Page 136 of Second Sets Omnibus

“What-what are you doing here?” Asher utters through his shocked expression, gripping his chair so hard, I swear he’d choke it if it were breathing. “Why are you here?” he mumbles again, shaking his head.

I’m the ghost of your fucked up past coming back to haunt you—is what I desperately want to say, but I bite my tongue. I’m a goddamn professional. I won’t let Whispered Words screw up my career. Besides, Zepp and Seger are watching my every move from behind the damn glass.

“So nice of you to ask, Mr. Montgomery,” I say as politely as I can and add, “I’m working.” Shrugging, I set the thick folder my brothers gave me on the conference table and spread their paperwork out for further examination.

Clearing my throat, I drag myself out of my thoughts and focus on the plans before me.

On the outside, I’m completely unaffected by their presence with the right kind of professional smile and squared shoulders. But on the inside, that’s a completely different story. I can act as tough as the next person. But a tornado unleashes my emotions, sending mixed signals throughout my trembling body.

“Working?” Kieran asks in a deep voice. “There’s no way,” he says in a cold tone, tinged with disbelief. “You can’t work here! What the fuck?” he growls, narrowing his eyes at me with suspicion.

“There is a way,” I retort with no emotion, thumbing through a few more pages, finally finding the numbers I should have been able to study yesterday. You know if my stupid brothers hadn’t sprung this on me ten minutes ago. Right, that reminds me. Murder is definitely still on the table. I wonder howmy sister-in-law, Kaycee, will take the news when her twin husbands disappear off the face of the planet.

“Relax,” Rad says in a bored tone, forcing himself to stare at the phone clutched in his white-knuckled grip.

“You fucking relax, dickhead,” Kieran snaps. “This can’t be possible.”

“Believe it or not, but I’m standing right here,” I say, still staring at the messy, down-turned numbers lining the page with a crease forming in my brow.

Fuck. This is worse than I thought.

When my brothers, Zepp and Seger, hired me, I never imagined it would lead to this. I completed my college education, garnered a degree in music business, and set out to make waves within the company with my ideas. The Fixer. I’m the person West Records turns to when a band is on their last leg and needs intervention before they’re expelled from their contracts and kicked out on their asses. We give them a chance at redemption to show us they can still perform and bring in money again. Or else, they’re out.

Over the past three years, since I took on this position, I’ve seen countless bands. Some work hard and regain their contracts, going out to make a new name for themselves. Others, well, they snort coke out of groupies’ assholes and ruin their careers.Looking at you, Break.Idiots.

This time, though, it’s them—Whispered Words. The four men I tried my hardest to forget, which is hard when one of their mini-mes calls me mom. My heart jumps, pounding against my ribs in a rhythmic drumbeat. Lyric. My daughter. His child. My eyes glide across Kieran’s twisted-up face, reddened by boiling anger that’s simmering beneath the surface of his skin. His mismatched eyes, so similar to the little girl who holds my entire heart now, burn into me with hate so visceral a shiver runs down my spine.

Letting out a low whistle, I shake my head with disappointment. How could a band at the top of their game for years suddenly fall so fast and hard?

“Your numbers,” I say, scrunching my nose.

“What numbers?” Asher asks cautiously, losing his breath when my gaze slams into his watery, hazel eyes filled to the brim with worry and concern.

“I’m so glad you asked,” I reply in a professional tone, sliding the paper in front of his face. His brows furrow when his eyes gaze over the page. “It’s your performance numbers. The amount you’re bringing in through ticket sales, online sales, and everything in between. It’s the numbers we evaluate every year to see if our investment is still paying off. And by the looks of it, Whispered Words is on their last leg,” I say, pacing back and forth at the head of the table. What they can’t see are my hands clasped firmly behind my back, trying to keep the shaking away from their eyes.

“Last-last leg?” Callum breathes, finally speaking up after staying silent for so long. The room falls away when his eyes finally connect with mine. A dark bruise rests beneath his eye, blackening his skin. Quickly, his eyes dart to the table once again, sinking his teeth into his bottom lip and losing himself in the pattern of the table.

My heart hammers in my chest, nearly knocking me back into the past. Callum. Sweet, lovable, caring Callum has marks on his flesh. But from what? Who could have caused him so much damage? And what the hell has changed? It’s only been a few years. The last thing I could ever do was picture Callum putting his fists into the air and fighting with someone.

How much has each of them changed?

“I think you’re lying,” Kieran says, jumping to his feet and readying himself for a fight. “This is a fucking joke. There’s no way some Central girl could be working here. Let alone be ournew band manager. This is bullshit!” Kieran explodes, slamming a hand down onto the wooden table. Everyone flinches away from his outburst, watching his contorted face twist with hate.

Ouch. Is that really what he thinks about me? A painful pang spears through my heart. My eyes barely recognize the boy who held my hands under the stars and told me I’d be okay. Who is this man standing before me? Has this ruined him? And why the fuck does Kieran hate me so much?

“Well, you should know that you’re here because West Records has placed your contract on probation.” I raise a brow when Rad’s face crumples, and his dark eyes glare down at the table, refusing to meet mine.

Tension laces every inch of his muscles, locking him in place, which gives me a chance to give him a once-over. Ashton Radcliffe may look the same as he did back in Central City with his dark and curly mullet and his lanky physique, but there are crucial differences shining through, hardening his closed-off exterior.

“This isn’t a joke. Believe me; I wouldn’t be here if it was some big ruse. You’re stuck with me. Like it or not.” I shrug again, taking a huge breath to relieve myself of the hurt brewing beneath the surface.

Anger vibrates through the entire room, setting my teeth on edge. Never in my life have I been met with such hostility, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. But what the hell do they have to be so hostile for? They left me. They left her. Not the other way around. I’m the one who should hate their guts. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I fucking do. But my professional duty binds me to their cause.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Probation? We haven’t done anything wrong. This is bullshit,” Kieran growls, slamming his fist into the table again. His hulking body heaveswith every breath he takes, and those mismatched eyes glare at me head-on, ready to take me down.

“Well, that’s why we’re having this meeting, Mr. Knight,” I say, tilting my head. “We’re here to discuss your future.”

Kieran’s fiery eyes slam into my gaze, hardening the longer he stares, filling to the brim with hate and unsaid wrath ready to unleash on me. My breath leaves me, and my head spins until I collect myself and my heart off the floor.