Turbulent Sea (7 page)

Chapter 3

HER palm itched. Really itched. Joley rubbed her hand up and down her denim-clad thigh, clenching her teeth together, all the while trying not to reach out with her mind to find—
him
—Ilya Prakenskii. Looking out the open door of her dressing room backstage, she could feel the energy in the arena, swelling and rolling like waves on the sea. Ten thousand restless people, excited, waiting, anticipating her performance, yet she knew—absolutely knew—that Prakenskii was somewhere in that vast crowd.

Adrenaline raced through her system, adding to the excitement and the building waves of sheer energy the crowd produced. Heat rushed through her body at the thought of the Russian bodyguard. She couldn't get near him without sizzling chemistry arcing between them. Sometimes, like now, she swore she could still taste him in her mouth. She touched her fingers to her lips, pressing hard, trying to erase the memory of his kiss. He ran in her veins like a drug, a bad habit she couldn't kick, no matter how hard she tried.

"Joley? You up for this? It's crazy out there." Brian shot her a grin. His eyes were shining and he looked as sexy as hell, just the way the females in the crowd liked him. Tight-fitting jeans, shirt open to his flat stomach, chest showing and black hair tousled. The women would go wild when he took the stage.

She stepped into the hall and matched his grin. The rush of the crowd was exhilarating, but it was the music that always moved her. She thought in music—actually could see in music.

Sometimes she could smell and taste it. Notes and melodies floated through her mind when she was talking casually to others. She heard music in the rhythm of the world around her, and sometimes, in silence, she found the most perfect songs. But now, when the energy was so powerful, she saw musical notes dancing in front of her, in colors, like tiny fireflies flashing in the air around her.

One of seven daughters of a seventh daughter and endowed with special gifts which could be both blessing and curse, when she opened her mind, she could feel the hopes and dreams and disappointments in the lives of her audience. She rarely sought out and touched a single mind, rarely invaded privacy. But sometimes she interspersed melodies and slower ballads between the foot stomping, get-up-and-dance rhythms of the rock and roll she was so famous for, in order to bring peace and contentment to any troubled people she sensed in her audience.

"Good choice for a warm-up band," Brian said. "They have a way of getting the crowd going."

"Yeah," Joley agreed, "I really like them. And they're not bad to travel with."

"Chicago is great," Rick Henderson, the bass guitar player, announced. He came up behind Joley to air hug her.

Although he hadn't even brushed against her, she moved forward, an automatic response from childhood. She rarely touched anyone other than her sisters. It was a good way to ruin friendships. Fortunately her band had been with her a long time and they respected her personal space.

She spun around and smooched the air at Rick. "Chicago is awesome. I love it here." To be honest, she was just a little nervous. After the Nikitin party in New York she was somewhat depressed. She had a few enemies and the threatening letters had been more plentiful than usual lately. The Reverend and his followers were protesting her concert and she knew they would be trying to cause a scene here as well.

"Chicago always has a good crowd," Brian agreed, high-fiving Rick. He flashed another smile at Joley. "You aren't worried are you, hon? Seriously, we have extra security everywhere."

"That whack job Reverend RJ is here," Joley said, and bit down hard on her lower lip, wishing she hadn't mentioned him.

She'd done a stupid, stupid thing, challenging the perverted man in front of the television cameras, but worse, she'd used her voice on him. He had enough charisma to gain followers, but Joley's voice could make men obsessive. She'd been careless, and she knew it. What was worse, Ilya had seen the entire thing. That also had made her feel cheap and dirty. She certainly knew how to make a fool out of herself around him.

She didn't want to appear as if anything bothered her. That was her trademark—happy-go-lucky Joley. Laughing at life and moving through the world like quicksilver. She hid scared well—always had. So well that her sisters, able to read others with ease, never guessed that she'd embarked on her world tour with trepidation. The recent attack on Hannah had terrified her. She knew the Drake family had bitter enemies, and the threats on her life had grown numerous.

"The Reverend shows up just to get the press," Brian said. "I caught his act the other day for a few minutes, how repentant he is for his lustful thoughts, and how he spent a week on his knees begging the lord's forgiveness for lusting after you. He says he wants to save you as well. He's forgiven you for tempting him, you daughter of the devil, and now he only wants to reach out and pull you from hell's claws. I think he's trying to get the world to believe you're a lesbian or at least bisexual, because then he could really crucify you."

For a moment Brian sounded bitter, but when she glanced up sharply, he shrugged. "He's a fucking weirdo, Joley. Don't let him rattle you."

"Well I wish he'd just disappear."

"He got a lot of press time for his little act with you," Rick added, threading his fingers through his long blond hair in typical Rick fashion. He had gorgeous hair and the women went wild for it. Knowing that, he used every opportunity to draw attention to the shimmering golden strands, which made the rest of the band laugh.

