged through her veins. She gripped onto the guys’ waists, not wanting to let them go, not wanting the moment to end.

“We nailed it,” Kyle hollered and squeezed her tight.

“Time to party.” Hunter broke their huddle and pumped his fist in the air.

Waving and blowing kisses to the crowd, Gemma and the guys raced off stage and crashed into a wall of hugs and high-fives from their entourage. Escaping their clutches, Gemma dashed to the change rooms for a quick shower, changed into her favorite leather pants, and rejoined the swarming backstage after-party. Time to celebrate. Chart-topping music echoed off the concrete walls. The crowd of ticket winners, friends, and crew was thick. Alcohol flowed like open taps down everyone’s throats.

Sitting next to Kyle on an equipment trunk, Gemma downed Jack Daniels, matching Kyle shot for shot. She prayed that the buzz from the alcohol would go straight to her head and numb all her senses. Because the minute she wasn’t performing, her dreams of Hunter bombarded her mind and left her questioning her sanity. If this nonsense continued, she’d spend her vacation stretched out on a therapist’s couch.

Maybe therapy was what she needed.

Kyle chinked his glass with hers. “Cheers. To the end of another tour. Gem, you were incredible, as always.”

“So were you.” She nudged her arm against his. “Best show ever.”

“Here’s to many more.” Kyle downed his JD in one big mouthful, swallowed hard, and gasped. He tousled his fingers through his blond hair and rubbed at his undercut. “Want another one?” He grabbed the bottle of JD from beside him and waved it in front of her.

“Hell yeah.” She held out her glass for a refill, then knocked her drink back. The whiskey slid and burned down the back of her throat and her eyes watered. Just the hit she needed.

Being here with Kyle was the grounding she needed. He was her rock. Her four-four common time. The constant in her life she could always rely on. The true friend she needed in this crazy world.

But Hunter? He’d moved from the brotherly-love category to the I-want-more category and she had to move him back. Because Kyle and Hunter gave her balance. While Kyle was thoughtful and cruisy, Hunter was a ringleader—goofy, the jokester, the life of the party. Her skewed feelings for him needed to be realigned. Bring on vacation.

A bright flash by the stage caught her attention. Hunter danced with a group of three star-struck, college-aged girls, grinding his groin up against one of their slender bodies. They were laughing. Drinking. Stumbling this way and that.

He closed in on the stunning blond, and Gemma’s heartbeat snared in her chest. The way he slid his hands down the girl’s hips, the way his lips hovered near the girl’s neck, the way he rubbed his body up against hers . . . Damn it. Why couldn’t she find someone who would dance with her like that?

Someone like Hunter . . . but not Hunter.

Like wisps of theatrical smoke snaking across a stage, jealousy crawled underneath Gemma’s skin. It was always there these days—the dig, the pull, the niggle. But there it would remain. Tucked and hidden away.

Hunter turned in her direction, his eyes shining brighter than a disco light. “You two need to get off your asses. Come and dance.” His deep voice projected like a megaphone over the top of the crowd.

“In a minute,” Gemma shouted back over the noise. “After this drink.”

“Okay. Love you.” Hunter waved, barely taking a second to divert his gaze away from the girl twerking her ass in front of him.

“I don’t know how Hunt does it.” Kyle shook his head. “Girls flock to him like pigeons fighting over a French fry dropped in Central Park.”

“You can’t talk. Look over there.” Gemma pointed to a group of girls who were ogling Kyle and snapping photos. “You’re just as bad. You can take your pick.”

Kyle checked out each one of them, umming and ahhing, taking his metered time. He downed his drink and shook his head. “None of them do it for me.” He nudged her gently in the side. “What about you?” Gemma flinched. Something was off in his tone. With a lackluster wave he pointed to a group of guys standing by the table twenty feet away. “Do any of them catch your interest?”

She wanted to laugh. What? Someone other than Hunter?

Unfortunately, no one came close. Not the smartly-dressed guys by the drinks table. Not the guys dancing up a storm with her friends, Lexi and Kara. Not the guys eyeing her, looking nervous and shy. Since her dreams had started, she’d found it more and more difficult to find anyone other than Hunter appealing. Hunter was the one who captured her attention, not some random desperate unknown.

“Not yet. But you never know what might happen after I have a few more drinks.” Gemma stared blankly out over the group, ignoring the weird vibe radiating from Kyle. She drew her shoulders back, refocused and scanned the guys once more. Maybe she should take someone home. Maybe another one-night stand would help clear her head.

