Page 120 of Don't Bang a Bandmate

I stay firm, refusing to let Christian go.“He’s working with Monroe,”I growl through my teeth.

They both pause, frozen amid the buzzing pandemonium behind us.

“What do you mean?” Jonah asks.

“Jordan,” I say. “Monroe sent him.”

It’s vague. Too vague. But there’s no time to explain.

Still, they’ve heard enough. Their concerned faces darken as they look at Christian.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says, blood dripping down his chin. “I can explain?—”

Knox hits him.

Then, Jonah hits him.

Then, I hit him.

Three against one. Not exactly fair.

But I don’t fucking care right now.

“Bronson!”

Jordan’s voice rises over all the others. I look up into her wide eyes. She’s standing only a few feet away with Addison and Katrina by her side and I…

Fuck.

The distraction knocks a little sense into me. I pause just long enough for a thick arm to curl around my throat and lift me off of Christian.

“BREAK IT UP!”

I’m slammed hard against the nearest wall. It shakes from the impact and I cringe, my toes dangling a few inches off the floor.

Ahead of me, I look into the familiar face of Vincent Silva.

“I said,” he growls, his face an inch away from mine,“break it up.”

I nod as much as he allows me to. “Hey, Vin,” I squeak, his forearm pressed against the hollow of my throat.

Beyond the outline of his head, blue and red lights flash through the windows and a siren wails.

Yeah.

Probably should have just used my words.

38

BRONSON

Our holding cell is cold and uninviting, though I guess that’s the point of the drunk tank. Can’t let our prisoners feel too comfortable. That might encourage criminal activity or... some bullshit like that.

Even if I were nestled on a cozy loveseat with a fleece blanket and a cup of hot cocoa, I’m sure I’d still feel like human garbage right about now.

Christian Myers.Turncoat.

This whole time.

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