"Anyone near you can pretty much stay on the front pages. And now the Rev's hanging with Nikitin," Brian added, pointing his finger at her. "I told you it was a mistake to ignore Nikitin. If you were his friend, he'd never let the Reverend come near his parties."

"You ought to know. You've gone to them even when I asked you not to," Joley said and glared at Brian.

Brian looked uncomfortable. "I didn't know about him, Joley."

Rick shrugged, unrepentant. "He always has the best booze and women. What can I say? His parties rock."

She ignored him and turned her attention to the warm-up band as the rest of her band members crowded close. Denny stayed to the back looking sheepish and avoiding her gaze. Leo Meyer, on keyboard, looking good in jeans and an open vest, blew her a kiss, his eyes shining with excitement.

Logan forgot all about her personal space and picked her up, swinging her around. "I'm a father, Joley, can you believe that? She's the cutest baby I've ever seen."

Brian nudged him. "That's not hard, they're all kind of squishy and sort of undercooked."

Logan set Joley on her feet and hugged her hard. "Man, she's got the tiniest fingers and she looks at me and I melt." He glared at Brian, who grinned unrepentantly. "And she's not undercooked. She's just a little squishy."

Joley poked both of them. "She's new, not squishy. Is she still at the hospital?"

"Under guard." Logan nodded. "They're letting her go home with me tomorrow. Jerry's trying to find a nanny, but I have to be careful. I don't like the idea of hiring someone we don't know."

"What about Tish? She's a teacher and so good with kids. Have you considered her?" Joley was careful to extricate herself from Logan. His joy was overwhelming her, along with his fears of fatherhood. She couldn't afford to have those emotions inside her when she went out to perform. Her voice could affect the entire audience.

Logan rubbed at the deliberate five o'clock shadow on his chin and glanced around the tight circle surrounding him. They were all silent, watching him. "I think I burned that bridge pretty effectively."

When the band was first starting out, it was Logan's wife, Tish, who'd taken care of them all, sold their CDs at the bars and made their posters and even got them gigs. She was the one who had first connected with Joley, which had eventually brought their band to fame. Tish had come up the ranks with them and they all adored her. They'd known her since high school, and all of them missed her—especially Logan.

"You won't know until you try, bro," Leo said. "Tish isn't with anyone else and she never divorced your sorry ass. You told me that yourself the other day."

Joley's eyebrow shot up. "Have you been keeping tabs on her?"

Logan looked sheepish. He shrugged. "Maybe. A little. I ask some of our old friends how she's doing, that's all."

"Well, ask her then. She can only say no," Joley said to encourage him. "She knows the ropes, the way we work together. She's always fit in."

"You really think she's going to want to take care of someone else's baby?"

"
Your
baby," Joley pointed out. "If Tish thinks a baby—and you—need help, she's going to come, even if it means risking her heart." She pinned him with her dark, straight gaze. "If she comes, because she's generous like that, see that you don't abuse her trust. I mean it, Logan. Don't ask her, flirt around with her and then throw some groupie in her face." Her gaze strayed to Denny.

Denny ducked his head, looking miserable. With a small sigh, Joley went to stand in front of him. He offered a hesitant smile. "I know you're angry with me."

"Disappointed," she corrected, "but it's your life, Denny. You aren't married to Lisa. I just know how upset you get when you break up with someone you profess to love, and you're always the one sabotaging the relationship."

"I get high and the women are all over me and I can't seem to say no. She was trying to kiss on Nikitin and she looked so hot. He kind of pushed her away and she crawled under the table, right in front of everyone, like she was an animal in heat, couldn't get enough, you know. One minute I was drinking with Nikitin and laughing, the next, I was so burning hot for her I couldn't think straight." He rubbed his hand over his face as if he could wipe out the incident. "I wish I could tell you that I'll never forget it and she was awesome, but I can't remember most of it. I threw Lisa away for something I can't even remember." He shook his head.

He was miserable. Joley could feel desolation rolling off him in waves. His distress was genuine, not feigned to get back in her good graces. Denny had a weakness for women, but he'd made a commitment to Lisa and told the band members that he wanted to be faithful to her, because she mattered to him. Joley had believed him and now, feeling his unhappiness, she still did.

"Denny, had you been doing drugs?"

He shrugged. "Nothing much. Less than I normally do at a party. I have no idea what happened, but I told her. I called her last night when I got back to the room." For a moment tears swam in his eyes, and he blinked and looked away from her. "I wanted her to hear it from me, not read it in the tabloids, and I know they got my picture, the bastards. I spend my life hurting people I care about."

Joley frowned, not liking Denny's explanation of what happened. He might be a hound dog, but he always took responsibility. If he said he was sick and dizzy and the memory was foggy, she was suspicious that someone had slipped him a drug without his knowledge. But why? "You might have had a little help this time," Joley said before she could stop herself. Again she glanced at Brian, whose gaze slid away from hers. Was Nikitin up to something or was she simply overreacting because she didn't trust the man?