Tyler’s arm begins to slide against my lower back, and we make eye contact. He inches his head, as if to saylet’s make a run for it, but to my relief, my arm is dropped, and only a tiny bite of pain is left behind from the man’s grimy fingers.
“This is a fucking mess,” he mutters before disappearing in the thick of screaming fans, eager for the next fight.
Tyler grabs a hold of my wrist and quashes the space between us. “Let’s go.”
I’m pressed against his back as he weaves us in and out of the crowd toward a dingy door and an even dingier hallway. Must and mildew trail us as our shoes stomp against the damp floor, and then he pushes through a door to reveal a sight that makes my heart stop.
Cross.
Before my brain can catch up with my feet, I rush across the room and squeeze between a red-faced, angry man and the guy whoapparentlymeans more to me than I’m willing to admit.
“You’re hurt,” I whisper.
My eyes water, panic working through my head as I take in every last wound and swelling knot.
Cross’s gaze bounces between my eyes, his own worry cutting through. “Did they touch you?”
“Jesus Christ, Cross!” the man snaps. “That should be the least of your concerns!”
“Fuck you, Stanley.” Cross grips my arms and looks me over before flicking his attention to Tyler. “Did they?
“He had a hold of her arm, but other than that…”
Cross shifts back to me. “What arm?”
“I’m fine!” I shout. “You’re the one who is hurt!”
Cross, unwilling to bend, pushes my sleeve up past my elbow on my left arm, inspecting it closely. Once he’s satisfied with it, he does the same to my right. I hold my breath and watch thecolor drain from his face. He exhales deeply, his temples flexing with the grinding of his jaw.
“I want to see them. Right. Fucking.Now.” He glares at Stanley. “Bringing her here and thenthis?”
I glance at my arm. Tiny bruises are left behind from the man’s grip, but I have to agree with Stanley on this one. The marks on my arm are nothing compared to the condition Cross is in.
“Just…” Stanley runs a hand through his hair while briefly looking at me. “For fuck’s sake. You guys go home while I try to smooth things over. I can fix this.”
“Fix what?” I stare at Stanley with a furrowed brow. “What is going on?”
“I kind of would like to know the same,” Tyler says.
Stanley looks to me and Tyler then to Cross.
It’s evident that there is something going on here that neither Tyler nor I am privy to.
“Go!” Stanley urges. “I already know they’re angry, and if they get a hold of you…” He shakes his head, and a wave of nausea hits me.
“If they get a hold of me?” Cross roars, face hot with anger. “They don’t want me to get a hold of them!”
Tyler steps forward. “Dude, that’s the adrenaline talking. You’re swelling like you’ve been stung by a thousand bees. Stanley is right. We need to go.”
Stanley interjects again. “You need to fucking go. Now!”
What the hell is going on?
First, I’m hijacked from the library by some disgusting wannabe gangster with a fake gold chain, brought to a rundown building with half-dressed women and rowdy men, put in the vicinity of Nicholas again, and now this?
Cross’s hand falls into mine, our fingers interlocking immediately, seizing my thoughts.
“Fine,” he growls, wincing as the word leaves him. His hand instinctively flies up to his bruised ribs, and strangely enough, it’s likeI’mthe one in pain.
