My suit will be ruined. People will notice.

I don’t sodding care. Not anymore.

Staring up at the bleak, orange light flickering by the door, I wonder who the hell I am now. Scottie is crumbling. The cracks of his venerable armor are appearing over my weary body. And Gabriel? Only one person calls me that name anymore. Only one person makes me feel like a man of tender flesh and not a cold machine. And I let her down.

The image of Sophie’s battered face fills my mind. The way that fucking cockwomble bashed her with his elbow. Twice. Before I could get to her.

My heart beats so hard, my shirt trembles. Again, I am short of breath, struggling to get enough in my tight lungs. The ground beneath me tilts and rolls. I’m going to be sick.

Two rapid steps have me hunched over a rubbish bin. I retch until there’s nothing left. Until my throat burns.

Fuck, I hate that it takes me an eternity to stand straight, and that even when I do, my head throbs, feels both too heavy and too light. I hate that my hand still shakes as I take the silk handkerchief from my breast pocket to wipe my mouth.

Warm wetness rolls along my lip. The white silk handkerchief is stained crimson. Another nosebleed. My fingers go cold. I think of Mum when she faded—the dizziness, fainting spells, nose bleeds.

Another wave of cold washes through me.

The titter of feminine laughter rings through the night. Little snatches of conversation bleeds in and out—how hot Jax was during his solo, how this one prefers watching Whip beat his drums, the other wants to have Killian’s love child. Concertgoers leaving the show, enjoying themselves. They’re calling this the best night of their lives.

I helped bring it to them. These girls will never know that, or care. As it should be. But the pride I feel in knowing I brought them a bit of happiness is there all the same.

If I’m gone, someone else will do the job. But will they do it as well? Will they watch out for my boys and make certain everything runs like silk? Or will they think only of their own gain?

The fact that there are no guarantees chafes.

Laughter rings out again, husky, unfettered femininity. It reminds me of Sophie’s laugh, though hers always has a tinge of self-deprecation to it, as though she’s part of the joke, never ridiculing.

I’ve never been one to freely laugh and often found those who did rather annoying. Life isn’t a joke—not for me. And yet I want to swim in the sound of Sophie’s laughter, let it cleanse me and wash away all the heaviness in my life.

I don’t know how to ask for that, or even how to let myself ask.

I called her mine. She’ll want an explanation for that. I’ve none to give. It just is. Whether I fuck her or not, it doesn’t matter; she has me now. Even if she doesn’t want me.

A text buzzes on my phone.

Brenna: Car is here. Where the hell are you?

The idea of sitting in a car with Brenna, Jules, and Sophie while I stink of vomit and most likely have blood smears on my face, makes my mouth sour even more. I don’t have the imagination to come up with a plausible excuse for my appearance, nor do I want to lie—or tell the truth.

But lie I do. My thumb types out a quick message.

GS: Already left. Have some business to attend to. Be safe.

That last message is for Sophie, and Brenna will know this.

Sophie. She’ll be hurting and is probably unsettled. It was clear she isn’t accustomed to being hit or treated with violence, and thank Christ for that small mercy. I should be with her, offering her comfort. Our bed—because it’s ours and has been from the moment she laid down in it—will be cool and soft.

But if I get into it with her tonight, I don’t know how I’ll react. I’ve already shown too much of myself to her. Exposure has never been easy. I can’t do more of it right now without losing the hold I’ve kept on myself for years.

Sophie. Regret pinches my chest.

I tap out one last message to Brenna.

GS: I’ll be a while. Make certain Sophie is settled and icing her eye.

Little dots appear on my screen.

Brenna: You know it, boss man. Be safe yourself.

I suspect Brenna knows exactly what I plan to do, even though the urge has just registered in my own head. But I need it. I need the release.

Scrolling through my contacts list, I find the one I want.

GS: What do you have available for tonight?

Not five seconds later, the answer comes.

Carmen: It’s been too long, S. Beginning to think you’d forgotten all about me. Have a slot. 2am.

And address follows.

I tuck the phone away, feeling dirty, depraved. I shouldn’t. I’ve nothing to be ashamed of. But I am. I always am when I give in to weakness.

Chapter Seventeen

Sophie

 

* * *

 

It feels wrong somehow to hang out alone in Gabriel’s coach. Oh, he’s made it perfectly clear that I should consider this my space as well. But I don’t. Every inch of the place is all Gabriel—something I actually enjoy. Over the years, I’ve had enough of living by myself. I don’t need to feel like I’m in my space. I like being in his domain.

Normally, stepping inside his bus is a little like being wrapped up in the man himself; everything is cool, calm, orderly. It smells of him, crisp and expensive. It feels safe.

Right now, however, I don’t like it one bit. Because he isn’t here, and I don’t mind admitting that I want him here. I need him here. As much as I hate my weakness, my body hasn’t yet let the incident go. I keep shaking, my fingers and toes ice cold. My face hurts, despite taking painkillers and icing it.

I need the distraction of Gabriel. And quite frankly, I was holding on to the promise of eventually sliding into bed with him as a reward for getting through this miserable night.

He didn’t come home with us, telling Brenna he had business to attend to. The pinched expression on her face when she read his texts makes me think she knew more than she let on, and that whatever he was doing, she didn’t approve.

I didn’t text him. For once, pride wouldn’t let me. He abandoned me when I was scared and hurt. Maybe I shouldn’t look at it that way, but shaking that feeling has proven impossible.

Worse? He never came home.

It’s morning now, and my head hurts after a long, sleepless night of flopping around on the bed, trying to shut off my mind and let my body rest.