“I fucked Braxton.”

“What?” Loren’s head swiveled between Houston and me. I could already tell he wouldn’t let himself believe it. That’s how far gone he was, and she just—I forced my fists to unclench. “What the hell is he talking about?” Loren asked me. Before I could answer, he’d already turned back to Houston. “You fucked Brax?” he echoed. “When?”

“Just now. Right here.”

Loren’s gaze narrowed to slits. “You’re lying.”

“Regardless, I’m not interested in convincing you. From this point forward, you two should have no problem concentrating on the tour. If you want to get laid, snag a groupie. They’re all around.”

If I’d had an inkling of how low Houston would stoop just to keep control, I would have warned Braxton. He’d used her, and the worst part was that she still had no idea.

Loren stepped toward Houston until they were nearly chest to chest. “You think because you fucked her first that makes her untouchable?”

“We both know you’re too full of yourself to settle for my sloppy seconds. Get back on the bus.”

“Fuck you. Maybe I’m done taking orders from you.”

Houston’s eyebrow perked before he taunted, “You got a better option?” He already knew that Loren didn’t. None of us did. It wasn’t about the wealth we’d obtained but the connection to another human life. Without each other, we had no one.

“Maybe I do,” Loren returned, making my heart stop. What the hell was he talking about?

“If you want to run back to your daddy’s lap, be my guest, but don’t kid yourself into thinking the grass will be greener. Oh, and we won’t take you back this time.”

The air was dipped in so much tension I thought the sky might crack open from the strain. Loren was silent, but his rage rang loudly. Houston was taking a huge gamble. Loren would have appreciated it if it weren’t his pride and sanity on the table.

I didn’t exhale until he walked away but not before he shoved the bag of takeout that he’d bought for Braxton into Houston’s chest. We watched helplessly as Loren stormed away in the opposite direction of the bus.

“Don’t,” Houston commanded when I started after him. “Loren’s not going anywhere. He’ll be back.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” I said, voicing my hope that this was all part of his plan to bring us back together. I missed my friends.

Scrubbing his hand down his face, Houston gave me a tired look. “I’m doing the best I can, Rich. What more do you want from me?”

“To find a way that doesn’t involve you being a major dick. Braxton didn’t deserve what you did. Neither did Loren.”

He rolled his eyes as if what I said was debatable. “If it helps you sleep better tonight, look at the bright side.”

“Which is?”

“No one gets her now.”

It took us sixteen hours to find Loren.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he croaked. With one eye open, he peered up at me as I stood over him. We’d found him passed out inside a rundown motel room that I was sure someone had died in. The floor was littered with empty bottles, condom wrappers, and discarded clothes. After bribing the desk clerk for a copy of the room key, Houston had chased off the chicks we found cuddling with drunk-ass Loren.

“What the—” Loren barked. As if he were a vampire, the drama queen used the floral comforter to shield himself from the sun Houston let in after he ripped open the curtains. “Close the fucking curtains. What the hell is your problem?”

“You,” Houston answered coldly. “Now get the hell up.”

“Bite me.”

It sounded like we’d time-traveled to our teenage years when our hormones made us hate each other for a time as well as ourselves. Now we were men and back to hating each other but with only our egos to blame.

“Braxton’s one chick. One. You just found three to fuck you in the middle of nowhere,” Houston pointed out. “Not to mention we’re all better off anyway.”

Loren flew from the bed, naked and as shameless as the day he was born. I’d seen his dick so many times that I could probably draw it from memory…

I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that.

“Really? Your solution after screwing me is to insult my fucking intelligence? You didn’t screw Braxton for the band. You wanted her for yourself.” Shoving Houston, he yelled, “Admit it!” Loren was loud enough, I’m sure, to be heard from the next room.

It was only a matter of time before someone freaked and called the cops. I could read the outlandish headline now.

Bound Spotted: Sources report the purchase of stolen organs at shady Colorado motel.

I shook my head.

“If you understand my motives, why do I need to explain them?” Houston shot back. He really was a dick. “Admitting what you already know is not what you want to hear anyway. You want me to tell you that everything you imagined is true. You want to know that her pussy is fucking crippling. I can’t get the feel of her out of my head even while I’m standing here listening to you bitch about it. She let me use her, Lo. She begged me for it. She made me not care if you turned the corner and caught me balls deep. She’s fucking insatiable. I may never get enough, but what I do know is that Braxton is mine as of yesterday. It should be easy now for you to keep your hands off and your mind on the music.” Houston’s chest expanded as he inhaled deeply and exhaled. “Are we done now? Can we go?”

“That’s mighty fucking convenient,” Loren replied in the flattest tone ever.

“Come back to the bus.”

“Why? Do you need me, Houston?” he taunted. “A monkey could play the bass. That’s what you told me once, remember? Find someone else.”

Calvin had been a magician at guitar. We never thought replacing him would be possible, but it helped that we hadn’t given two shits about that cunt. Loren was different. For Bound, there was no one else. For Houston and me, there was no one else.

Houston had already drawn the same conclusion. The only problem was that he’d never admit it. I watched him silently make a decision and knew what angle he’d play before he even spoke.

“While you might have lost your appetite for money, I know the last thing you want is to hand it all over to Carl fucking Cole when he sues you for breach of contract, so get dressed, and let’s go. We’ve been in this shit-hole too long.”

It took another thirty minutes of Houston and Loren bickering like an old married couple before we made it back to the buses. All at once, we stopped in our tracks.

Braxton was leaning against the door of our rig.

She wore a white muscle tee with a black graphic design I couldn’t make out from where we stood. What I assumed was supposed to be a dress only extended to the middle of her thighs. If her attempt was to tone down the sexy, she failed miserably. Not when she wore those black, lace stockings that only reached an inch below the hem of her dress. On her feet were distressed brown leather boots that had seen better days. She had the oddest style, but it worked for her. Before yesterday, I would have fucked her just as hard in her weird clothes as I would out of them.

Braxton couldn’t seem to decide which of us to focus on since we were all watching her. Glancing at the ground, she pushed away from the bus.

We didn’t move to meet her halfway as she approached. Instead, we stood together like an impenetrable wall, giving no parts of our thoughts away. By the time she stood in front of us, her indecision was gone, and my jealousy was at an all-time high.

She only had eyes for Loren.

“I’m guessing the cat is out of the bag since you can’t even look at me,” she said to him. Loren wore dark shades to shield his eyes from the sun, but his head was slightly turned, making it obvious he was ignoring her. “I’m sorry.”

His head swiveled forward, and then he was pushing up his shades. “You’re sorry?” he echoed in a deceptively pleasant tone. Braxton shifted nervously under Loren’s piercing gaze. “Whatever for, baby fawn? You’re not my bitch.” Tilting his head toward Houston, he held her stare. “You’re his.” Needing to punish her further, he shoved past her as if she weren’t there.

Braxton didn’t lash out at him, though.

No, she turned her rage on Houston.

“Is this why you fucked me?” she asked as if she didn’t already know the answer. Her eyes were red, telling me she’d been crying and on the verge of doing it again. Knowing Braxton, she’d hold it in until she was alone. She hated anyone seeing her weak more than she hated weakness itself.

Houston’s gaze held no remorse as he regarded her. “A lot of good it did me. You’re the perfect muse, Bambi. If I ever write a song about how shit can get worse, I’ll be sure to think of you.”

Seeing the look in Braxton’s eyes, I took a step away from Houston. I watched her debate for a moment, and after several deep breaths through her nose, the anger left her gaze.