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Copyright
Mischief
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers
77–85 Fulham Palace Road,
Hammersmith, London W6 8JB
www.mischiefbooks.com
An eBook Original 2014
Copyright © Madelynne Ellis 2014
Madelynne Ellis asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.
Ebook Edition © 2014 ISBN: 9780008123994
Version: 2014-12-13
Contents
Cover
Title Page
Copyright
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
More from Mischief
About Mischief
Author’s Note
About the Publisher
Prologue
Five years earlier …
‘I’ve done it, guys. That music exec has agreed to meet us. We’re playing for him tomorrow morning, nine-thirty sharp.’
The mumbled replies of ‘Yeah’ and ‘Cool’ were not the responses Iain had envisaged for all his hard work. He’d sweated his butt off to get them this break, and it was a big thing. If everything went well tomorrow, and there was no goddamned reason why it shouldn’t, then he and the rest of Love Rocket were made. The bigwig from the record label had already seen them perform live, so he knew that they could play and had star potential. Tomorrow would be about working out the details and selling them to the rest of his team. This was a small label, but it would get them out there in front of audiences, bigger audiences than they could muster playing the university scene, and in turn that would hopefully boost them into the spotlight.
Iain realised this wasn’t going to make them an overnight success, but it would give them a solid boost up the ladder of superstardom he had pinned to his wardrobe door.
‘Where’s Ash?’ he asked, noticing that his lead guitarist was absent. Ash would be totally stoked about this, and unlike the rest of the guys – who, Iain saw as he glanced around the room, were beginning to look expendable – he was essential to this deal. Iain might be the motivating force, but Ash was their primary selling point.
Ashley Ryan had been born to rock. He looked every inch the rock star he was so obviously destined to become: black hair that shrouded his face, a lean physique corded with muscles, and two baby-blue eyes that could magic the panties off chicks from a hundred paces. Their fan base had tripled overnight after the first time he joined them on stage. What made things more interesting was that Ash, beneath the grungy image, was about as clean-cut as you could get. His only stumbling block was his girlfriend, Connie, for whom he’d do anything. Correction, had been prepared to do anything, until she ceremoniously dumped him last week. Thank you, Jesus!
‘He’s not mooning over Connie’s departure again, is he?’
‘Whaa–?’ Tom remarked, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, into which his games machine was permanently wired. Guitar Hero he certainly wasn’t. ‘There’s a letter for you on the corkboard.’
Biting back an expression of despair at Tom’s ineptitude, Iain left the communal lounge and hustled into his study-bedroom. Sure enough, a folded piece of paper with his name scrawled across the front in Ash’s overly swirly handwriting sat pinned in the centre of the board, on top of next month’s rehearsal schedule. Heart suddenly in his guts, he took it down and opened it.
Sorry mate. I need to get away from here. The whole thing with Connie has knocked me for six. I’ve been talking to some other guys about joining them, and I’ve decided this is the right time to make the jump. Clean break and all. Plus, their sound’s more my scene and they’ve agreed to take it more in my direction. You know that you and I don’t quite hit it off in that regard.
Anyway, they’ve a mini tour already booked for over the half-term break, so that’s why I’m not here to tell you this in person.
I know Love Rocket don’t have anything booked, but just in case you want to get started on finding my replacement, I’ve left you some numbers.
See you when I get back.
Ash
‘Fuck!’ Iain put his fist through the mirror.
‘Hey, man, what’s up?’ Gary mooched through from the lounge, lank hair combed forward over his face. Tom appeared at his heels, still superglued to his games controller. Gary bent and picked up Ash’s note, which Iain had dropped. He read it quickly.
‘Sucks,’ he remarked, and dropped it again.
It more than sucked. They were screwed. He was screwed. As the remaining shards of the mirror tumbled from the frame, Iain’s dreams of stardom crashed.
It was not supposed to work out like this. He’d thought, with Connie gone, Ash would be all over this project as something to throw himself into instead of making prissy wedding plans, but no, he’d only gone and fucked off to make some other fucker fucking rich.
Ash, you selfish ruddy bastard!
Chapter 1
Birmingham, England, Requiem for the Damned tour, opening night.
Ash looked for her the moment he came off stage, while his body was pumped with adrenalin and he was still buzzing from the performance high. He knew she’d be there, just as she had been every moment from the night they’d met. Ginny – just a glimpse of her was enough to make him want to barrel caveman-like through the crowd to claim her and cover her precious upturned face with a thousand million kisses. She made him crazy. One simple touch and he was all fired up and eager to please.
However, the last thing any budding relationship needed was the attention of the global media. Black Halo had just kicked off their Requiem for the Damned tour and there were enough journalists present, waving cameras and microphones about, to make his hackles rise.
