“Let her go, man. This is all new to her. Let Logan talk to her first,” Kacen tries to reason.
Clenching my jaw, I nod. I don’t fucking like it, but I’m at a loss. Looking over at Wilson, I say, “What the fuck do you want?”
“Now, Cole, is that any way to talk to the man who holds your future.”
“Fuck you, our contract is almost up. What do you want?” I seethe.
That fucker laughs. “I just wanted to say congratulations on a great show. That new bit you did with the girls, the crowd loved it. How did you convince her to play along?”
What the fuck? “Did you hit your head? What the hell are you taking about?”
“The girl.”
My hands instantly ball into fists at my sides.
I feel a hand on my chest, but I don’t know whose it is. “Calm.”
Gavin.
“That girl,” I grit out, “is mine. You stay the fuck away from her.”
He fucking throws his head back as he laughs this time. “She must be sweet, to have your balls in a vise. I wouldn’t mind a taste,” he boasts.
Motherfucker!
I lunge forward, but all three of my bandmates, my brothers from another mother, stop me. All three of them are holding me back, and it’s barely working. I’m insanely fucking pissed off.
“Don’t fucking talk about her, don’t look at her, don’t fucking breathe around her,” I spit at him, because Gavin and Tristan each have an arm, and Kacen is standing in front of me, hands on my chest, pushing me back.
I’m not moving.
“Is there a problem here?” the security officer asks.
“Yes, he’s harassing us,” Kacen speaks up.
“I will fucking kill you, do you hear me? You ever come near her and I will fucking end you!” I scream at him.
“Sir, you have to calm down,” a security guard, who takes Kacen’s spot in front of me, says.
“Get him the fuck out of here,” I growl.
I don’t know what he says to them, but two guards flank Wilson and lead him away. I didn’t even get to swing.
“Stacy.” That’s all I say, and the guys seem to understand.
“I’ll take him. You two okay to clear out?” Kacen asks.
“We got it. We’ll get there as soon as we can,” one of them replies. I’m in too much of a fog to recognize their voice.
I need to get to her.
She ran from me, and then . . . fucking Wilson.
Gavin and Tristan release me and I run. I run through the fans, the roadies, the paparazzi—I run to her.
I don’t stop until I reach the bus. I sling open the door and find Stacy and Logan on the coach. Stacy has tears streaming down her cheeks and Logan looks worried.
I immediately drop to my knees in front of her. “Hey, sweets.” My voice cracks. She doesn’t look at me. My heart is about to beat out of my chest. I take a few deep breaths then try again. “Stacy, can you look at me?” She still doesn’t respond. She just cries. Big tears falling from her eyes, each one cracking my fucking heart wide open.
Standing, I lift her in my arms and take her spot on the couch. She immediately buries her face in my neck as a sob breaks free from her chest.
What. The. Fuck?
My mind races with what could cause this kind of reaction from her. I know she wasn’t feeling well, but something tells me this is bigger than that.
Keeping one arm around her, holding her to me, the other soothingly strokes her hair. I let her cry, hold her while she falls apart. Logan sits beside me, her hand on Stacy’s leg. Kace stands beside Logan with his hand on her shoulder, offering support. None of us says a word; we just let her get it all out. I kiss the top of her head over and over again. Sending up silent prayers that whatever this is, she knows that I’m here, that I want to be nowhere else but where she is.
Her cries soften and she’s no longer shaking. Gavin and Tristan came in about fifteen minutes ago. One look at my girl and Tristan told the guards, “No one gets in or out,” shut the door, and locked it. They’ve been leaning against the counter ever since.
“Baby,” I whisper. “Please talk to me.” I’m pleading, but I don’t fucking care. I’m scared out of my mind. “What happened?”
“Oh, my God,” she breathes and jumps up from my lap.
I reach out to grab her arm, to stop her, and she flinches while yelping in pain.
What?
I jump to my feet. “I barely touched you,” I state the obvious.
“No. No, no, no, no, no,” she repeats over and over again.
I know she’s not doing drugs; I would notice that. Tears are again flowing, faster than ever, coating her now red and blotchy cheeks. I gently take her hand in mine and pull up the sleeve of her T-shirt.
Bruises.
Fucking dark, black and purple bruises. I drop to my knees and study her arm. Fingerprints. It looks like motherfucking fingerprints on her skin.
Squeezing my eyes closed, I suck in a deep breath. I need to keep my head about me; she’s already scared out of her damn mind.
“Baby, what happened?” My voice is so gruff that I barely recognize it.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Sorry? “Stacy, I need you to tell me what happened.”