A drink sounded nice at this point, and I only had to lift myself up to reach the cabinet above. I pulled down a bottle of whiskey and some crystal decanters. The drink and food would help release the tension riding my chest, and it wasn’t just that Billie fucking Bellerose was naked in my tour bus. It was that fucking text from Angelo that Rhett had shown me before the show.
That motherfucker thought he could threaten her and there’d be no repercussions?
Not a hope. He had no idea the challenge he’d just placed at my feet, and I would tap into any and all resources to ensure that Billie never ended up in his presence again.
Even if I had to kill him myself.
I barely knew the girl, but no one deserved to live in fear like that. Besides… she was cute as hell and Rhett would be devastated if something happened to her.
Closing my eyes and leaning my head against the back wall, I lifted the glass and took a sip, enjoying the slow burn of forty-year-old Port Ellen scotch. I was selective with my drinks. Shit, I was selective with everything in my life. Even the limited number of groupies I chose to indulge in were all heavily curated. I’d learned the hard way what happened if you weren’t selective.
I’d never go back to that life again. And I couldn’t let Prickles end up in the same position as I had been in. Survival mode was not for the faint of heart, and powerful entities owning you was the death of a soul.
The scent of Rhett’s body wash, mixed with the sweetness that was all Billie, reached me a few minutes before she spoke. “Shower’s free,” she said softly.
Opening my eyes, I tried to ignore the way the water made her hair darker and somehow more gold as it hung freely around her face. She was wearing gray sweats, and her face was completely makeup free. Her fresh-faced look was too fucking tempting, so I focused instead on the dark circles under her hazel eyes. “You need to rest,” I told her roughly, straightening and dropping my half-drunk glass on the table. “Take this time before everyone gets back.”
She ignored my gruff tone, pushing forward to slide into the seat next to me. The space was small, and it shrunk even further as the heat of her skin reached me. We weren’t touching, and it took too much control to stop myself from reaching out for her.
“I haven’t told Rhett,” she continued, before she reached out and picked up my glass to take a sip, never flinching as the golden liquid hit her tongue, “that I’m struggling to sleep alone at the moment too. It’s like… when I close my eyes, I just see Liz dead. I see those bastards shooting at me. I feel that security guard’s hands wrapping around my body, bruising me as he tries to drag me to my death.”
I wanted to leave the bus and murder everyone who’d touched her. I was mentally creating a list. The sort of list no one wanted to be on. Roger had already been taken care of, but there were others now.
“I’ll sit with you,” I found myself saying. Fuck. I really should have gone out on my murder spree because I was in too much fucking trouble here. “You can rest easier.”
Wide eyes met mine, and her hand shook just slightly as she lifted the glass and drained the last of the whiskey. Before I could say anything else, she raised her body higher and leaned in to press her lips to my cheek. “Thank you,” she breathed.
Heat flared under that touch, and my cock responded instantly, rock hard and straining to escape my pants. Damn it to hell. This was not smart when my control was shot around her.
Shifting back, she remained close, her hands on the table as she pushed herself high enough to reach my face. The moment extended, and her pupils dilated before she leaned in to kiss me again. This time on the lips.
Every part of me craved this touch, just to see if she’d taste as fucking sweet as she smelled, but I was already in too deep with Billie. I’d have to settle for killing those who’d wronged her, and then I’d walk away.
Leave her to the more deserving, like Rhett.
That lucky bastard.
twenty-five
BILLIE
He dodged my lips at the last second, his expression flattening, and I honestly wanted to die of mortification. What the hell was wrong with me? What was I thinking trying to kiss Grayson when I was also involved with Rhett?
I might be living like these were my last days, but that didn’t mean I got to hurt the people who cared about me. “Shit, sorry,” I gasped, wishing I could blame the wine and whiskey for my behavior. I would have, except I’d been feeling this pull to Grayson from about the first moment I saw him.
When I’d walked out of the shower tonight to find him sprawled in the booth, legs in that sexy man-spread so he could fit them in the space, I’d been unable to think clearly.
Mortified. I was completely and utterlymortified. Not only had I just tried to kiss a man who was best friends with theotherman I’d been kissing recently, but he’d rejected me. It was safe to say I’d totally misread that entire situation. Stupid, arrogant me had thought he wasinterested.
Ugh. I knew drinking so much would bite me in the ass.
“You’re drunk,” he rumbled as I pressed the back of my hand to my mouth and scooted my ass out of the seat. “Billie—”
Fuck, we’re dropping the nickname already? That was quick.
“You’re right,” I cut him off with a forced laugh. “I am drunk. Let’s just pretend thisneverhappened, okay? I’m just gonna go get some air and sober up.”
Not waiting for his response, I hightailed it off the bus and nearly collided with Grace, stationed right outside. She gave me a startled look, then her gaze darted past me and her expression darkened to murderous.