But the emptiness in her chest ached. Because lately, she’d been thinking how nice it would be to have a boyfriend again. Someone who wouldn’t tip off the paparazzi, or plaster naked photos of her over the Internet, or sell the story of their sex life to gossip magazines. Like her scumbag ex, Ben, had. How was she supposed to open her heart to someone after being burned? She’d learned the hard way that with life in the public eye, it was best not to have a relationship. Having a boyfriend was not an option. Simply a no-go zone.

Kyle fidgeted, rolling his empty glass back and forth between his fingers. He swung and kicked his heels against the metal trunk sending vibrations up her legs.

Something was definitely wrong.

“What . . . what if I had an alternate suggestion for you?” Kyle’s voice sounded as if it scraped his throat, like a DJ scratching a vinyl. She hadn’t seen him this pale since their first performance at Wembley Stadium in front of eighty thousand people. He turned and looked at her through his long dark lashes. His gaze seemed to focus on her lips rather than her eyes. “What if . . . you’d consider . . . something totally crazy—”

“Hey.” Hunter sprang up before them. Gemma jumped, spilling her drink onto her pants. “Stop sitting around,” he said, dipping and darting around in front of her, doing a weird jig in time to the loud music.

“Where do you get your energy from?” Kyle’s short, sharp tone matched his icy glare.

Gemma jerked her chin back. She hated seeing Kyle troubled by something, but now was not the time for deep conversation. It was time to dance. “You’ve got to admit, Kyle, Hunt’s mood is contagious.” She snaked her hand to the beat of the music. “We’ll talk later, I promise. But right now, let’s dance.” Gemma slapped Kyle on the back, jumped down off the trunk, and followed Hunter over to join a group from their entourage and a cluster of friends.

Music blared. Time ticked. More JD was drunk.

A lot more.

Gemma jostled and jumped around in the middle of the crowd. People bumped into her from all sides. Hands touched her arms and back, and some guy with greasy hair and not much taller than her five-foot, four-inch frame spun her round. She went to move away, but he grabbed her around the waist with his gorilla-like hairy hands. His hold was tight. Too tight. She tried to wriggle free, but he wouldn’t let go. Her pulse quickened. Clenching her jaw, every muscle in her body tensed, ready to use self-defense. She wouldn’t think twice about dropping this dickhead to the ground with a quick knee to his groin.

From out of nowhere Kyle appeared, grabbed the guy by the back of his shirt and shoved him out of the way. “Are you okay, Gem?” He stood tall, like a protective shield between her and Mr. Hairy Hands.

“Yeah, thanks for that.”

“Anytime.” He stepped toward her, placed his hands on her hips, and drew her in to dance.

Placing her hands on his shoulders she took a calming breath. She swayed to the music in time with him. Nice and slow. Just what she needed to regain her composure.

Seconds later, Hunter edged in behind her and her control slipped when his body melded against her. Her heartbeat quickened when the back of her head hit against his chest. His belt buckle nudged into her lower spine. With gentle strokes, he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, sending heat shimmering across her skin.

Damn, he feels good.

Kyle inched closer to her. The warmth and delicious spicy scent of the guys bodies wrapped around her. The music took over. She closed her eyes and moved in time with them.

Sandwiched between Kyle and Hunter she had all the support she’d ever need. Ever want. Ever desire.

They were her safe haven.

They were her solidarity.

In this crowded room, no one else mattered. No one would ever understand their connection. The rest of the world disappeared. Is was just the three of them. Three friends having a good time.

Even for them, dancing this close wasn’t normal.

“Found anyone that’s caught your eye yet, Gem?” Kyle’s low voice hovered near her ear. The sweet smell of JD heavy on his breath made her head spin. Gripping onto the lapel of Kyle’s leather jacket she tried to ignore Hunter behind her.

“No-pe.” The P made a popping sound between her lips. “No one.” The lie knotted in her stomach. Wobbling on her feet she lifted her chin to look at Kyle. His dark eyes locked onto hers, and their warmth flooded into her belly. Hmm. Definitely too much JD. Since coming off stage, she couldn’t recall how much she’d drunk. Somewhere in the range between excessive and extreme.

Hunter slowly skimmed his hands up her arms and placed them on her shoulders. Her skin tingled in their wake. She giggled, unsure whether his hold on her was to keep her balanced or himself upright. He was too close. Just him touching her sent a fever coursing through her veins. With a gentle brush of his fingers, he scooped her long hair away from the side of her neck and the rush of cool air eased her body temperature. He leaned forward, his long hair tickled her shoulder, and his hot, whiskey-laced breath sent goose bumps skittering down her arm. Then he pressed his lips against her flesh.

Her eyes widened. She froze.

What the hell?

Hunter never kissed her like this or danced with her this close.

Drunk. He must be drunk. She was drunk. Whatever it was, it had to stop.

