Page 76 of Back in Black

“She was going totryto stop me,” Drew corrected. “I was plenty pissed, so it’s doubtful she’d have succeeded.”

A news van pulled up and a reporter popped out with a damned mic already in her hand. A videographer followed right behind her. Two more vehicles pulled up.

Drew sucked in a lungful of cool night air, but it didn’t alleviate his rage. “The circus begins.”

Sparks ignored them. “And you?” he asked Dickey. “What were you doing?”

He shrugged. “I just followed to see what would happen. That’s all.”

“Are we done here?” Drew asked. He wanted to get Gillian inside before the inquisition started. As it was, she’d be on some bozo’s film, and news cameras were already rolling. No need to add to that.

Gillian put a hand on Drew’s arm. “I’m not hiding from them.”

This was no time for gumption. “They’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

Sparks pinched the bridge of his nose and said with resignation, “He’s probably right.”

Gillian lifted that stubborn chin. “If I run from them, they’ll make up their own story anyway.”

“And you think that’ll be more incriminating than the truth?” Drew shook his head. “You’re the one who wants this kept private, if you’ll remember.”

“Might not matter.” Dickey nodded at something behind Drew. “The cavalry arrives.”

Puzzled by that, Drew spun around—and found a small contingent of fighters, and their significant others, approaching. They laughed and joked with each other as if they hadn’t just stepped into a media frenzy, with cameras already trained on them.

“What the hell is this?”

Dickey leaned in close to Drew. “Diffusion. If they have more to see and talk about, less is said about you and your lady.”

Few things in life ever left Drew floored, but this counted. “That’s brilliant, Dickey.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know. I called Handleman right after I called Officer Sparks, and I told him what happened. He rounded up the rest of the guys.”

The fighters were deliberately rowdy, causing a stir—and a distraction. They provided confusion as to who had seen what by giving evasive answers and changing the subject.

It worked, to a point.

Then Millie Christian showed up. She didn’t have a cameraman or a mic but she had a damned tape recorder, and she made a beeline for . . . Gillian.

Drew tried stepping in front of her, but she couldn’t be sidetracked. Making sure the rest of the reporters would hear her, she called out, “Ms. Noode, is it true that you’re working to reinvent Drew Black’s image?”

A hush fell, quickly broken by excitement.

Someone aimed a camera at Gillian. She didn’t panic or shrink away.

Poised, professional even in Drew’s shirt and jacket, she said, “I was hired for promotional purposes, in a broad capacity, with many goals in mind.”

In that moment, Drew was so damned proud of her.

But Christian didn’t let up. Drew remembered only too well how tenacious that witch could be.

Holding out the recorder to catch every word, she asked, “Is it true that you’re sleeping with him?”

Drew saw red. But before he could even brace himself for a tirade that would have demolished the stupid woman, Gillian was there, pulling him back with no more than a look.

More attention came her way, but it still didn’t notably faze her. “My personal relationships are just that: personal.”

Had he ever really thought this WAVS meddler was timid? Right now, she looked like a damned junkyard dog eyeing a meaty bone. Why the hell had he ever felt remorse for ripping her apart online?

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