Managed: A VIP Novel Part 26

Which cements it. I have to pull back, learn from him and put up walls around my heart. And when this tour is over, I have to get as far away from Gabriel Scott as possible.

Chapter Sixteen.

Sophie

In an attempt to keep myself occupied with work and not with thoughts of a certain roommate, I head out early to the venue we have lined up for tonight's performance. It's a small s.p.a.ce, and they're having a highly publicized meet-and-greet before the actual concert.

The air is humid and thick by the time I arrive. The crowd outside the doors is amped up, and not in a good way. The potential for things to get out of control is high. Even thought I spent only one year as a pap, I can spot the signs. There's a certain agitation rippling through the crowd, an edge of desperation I don't like.

I vetted out a good spot to catch the guys exiting their limos, and to take pictures of the onlookers as well. It tells a better story for this night, and it keeps me away from Gabriel. I'm trying not to regret my decision given the nasty tinge that's in the air right now.

Teenage girls vie for position, jostling each other, throwing elbows in a not so subtle manner. They haven't devolved into fights, but it's a close thing. Glares and shoves are increasing. Security looks annoyed, and they aren't exactly kind with their attempts to keep the fans back, resorting to shoves as well.

Around me are fellow photojournalists. Many of them I don't know, but some are familiar.

Even though I don't want to, I search the crowd for Martin's face, fearing that he'll decide to pay Kill John, and me, a visit. I'd rather see him coming than be sucker-punched by him suddenly showing. I've done this each and every night, all the while cursing him to h.e.l.l. But, thankfully, he's nowhere to be found.

"How'd you get a job traveling with Kill John?" Thompson, one of my old colleagues, asks me as he sucks on a cigarette. He's got a bloated look about the face, his skin grayish in the harsh marquee lights. "You f.u.c.king them?"

"Yes, all of them." I don't bother looking at him. "It's kind of a train situation. I hear they've got an opening for a bottom, if you're interested."

"Cute." He tosses down his cigarette b.u.t.t, not bothering to snub it. The glowing stub comes close to my open-toed sandal. "I should quote you, brat."

"Because your credibility is so reliable," I mutter.

The weasel stomps out his cigarette, barely missing my toe. I don't react, though I want to.

Never get emotional. A good mantra, but not one that's easy to follow. I'm regretting my plan more and more as bad memories of desperate days fill my head and make my stomach churn. I hated being a pap. Hated who I was and how I felt-as though I was covered in mud from the inside out.

My phone buzzes.

Brenna: We're coming around the block Go time. I'm about to tuck my phone back into my pocket when another text chimes.

Sunshine: 30 seconds ETA His text does for me what Brenna's can't: make me feel cared for, and make me care back.

Keeping my distance from him isn't going to work, not when we're in constant contact, anyway. But I can't bother worrying now. Kill John's motorcade is in sight.

The crowd erupts into pandemonium. Girls scream, shoving turns rough. All of us are so packed together that we seem to undulate like a raging sea.

I brace my feet and start snapping, capturing chaos.

The first large SUV pulls up to the curb. The guys are in there. Gabriel, Jules, and Brenna will be in the next one.

Jax is the first to exit, and it's like he's touched a live wire to the crowd. Everything amps up. My view behind the camera shakes as I'm jostled. But I get the shot of Jax's face-the flinch and then the smoothing of his features into some bland neutrality. He smiles, but he's not really there.

None of the guys are. Not this time. The crowd is just too wild for them to linger. They move toward me at a steady pace. At my back, people shove and push. I'm in a good spot and clearly that's not sitting well with more than a few girls.

"I can't see!"

"Get out of the way!"

"Move, I was here first."

"f.u.c.k you."

Those last two were not aimed at me, but I'm in the middle of it. Suddenly arms are flailing, hands slapping. I duck a few blows and edge away. But that f.u.c.kface Thompson shoves me right back into it. I'm glaring at him when someone grabs my hair and pulls. Hard.

Tears p.r.i.c.kle behind my lids, my scalp screaming. I lower my head and twist my body, my elbow connecting with the wrist of my hair puller. The girl lets go with a squawk.

Someone grabs for my camera, and I slap the hand away. Around me, other fights break out.

In my periphery, I see Jax. His gaze catches mine, and he frowns, slowing down.

No, no, no. Get out of here.

The other guys are pausing too, seeing me in the melee. Not good. The crowd surges again, crushing me into Thompson and a security guard. A blow hits me right in the eye, and I see stars. It hurts so badly, I cry out. Another blow comes. Pain sparkles and tears.

It occurs to me that Thompson just elbowed me twice. He actually hit me.

I'm about to rip into him, when a body pushes between us with enough force to send Thompson sprawling on his a.s.s. Gabriel stands before me with an expression of rage so fierce my skin p.r.i.c.kles.

I can only blink up at him before he grabs me close and hauls me up in his arms.

I will not swoon.

But my head falls to his shoulder. And I cling. Because he is a wall against the world. My wall. He moves through the crowd without pause, and they get out of his way, instinctively knowing he will mow them down if they don't.

