23. Chapter Twenty-Three #3
Guilt strikes before jealousy can finish its lap.
“Could’ve fooled me,” I retort, instantly hating how it sounds.
Her eyes flash—a storm I know all too well—and I brace for her to walk away. But she doesn’t.
She steps in closer. “I’m going to the bathroom. And when I come back, you’re going to get your head out of your ass, and we’re going to act like functioning adults and put this behind us. Deal?”
I blow out a breath and nod once. “Deal.”
The hem of her dress brushes my leg as she walks away. I watch her go until she vanishes into the bathrooms.
I’m still staring when movement at the entrance pulls my attention.
A wall of black suits comes through the doors, big guys with heavy-set shoulders who look familiar.
Dante walks in the middle of them, built but not quite as bulky as the muscle he keeps around him, dark suit perfectly tailored.
His eyes sweep the room in one quick pass, taking in everything.
A woman who looks like she’s swallowed a lemon sideways follows behind him.
A few industry people peel off to shake Dante’s hand with careful respect. No one even looks at the woman. She hovers a few steps away, eyes flicking around as if planning escape routes.
“Who’s that?” Violet reappears at my side, watching the same scene. “He’s fucking terrifying.”
“That’s Dante,” I tell her. “He’s the guy who provided us with security in Madrid.”
I see the penny drop. Her eyes go wide.
“And the woman?” Vi gestures toward her. “What’s up with her?”
“Think that’s his wife.”
“Really?” Violet snorts. “They look like such a happy couple.”
I laugh under my breath. “From what Dameon has said, their love story didn’t exactly start with flowers and chocolates.”
“No shit.”
Our start isn’t exactly a fairytale, either. But at least Vi’s not the type to stab me in my sleep to get away. She’d wait till I was awake, look me dead in the eye, and then do it just to make a point.
Weirdly . . . that’s comforting.
“Well,” she murmurs, eyes still on them, “if he wants a life with her and not a war zone, he’s gonna have to do something. And something big. Otherwise, that marriage is on a countdown.”
“Sometimes it just takes . . . something out of left field,” I admit slowly.
An idea clicks in the back of my skull.
“I need Chris,” I add. “You good here for a second?”
She nods. “Yeah. I’m getting another drink anyway.”
I thread through the crowd and find Chris in a shadowy corner, chatting up some pretty boy in a fitted suit. The eye-fucking is almost tangible.
Perfect.
“Chris,” I cut in. “Need you.”
He doesn’t even look at me at first. “Not now, I’m busy.” He finally drags his gaze over, eyes wide in a very clear get lost.
“It can’t wait.”
The guy turns, sees me, and lights up. “Carter, right? I’m a huge fan. That soundtrack tonight was insane.”
We shake hands.
“I’m sure it can wait till tomorrow,” Chris says pointedly.
“You said you had a heat rash,” I whine, making a show of grabbing my crotch with my free hand. “But my junk is weeping.”
The guy’s face goes through about four stages of horror. His gaze ping-pongs between us.
“Uh. I’ll, uh—let you guys talk. Privately.”
He drops my hand like it’s radioactive and basically sprints away.
Chris glares. “Real mature, dickhead.”
“Payback.” I shrug, fishing out a smoke. “You left me with blue balls in Lisbon. Now you get to take yours home.”
He sighs like a disappointed dad. “What do you want?”
I light up, inhale, and exhale the smoke slow. “I need you to find someone for me.”
“Who?”
“Cindy Winters.”
He frowns. “The high school girl? From the cock pump night?”
“Yeah.” I meet his eyes. “I want you to track her down and bring her to the Toronto show. Get her passes, flights. Whatever.”
“Why?” His brows climb. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Bullies are only big in your mind because you see them through the lens of being a kid. If Vi sees Cindy as just another pathetic fan . . . I don’t know, I think it might help her.”
Chris rubs along his jawline, thinking. “This is a big swing, Carter. I feel morally obligated to tell you this could blow up in your face. I’m, like, eighty percent sure this backfires.”
“I gotta try,” I tell him. “She needs closure, and she doesn’t even know it. If it goes sideways, I’ll wear it.”
He exhales. “How am I supposed to find her?”
“No clue.” I grip his shoulder. “That’s why you get paid the big bucks. Start in Riverstone, that’s the last place I saw her. She might be gone by now. She could be anywhere.”
“Wonderful,” he replies dryly.
“Thanks, man.”
I give him a chin-lift and back away.
“By the way, that guy is absolutely telling everyone he knows you’re gay,” Chris calls after me.
“Worth it,” I shoot back without slowing, walking backward just long enough to catch him shaking his head. Then I turn and head straight for her.
Violet’s exactly where I left her, except now her face is lit by the glow of her camera monitor, reviewing photos, mouth in a little focused line.
I’d fight every one of her ghosts for her if the world would just line them up.