Read Online FLOWERS ON THE WALL by Mary J. Williams - Free Book Online

them. Zoe had put Quinn on alert. I'm watching you . Quinn had no idea what Zoe would do if she decided to act on her vague threat. And she didn't want to find out.
    Quinn had an easier time with the rest of the band. Dalton flirted—though he wasn't serious. Ashe teased. And Ryder? She had no idea what was going on with him. He was friendly. And cooperative. But the easygoing man she met in New York had morphed into something else. Ryder seemed preoccupied. Something was definitely on his mind.
    There was another explanation. It could be that Quinn was looking for something that wasn't there. Ryder's schedule was brutal. He was the face of the band that carried his name. He drew the line at interviews. However, Ryder managed at least one personal appearance in every city they visited. An orphanage in Philadelphia. A hospital in Miami. A nursing home in New Orleans. What little free time Ryder had, he gave freely—and without publicity. Quinn found out by accident when Dalton let it slip. Ryder wasn't pleased. He kept his charity work hush, hush for a very good reason. If it were widely known, the requests would be overwhelming.
    Quinn suspected that was only part of it. Ryder was a private man. Giving of his time was easy—and important. He didn't want accolades. Those came on stage from his screaming, adoring fans.
    It was funny. Quinn felt she knew less about Ryder today than when they met. It seemed Zoe was right. There were hidden layers. Deep—and dark. Tangled Vines was a perfect example. The song was from the band's second studio album. Like most people, Quinn listened to the singles the most. Radio friendly was the term. Tangled Vines did not fit that description.
    Yet, it caught the listener from the opening chords. There was something heartbreaking in Ryder's voice as he told the story of loss and the search for redemption. The final note faded without a resolution. Hope or despair? It was left to the listener to decide. Quinn chose to come down on the side of hope. But as she found from her online search, critics and fans were split down the middle. The arguments were numerous and passionate. And the only man who had the answer refused to talk.
    Great art—as one writer noted—was best when the artist allowed others to enjoy it without preconceived ideas. Would the Mona Lisa be as powerful if we knew why she smiled?
    Quinn doubted that Ryder would put his music on the same level as da Vinci's painting, but the point was valid. Ryder Hart was a genius. His words. His music. His voice. They could lift the spirits or haunt the soul. And for his fans, that was enough.
    However, it was frustrating as hell for Quinn. She had been looking for a few answers and came away with more questions than when she started. Had that been Zoe's goal? To send Quinn on a quest that had no end? Quinn wouldn't be at all surprised.
    "Ten minutes. Crank the backlights. And Richie, turn on the fans. Another minute and the stage smoke will obliterate Dalton."
    The last slow song of the evening calmed the overheated crowd. Quinn closed her eyes and floated on Ryder's words. Beautiful. And seductive. She might have said no, but the audience was filled with women who would kill to share Ryder's bed. The irony of her situation was not lost on Quinn.
    "We hit Chicago tomorrow."
    With nothing to do until the set ended, two members of the crew stood off to Quinn's right, enjoying the break before the madhouse erupted again.
    "Well, shit. Why do I always forget about Chicago?"
    The first man gave a long-suffering sigh. "You know why. It's the one gig where Dr. Jekyll turns into Mr. Hyde."
    "We hit Chicago on the first leg of the tour." The second man shuddered. "Why not skip it this time?"
    "I suggested St. Louis instead."
    "And?"
    "The look Ryder gave me shriveled my balls. That was twelve months ago. I'm still waiting for them to thaw out."
    "Get your asses in gear, ladies," the crew chief growled at his men. "I want you breaking that stage