“Called them in to take care of Kate,” Cid explained. “Seems we don’t have a power of attorney for her.”
“And you call yourself a manager,” Percy said. “Kate and I exchanged papers years ago, because you never know.”
“Had to make sure she would be taken care of,” Cid finished. “Even if you weren’t in the can, boyfriends can’t sign treatment papers.”
“I owe you, Cid.”
He knew he needed to question something, but at that moment, there was nothing between him and Kate. He bounded up the steps and froze when he got a look at her.
Kate drew in a deeper breath and smiled when she caught Syon’s scent. She almost didn’t open her eyes, too afraid she was dreaming.
She wasn’t.
He was there on a knee beside the sofa. She tried to smile but winced because her face was bruised. His expression tightened, rage flickering in his eyes.
“Don’t.” She reached out to smooth his jawline. “Smile… Just…stay here…for a bit…”
He reached out and pushed the button on the buckle of the seat belt. A second later he used both hands to pull the sofa out into a double bed. She smiled, scooting over to make room for him.
Now she could sleep.
Syon tucked Kate against his side and rested his chin on her head.
There was no fucking way he could smile.
But he could breathe at last.
Kate’s scent filled his senses as the bus started to rumble. Ramsey opened the door and peeked in. Syon saw the look on his friend’s face. A look of indecision. Ramsey let out a little huff and came up the steps. He stood there, his gaze sweeping Kate from head to toe before he turned around and opened one of the cabinets. Ramsey tossed a blanket over them before he disappeared down the steps.
The coach shifted into gear, and Syon cradled her close.
There was no fucking way he was letting her out of his sight.
* * *
There were hangovers, and then there were painkiller-induced hangovers.
Kate woke up staring at the ceiling of another hotel suite. The crown molding was perfect and painted a nice mellow shade of cream.
She groaned because she couldn’t recall getting into the room. Her mouth was drier than the Sahara, and she was pretty sure it would be a whole lot simpler to list the parts of her body that didn’t hurt versus the ones that did.
When she sat up, she caught sight of the bedside table. Neatly lined up on it were three prescription bottles and a folded card with her name on it. She picked it up and looked inside.
“Sound check rehearsal.”
Three little words had never made her smile so easily. She read them a few more times before finding her way to the bathroom. An hour later, she’d decided she was going to live. She was dotted with bruises, but most of them were on her arms.
Sure better than losing an eye.
She wandered down the hallway to the room where her shop was.
Or at least was supposed to be.
The rolling racks were there, but none of her machines or boxes. One of Cid’s guys came in a few seconds after her.
“No one thought you’d be up to working today. Afraid your gear is in the music coach, and it’s at the arena.”
“Oh. Okay. No problem.”
She wandered back into the hallway, but she was anything but tired. It was sort of strange to get outside while the sun was shining. She’d been a nocturnal creature for the better part of two months.
Had it really been that long?
She opened the calendar on her phone and scrolled through the days, looking at the venues Toxsin had played, the states she’d been through. Hotels were blending together. The trees had their fall colors on now, and the hotel was situated in a beautiful location. She walked past neatly manicured greenways and several fountains. She turned her arms over, hoping to pick up a little bit of a tan to help blend the bruises. But honestly, it wasn’t that bad. Now that the drugs were out of her system, her head felt like it wasn’t going to split. Maybe it was time to go on the wagon for a spell. She’d obviously been undervaluing the lack of a hangover. She needed some grapefruit juice and a detox.
“Hey…Kate!”
She looked up, and a camera flash popped. She blinked, momentarily blinded.
“How did you get the bruises?”
There were another couple of flashes.
“Did Syon Braden use you as his sex slave?”
There was a live-action camera as well as the still ones in front of her. They crowded her, blocking the walkway.
“Excuse me.” She tried to get through the wall of bodies.
“Come on, tell us about it.”
“How about a look at those tits?”
She put her hands up. “Out of my way.”
They only pressed her back. One of the fountains was behind her, bubbling away while the paparazzi tried to pull her in like a fresh kill. She turned around and walked right into the fountain, trudging through the knee-high water to the other side where the path wasn’t blocked.
Hotel security was scrambling, trying to push the paparazzi back as someone slid up beside her. She turned her head and came face-to-face with Taz.
Only she’d never seen this side of him.
There was a hard look in his eyes as he glanced over her shoulder at the reporters. They instantly shut up, and she didn’t blame them.
Taz looked ready to kill.
His black eyes were like obsidian, his expression tight, and she realized the little zip she’d heard was a set of ultralight nunchaku. He flipped them a few times in the air as he pushed her back behind him.
“We’d better get inside,” he said softly, his English heavily accented. “I promised my mother I’d try not to get arrested again. Breaking my promise within twenty-four hours would be a little too hard to explain my way out of. She’d slap my ears good.”
The hotel staff was swarming now, but they stayed well away from Taz. He guided her back into the hotel before he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and held it up to his ear.
“Got her.”
Once they were in the elevator, he transformed back into the happy-go-lucky guy she’d come to know him as.
“Aw…” was all she got out.
He shrugged. “Told you I was a bad guy.” He swung the nunchaku through the air before they reached the top floor.
More like badass.
“You sort of freaked everyone out. I think Syon is going to kill Cid for letting you out of sight, today of all days. Why didn’t you take your phone?”
“What? I just went for a walk.”
Taz swung the nunchaku through the air again. “And how’d that work out?”
She suddenly recalled Syon’s warning to her the first time the tour bus had stopped.
Fans can get a little crazy…
“I guess I didn’t really think about it.”
The elevator doors slid open, and she heard Syon’s voice bouncing between the walls of the hallway.
“Security is your job, Cid. I don’t want excuses.”
Syon turned toward her, giving her a glimpse of Cid’s furious face before she was swept inside one of the presidential suites.
“You’re overreacting, Syon.”
He slid his hands down her arms and captured her wrists. What made her gasp was the gentleness of his grip. He’d never hurt her before, he knew his strength, but now, he was handling her like glass stemware.
He pulled her into the bedroom and in front of the full-length mirror.
“Overreacting?” His voice was raspy with outrage. “Look at yourself, Kate. I want to put you in a fucking bubble!”
“Oh, please.”
She turned on him and ripped his shirt open. “What’s that?” She pointed at a three-inch area that was scratched and bruised. “Or that?” On his lower abs was a dark spot the size of a quarter.
He pulled back out of her reach. “I play rough.”
“So do I.”
He shook his head. “It’s not the same thing.”
“Bull crap.”
She was shaking her head, but he flattened his hands on either side of her face, backing her up against the wall to control her.