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He chuckled. “You can’t tell me we wouldn’t have fun on the road together. You know we would.”
“Are you serious?” Her voice shook. “Why did you follow me, Mickey? Is there a camera out here somewhere? Looking for more PR at my expense? I’m tired of getting you more headlines.”
What was Mickey talking about? The Three Kings had one hell of an opening act. And why had her mother called him? From the way Krystal was staring at Mickey, she was just as surprised as he was.
“I’m not about to apologize for doing what it takes to get a platinum record. You’ve always known my career came first.” He shook his head. “Hell, it wasn’t all bad. Being in your bed. Mm-m. You remember, too. Don’t you? Miss me? I know you do.”
He and Luke were so close—but not close enough. Krystal’s hand shot out, the slap echoing in the still parking lot.
“You really are a bitch, you know that?” But Mickey was laughing.
The son of a bitch deserved more than a slap; Mickey Graham deserved getting his ass handed to him. Jace would be more than happy to teach him a lesson in manners. If the bastard didn’t step away from Krystal, class was about to be in session. Still, Krystal was upset—for good reason. Instead of busting heads, he’d get her out of here. He reined in his temper, ignored Mickey Graham, and stepped between them, facing her.
“Krystal?”
She was shaking, staring blindly at his chest.
“Krystal?” he asked again, his voice low. “Hey, it’s Jace.”
“You’re Jace?” Mickey asked, still behind him. If the son of a bitch was smart, he’d stay there.
Krystal finally looked up at him, dazed. He searched her pale face. “You okay?” She didn’t look okay. She looked terrified. Frozen in place and shivering.
Her eyes widened, truly seeing him for the first time. “Jace?”
“Yeah. Hi. Need a ride somewhere?” He grinned.
She blinked rapidly, running a hand over her hair. Her hand trembled like a leaf.
Damn, her fear had his stomach in knots. And his hands fisting. “Or a human barrier between you and the asshole behind me?” He tried, he did, but there was no denying the edge to his words.
She smiled, surprised. “Yeah,” she breathed. “I do… Thank you.”
“Taking her back to her hotel won?
??t get you anywhere,” Mickey snorted.
Jace spun on his heel, fists clenched, jaw tight. Being tall had advantages—like towering over assholes with big mouths. “You want to get punched? You keep talking, you will.”
Mickey’s mouth hung open in shock, but he didn’t say another word.
Jace turned back to find Krystal’s eyes closed, her face crinkled up tight, and her hands fisted at her side. He could only imagine all the things she wanted to say and do right now. Her restraint was admirable. His, on the other hand, was fading. It was time to go.
“Mr. Graham, isn’t it?” Jace heard Luke say. “I’m a fan, a big fan. Are you in the market for a new manager? If you are, maybe we could go get a beer?”
Jace didn’t wait to hear Mickey’s response. He glanced back at Luke, nodded, and led Krystal away. He hadn’t felt the need to fight in years, but right now, the urge to punch Mickey Graham was all-encompassing. Hard enough to wipe that smug grin off his face and land him on his ass. Though Krystal had landed one hell of a slap. “Let’s start walking. I’m parked out in the south forty.”
It was a smaller smile this time, but a smile nonetheless. “Lead the way, Jake.”
He laughed. “Now, you’re working at it. You know my name.”
She glanced up at him, peering up at him through her thick lashes. “Do I?”
Damn she was pretty. And feisty. And talented. “My name is Jace Michael Black. But most people just call me Jace.”
“Michael’s a good name. Why didn’t you go with that?”
He chuckled. “Jace is a bad name?”
