Chapter 3
ANSON
“Iwant fucking answers,” I snarled as two cops stood in my penthouse living room at four in the fucking morning.
“Mr. Beyers, we will do everything we can,” Officer Murphy said. “We take this sort of thing seriously.”
“You goddamn better,” I snapped. I’d ended up taking Rosalie to the emergency room. I’d had to fight the fucking paparazzi to get her there, but she’d been checked out, and we were back at the hotel now. “If she gets hurt—”
“We understand your concern,” Officer Declan started.
“…Then you get fucking hurt. All of you. I’ll sue the shit out of everyone in this city.”
“Sir, we are going to do all we can. This is a felony. Bodily fluids as a weapon…” Officer Murphy whistled. “We’ll get it sorted. Here is the information to contact us. Give us a few days, OK? We took her clothing in for evidence. We will be in touch with results soon.”
I ground my teeth but nodded tightly. I didn’t want to get the police involved, but my way of dealing with shit would end up with someone dying.
In fact, if I got my hands on the motherfucker first, that’s exactly what would happen.
The officers left moments later, and I went back in to check on Rosalie. I’d had to give her some sleeping meds when we got home to get her to sleep, but now she was completely out, her red curls cascading around her.
I’d never loved anyone in my life the way I loved her. The fact someone tried to hurt her tonight…
I tightened my hands into fists before I forced myself to exhale. I leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on her forehead as my phone buzzed in my pocket again.
Quickly, I brought it out and returned to the living room. I sank onto the couch.
“Evan,” I said into the phone.
“Is she OK?” he demanded as a greeting. I’d promised him I’d call him back, but hadn’t gotten to it just yet.
“Physically? Yes. Emotionally? Not so much. It scared her. She was signing fucking autographs, and some asshole just jumped out of the crowd and soaked her in blood. It was so damn much. Security couldn’t get to him.
He disappeared too fast.” I swallowed hard at the memory.
It was a male. Probably five ten in height.
Small enough that I’d crush the prick like an insect.
“I’m headed there,” Evan said gruffly. “I’m boarding a plane now.”
I rubbed my eyes. “We have two days here in New York. I was thinking maybe we should head to Boston since she has a show in three days anyway.”
“We’ll leave in the morning.”
“Sounds good,” I mumbled. Evan had been furious when I’d told him earlier. I imagined he was bringing his bat. He’d taken to hitting things with it when he was overly agitated.
“It’s not your fault,” he said after a moment, his voice soft.
“It is. I should have been paying better attention.”
“It’s hard in crowds like that. We need to step up her security. I was able to reach Klaus. He’s livid and on his way, but he can’t get a flight until late tomorrow. He has the same thought I do. No more autographs after shows.”
“She’ll hate that. She loves her fans.”
“For now, she’ll have to disappoint them.” He sighed. “I know how she is. She’s too kind, but this is what happens when crazy fans are allowed to get too close.” He paused. “Anson, she has a little girl. Ellis needs her mom.”
“I know,” I said thickly. “We can plan when you get here. I’m sure it’ll be all over the news by morning. I have damage control to do.”
I scrubbed my hand down my face, knowing he was right. This could have ended way worse. What if the assailant had acid and threw it on her? Gasoline and tossed a match? Ugly images flooded my head, making my stomach twist.
“Have you asked her yet?” Evan ventured softly.
I knew what he was talking about. We’d been discussing me asking Rosalie to marry me, too. Evan and I had researched it at length after he told me Enzo had told him years ago that he knew a place where we could marry. It was some island that looked gorgeous from the images we’d seen.
“No,” I replied. “I-I want to. I was thinking, when we go to Italy on the international tour. That’s when I’d ask her.”
“She’ll say yes,” Evan said. “I know she will.”
I chuckled softly. “I’m still nervous.”
“I know for a fact she will tell you yes. Stop worrying. I know you. You’re worrying.”
I smiled, but that didn’t stop the bit of anxiety still bubbling up within me.
