Manaconda 2: The Second Coming(3)

“Uh…” The manager pushed up his glasses. “You know what? You’re right. There’s no harm to the store. Just have them clean this up.” He crossed his arms. “You will be on the black list for any future engagements at any of the Amoeba Music locations.”

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. I could actually hear the dollar signs for sales in the store. They couldn’t buy this kind of publicity. People would be coming in for days asking about what had happened at the show.

And the YouTube videos would be in the hundreds, if not thousands.

“Now if you’d be so kind as to uncuff my clients, we’ll get the instruments cleaned up.”

Remy shook his head. “Absolutely, ma’am. Anything you say, ma’am.”

I had to shove down a smile. I was pretty sure the manager wouldn’t find our friendship very funny.

Hunter’s jaw muscle jumped as Officer Steroid released him. He brought his hands forward and rubbed at his wrists once before folding his arms over his chest.

I glanced around the room. Wonderful, now I had a row of posturing males. My most favorite thing in all the world—said no woman ever.

Once Reed was released, he immediately went over to Victoria. She threw herself into his arms, and the sobs turned to a purring, “Take me home.”

Oh, brother.

Hunter moved to follow and I grabbed his arm. “How about…no. I just managed to get you out of those cuffs. Let’s keep it that way, okay?”

“Yeah, that was a neat trick.” He leaned down until his cheek brushed mine. “Just what is Officer LaFontane to you, Kenny?”

I pulled back and dropped my hand away. “You really want to go there, pal?”





2





Hunter





Fuck.

Everything that came out of my mouth was wrong. I knew it even as it was flying off my tongue like I didn’t fucking own it.

I knew Kenny was a step away from bolting with her cop—no, not her cop. At least it better not be her cop. The guy was giving me the goddamn stinkeye, and there was another group of people cataloging every single word and gesture.

And the night had started off so well.

Jamming to great songs.

Fans that actually gave two shits about our music and not a crotch shot—at least not more than any usual female fan that had their sights set on me, or my fellow bandmates. That part I could handle.

Hell, I had no problem using what the good lord gave me. I’d been born for the stage. It was the only place I felt at home.

Besides in Kenny’s arms.

And that was exactly why I was ready to rip the building apart.

Everything was going so well. Then there’d been a murmur in the crowd. I’d watched from the stage, even missed a cue from Owen for the next verse because I’d spotted her.

Vic.

She tried to play it off that she wasn’t there to cause trouble. But she brought in her entourage from her television show. The trio of women who lived only to be mentioned at the best and most exclusive parties. The fact that they’d disappeared as soon as they figured out there wasn’t enough media exposure here was enough to prove there was a master plan at work.

There always was.

What I couldn’t figure out was why she was still here. And why Bats was hanging out with her and constantly standing up for her. For fuck’s sake, he’d been the first to urge me to get rid of her.

Now he was in her corner?

Lately, he was always sneaking off without telling anyone. When I called him on any of it, we ended up at each other’s throats.

I didn’t want to think he was stupid enough to get pulled in by her, but Bats didn’t exactly have the best track record with picking women. And what exactly could I say on the subject? She’d snowed me for two years.

I glanced over Kenny’s shoulder and my fists tightened. Vic was curled against him like my goddamn guitarist was the only shelter in some crazy contrived storm. What the hell did she have to cry about?

Kenny moved over a step and tilted her head. “Really?”

“Can you believe this?”

“No, I can’t.” One brow arched high enough that I got a bad feeling. The kind that ended with a fight. I didn’t need that on top of this mess.

I focused on her. “What? I’m protecting one of my best friends.”

“Sure.”

“Don’t.”

She moved around me and I grabbed her hand. She twisted out of my hold and crossed the room. I caught her trajectory and growled before following.

Remy.

The blond cop was gone, and the hipster-douche manager was MIA. Remy was talking to Wyatt, an easy smile on his face, hands animated.

She walked right into his arms and wrapped her arms around his middle. “Looks like I owe you this time.”