The Unforgettable Wolf. Jane Godman
that she would be accompanying them. It was a new dynamic. He knew Ged was watching closely, observing how it would work out.
“Welcome to the zoo, Violet.” Torque’s brilliant smile flashed. He brushed back his long, flame-red hair, his movements quick-fire. Torque didn’t know how to be still. “Beast. Zoo. Get it?” Violet smiled, and Nate could see some of the tension draining out of her. Torque wandered away to stow his belongings under his bunk.
“Has Nate made coffee yet?” It was Dev’s drawling voice.
“No.” Violet looked wary. Dev’s uncanny stillness and watchfulness always had that effect when people met him for the first time.
“Good. Nate’s an Englishman. He can’t make coffee for shit.” Cool as ever, Dev strolled off in the direction of the kitchen.
Watching him, Violet was taken by surprise as Khan grasped her hand and pressed his lips to it. “Nate should have introduced you to the most important person first, beautiful Violet. I am Khan.”
“I’m pleased to meet you,” Violet said, casting a helpless glance up at Nate.
“Naturally. Everybody is.” Khan’s voice was a purr as he went to his bunk. Nate knew from experience he would curl up and be asleep in seconds, leaving his luggage strewn in everyone else’s way.
Diablo was always the unpredictable one. In the end, he muttered something that could have been a welcome, but might just as easily have been a curse, as he went to join Dev in the kitchen.
Nate drew Violet down to sit on one of the large, squashy sofas that lined the living area. “These are the people you will have to live in close proximity with over the coming weeks, maybe months.” He didn’t mention that the tour was scheduled to last just over a year. Surely her memory would have returned by then. “What do you think?”
“I think I need another blow to the head.” She gave a shaky smile. “Seriously? I think I’ve totally disrupted your life...and theirs. Are you certain you want me along?”
The question shook him. Gazing at her, Nate tried to analyze what he was feeling. This wasn’t about his sense of responsibility toward her. It wasn’t because she needed him to come to her rescue and care for her. Are you certain you want me along? He wanted her. It was that simple. And that complicated.
“After a few hours cooped up with us, you may wonder what the hell you’ve gotten yourself into. Torque’s zoo comment wasn’t far wide of the mark.” He stretched his long legs in front of him. “The schedule is punishing. We’re crossing the Channel to France tonight and starting the European leg in Paris. Things will get really frantic in a month or two when the US tour begins.”
“How many of you are American?”
He should have foreseen she would want to know more about them. Questions about their backgrounds weren’t easy to answer, but they had come up with a biography that suited them. Over the years, they had honed it so it satisfied even the most pressing journalist. Even so, he didn’t feel comfortable telling Violet a series of half-truths. “I’m English, as you know. Diablo is Native American. Khan is from India and Dev comes from Nepal.”
Violet accepted his explanation without further comment. “And Torque?”
Ah, Torque. The hardest one of all to explain. “He’s well traveled.”
“A child of the world, that’s me.” Torque returned carrying coffee. “Wherever I lay my well-worn beanie, that’s my home. So it begins. Diablo has just threatened to kill Khan for stealing the best bunk.” He raised his cup in a mock toast, those curious, mercurial eyes shifting color. “Welcome aboard, Violet.”
As he spoke, the engines rumbled into life and the gigantic bus rolled out into the traffic.
* * *
The band was going to spend the afternoon at the stadium engaged in rehearsals. Nate explained the way it worked. Their entire stage, video and lighting rig was in duplicate, so while one stage was being erected in one city, the other one was on its way to the next venue ready to be set up there.
“It’s a luxury not many bands can afford. A huge crew of professionals travels ahead of us to set everything up, so all we have to do is turn up and perform. All part of the mystery that is Ged Taverner and his billions.”
Violet was bemused at the way he spoke of Ged. It was as though he was indebted to, but barely knew, the man who was responsible for the band’s success. “How did you meet Ged?”
They were eating lunch on the tiny balcony of their Parisian hotel suite. It overlooked the River Seine, and the brilliant sunlight, blue skies and iconic buildings made it a picture-perfect scene.
A slight shadow crossed his features. “It was six years ago. I had been through a difficult time. I’d been ill following an attack—” his eyes were on the river, so she couldn’t read his expression “—it’s not something I care to remember, let alone talk about. I was a music student and I’d been in a band. Not Beast.” He turned back to look at Violet, and the shadows were gone. “I’d never come across anything quite like Beast. Ged turned up at my apartment one day. He said he’d seen me play—God alone knows how, because I hadn’t done anything for a while—and he was putting together a rock band. He was looking for a bass guitarist, if I wanted to audition. At first I wasn’t interested, but he left me his card. I don’t know what it was, but something about the encounter, something about Ged, kept tugging at my mind. Anyway, I got in touch, did the audition and haven’t looked back since.”
“Is that how Ged found the others?” Violet sipped her water. The elegant menu had dismayed her, and she had ordered a rare steak with a salad instead of any of the dainty French dishes. “He scouted them?”
“I suppose so,” Nate said.
Violet sensed he was being deliberately vague. Beast had been together for six years, so he had to know the details of how every one of the members joined the band. Violet thought about Ged Taverner. On the surface, he was charming, but there was something about him that troubled her. It was a watchfulness, a stillness, that was outside of her experience. He was the puppet master, the Svengali, and he reveled in the role. Maybe that was what she felt from him. That sense of needing to be in control. Whatever it was, it worked. The band clearly owed their success to him.
“Is this okay?” Nate indicated the suite behind them. They had arrived in Paris just over an hour ago and checked into this grand, old hotel that cried out “money.” There were two adjoining bedrooms with a sitting room in between. “This way, the others in the band won’t get any ideas that you might be available.” His face darkened as he said the words.
She reached across the table and clasped his hand. “This is perfect.”
Could she tell him she’d be happy to share one room—and a bed—with him? Could she find the words to tell him that her fantasies about getting him into bed, any bed, were getting wilder by the minute? She didn’t know if this longing was something she’d experienced before; all she knew was it was raging out of control. How would Nate feel about that? About her wanting him, but also about her possible inexperience? She guessed he wouldn’t want to take advantage of her memory loss. No matter how much I might want him to.
She wondered if something of her thoughts showed in her face, because Nate’s eyes flashed and his grip on her hand tightened. Just as he leaned across the table toward her, there was a wild pounding on the door.
“Nate?” It was Torque. “Get decent, man. We’re leaving in five.”
Nate groaned. “I have to go. You can either come and watch—but I warn you it will be boring—or you can explore the city and meet me at the stadium in a few hours.”
“I choose the nonboring option.” Even though it means being apart from you.
“Very wise.” He rose to his feet, paused and then, as though unable to help himself, stooped and kissed her lightly on the lips before striding