One snarling look at security has them hustling us to a door that leads to a quiet, dark hall. Compared to the bright heat of the lights and noise of chaos outside, it's like a balm to my tense body. I sag further into Gabriel's hold.

He doesn't stop but marches along, muttering under his breath. It's a stream of p.i.s.sed off motherf.u.c.kers and b.l.o.o.d.y stupid and son of a b.i.t.c.h mixed with other choice words. I let his low growls flow over me like warm hands.

My heart is still racing, and I'm shivering. I don't want to. I want to be strong. But the adrenaline is wearing off, and I've no place to go but down.

The side of my face throbs like a heartbeat, pain punching out in all directions. I think about Thompson elbowing me and whimper despite my anger.

Gabriel's arms squeeze around me. "Hush, now. I've got you."

We enter Kill John's dressing room, and the guys are instantly up and surrounding us.

"What the f.u.c.k was that s.h.i.t? What happened to Sophie?" Jax says, peering at me. "You all right, honey?"

"It is b.l.o.o.d.y apparent that she is not," Gabriel snaps at him as he pushes past and sets me down on a chair.

"f.u.c.k. That was a disaster," Killian mutters. "s.h.i.t crowd control. We should have pulled you in with us, Sophie."

"No, you shouldn't have," I say weakly as Gabriel kneels before me, his gaze darting over my face. "You would have been mobbed."

"They wouldn't have hurt us." Rye looks sick, his golden complexion pasty as his gaze lingers on me.

"You don't know that."

Gabriel scowls and thumbs aside a lock of my hair. "Got you good, chatty girl." Anger radiates over his frame. "You're bleeding."

"Here." Whip hands him a first aid kit and gives me a smile. "Babe, you stick with us from now on, right?"

My lip wobbles. "Right."

"I want to go back there and kick some a.s.s," Brenna mutters. She's lost her gla.s.ses, and her hair is mussed. I hadn't even noticed her in the scuffle. She hands me a cold compress. "Those f.u.c.kwads."

From behind her, Libby watches with wide eyes, as does Jules. They're all watching, sadly looking at my face. I duck my head.

"All right," Gabriel says in a firm tone. "Let's give Sophie some room. Go about your business."

No one argues, though Jax gives my shoulder a squeeze before leaving.

With Gabriel's body blocking everyone's view, it's almost as if we're alone. He opens a disinfectant wipe and, with a frown, gently dabs at the bottom of my eye socket. It burns, but I keep still.

His voice is soft when he finally speaks. "I could kill him."

"You going to jail over human garbage would be a travesty. And a wasted effort."

The cool cloth runs along my bruised face. "No, it wouldn't."

I clutch his wide wrist, feel the rapid thrum of his pulse just below the surface. And his eyes meet mine, all dark with rage. It softens my heart, even though I have to be the rational one here. "No retaliation, sunshine. Promise me."

When he doesn't answer, I stroke the skin of his wrist with my thumb. "Please, Gabriel. For me."

His lips flatten until they're edged in white, but he nods, his gaze sliding back to my eye. With careful touches, he cleans me up and then smears a layer of Vaseline over the cut. "Keep putting this on until that heals. It will help prevent scarring."

He hands me the tube of Vaseline and holds the ice pack to my face.

"You an expert on dealing with contusions?" I joke. I have to joke or I'll cry.

He stares back at me, his expression solemn. "Yes."

My hand settles over his, ready to take up the job of keeping the compress in place, but he doesn't let go. His thumb edges out, strokes my face, rasping over the corner of my lip. "Whip is correct. No more going out on your own."

"I'm a big girl. I can handle myself."

He looks pointedly at my face.

"A f.u.c.ked-up fluke," I retort.

Again, the tip of his thumb caresses my cheek, touches my lips. His lids lower a fraction as he inhales sharply. "You asked a favor of me. This is mine. Don't make me worry about this happening again." He holds my gaze, and the emotion there is a punch to the system. "Please. I won't be able to function properly."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. Tears well in my eyes. Stupid tears. I start to tremble, everything crashing all at once. "I was scared."

He sucks in a breath, and his forehead rests against mine. His free hand goes to the back of my neck, holding me there, steady, solid.

"So was I," he whispers, shocking me enough that I flinch.

Misinterpreting my surprise for pain, he hisses out a curse. His fingers give me a gentle squeeze. "You're safe, Sophie. This will never happen again."

"I know." I take a shaky breath as I close my eyes and breath in his scent. "You keep your people safe."

"I look out for my people." His lips ghost over my unmarred cheek, the touch so light I might have imagined it. Only I didn't. I feel it to my toes. It hums along my skin even as he pulls back slightly to look me in the eye. "I protect what's mine."

Gabriel

It takes me too b.l.o.o.d.y long to get away. Too long, holding in the rage, breathing like a normal man, talking like a calm one. By the time I head out into the back alley, my hands are shaking so badly, I can barely open the door.