Page 27 of Snared

What the fuck time was it?

I reached for my phone in the dark as it pinged again. Not even six yet.

The top alert caught my eye:

Steelwolf drama on video. Are Charlie and band manager Josh married?

A link followed.

“Fuck!,” I shouted, bolting upright.

This could not be happening, but the link was to a reputable site—well, as reputable as a gossip site could be. I clicked and gritted my teeth.

The picture was grainy, but it was definitely the club from the night before. And there I was, telling the rest of the band that Charlie was my wife.

Fuck. My. Life.

I scrolled through the alerts. Multiple sites had posted the video, rumors, and articles were already swirling online, and I couldn’t keep up with the constant pinging of my phone as messages streamed in.

Fucking hell.

Charlie was already set to murder me, and I knew the guys would let her do it at this point. Hell, they’d probably supply the body bag, too. I had to figure out how to limit the damage of this nightmare.

I racked my brain for a solution to the situation I’d essentially put us in. I’d been a total dick last night, but seeing her flirting with Connor had riled me up in a way I wasn’t comfortable addressing. I’d had no business calling her out, but I’d been unable to stop myself. She made me feel out of control and I hated that.

The pounding started.

In my head.

At my door.

Shit.

“Open up, fucker.” Jax’s voice carried through the steel.

“Can we not do this now?” I groaned, already opening to him. The last thing I needed was his yelling carrying down the halls. We already had enough attention.

All three of them stood there.

Jax looked pissed, which wasn’t a typical look for him. Tris and Bash wore matching expressions. How the hell had I managed to get in this position?

They were going to fucking fire me.

I’d busted my ass for them over the last decade, and I had to figure out how to fix this.

I was usually a good problem solver for my bands. But this was new territory.

“Oh, we are so doing this now.” Tris pushed past Jax and into the room. Striding up to me, he gripped my shirt and growled, “Of all the fucked-up shit, Josh. Really?”

I held up my hands. “I know, I know. Someone posted a video. I’m going to fix this. It won’t negatively impact the band, I promise.”

Tristan crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re a dick, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know.” I refused to look away as they scrutinized me, no matter how much I wanted to.

Tristan’s eyes narrowed. “No, you don’t get it. You need to think about Charlie first. Not the band. We’ll be fine. She won’t. But your first instinct is us, and that’s a big fucking problem.”

My brain was scrambled. Everything I did was wrong.

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