Liberty is with us, and I touch her elbow to slow her down. “Go tell Whip to stay down here. If we all go, people will notice.”

Killian and I fall silent as we wait for the elevator.

“We have no real reason to worry,” I tell him.

“He’s probably fucking some girl.”

“Right.”

A row of numbered lights track the elevator’s descent to our fifth floor level. Killian and I both watch it.

“Why do I feel like it’s something more?” Killian whispers, staring at the lights.

My heart gives a pained thump. “I don’t know.” But I feel the same.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Sophie

 

* * *

 

Turns out I don’t have to hunt Martin down. He finds me. Of course the bastard does it his way, texting me to say he’s off to the concert—where I can’t follow without being seen by Gabriel—and then smugly adds that he’ll text again when he’s free.

Fucker. Fuck-faced fucker.

I have no choice but to sit tight, bide my time, and grow more anxious.

I’ve doodled devil faces on half the models in my magazine when I hear the elevator ding in the hall. A woman’s obnoxious laughter rings out, followed by the lower tones of Jax’s voice. The concert is over, and he’s clearly in the mood to entertain.

Their voices drift off, and I try to lose myself in TV. Unfortunately, nothing’s on, and I find myself watching Alvin and the Chipmunks in Italian. I have no idea why a kid’s show is playing in the middle of the night, but high-pitched chatter in rapid Italian is definitely a distraction.

I don’t know how much time passes, but a terrified, ear-piercing screech coming from the hall has me jumping up and running for the door.

A young woman runs toward the elevator in hysterics. Her brown hair is wild, her makeup smudged. Vomit splatters cover one side of her chest. That doesn’t stop me from hooking her by the arm and yanking her to a stop. She’s running from Jax’s room.

“What happened?” I snap, my heart pounding. She tries to jerk free, but I hold her tight. “Answer me.”

“I don’t care if he’s famous. He barfed on me. Eww…” She flails her hand. “So fucking gross.”

She’s an American, and probably no older than nineteen. I tug her along, hurrying down the corridor. “Show me where he is.”

“Let me go.”

“No. You don’t get that luxury right now.” And I’m stronger. Worry and fear for Jax has that effect.

“He’s with that other dude,” she whines. “He’ll take care of him.”

I don’t stop, but my steps stutter. “What dude?”

“I don’t know. Some guy. Marty.”

I can feel the blood draining from my face. I find myself rushing forward, the girl in tow. “Shit, shit.”

The girl wrenches free. I don’t try to catch her but run to Jax’s room and bang on the door.

My worst fear is realized when Martian opens it with a shit-eating grin.

“Well, this was easier than expected. Hello, pretty Sophie.”

I shove him back with all my strength. “What the fuck did you do!”

He stumbles a step but then steadies, laughing. “I didn’t do shit. Just followed the trainwreck that is Jax Blackwood.”

From the bathroom comes a pitiful moan and the sound of retching. I give Martin a death glare as I hurry off. He follows as if he can’t wait to witness this.

The smell hits me first. It’s so foul, I stagger. Jax is on the floor by the toilet, his skin sickly gray and covered in sweat, among other things.

“Jax,” I fall to his side, heedless of the mess. “Honey, what’d you take?”

His head lolls but he blinks, trying to focus on me. “Nothing, babe. Swear. Don’t feel so good.”

He shudders, then blindly reaches for the toilet, knocking me back in the scramble. I hear the distinctive click of a photo being taken. Martin has his cell out and is clicking away with glee.

“Put that fucking phone down or I will cram it up your ass, I swear to God!” I lunge for it, but Jax collapses on the floor.

“Jax! Shit. Give me that phone,” I snarl at Martin. “I need to call a doctor.”

Martin dances back, holding the phone high. “Baby, I knew it would be worth it to follow you, but I didn’t realize you’d make me this lucky. Thanks, Soph. Again.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when Gabriel and Killian appear in the doorway. Relief washes over me. Gabriel will know how to best help Jax. But a few things happen in rapid succession that prevent me from getting a word in.

Killian shouts in fear and rushes over to Jax.

Gabriel’s gaze darts between me and Martin. Before anyone can move, he grabs Martin by the throat with one hand, smashing him into the wall, and plucks the cell away from Martin with the other hand and pockets it.

“Stay,” he snaps at Martin, slamming his head against the wall one more time.

“Get the fuck off me,” Martin says, trying to break free. “I’ll fucking sue.”

Gabriel simply pins him to the wall with the strength of one arm. Already he’s on his phone. “Stern, I need you now. Bring your bag.” He calls another a second after that. “Kip. Up here now.”

Never once does he look at me.

Killian has Jax in his arms. “No fucking way are you doing this again,” he rasps looking panicked.

Jax moans and stirs.

“What did he take?” The harsh question from Gabriel is directed at me.

“I don’t know. He said he didn’t. Just that he feels sick.”

Gabriel’s attention cuts to Martin’s phone as he scrolls through the pictures. Every inch of him seems to vibrate with suppressed rage. His lips are white around the corners, his grip on Martin so tight that the man starts to claw at Gabriel’s fingers.

“You’re choking him.” Personally, I want to beat the shit out Martin, but Gabriel has too much to lose by seriously hurting a photographer.

Gabriel’s eyes meet mine. Rage flares so hot in his expression that I viscerally react, recoiling into myself.

“Good,” he snaps, returning his attention to Martin’s phone. His nostrils flare as he looks over what has to be dozens of pictures, the last one being me hunched over Jax.