Page 6 of Snared

“And you’re done.” I nodded toward security and two of my men moved in. “This gentleman,” I said, trying to keep the sneer out of my voice, “has had a bit too much to drink and he needs help finding the exit.”

“Got it.” Glen was one of the security guards who’d worked with the band since the early days and knew the code.

The idiot sputtered as Glen helped him out of the room.

“You okay?” Tristan asked Charlie.

She ran a hand through her hair and gave the bassist a smile. “I’m fine. It happens. I’ve learned to ignore it, for the most part.”

“He got in your face,” Jax muttered. “I didn’t like that.”

“It’s fine, Jax. Promise,” Charlie said, her shoulders still tense.

I suddenly had the urge to put my fist in the drunk fan’s face, but I shook it off. I had no business thinking that way. I had to be professional, even when I wasn’t feeling very professional around her.

“We good then?” I asked, shoving aside my anger and frustration.

Tristan narrowed his eyes at me. I knew why—asshole manager, that was me.

“Yeah, we’re good. Sorry for the disturbance,” Charlie said, not looking at me.

Tristan shook his head and turned to greet the next VIP in line. I hung back behind the table to keep an eye on things. The room was filled with fans waiting to meet the band, and I couldn’t be sure that we’d seen the last of any assholes. Dickhead fans were par for the course and we all knew it—Charlie more than the others, most likely.

I paced slowly behind the table until Bash turned to me.

“You’re making me antsy, CH. Relax, we’re good.”

“Yeah. I know. Just making sure no one needs anything,” I said.

Jax waved his hand at me like he was in a fancy restaurant. “I’ll take a sparkling water with a twist of lime, please. Not a squeeze, atwist.”

I shot him a glare but was glad the tense moment seemed to have passed. But it didn’t stop me from watching Charlie—and the rest of them—until the meet and greet ended.

That was my job, of course.

“Fucking killed it,” Jax said as we piled onto the bus two nights later.

They’d finished their show in Kansas City, and we were headed to Oklahoma City for another show the next night. Three- to four-month tour legs, extended break, repeat. It was a grueling schedule, but they’d all agreed to it. Of course, they were going to spend the upcoming break finishing the new album. The songs were done and they only had to record them. It would be their second album since they’d gotten back together—since Charlie joined them.

And then we’d be off on another tour next year. Hopefully, I would only pop in for shows here and there during that one because bus life sucked. The last time I’d traveled with the guys was during their first tour eight years ago. They’d just had their big break and they’d been my only client at the time.

I grabbed waters for everyone, making sure to hand a sparkling one to Jax, who insisted he needed the bubbles to keep him energized. Then I sank down on the end of the couch. I was beat, but I was not going to be the first one to go to bed. I didn’t trust Jax not to do some juvenile shit like stick my hand in warm water or draw a dick on my face.

“Thanks, CH,” Jax said.

“Anything you need, just ask,” I said.

Jax grinned. “I’d like a foot rub.”

Bash groaned. “Really, Jax? I mean, that’s going a bit far.”

“CH has to pay for his crimes. We could’ve easily fired his ass,” Jax said.

Per the contract, they actually couldn’t have easily fired me, but I wasn’t going to remind him of that fact. I was paying for my mistake, and rightfully so, but I drew the line at touching any body parts—and that needed to include Charlie’s, I kept reminding myself.

“Cut the shit, Jax,” Tristan said.

“You should be the most upset,” Jax said. “Did he offer to let you punch him yet? You should get a shot at the face. All about appearances, our CH is.”

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