“I need to make some calls,” I said, breathing out. “Try to get ahead of this mess we have going on so I can focus on our girl and ask her to marry me. See if I can get some people to look into all this. Ryder is out right now with some men, but we need more.”
“I’ll be there soon,” Evan said. “Go rest, man. Lock the door. Make sure the band is safe. Hold her for me.”
I sat forward and blew out a tired breath. He was right. I’d need to be wide awake for tomorrow.
“I have security outside our door, and the band has guys outside theirs. We should be good for the night.”
“You got your piece?” Evan asked softly.
I nodded tightly despite him not being able to see me.
“Always, brother.”
“Good. Don’t fucking hesitate, man.”
“Never,” I whispered, knowing I’d blow a motherfucker’s head off if he even looked at our girl funny.
“We’re getting ready to board. I’ll talk to you soon. Be safe. I love you.”
“Love you too,” I said.
The line clicked off, and I sat back on the couch for a few minutes, my eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Evan didn’t often travel. He had maybe hopped four planes in four years to see Rosalie perform.
His time was spent with our daughter, ballet recitals, tea parties, writing, and working out.
He’d spent the last four years learning various martial arts.
He was terrifying. I knew it was likely related to his trauma from the underground and his desire to never feel weak again.
I’d gone through that phase myself a time or two, but Evan took it to a whole other level.
I was a big, strong man who knew martial arts and could street fight, but Evan? He scared even me.
The underground changed people. We were all a testament to that.
But some became complete nightmares, and Evan was definitely going to be someone’s nightmare once he found who touched our girl.
And me?
I’d be right beside him.
“What the fuck is going on?”
I snapped my eyes open as a loud voice boomed out. Immediately, I sat up and grabbed my gun as Rosalie stirred next to me in our bed.
“You should have had your bullet in my head already,” Dante snarled, stomping over and glaring down at me.
Fuck.
Rosalie’s brother, the ruler of the new underground.
“You heard?” I mumbled, letting go of my gun and staring at him.
“I’m not here for fucking breakfast,” he snapped, his green eyes flashing. He moved past me and went directly to Rosalie. I watched as he reached out and cradled her face.
“Sister,” he murmured.
“Dante?” her groggy voice called out. “What are you doing here?”
“You needed me, so I’m here,” he continued softly.
I got out of bed and went into the bathroom, letting him be alone with her for a moment. Dante was intense. Insanely intense, especially with Rosalie.
I did my business and brushed my teeth before returning to find Rosalie sitting up, and Dante with his arm around her, his head pressed to hers.
They shared weird moments together. Wordless, tense moments. I always felt like I was intruding on them.
I cleared my throat.
Rosalie’s eyelids fluttered, but neither pulled away from one another.
“What is being done about my sister’s safety?” Dante asked softly, brushing her hair away from her face.
“We’re going to meet today to discuss it. We’ll be flying to Boston this afternoon to get out of New York. A report has been made with the police.”
Dante scoffed and finally looked away from Rosalie and locked his focus on me.
“The police? Really?”
“I had to file the report. It needed to be documented.”
“Yes, well, I’ll make sure it’s documented.” He got to his feet, looking like a nightmare in black. “I’ll put men on it. She returns to Chicago next month for a show. She will be protected. I will be traveling with her.”
“What?” I asked, frowning. “No. That’s fine. We don’t need you—”
“Alessandro, I like you, but I am not asking for your permission. I am telling you what is going to happen.” He approached me like a predator before meeting me eye-to-eye. “Don’t fucking test me right now. I’m not in a good place.” He pointed to his head.
“Are you ever?” I asked softly.
His lips quirked up. “I suppose that depends on your definition of good.” He backed away and looked over to Rosalie, who watched from the edge of the bed. “Pack your bags, sister. We’re going to Boston. I’ll let my people know.” He moved past me like a black shadow, leaving me alone with Rosalie.
“Did you call him?” I asked.
She shook her head. “Asylum told him.”
I sighed. “Of course he did.”
It looked like we’d be entertaining the king of the underground for a few weeks. May god have mercy on anyone who tried to get close to Rosalie now.