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I picked up my phone, scrolling through the previous dialed numbers and found the one I needed. The odds of him helping me were slim, if not non-existent. But I was desperate. And there was no one else I could call. If Marc trusted him, so could I. I hoped.
I swallowed down the sudden nerves and hitcall.
Marc slept like a fucking baby, and I was left pacing the gray linoleum carpet as the previous day sunk in. There was nothingIcould do that surprised me anymore. But Marc?Fucking Marc?The man who scolded me for being reckless. The man who had everything under control. He was made of bloody steel. Never bending. Never breaking.
Still, he was the one who nearly died this time. How could he, of all people be that stupid to let it go this far? It was something I’d do. But then again, I never cared for my health. Normal people did. Marc did. Well, hehad. Now I wasn’t so sure.
If getting shot at was an accident, it was one thing, but the rest? It didn’t add up. No matter how I twisted and turned it, it didn't make sense. Collapsing onto a chair, I crossed my arms behind my neck and leaned back. How long would this last? If there were people after him. Dangerous people. It was only a matter of time before they caught up, and he was decked for fuck knows how long. Not that he’d be of any help anyway. This time, it was up to me, and not until now did I realize how dependent on Marc I was. He was always there. The fucking bloodhound at my back. He made sure I could live a somewhat normal life without being followed around by fans. He was there to pick up the pieces when my life fell apart. And being me, that was more or less daily. I was a mess, and Marc knew it. Still, he stayed with me, forced me to live when I didn’t want to. Saved me from myself more times than I could count.
Now it was my turn to save him. The man deserved it, after everything he did for me.
My phone rang, making me jump from the sudden noise. Muttering under my breath, I went to dig it out of the bag I left next to Marc on the bed, glanced at the unknown number on the screen and frowned.
Only a limited amount of people had my private number. Getting an unknown call was odd, but it wasn’t the first time.
I swiped to answer while crossing the room to gaze out the window. It was still dark, but the treetops on the opposite side of the road bathed in a light pink hue that dispersed the gloom.
A female voice came on the line. “Ehh…” it began, and I waited, holding my tongue when all I wanted was to cut the call. If for some reason some bloody fan got hold of this number and—
“Is this Johnny?” The voice asked with a noticeable quiver, and I groaned. It was a fan. No fucking doubt.
“Listen, I don’t know how you got this number, this is—”
She cut me off, “No!” She breathed. “I know what you must be thinking! But—”
“Leve me alone!” I snapped, cutting the call before she could say another word.
The phone rang again, and I answered. “What part of—”
“It’s Kaylie! Don’t hang up!” The girl rushed to say as if that would mean anything to me. About to cut the call again, something stopped me. The name. I heard it before.
“Kaylie who?”
“Kaylie Remington,” she stammered, and I couldn’t help but snort. As if her bloody surname helped.
“How did you get my number?”
“Marc gave it to me, I—”
“Shit!” I breathed. “It’s you. You’re the fucking girl who got him shot?”
“Yes! What no, I didn’t…” she trailed off, and I sighed. This wasn’t working.
“What do you want from us?”
There was a long since, then she whispered a weak, “Us?” She fell silent again, then asked. “Is he alive?”
The emotion in her voice made it impossible to snap at her. From where I stood, this was just another crazy girl who screwed Marc over, big time. But I didn’t know the details. And from the way Marc closed off when I asked about her, it was bloody obvious she wasn’t justanother girl,to him. From the way her shaky breaths leaked into my ear; the feeling was mutual.
“He’s with me. He’s… fine-ish.”
A sob made me hold the phone away from my ear, then her voice was back, thick, and barely holding. “Johnny, I’m sorry, you must hate me, but I never wanted him to get hurt. I really care about him. I did everything I could to help him, but they are—” her voice finally broke, and after several moments of listening to her sobs, she spoke, stunning me with the request. “Can you come get me?”
I gaped. Lost for words, I echoed. “Get you?”
“Please. I don’t know who else to ask.”
Was she for real? Did she think I’d drive straight back to the hell Marc ran from, to get her? A random stranger? Her words echoed in my head. So did the fear she couldn’t keep from her voice.Bloody hell. “Where are you?”