Before she could move away, Kyle shoved Hunter on the shoulder. Fire blazed in his eyes. “What the hell are you doing?”

“Nothing,” Hunter snapped, still standing with his chest pressed flush against her back.

“Chill it, guys.” Gemma splayed her hands to either side. There were too many people around. Too many cameras. Too many gossipy tongues. “I know there’s enough alcoholic vapor in here to bottle and set up a brewery. But Kyle, don’t be silly.” Gemma rubbed his arm, then she reached over her shoulder and patted Hunter on the side of his cheek. “Hunter’s just goofing around. Aren’t you, Hunt?”

Hunter stumbled and swayed to the left. “Just showing my appreciation. You’re my leading gal.” He leaned in and planted a wet kiss on her cheek that made her wrinkle her nose. Wrinkle in a good way. In an I-want-more kind of way. His hands disappeared from her shoulders only to reappear on her upper thighs. As he swirled his hands over her legs, his lips hovered dangerously close to her ear. “And I do appreciate how you rock these leather pants.”

Gemma’s knees buckled at the low rumble in his voice. He should not be talking to her like this. It set off all kinds of hotness and alarm bells inside her body. Good ones. Bad ones. And everyone in between.

“Yeah, well. Enough of the appreciation.” Kyle’s lip curled into a snarl. “Don’t be a jerk.”

Gemma closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Kyle’s voice struck her like a bad note. He was right. With her headspace the way it was, being this close to them . . . close to Hunter . . . wasn’t good. She needed to keep her wits about her and not do anything she’d regret.

Time to diffuse the situation. Time to get some distance.

Peeling Hunter’s hands off her legs, she took a step away. The guys glared at each other, their jaws tense. The air sparked, like a livewire ready to zap. She couldn’t work out whether they wanted to punch each other in the face or burst out laughing.

“You guys are awesome.” She gave them each a playful nudged in the arm. The last thing she needed was these two fighting. “I’m going to get another drink. You want one?”

“Nah, I’m good.” Hunter winked at her, gave Kyle a cool smile, turned, skipped one foot behind the other, and beelined back to his group of eager girls.

“I’ll come with you,” Kyle said, and walked with her.

Breaking free from the crowd into a clearing on the floor, Kyle caught her hand. “Hey . . . there’s something I want . . . I need to talk to you about.” His voice quaked with an unsettled edge. “Can we sit for a sec?”

“Sure. Let me grab some drinks first.”

Kyle pointed in the direction of the trunk they had sat on before. “Meet you over there.”

Gemma collected a fresh bottle of JD and some glasses, weaved and ducked around a few people, and made her way back to Kyle. She handed the glasses to him to hold. But before she climbed up onto the four-foot high trunk, Hunter called out.

“Hey everybody. Watch this.”

She turned to see what was going on.

Hunter was on the stage, lying on top of an equipment trunk that lay poised at the head of the ramp. He looked ready to launch himself downward and ride it like a toboggan.

The crowd shuffled back and cleared a path. Laughter and shouts of encouragement filled the room.

“Go for it!” A drunk fan screamed.

“Go! Go! Go!” The crowd chanted.

Gemma’s pulse throbbed in her ears. Hunter wasn’t crazy enough to ride that thing, was he?

Like the crazed paparazzi on a high-speed pursuit, Hunter took off down the steep slope. He was crazy. She held her breath, worried that he’d harm himself. But halfway down the ramp, the trunk veered sharply and headed straight toward her.

Panicked, her chest tightened. Her heart hammered. With other trunks blocking her escape, there was nowhere to go and no time to move.

“Gemma. Look out,” Hunter yelled, waving his hand.

Rata-tat-tat-tat. The hunk of metal hurtled towards her.

Kyle cried out from above. “Noooo.”

But there was nothing he could do.

She turned to brace herself, squeezed her eyes shut and screamed.

Hunter and the trunk crashed hard into her side and knocked the oxygen out of her lungs. The caster wheel lock rammed into her shin like a butcher’s cleaver chopping through solid bone. A cry burst from her mouth. Her legs buckled, and she fell.

For a split second, the excruciating agony in her leg was overpowered by the jaw-jolting thud of her head hitting the side of the trunk. Sharp pain ricocheted down her neck and speared along the length of her spine.

Through distorted angles and hazy vision, Gemma registered the horror on Hunter’s face. Kyle’s appeared ghost white above her, his voice nothing but a muffle in her ears. She wanted to reach out to them. She didn’t want to feel the pain that splintered like shards of glass through her bones. Didn’t want to feel the cold, hard concrete floor beneath her. Didn’t want to feel the warm blood trickling down the side of her face.

Unable to move.

Unable to register.

Everything went black.