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Gretchen’s fake banter leaves a tacky feeling on my skin. About sixty seconds in, her syrupy sweetness slithers into something vindictive. “Let’s discuss those telling photos of you and Jessica Thorne coming out of a hotel restroom.”
I don’t need to see their faces to pick up the tension. A bite sharpens the edges of Gretchen’s voice, while a subtle thread of unease strings across Gabe’s as he tries to steer her away from me until he finally says, “Gretch, you’re missing the real story.” The clip ends with him all but admitting Jax doesn’t make it through the climax ofThe Pack’s mid-season finale.
I blink against the grittiness in my eyes. Gabe tried to protect me. He broke his contract for me. Risked his career. And I’m so so sorry I can’t make him take any of it back.
chapter 40
Gabe
“Let people sort out their own shit.”
~ Meredith Morgan
(played by the award-winning Meredith Wade)
Raising Ryder: Episode197
Jess isn’t in the judge’s row where I left her. She ran outside. I’m blaming the five minutes Donna spent whispering in her ear while I got stuck in a traffic jam of models, women hanging on models, and the rose-scented lady glued to my bicep taking her seven-hundredth selfie.
Desperate for a quick getaway, I lean toward the closest model. A few inches taller than me, the dude’s beefed-up built. Dressed like a simple ranch hand—or half a ranch hand, since he’s only wearing jeans and boots—he’s got badass written on him. Literally. Inked across his left shoulder blade.
“I need to bail,” I tell him discreetly. “Any chance you can run interference?”
He takes in the pile-up of people with a deep chuckle. “Not a problem, kid.” He gives me a chin tip. “Gunnar and I work security at our day jobs.” He catches the attention of Fireman Gunnar—the guy I crowned—and gestures toward me with a signal I’ve seen my bodyguards use atPackevents.
With perfect precision, they disengage the woman from my arm, and step in front of me in a shield of human body armor. They retreat. I retreat. The stilted shuffle eventually edges me out of the circle of hyped-up ladies. But not unscathed. I’m sporting several souvenir scratches by the time I find my girl huddled outside.
Standing under a giant outdoor heater, Jess is clutching my sweater, staring into the lit-up skyline at the ball that tops Reunion Tower and softly counting, each number timed with a deliberate inhale and exhale.
“Have you been up in the ball?” I try not to startle her.
She jumps anyway. “No. But it’s my favorite building.”
Traffic sounds drift across the patio. A chilly breeze stirs the tiny lanterns above, the light flickering over Jess’s auburn highlights.
Stretching the tightness from my neck and rubbing the goosebumps on my bare arms, I step behind her. “What happened with Donna?”
“Nothing.”
“Liar.” Brushing her hair over her shoulder, I slowly run my index finger down her spine.
She halts my journey just south of the small of her back, bringing my hand to her waist and squeezing my fingers. “I found the clip from Gretchen’s show.”
I freeze. Then wrap her in my arms, dipping my nose by her neck.
When she comes in contact with my shirtless self, she stiffens for a second before she fits snuggly against me, holding my forearm with both hands where it bands across her chest. “Why would you tell Gretchen about Jax?”
“I was hoping to shield you from the media.”
“Gretchen leaked my morning-after mugshot anyway.”
“Someone else sold those pictures. I’m still counting on the shock value of my story burying your negative press.”
“You shouldn’t have risked your career for me.”
“I shouldn’t have tried to protect you?”
“No.” Her nails dig into my arm, adding to the scratches from the ladies inside. But Jess’s marks I don’t mind.
