Jay-Jay pounces on me the second I step into the grungy hallway of the rental music studio.

"You're late," he says, taking my arm. "Fuck, I was starting to go crazy."

"Why, what's wrong?"

"Listen, something's happened, I need to talk—" He breaks off and looks over my shoulder. Conner has followed me in after parking his bike in the underground lot. He nods at Jay-Jay.

"Jay," I breathe, using his regular name and not the nick-name only for friends. "This is Conner. Conner, Jay."

They look at each other for a tense moment before Conner finally extends a hand to shake. "Conner Hoffmann, co-manager at the Stay Gold club."

Jay takes his hand for an aggressive shake, obviously pissed.

He turns to me. "Can I talk to you? In private?"

"All right. If it's urgent." I shrug at Conner.

He relaxes into his spot in the middle of the hall, expression unreadable.

"Go ahead. I'll be standing here, waiting, alone, doing nothing until you get back."

"Right," I whisper. I take Jay to the nearest, empty music studio and close the door. "What is going on?"

"Shit, Avery, what the fuck are you doing with that guy?" His tone is sharp. Too sharp.

"None of your business."

"But it is. It is my business. You've got no one in this town and you are one of my best friends. I care about you, and I don't want you to get—" He breaks off.

"Hurt?" I ask. "I'm an adult, remember? And this isn't what it looks like."

"Not hurt from heartbreak. Fuck. Do you know Chad Gillenhelm?"

I frown. "The name, yes. Doesn't he sing bass?" The second the words are out of my mouth, I realize what this is about. It's true. What Devon told me about someone targeting singers is true. "Something happened to him."

"Yeah. He's missing. They found his wallet and some blood in a park. I just heard through—" He waves vaguely when his voice breaks off again.

I understand. Musicians talk, they watch out for each other.

"There's more, though. There's worse."

"Two others? Two tenors and an alto?"

He blinks, confused. "I've only heard of one tenor and an alto. There's some sick fuck kidnapping and maybe killing singers in the city."

His gaze goes over to the door and his whole body tightens with barely concealed anger.

I put my hand on his arm. "It's not Conner. I know him, he was friends with my brother."

"Your brother? The one that died?"

It still stabs every time someone says it. I can only nod.

"Just because you know him doesn't mean—"

"Jay-Jay, it's all right. He wants to hear me sing. It's for a job, maybe, at the Stay Gold," I say.

"Stay Gold already has a club singer. An incredible blonde, what's her name? Elena. Throaty alto, can sing for miles."

My shoulders drop. The kind of singer I can't compete with when it comes to a sexy, nightclub scene. I think back to the club at the top of the skyscraper. I don't belong there. Elena does.

"Avery, go out there and tell him to leave."

I shake my head. "It's more complicated than that."

Besides, Jay-Jay doesn't tell me what to do. No one does.

The door opens. Conner's tussled, golden hair and flawless face appear. Even messy, he exudes confidence, his presence promises sexy secrets in the dark, and I am instantly flustered. My mind won't stop wondering about what he did last night. What he might do tonight.

"I know I said I would wait, alone," he says with a charming smile, "doing nothing out in the hallway, but believe it or not, I have work to get to and I'm dying to hear what you've got, Avery."

"Let's do it," I say. I motion to Jay-Jay to go to the piano. Please, I mouth, giving him the puppy-dog eyes for a change. He sighs in defeat and sits, rolling his hands over the keys effortlessly.

I clear my throat. "I'm not warmed up, and since pure opera is not for the uninitiated, let's do a lighter song."

Conner leans back on the wall, foot cocked up, and arms crossed. His gaze devours me, like he can't get enough.

An audience, I realize with a pinch in my heart. I haven't had an audience in ages. Anxiety stirs in my stomach. What if my voice breaks? What if an attack comes on? A memory swamps my mind, the lights blinding me, the music paused and the conductor holding his baton in the air, waiting to see if I would sing or not.

My throat closes. My lungs constrict.

No. Not now!

"Screw a lighter song, baby," Jay-Jay says, his hands hitting a heavy, minor chord. "Mozart's Requiem, the Introitus solo."

Music swells around me in the small room. It echoes in my heartbeat and pulls me into its embrace. He plays the few measures up to my entrance.

I open my mouth.

Nothing comes out.

*** ONC 830 words. Thank you for reading! Will Avery be able to sing in front of an audience - even an audience of one person? Hit the star and check out the next chapter! ***