Thick as Thieves (The Greystone Family: Stolen Hearts #3)

Prologue

PROLOGUE

Xander

11 months ago London in December

“He’s such a tosser. Marcus has gone to the wrong fucking pub. I told Mick Green Man, they’ve gone to the Green Dragon. Let’s get over there, this lot aren’t as advertised.” I look between Kenny and Will, the two men who run our music label, NSM Music, here in London. “Are we agreed it’s a definite no?” They nod their agreement. What a waste of time and energy.

I can’t believe I flew in from LA, leaving sunny weather and my beachfront house in Malibu, for this bullshit. My oldest friend and bandmate Marcus Russell and I started NSM Music five years ago, never intending to run it day to day. We were still too busy making music with our bandmates Gabe and Levi.

Now at age thirty-six, we’ve achieved everything in music there is to achieve, our professional career like every musician's wet dream. Every accolade and award has been bestowed upon us, we’ve played every iconic venue around the world to packed-out crowds. We have a massive fan base that we never took for granted and serious money in the bank. Not that the money was ever a concern in the first place. Especially for Marcus and me. Our families are independently wealthy. We have homes all over the world, and we’ve always done whatever we fucking wanted to.

The trade-off? Our personal lives are in the toilet. Marcus is busy killing himself with drink, drugs, and women. One failed marriage to a woman he didn’t love, and at times didn’t even like, on the books. And tragically, four miscarriages, four babies buried. He’s trying to numb out normal life, and doesn't want to feel. It’s been too hard, and he hasn’t coped well.

As he sets off on the road to oblivion, we, being band brothers, go with him. We do a good job giving the appearance of normal humans on occasion, a chat show here and there. On stage we could even pass for real people. But off stage, and no cameras around, what a fucking disaster.

So on a cold dark December night in London, pissing it down with rain—the norm for here at this time of year—we make our way to the Green Dragon. Because Marcus, as usual, has gone rogue. Not listened to a word I said, and turned up at the wrong pub.

We slip in unnoticed, it’s packed to the rafters. I survey the shadows, as I know that’s where he’ll be. Trying not to be recognised. He’s right though, this band is killing it. I can tell as we join him that he’s pissed no one from the label is here. He nods at the VIP area, a scowl on his handsome face. Other labels are there being liberally plied with drinks. The band is young, the four of them look barely out of their teens. Probably why Will wrote them off. The lead singer taking his shirt off drives everyone into a frenzy. Stellar looking kid, full of energy, the girls going wild. Doesn’t look like his age is holding him back, or now the guitarist who joins him in the shirtless department. They’re all giving it large on that stage.

The lead singer looks familiar, but I can’t place him from this distance.

We head first to the VIP area letting Will and Kenny chat to whoever they need to with both Marcus and I keeping to the shadows. If anyone spots us it’ll be carnage.

As soon as the band are done, I tap Marcus on the shoulder. “Let’s get backstage. They’ll let us in, we can use our fame for that at least.”

The frontage has been spruced up but the back area has hardly changed. In a way, it’s comforting. The smell, the excitement, the adrenaline—it's always new, shiny, even though the rooms are fucking grimy. I grin at Marcus as we head to the old backstage area. We played here when we were just starting out. In fact, I spot our band poster hiding on the walls. Others have been pasted over it. How the fuck dare they?

There’s the usual crowd of people trying to get in with the band. Feed off their energy and clearly good looks. Security is checking IDs. That’s new. Times might be changing. But, to be fair, the lads looked young, so their audience will be too.

Mick and Jase, our security team, go in first, I follow, and Marcus is dragging up the rear.

I push a big smile on my face and say to assorted band members, “Hey, I’m Xan,” as I start towards the drummer. I expect Marcus to be right behind me, coming to chat to the band, but no. He’s doing it again, going fucking rogue, not sticking to the script.

What the fuck is he doing?

He ignores everyone, his attention fully locked on a woman standing at the back of the room holding a stack of T-shirts. Striding with purpose straight past everyone, he stops directly in front of her, saying so quietly only I hear him, “Where the fuck have you been?” and starts to kiss her like it’s his last kiss on this Earth.

I spin around and watch as he pushes her gently back towards the wall. She moves with him, completely in sync, like their bodies know exactly which move to make, talking without saying a word.

What the hell is going on? What is he fucking doing?

Then I catch a glimpse of her face.

And my heart stops beating.

No fucking way! No fucking, fucking way. It is not? It can’t be?

The lead singer comes into the room, clocks Marcus trying to devour the woman with his tongue down her throat, strides over with a face like thunder and rips him off her.

“Get your hands off my mother!”

His mother? His mother?!

My mind is repeating everything. Punches get thrown, and we all pile into the fray. Marcus is being pummelled by the lead singer and has toppled into the T-shirt box. I’m trying to pull him off Marcus and stop the guitarist from hitting me.

It all stops the moment she shouts. But the world comes to a complete halt the minute the boy—whose name I now know is James—looks down at Marcus with total disdain, spitting out, “Oh, it’s you. Hello, Daddy. Finally decided to turn up, have you?”

I can’t move. I can’t fucking breathe. I stand staring at the woman I have looked for every fucking year for eighteen long years.

“Eevviiee,” I breathe out. “No fucking way.”