Ash intended to keep what he had with Ginny private. No spotlights. No photographs. And no well-meaning friends offering advice and generally screwing things up. After his first brush with love had left him a quivering wreck, he wasn’t taking any risks second time around.
Still, it was hard not to run to her and lose himself, staring into her liquid-gold eyes. Instead, he steered himself in the opposite direction.
Ash made small talk with a couple of other ladies who’d managed to find their way backstage. He signed three autographs, one on a boob, and had his picture taken with new drummer Iain Willows, and their official fan-club president, whose name he could never remember. He forced himself to do an entire circuit of the room without looking at Ginny once, before he finally headed in her direction. Even then, he held off from giving her any sort of welcome that might have been deemed extraordinary. Just a friendly peck on the cheek, when really he wanted to drink down every last drop of her and tell everyone else here to fuck off home.
Only that sort of outburst would really focus their attention.
‘You took your time working your way here.’
‘I was saving the best for last.’
‘Were you?’ Sceptically, she raised one of her arched eyebrows.
‘I needed to find out how we went down.’
‘And?’
‘Like a storm, it seems.’
‘Because there was any actual doubt that’d be the case. The audience were just stoked you’re all together making music again and playing gigs. Say, has anyone ever told you, you hold your guitar in a really weird way. You make it look as if she’s about to fly from your hands.’
Yes, actually they had. He overlooked the remark though, because Ginny knew his guitar was female. She was amazing like that. Ash clenched his fists to stop himself cupping her face and stealing a proper kiss. He really needed to find an exit route out of here soon, because he didn’t want to stand still next to this woman. He wanted to do. His body wasn’t going to be content until he’d sampled every damn part of her for the zillionth time. These past few weeks, he hadn’t seemed able to screw his head on straight unless they were sandwiched so close there were no discernible gaps between them.
‘Actually, I think you’ll find she’s like a lot of ladies, and appreciates gentle coaxing.’
Her lips pursed. It wasn’t that she didn’t appreciate tenderness, but Ash could genuinely attest to her being one of the few women who, when she said she wanted it hard, meant exactly that. He had the bruises to prove it. And didn’t that just keep him running back for more.
‘It’s just unfortunate that Mr Geist keeps writing hardcore rock anthems,’ he muttered, still half talking about his guitar. They needed to get out of here now, find themselves somewhere secluded, away from the din and the crush of people. Who the hell were all these people anyway? And why were they backstage?
‘Yeah, I’ve heard he’s addicted to rocking out.’
‘Wanna rock out with me?’ they remarked simultaneously, making one another laugh. Did he ever. He was damn well hooked on her. Ginny Walters, the new drug of choice. ‘I think I’m addicted to the taste of you.’
Ginny prodded him with her elbow. ‘You say such crude if lovely things. I’m rather partial to the taste of you too.’
‘Then maybe I can persuade you to come this way.’ Ash hooked an arm around her tiny waist – Ginny was skinny everywhere apart from around the hourglass curve of her hips – and guided her in the direction of the bar. There was an exit right by it that’d take them to the dressing rooms and some blissful seclusion.
‘Hey, Mr Rock Star, I hope you’re not planning on plying me with alcohol and then having your wicked way.’
‘Course not. I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage like that. I was thinking wicked way first, then alcohol. What do you say we relive a little of our history?’
‘That does sound fun,’ she agreed, a nostalgic look in her eyes. He still couldn’t believe they’d met because she’d gatecrashed his dressing room looking for fun with whoever turned up. Ash had always supposed he’d meet his special lady somewhere civilised and unconnected to the music industry. Not that he was arguing with fate.
‘And were you thinking we’d do this with or without the accompaniment of your bandmates?’
Definitely without. While he’d once shared her with Spook and Rock Giant, he had no intention of ever doing so again. Just as he had no intention of sharing himself with anybody else. Ginny was his, and he was strictly a one-woman man from now on. Why risk perfection for something mediocre? And boy, was she perfect. He admired the wiggle of her butt as she walked ahead of him to get through the crowd.
Of course, slipping away unnoticed proved a little trickier than he’d hoped. By the time they’d reached the end of the bar, they were surrounded by the other band members and associated hangers-on.
Most nights Ash was happy to hang out with them and do some post-gig chilling, but they were about to spend six months on a tour bus together. He’d see plenty of them, and not nearly enough of Ginny. After weeks of having her around whenever he needed her, not being able to hold her in his arms was going to be absolute murder.
Also, things were still kind of tense within the band, following their temporary split a little while back. Ash wasn’t going to even pretend those wounds were fully healed.
‘Ash. Come and have a beer.’ Iain Willows clubbed him across the back before handing him a bottle. ‘I think that went well. They’re still loving us outside.’ The general hum of backstage activity was regularly punctuated by the roar of the fans waiting outside for a glimpse of the band as they left. ‘I see you haven’t lost your talents.’ Iain’s attention abruptly shifted to Ginny. ‘Let me say good evening to the prettiest girl in the room.’ He grasped Ginny’s hand and raised it in order to kiss her fingers.
