Chapter One

      Pissed didn’t come close to describing Ash Gore’s mood. Bad enough that the gig was off, courtesy of Xane, their vocalist, throwing a major snit, without the additional annoyance of him walking into the night with a gorgeous girl on his arm. Time was they’d have enjoyed her company together, back before things around here started getting overcomplicated, and considerably less fun.

      Not for the first time in recent months, Ash’s thoughts strayed back to simpler times, when being in a band consisted of having a lark with your friends, jamming for hours and wowing the girlies. Ash had always been in with the fans, going out of his way to please them and keep them loyal, even in the days when there were only two or three begging for an autograph post-show.

      It was at least partly his efforts that had grown their fanbase into something astronomical. The other band members didn’t give him nearly enough credit for that, or acknowledge exactly how much keeping the ladies sweet lined their own pockets. Everyone knew girls liked to shop, and Ash made sure all their merchandise came in ladies’ versions. Oversized T-shirts were all very nice on hulking blokes, but your average rock chick looked way hotter in a skinny-fit vest.

      Not that they’d be selling a whole lot of anything any more unless they sorted out the current shit storm. Ash, the eternal optimist, refused to believe Black Halo was done. Xane would calm down – eventually – and realise he couldn’t live without them. Then they’d get on with making music and touring.

      ‘Stupid bugger,’ he muttered to himself. He’d thought it pretty dumb of Xane to date a fellow band member given what was at stake. Well, the inevitable split had occurred, hence the current nonsense. He, unlike everyone else, wasn’t the least surprised that Elspeth had run off with Xane’s best friend. She was a prize bitch, and he could say that on good authority as a fellow band member. He wasn’t going to let her topple them though. Hey, if the way forward meant initiating a line-up change, then he’d start interviewing tomorrow morning. And he was only delaying it that long because Xane had bollixed off, and there’d be no reasoning with him until he’d calmed down.

      That left Ash with an empty schedule and a whole night to kill. Not his favourite state to be in, since he detested his own company. The only thing that happened when he was alone was that he ended up going over shit that was long past its sell-by date and couldn’t be altered, which in turn made him goddamned miserable.

      For once, however, he didn’t feel like searching out some company from among the Black Halo fanbase. After all, he wasn’t suicidal, and, judging by the baying that accompanied their impromptu stage exodus, he’d get torn to pieces if he so much as showed his face.

      Next time he saw Xane he was going to thump him just for putting him through this. Inconsiderate bastard.

      Having reached the dressing room, Ash kicked the door in lieu of using the handle. It achieved the desired effect, slamming the wood back on its hinges and announcing his presence in a way that couldn’t be ignored. Not that there was anyone around. Going by the silence within, the rest of the band hadn’t made it as far as the dressing room yet. They were probably still in the green room trying to figure out what the hell happened, why it happened and if anyone could do anything about it.

      Too late, he wanted to yell at them. Mr Geist has already left the building. The band is about to implode. Warning … warning … five minutes to detonation. ‘BOOM!’ He voiced the last part, causing a scurry of motion somewhere in front of him.

      Apparently someone had made it to the dressing room, and his impersonation of a nuclear detonation had given them a fucking heart attack. He detected the ratty gasp and watched the figure spring off the couch.

      ‘Hi,’ he said, flashing the pretty dark-haired girl his best panty-melting smile. One he freely admitted was copied straight off Xane.

      Hey, whatever worked to get him laid. That was his motto.

      ‘Um …’ The girl stared right at him, her lips slightly parted. He swore he heard her swallow. ‘Yeah … Hi. Sorry, I’m …’ She flicked her microscopic skirt back into place and straightened to her full height, which was still only around his shoulder level. Ash’s attention remained fixed on her stocking-covered legs.

      No lies, stockings did things to him that he didn’t try to interpret. To say his heart rate kicked up a gear didn’t begin to cover it. That, and these weren’t just stockings, they were fishnets. Fishnets drove him demented. He liked them even more than the seamed variety women wore with business suits.

      Suddenly, his evening seemed to be looking up. ‘Yeah … uh … who are you?’

      She swept her gaze across him from boots to waist, then back to his face again, before dishing out a dazzling smile. ‘Ginny.’ She extended her hand.

      Polite and concise. He liked it. Ash accepted her hand, out of surprise as much as anything. Normally he skipped introductions unless it was some industry bigwig, as they inevitably seemed to lead to a) a boring life account, b) a whole lot of shite about being his biggest fan, or c) both.