Page 12 of Bone Dust

“Yep. She’s exactly like that, but better. Softer. More real.” He nods as a dreamy look captures his eyes.

I chuckle beneath my breath, disbelief shaking my head. “I never took you for such a romantic.”

“Nah,” he waves me off. “It ain’t got nothing to do with romance. I just know what I like.”

Suddenly, one of the wooden double doors not far from the bar bursts open and a group of rowdy men stomp in, capturing our attention. Their footsteps echo near the near-empty bar. One of them, a tall, muscle-cut specimen sets his sights on me. Thick, untrimmed, stubble covers his chin and jawline. Arrogance pours off him sending an unspoken warning like an incoming storm. His lips curve in a snarl. He closes the distance between us until he’s only a few feet away.

“Well, well, well,” he drawls, his breath reeking of whiskey. “If it ain’t Ian Stanton.”

Sam tenses and slides through the opening, moving behind the bar. In a quiet way, he sets the tone by placing a Louisville Slugger on the counter. I slip my hand on top of it to stop any angry impulse he might be entertaining.

“Do I know you?” I ask, calmly.

The man smirks, his eyes flicking over to Sam and then back to me. “I doubt that, but I know people who know you. I’m sure they’d love to know where you are. A lot of people got screwed over when you disappeared. I’m sure they’d like it if you got back into the business.”

“Not interested.” I turn away from him. Sam flicks a glance from the man to me. I see what he’s saying in an unspoken exchange; he’s got my back.

“What a dump!” The man sucks back and spits a wad of phlegm on the floor.

“This ‘dump’ is my place of business,” Sam lifts the bat and snaps it in his palm.

The man snickers and puts up his hand. “Relax, man. Just want to talk to Ian.”

How the hell did he know I’d be here? I raise an eyebrow. “I guess you didn’t hear me. I’m not interested.” I turn away again. He’s undeterred. I can see his shark-like grin and tobacco-stained teeth in the mirror behind the bar.

“Some people would pay big to get you back on stage.”

“No thanks.”

His grin fades as he comes up alongside me. He lowers his voice. “You sure about that, Ian? You had a pretty good life. You could have it back.”

“I said no,” I repeat firmly.

He turns away and walks back to his three friends, but not before giving me a final temptation.

“You might not think so but there are some very powerful people who’d spend a shitload of money to get you. You could be a solo act. Tell me your price and they’ll book you all over the world.” He strides back to me and Sam tenses. He slams a business card down on the bar top. “If I were you, I’d think about it. You won’t get a better offer.”

He and his entourage slink toward the door. Impressing some of their physical features to memory, I count them. Four in total. Four men who look like trouble and who, to my knowledge, I’ve never seen before. Once they’re out the door Sam picks up the card.

“You know them?”

I shake my head. “Don’t think so but can’t say for sure.”

“Whaddya mean?”

I shrug. “I didn’t remember Savannah. I was wasted most of the time I was with the band and even more so after Dash died.”

He gets it and nods as he picks up the card. “It’s a record company. Black Shadow.”

“I don’t remember that name, but that doesn’t mean anything.”

Sam’s raised brows beg a question. “If they’re legit, maybe they’d want to talk to Savi.” He lays the card back down. Perplexed as to why he would even suggest such a thing, shock sends a rod down my back.

“You’re kidding, right? That guy was a dick and, I could almost bet he’s nothing but trouble. Why would you want him around her?”

He silently pours himself a Coke and slides a new one to me. “Maybe not him, but there might be some record executives on the other end of this phone number.”

I slowly take a sip, buying myself a minute to put my mind in gear before I put my mouth in motion. I picked up that Sam and Savannah are close. What I don’t know is how close. “You didn’t tell me you know her.”

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