Page 2 of Reverb
Mish pushed her hair back. “Ray,no. I can take care of myself. Fuck it, I take care of you lot. And I don’t give two shits what the press says.”
The fucking press. They were all over her no matter what she did or didn’t do. Too foul-mouthed, too sexy, wore too much makeup, never mind she wore less than Domino most of the time. Not a lady. Too much the whore.
Dom peered up at the ceiling, then back at Mish. “I don’t want a bodyguard any more than you. I like itjust us, but Marcella’s right.”
Adrian nodded and Zavier scratched the back of his head, looking younger than he usually let himself, and a tiny bit scared, too.
Marcella blew out a breath and turned to Ray. “So that’s a yes?”
“Yeah,” Ray said. “See who you can find, and we’ll interview them.”
Great. This was exactly what she didn’t want. Mish rose from the bed, thankful they hadn’t hooked her up to an IV or made her change into a gown. “I’m gonna find a goddamned person to check me out of this fucking hellish place.”
Even after she’d tracked down the nurse on duty, it still took another hour and a half to get released from the hospital. All that time, the band stayed with her. It was both endearing and absolutely frustrating. She loved every last one of them like her own flesh and blood, but damn it, she needed to process what had happened. Alone. Her insides were as ugly as a badly tossed salad and her nerves skittered and pinched, but the moment she let anything show, the guys would be all over her with even more worry and concern.
Didn’t stop the thoughts swirling in her head. The warning signs she’d missed before the guy came at her, how she could have turned, moved, or lunged differently. Maybe if she’d put her hair up after the show...
God, she didn’t know. Her hand throbbed now, and a dull ache pounded behind her eyes, that pain she hated, that telltale sign that both her body and mind weredoneand her emotions were about to spill into reality.
She wasn’t about to shed any tears in front of the guys, though. If they caughthertearing up, they’d lose it. Plus, she fuckinghatedcrying, that betrayal of her body over her mind.
She was so grateful when they finally piled into the SUV Marcella had hired. Right after she belted herself in, she closed her eyes and tried to pretend that she was tired, not—overwhelmed. Hurting. Thank god there were no paparazzi with cameras here. Had there been, she might’ve punched them out, too, and that would’ve driven everyone bonkers.
Like it or not, the press—even the bloodsucking, shit-stirring scandal sites—had an impact on the band and they had to play nice. The guys got crapped on, though not as hard as she did. Buttheyheld it together. She could, too.
“Hey, Mish?” Adrian’s deep voice sounded next to her, barely audible over the rumble of the car. Though he was the newest member of their little musical family, he’d woven himself seamlessly into their group, his relationship with Dom notwithstanding.
She opened her eyes and turned toward him. “Yeah?”
“Don’t be too hard on Ray. He wants you all safe.” He paused. “Us all.”
The late addition made her smile. “Finally figuring out you’re part of us?”
He chuckled, but sobered. “Seriously, though.”
“I don’t need anyone taking care of me, hon.”
His gaze was so solemn. “We all do, sometimes.”
Mish grunted and rolled her head back. Maybe they did, but not her. Every time she’d let anyone try, it always went to shit, because “taking care” meant the other person taking over, and fuck that to hell. First her deadbeat father, then a string of her mom’s boyfriends, then her jerk bosses. When she’d joined Ray’s band, she’d made a stipulation: Ray could make suggestions, but he needed to listen to the band, too. They’d decide things together. And they had.
Ray’s heart was in the right place, and Marcella’s, too. Didn’t mean Mish wanted a fucking bodyguard watching over her becauseshewas a liability.
“I’m the one watching out for you boys. I don’t need a caretaker.”
“You can’t punch out every too-rabid fan,” he murmured.
Yeah, she could. And would. To keep them safe, to keep herself safe. Even if she already knew what was coming.
Because once Ray Van Zeller got an idea in his head, it was nearly impossible to shake it loose. Which meant, sooner or later, she’d be saddled with security and she’d probably end up taking care of whoever that was, too.
Chapter Two
David Altet heard the argument floating down the stairwell as he made his way up to the third floor of the converted warehouse. At first, only tones filtered down, two strong voices straying over each other, one higher pitched than the other, both mirrors of intensity. As he neared the third floor landing, those tones sharpened into words.
“But nothing has happened in weeks!” Mish Sullivan had a lovely voice. Vibrant, with a sharp edge and gritty finish. The kind of voice he wouldn’t mind whispering into his ear in bed.
“We haven’t been in public in weeks. And Adrian’s gotten some weird emails and comments on the accounts about you.” That was Ray Van Zeller. He’d met Ray several times while interviewing, then hashing out the details of his contract while they both got a feel for each other to see if David could provide what Ray wanted and if David wanted to work with Ray and his band.
