Sirens wailed, competing with Nikolos Acton’s voice and guitar as they combined with the band’s groove pounding through the speakers. Usually, nothing invigorated him more than the synergy of the mix of instruments and vocals. But today, as the audience joined in with the singing, what might have been a holy moment was marred by the dissonant sounds outside the tent. They played until the applause of the crowd drowned out the final chord.
“Thank you for coming. Our album is for sale at the back table.” With a wave, Niko turned to his buddies.
Emergency lights pulsed off the cars parked nearby, but the sirens no longer rang in the air. “Wonder what happened?” Johnny scrunched his eyes as he often did when he concentrated.
Niko ruffled a towel over his damp curls and shrugged. “Let’s get packed up. I’m sure Tia will fill us in after we’re done signing merchandise and taking photos.” He tossed the sweaty cloth into the bin. Tia’d collect them later. Outdoor summer concerts tended to be hot.
Marc frowned. “Whatever it is happened backstage.” He stepped closer and elbowed Niko. “Any cute blondes catch your eye?”
“Not interested.” Niko rolled his eyes at his bass player.
“Yeah, right.” Sam winked as he packed his guitar and slid his sunglasses back on. It had been an inside joke that flaxen-haired ladies seemed to love Niko and sought him out after every concert. In spite of their Christian faith and venues, some of the women crossed lines, which surprised him. Not only in the provocative clothing they wore but even with their suggestive remarks and innuendos. It definitely made touring a challenge in the struggle to stay pure.
Niko shook his head at his bandmates. A festival worker in an orange vest motioned for him.
“Be back in a sec, guys.” He headed over.
“Nikolos Acton?”
“Yeah?”
“We need you out here. There’s been trouble.”
His adrenaline raced as Niko followed the woman out into the blinding sunshine. A wall of heat mingled with the hallucinogenic effect of emergency services lights. He squinted into the brightness. “What happened?”
“Is Tia Bartel part of your entourage?”
“Yeah, manager, handler, scheduler. She does everything. Why?” He couldn’t imagine Tia causing anyone trouble. His eyes scanned the scene. The police talked to a guy in handcuffs over by a squad car. The man glared at Niko and screamed obscenities. Niko remembered him from last night’s gig a few hours away. He’d been belligerent when he’d found Niko speaking to his girlfriend after signing her t-shirt. They were some of the last people they’d interacted with before tearing down.
An officer approached.
Niko pointed to the man. “What’s he doing here?” He clenched and unclenched his fists even though he knew the person was incapable of assaulting him.
“Mr. Acton?” Officer Wilcox asked.
He nodded. “That’d be me.”
“Apparently that man attempted to gain access to the stage, intending to kill you. Miss Bartel stopped him, and he transferred his aggression to her. We assume he anticipated her as a minor obstacle, but she proved to be a fierce opponent.” The screaming man’s face turned red. A swollen eye and ripped shirt gave testament to the fight he’d been in. Niko’s eyes swung to where the paramedics worked.
Images of blood and skin taunted him from in-between the busy bodies surrounding a stretcher. Tia? He started toward the paramedics, but the officer grabbed his arm. “Wait.”