Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 129113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 516(@250wpm)___ 430(@300wpm)
It took a moment for her brain to process the sight that greeted her. Her body turned to fire and then to ice, a cold burn creeping up from the soles of her feet to the crown of her head.
Clara’s body hung from the second floor balustrade on a rope tied around her neck. Bulging eyes and a swollen tongue peeking through her lips distorted her beautiful features. On the toes of her left foot dangled a red shoe.
Chapter 1
Nine years later
* * *
“I-van! I-van! I-van!”
The audience in the Madison Square Garden concert hall was nothing but segments of raised arms and groping fingers freeze-framed in the surfing spotlights. Slowly, Ivan Kray came out of the trance of the final song, his attention once more anchoring in reality. From his advantage point on stage, he glimpsed flickering expressions in the teeming faces as the light caught them. It was like fanning a deck of cards too fast, seeing the clubs, spades, hearts and diamonds, but not the numbers. The concert goers remained nameless while their emotions took on palpable shapes of adoration, awe, jealousy, and the worst of all, the needy ones that said pick me.
Without warning, the darkness in the hall exploded with color that wasn’t part of tonight’s lighting choreography. The intensity drove him a step back. The radiance was enough to bring the whole hall to their knees, but he was the only one seeing it. The ability to distinguish a human soul as a spectrum of light was his gift and curse.
Involuntarily, his brain searched for a rainbow, a unique mélange associated with one person, but as always there were only red, blue, yellow, and the hues in between. Why he still hoped she’d show up he didn’t know. Maybe because he wanted her to see he was everything her family said he’d never be. Maybe because he missed her so much it still ripped his heart out every day.
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”
The euphoria of the performance was wearing off. He felt flat, like taking a nosedive after a rocket climb into space. The only way after going up was coming down, and he was coming down big time. The screaming girls in the golden circle only reminded him how the person he sang for wasn’t here.
Spreading his arms and hanging his head, he took his bow. A glance from under his lashes at Locke told him the drummer was wary. Fleet on guitar shuffled like he was nervous. They should be wary and nervous. He wasn’t known as a nutcase for nothing. Unpredictable. Wouldn’t be the first time he made a scene on stage because he couldn’t handle the light.
“Encore! Encore! Encore!”
Fleet lifted his brow in a questioning gesture. Tonight, his fans weren’t getting more. There was nothing left to give. He ignored the protest that swelled through the hall as he walked offstage.
Sweat dripped from his body. A stagehand took his guitar. He made his way to his dressing room, peeling off his leather jacket as he went. Underneath the jacket, his chest was bare. Cool air raised goosebumps on his wet skin. Someone took the jacket and replaced it with a towel. He wiped his face and hair. The cheering of the crowd chased after him down the tungsten lit corridor.
“I-van! I-van!”
His boots slammed the concrete as he hurried to the privacy he craved.
A fist punched the air in front of his face. “Good job, man!”
“Yeah! Fucking rocking, Iv.”
He threw the towel at no one in particular. Someone always caught it. Fingers ruffled his hair. He ducked the onslaught and covered his ears to block out the high-pitched fan-hollering that filtered through the walls.
Smartphones flashed.
“Iv!”
“Ivan!”
He had to get away from the noise and light pollution. When he rounded the corner, Kate, his sixty-year-old agent, waited in front of his dressing room. Good, reliable Kate. Immediately, he breathed easier.
“Good job.” She patted his shoulder and yanked her hand away. “Yuk. I forget how much you sweat.”
He grinned. “I need a shower.”
One of the dark-eyed brunettes from the groupies ran up to them. Her breasts spilled over the low cut of her top like white bread dough.
“Iv.” She stood on tiptoe and kissed his ear just above the silver hoop ring. “Can I give you a hand, baby?”
He tried to be gentle but the words came out gritty with a detectable bite. “Not now, girl.”
The light in her eyes dimmed. “Crim. My name’s Crimson.”
He didn’t remember her name even if he’d fucked her into a semi-coma last night. He never did. He never asked.
Feeling like a shitbag, he touched her hair. “Later, all right?” To Kate, he said under his breath, “Get her out of here.”
The girl was a newbie, but everyone knew he needed to be alone after a concert.
Crim reached for him. “Iv, I—”
Her fingers felt like an insult on his skin, marring the thought he still had in his head of the one woman who wasn’t at his show. He pulled away. “Out of my space.” Then he added in a softer tone, “Please.”