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“No, the cops are just taking her statement. The photographer tried to press charges, but Riley turned over the CCTV footage from in front of her shop, and they aren’t taking the douchebag seriously. If anything, they asked us if we wanted to press charges against the photog.”
“What about Aunt D?” I asked, grabbing jeans and then a different T-shirt. “Does she know about Shaw’s hand? Do we need to talk to a specialist?”
My own hand continued to throb a little from where I’d broken it months before. I was still working my way through all the hours of community service I had been sentenced to rather than spending time in jail. Even if I’d been locked up, I would have gladly accepted the punishment after that fucker had taken pictures of my fiancée.
“She knows, Jags. Please relax. This is why Shaw asked me to call you last.” She blew out a heavy sigh. “We’ll be on our way back to your place soon. She has a soft cast on, and we need to see the orthopedic specialist in the morning, but the doctor assured us that it’s just two small fractures. Her fingers are a little swollen, but nothing is purple, and she claims she’s not in any major pain.”
“You’re not calling to tell me this because of Shaw, are you?” I mused aloud, as what she’d said really began to click in my brain. One of the paparazzi got close enough to Violet that Shaw reacted by punching him in the face. That told me she’d been scared—not for herself, but for Vi. Luca was going to lose his shit, for sure. “Fucking hell, Violet. He’s going to go berserk on someone.”
“No, he won’t,” she said with confidence. “Not with Love Bug there. This is probably going to hit all the social media platforms soon. I thought you should be prepared.”
“Gee, thanks,” I snarked, then grimaced at my tone. Shaw would kick my ass if I talked to her best friend like that, and I wasn’t exactly pleased with my own actions either. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m just… She’s hurt. And I’m here. And she’s so damn excited about the wedding. And she’s not going to be happy about wearing a cast in the pictures. And—”
“Whoa,” she cut me off. “That’s a whole lot of ‘ands.’”
“The press has been hounding her since that first dress fitting,” I gritted out. “Now they’re fucking up the wedding.”
I wanted everything to be perfect for Shaw on our wedding day, but those damn pricks were already ruining it for us.
“I’m sorry,” Vi whispered.
“This isn’t your fault, sweetheart,” I assured her, blowing out a long breath. “Listen, you take care of Shaw. Stay close to the guards. We don’t need anyone being charged with murder before the wedding.” I wasn’t sure who would be the one committing homicide if anything happened to Violet—Shaw or Luca. “I need to get dressed and take care of a few things.”
“All right,” she murmured. “But make sure you take your own advice, Jags. We don’t need any murder charges.”
“I’ll do my best, honey,” I said with a dry laugh. As soon as I hung up with her, I hit the contact that was only two down on my recents list. The first ring didn’t finish before it was answered.
“I already know about Shaw’s hand,” Ma said in a light voice.
“Not surprised. I was the last to know,” I grumbled unhappily.
“Of course you were. It makes things easier if you’re the last to be informed. You aren’t Mr. Subtle, baby boy.”
I raked my free hand through my hair. “Make it stop, Ma,” I pleaded, feeling like a helpless little kid again, begging my mom to make the bad things go away. But I wasn’t above turning to the only person who I knew could make that happen. “They’re ruining everything before we even get a chance to enjoy the day. I want… No, Ma. I fucking need Saturday to be perfect.”
“Ah, my sweet boy,” she whispered. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to ensure that your wedding is perfect. I promise.”
“Ma…” I closed my eyes, fighting the frustration of feeling out of control. “She deserves this.”
“So do you, Jagger.”
Chapter 3
Shaw
“I don’t see a necessity for a hard cast at the moment,” the doctor said as he examined the X-rays the hospital had emailed him the day before. “Just be sure to wear the soft cast as much as possible, and we’ll do another X-ray in four to six weeks to ensure everything is healing.”
Flexing my fingers, I silently listened to his instructions about ice and heat therapy for the pain and taking NSAIDs for any discomfort and swelling. I knew all the dos and don’ts by heart at this point. After Jagger had broken his hand—ironically enough, on another photographer’s face—I’d spent weeks making sure his injury didn’t get inflamed so he would be ready for his summer tour.
That tour had only recently ended, and he hadn’t had too many issues with a hard cast while playing. I wouldn’t say it had been comfortable for him, but he’d at least been able to get the job done during his sets with my brother.
Leaving the doctor’s office, I slipped on my sunglasses and made sure my baseball cap was pulled down low. The guard I had to take with me every time I left the house without Jagger, or my parents was already waiting in the lobby. There wasn’t much use in trying to hide my identity when the press had already figured out, where the hulk in a suit went, I was nearby.
Which was why I wasn’t the least bit surprised when he opened the door and flash after flash flickered from a dozen different cameras. Questions were randomly tossed at me—how long would my community service last compared to Jagger’s, was the photographer suing me since the police hadn’t taken him seriously when he’d tried to file charges against me for assault, and countless other questions about the incident from the day before. It was mundane bullshit that everyone knew I wouldn’t respond to, but I begrudgingly gave them props for continuing to ask the same nonsense every time they ambushed me.
I ignored them all as my bodyguard, whom I referred to only as Hulk, pushed our way toward where he’d parked the car earlier. I was used to cameras being in my face, not only because of the harassment from the press wanting to know every detail about my private wedding, but also standing in front of one regularly for my career. I could zone them out, pretend they weren’t even there…
And then someone opened their mouth and said the wrong thing.