Around them several female onlookers sighed, while Ash experienced an overwhelming desire to tear Iain’s head off. He did not need to be touching Ginny, or looking at Ginny, or breathing in the same space as Ginny. And he definitely didn’t need to be flashing his ‘come to bed’ eyes at her.
‘You don’t want to hang out with this waster, do you?’ Iain drawled, cosying up to her side. ‘You should really consider checking out the new talent in the band.’
‘Where’d you recommend I look?’
Iain briefly pouted, which made him look decidedly constipated. Then he pressed his hands to his heart in a theatrical fashion and claimed, ‘I’m wounded. So cruel.’
The bastard completely overcooked it and ought to have crashed and burned; instead he managed to raise a smile out of Ginny.
‘Seriously, though,’ Iain said, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. ‘You do realise he’s been everywhere?’
‘Which beats having been nowhere,’ Elspeth Shriik, Black Halo’s diminutive keyboardist, remarked, interrupting Ash’s mental picture of Iain being bloodily beheaded. ‘At least Ash comes with a satisfaction guarantee. What do you come with?’
‘Minimal effort,’ someone quipped, instantly freezing Iain’s smile.
‘God, yeah. Very droll,’ he complained. ‘You’re all so funny. That’s right, pick on the new guy.’
‘Have another beer, Iain.’ Ash thrust the bottle Iain had given him back at him again, hoping to prevent an argument. He might be somewhat pissed at Iain at the minute, but if possible he wanted to avoid another feud brewing within the band. It was bad enough that Xane and Elspeth were barely speaking to one another, without a third war zone being drawn up.
He got it. He understood why Elspeth didn’t want Iain on board. For the same reason that Xane didn’t, because the vacancy only existed because of Steve Matlock’s death and neither of them was ready to move on yet.
‘At least you’re drinking something less girly now,’ Rock Giant, Black Halo’s bassist, remarked of the beer, ‘and not that pink nonsense you had earlier.’
‘Cosmo?’ the bartender enquired.
‘Dirty Shirley,’ Iain corrected him. ‘And I’ll take another now.’
Ash shook his head. ‘You’re supposed to be a badass rock star. Don’t you think cocktails are a little bit fluffy?’
‘What can I say?’ Iain raised his hands and shrugged. ‘I happen to love cherries.’
‘First-timers only,’ Elspeth mocked. ‘Is that so they don’t realise how rubbish you are?’
Ash watched Iain’s skin turn purple beneath his artfully constructed five o’clock shadow, and prayed he managed to inure himself to Elspeth’s jibes fast, else he was going to be doing a lot of mediating on this tour, and, if there was one thing he truly sucked at, it was calming situations. Creating them – now that was a different matter.
Xane came over looking for his girlfriend Dani and drifted off again when he realised she wasn’t present, which in turn prompted Ash to make a second attempt at escaping.
‘Where are you going?’ Iain asked.
Ash cuddled Ginny closer. ‘I’ve something I need to attend to.’ He saw a particular thought burst through Iain’s expression and deliberately turned away before his friend chose to express it. If the word ‘threesome’ left Iain’s mouth, or in fact anything else suggestive involving him and Ginny, then Elspeth wouldn’t be Iain’s major problem, because he’d have two broken legs and a bust nose to deal with. The only reason Ash was considering leaving his arms intact was that they needed a drummer.
‘Catch you later,’ he said pointedly. Then he led Ginny calmly to the exit, just as he’d led hundreds of women before her. ‘Nothing’s changed, nothing’s different,’ he recited mantra-like beneath his breath for the benefit of anyone watching. ‘I’m just doing the same thing I always do, going to enjoy a little post-show wind-down with a pretty lady I recently met.’
His audience seemed to buy it. Leastways, no one appeared to be taking any notice of them, not even the snoops from the Daily Sleaze.
Chapter 2
Ginny hadn’t anticipated that seeing Ash on stage would leave her feeling quite so supercharged. She’d seen Black Halo play before and never felt like this. Of course, back then she hadn’t been intimately involved with one of them. Right now, there were riotous bubbles fizzing through her insides. She just prayed she didn’t go ‘pop’ at any moment and embarrass herself.
Fact: watching Ash, being near him, made her want to scream and sing and leap about. Maybe all three together. She wanted to tear off his clothes and fuck him naked right on the stage for everyone to see, which she guessed made her just the same as any other fan girl. The difference of course was that if she put her hands all over him and said the right words, he might just make all her fantasies reality, rather than have her removed or arrested by his posse of security guards.
