I turn, looking at him, and I smile.

He smiles back. Van really does have the best smile. His whole face lights up with it.

“We’ll just find somewhere else to fuck, if not in our bunks,” Van adds.

Such a way with words. What was I saying about his nice smile?

“Well, seeing as though you’re both saying it, now, I’m gonna have to,” Sonny complains. “Ly, you should take the fucking bed.”

“Thanks, Sonny.” I pat his hard chest. “You’re a real gem. How about this? I have the bedroom, and when one of you scores, you can have the room for as long as you need it, but you have to change the sheets.”

“And this is why I love you.” Sonny presses a kiss on the top of my head.

“Deal.” Van offers me his knuckles, so I fist bump him.

“You’re a softie” Cale says in my ear as I watch Sonny and Van checking out the bedroom.

I shrug. Then, I feel my cell vibrate against my butt. I pull it out. Unknown number. I hesitate, worried. It might be a call I don’t want to take, but then it could be someone calling about the tour. It wouldn’t be Dina or Zane because I already spoke to them earlier. I haven’t spoken to Tom yet. Everything has been arranged through Zane or Dina, so I guess it could be him. I’m not even sure when I’ll see Tom, not that it matters. But he’ll probably fly in tomorrow. People like Tom don’t travel on buses.

“Just gonna take this.” I wave my vibrating cell at Cale.

Decision made, I connect the call as I start walking back through the bus. “Hello?”

“Lyla, it’s Jake.”

That stops me in my tracks.

Of course I’ve spoken to and met Jake before plenty of times, but he’s never called my cell.

“Hi.” Shit. My voice has gone squeaky. I clear my throat. “Is everything okay?”

“You tell me.”

My stomach drops.

“Rally Brochstein—he’s your father.” It’s not a question. Jake knows.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My hand starts to sweat around my phone.

I quickly make my way off the bus and practically run down the side to the back, putting distance between me and the people loading up the tour buses.

You see, there’s something about my father that I haven’t been totally upfront about with Jake or Zane or anyone at TMS Records. I tend to keep who my father is and who my mother was private. People treat me differently when they find out who my parents are. Especially my father. He’s kind of a big deal in the music business.

Okay, he’s a huge deal.

And he and Jake don’t get along.

Rally Brochstein, owner of Rally Records. He’s discovered some of the biggest talents the world has ever seen.

The Mighty Storm is one of them.

Yes, I’m talking about the Rally Records, the label which first signed The Mighty Storm, TMS. The label that TMS walked away from.

I guess you can see where this is going.

And if Jake knows about Rally, then Rally definitely knows I’m signed with TMS Records.

This isn’t good.

I don’t have what you could call a relationship with Rally, but that doesn’t stop him from trying to interfere in my life, especially when he feels it is crossing over into his.

And this? My band signing with TMS Records. He’ll definitely feel that this is stepping into his territory.

I clear my throat. “Yes, Rally is my father…in the biological sense of the word.”

I’m now standing out in open space and looking over at the tour bus, hoping with all hope that it will still be moving with the guys and me on it.

“Were you ever going to share this piece of information with me?” His voice is so even that I can’t get a read on where this is going.

I’m just praying it’s not the end before the beginning.

Taking a deep breath, I say, “No…well, yes…no. I don’t know.” I scrub my hand over my face.

I’m not a deceitful person, but looking at this now, it seems an awful lot like deceit.

I start to feel a little sick.

“I think I would have at some point, but I just wanted you to see us for what we could do, so you could make an informed choice before you knew. I know how you feel about Rally. I feel the same. Yes, he’s my father, but that term is used loosely. I don’t have a relationship with him. He’s a dumbass.”

Jake laughs. I take that as a good sign.

“I’ve heard Rally called a lot of things but never a dumbass. It actually suits him.”

Silence.

Then, he exhales. “I know Rally, Lyla, too well. I know how he works. I also know a little something about wanting to hide your past. Thing is, when you hide stuff, especially in this business, it has a tendency to come out and bite you in the ass.”

My memory reminds me of the news story that came out about Jake’s dad last year. From what the press said, Jake’s dad hurt him and his mom pretty bad, and his dad went to prison for whatever he did to them.

“And I don’t like surprises, Lyla.”

I cringe at the turn in his tone of voice.

“I don’t like receiving a phone call from Rally Brochstein when I’m just about to eat breakfast with my family, especially when I’m going into that conversation blind.”

I swallow down the bitter taste in my mouth. “I should have told you.”

“Yeah, you should have.”

I know Rally and what he’s capable of. His reputation in the music business is notorious.