Page 46 of Hope & Harmony

A Dirty Proposal

CHAPTER 1

JUDE

8:56 pm.

I rolled up behind the arena on my Harley and backed into my designated spot next to one of the crew access doors. I could hear the thunder of music right through the roar of my bike from a couple of city blocks away and now I felt it pounding through the concrete.

The Players were onstage, rocking out one of their biggest hit songs, “Panic Room”. It was the final song on their set list for tonight.

Which meant Dirty would soon be taking the stage.

Almost time.

I took a gut-deep breath, grounding myself as I set my boots on the pavement, even as the anticipation started to build.

It was my greedy impatience to see her, to touch her, combined with the usual buzz of adrenaline. The one that accompanied every live event, every concert, no matter how big or small.

And this show would behuge.For many reasons.

As outwardly calm and in control as I would appear, even I couldn’t help being affected by the palpable excitement of all those people—many of them my close friends. My family.

And of course, my woman.

Roni.

As I slipped off my helmet and swiped a hand through my hair, the thrill of embarking on a new tour stirred in my blood. It would be chaos, as usual, but I was comfortable in that chaos.

It had always been chaos.

I’d devoted my life, without regret, to protecting my rock star best friends and their band. Not knowing, when we all started down this road together as little more than kids, how successful the band would become.

Nowadays, we had partners and kids and babies in the mix, but we also had more resources. More money, a bigger team.

But all that meant was the shows and the tour got bigger, too.

Tonight was the first night of the new world tour. A double bill, the Players and Dirty, rocking our home arena in Vancouver before both bands headed out on the road. I’d go wherever Dirty went, as their head of security. Wherever my best friend, lead guitarist Jesse Mayes, went, as his primary bodyguard.

That meant traveling several continents over the next year-and-a-half while Dirty rocked sold-out concerts all over the world, with the Players and with other bands.

No matter how far and wide we traveled, though, Dirty always preferred kicking off the tour as close to home as possible. The relationship they’d built with the hometown fans over the past fifteen years was sacred. It meant a lot, to all of us, to have the opportunity to keep doing what we loved with our lives. And none of us would be doing what we did without Dirty’s diehard fans perpetually clamoring formore.

So, this wasn’t just a night of music. It was a night of gratitude and celebration.

But this show meant even more to me, personally, than the first night on any given tour—and not just because it happened to be my birthday.

Tonight, we had something special planned.

The moment I swung my leg off my bike, though, I could tell that all those carefully laid plans had somehow gone to shit.

A petite woman with sleek dark hair had just slipped out the door to greet me like she knew I was coming, and when my eyes locked with hers, I saw it on her face. After working together for so many years, Maggie Omura and I had an almost disturbing ability to read and anticipate one another.

But maybe that was just because we were both so damn predictable.

“What is it,” I said flatly.

“Happy birthday?” she hedged.

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