‘Where are we headed?’ she asked, when he led her away from the backstage area.
‘Dressing room.’
The deserted stage might have proved to be a better option, given that his dressing room and the corridor leading to it were both full of people.
Ash immediately about-turned. ‘Why the fuck is it so difficult to find a bit of solitude around here?’ he groaned, and muttered a string of curses under his breath.
‘Who are they all?’ Ginny asked, peeping backwards over her shoulder to see them. ‘Is your dressing room normally this crowded?’
‘No … Maybe … I guess.’ Rather than attempt an eviction, he crossed the corridor and barged straight into the dressing room opposite. ‘Thank you, God.’ He raised his hands in praise as the lights around the mirror flickered into life and bathed the space in a gentle orange glow. ‘Spook, you’re the best.’
‘Won’t he mind us being in here?’ Ginny wondered about the band’s rhythm guitarist.
‘Nope.’
Actually, besides a camera and a few magazines there wasn’t a whole lot in here that identified the room as Spook’s. His trademark purple Washburn guitar was obviously in the care of the roadies, and was probably being loaded onto the tour bus right now, ready for departure. She found a good-luck card from a woman wedged between two magazines, and read the message. It was kind of sweet, and not nearly as crude or suggestive as the stuff that was delivered to Ash. His fanmail was enough to make the average porn star cross their legs.
Ash pushed the door to and locked it. ‘On the other hand, he might object to you going through his stuff.’
‘What stuff?’ She replaced the card where she’d found it. ‘How did you know he wasn’t in here entertaining someone?’
‘Because –’ Ash grabbed her hands and pulled her towards him ‘– Spook doesn’t bring ladies back to his room … or men,’ he added, anticipating her next question. ‘Didn’t we have this conversation already?’
‘Yeah, you tried to convince me he’s celibate.’ Like she was genuinely going to believe that. Spook Mortensen was far too sensual a package to not be a seething mass of warring passions beneath his cool exterior. She figured he was just a lot more circumspect about things than the rest of the band.
Ash rubbed the line of piercings in his ear. ‘It’s the truth. You’re the only person I’ve known him to get even vaguely intimate with, and we’ve spent a lot of time together. He just doesn’t …’
‘Doesn’t what? Fuck? Get turned on? Everyone gets turned on by something.’ She perched on the sofa arm. ‘You said he likes taking photographs, right? So, maybe he, you know … gets off that way.’ She made an up-and-down motion with her loosely closed fist. ‘While he’s looking through them.’
Ash just shook his head. ‘Trust me. He sticks them in a scrapbook and shows about as much interest in them as you would in a stamp collection. If there’s something that does it for Spook, I dunno what it is, because he’s keeping really quiet about it.’
Given they were best mates, that statement ought to have been more convincing. Except she knew what blokes were like. ‘Ever asked him why he doesn’t?’
‘Why would I?’
Whether that was the truth or not, it was certainly the answer she expected. Ash did avoid anything that smacked of emotional depth. Or he had until he’d met her. Occasionally she managed to lever open little trapdoors in his mind, and, in all fairness, he was at least as willing to talk about his past as she was hers.
‘So, now we’ve gatecrashed Spook’s place, what happens?’
‘No idea.’ Ash faked a yawn and stretch that caused his T-shirt to rise, giving her a beautiful glimpse of his abs and the little snake tattoo that slithered across them. ‘Any thoughts?’
Plenty, given she was also eye level with the very glorious and pronounced bulge in his jeans. ‘You. Here,’ she demanded, pointing to the spot right in front of her.
‘Right here?’
As soon as Ash was standing there, she wrapped her arms around his body, then flopped backwards onto the sofa, tugging him with her.
The springs groaned in complaint as they landed on the buttery soft leather. Ash sought her mouth, possessed her with his tongue and kisses, making her a little drunk from the lack of air and the whoosh of emotions he provoked. She was sure the curl of his tongue shouldn’t make her so giddy, but it did. Every time, it did.
‘And now you’ve got me here, what do you envisage happening?’
‘Bad things,’ she murmured, still grazing his lips with hers. ‘Real bad things.’ She slid her hands down his back, to his butt and gave his cheeks a squeeze that made him jump. Something else jumped too, and made a hummock against her thigh. ‘Hm, I think someone is a teeny bit turned on.’
‘Is it you?’ he asked, his eyes all wide and innocent. ‘Because you’re awful wriggly, and you’re making a whole lot of cute little groans.’
She was not! OK, maybe she was making a few, but that’s what he did to her. He kissed her and she turned into a desperate, horny mess, and that was without taking into consideration what he did to her emotions. She’d been so sure before she met him that she was done with serious relationships. He’d changed that with one night of saucy fun. She couldn’t think about him without her heart getting squishy, and a rush of air leaving her lungs like she was about to expire.