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“What.” He barks at me from behind his crossed arms, the biceps bulging ridiculously beneath his too-tight shirt.
“Find her.” I hiss.
“No.” My nostrils flare at his automatic response.
It’s the same response he’s been giving me for the last hour and a half.
They’ve been gone all fucking night.
“What if—”
“They’re fine, Rex. She’s safe. Give her some fucking space.” Ian’s words only enrage me more, that emotion driving me straight into my bodyguard’s face.
“If they find her, it’s on you.” I spit as I gesture to the tablet set up next to his massive frame that runs a special software made specifically to scan the internet for threats based on provided keywords.
The screen illuminates, exposing the bullshit we’ve been dealing with since before Aria ran out.
As Above is trending on all social media platforms.
And not in a good fucking way.
The bodyguard hashtag has blown up with the scandal video that had leaked prior to the videos of me slamming a fucking vagrant with a gun.
The one trend that’s beating out all of those, though, is the one that’s got me most on edge.
#Rexsnewvines
My tattoo. Of my girl’s name.
It’s already started a new shift in what people are calling their tattoos.
All over the internet, people are embracing the term and referencing to their own ink asvinesand making the discovery of dangerous content for Aria that much harder to wade through.
“No one’s figured it out yet, Rex.” Ian’s tone is softer now, gruffly whispered to me in some sense of reassurance as he scrolls down the list of bullshit people are suggesting my new ink says.
Close up’s litter the web, screen caps from the videos of me taking a fucking graze from a bullet in a sad attempt to pry into my life and know me better.
I hate all of it.
It puts Aria in danger, the videos and the ink, and that was the last thing I ever wanted for her.
Pushing a hand into my hair, I huff and pace the room.
“I fucking knew better,” I mumble the words to myself, more thinking out loud than addressing the room, but that doesn’t stop my brother from kicking a foot out and tripping me up enough to send my ass careening to the floor.
“Shut up, rat breath,” Mac says over his phone as the floor shakes with my impact. “Here.” My twin slaps his phone with Aria’s number lit up on the screen into my hand.
I take the thing in disbelief as my brother eases out of the bean bag and ushers Ian out of the treehouse without another word.
I mash the call button as soon as their heads disappear beneath the floor, silently begging for her to answer.
“Mac!” My girl calls out excitedly from the other line, sending my heart palpitating with the confusion of when the hell my brother let security in his phone and why she sounds so slurry.
“Where are you, baby girl?” I ask into the mic and pray she responds to my brother.
“Oh, I’m just—wait.” She cuts herself off and my eyes go to the ceiling in frustration. “Say that again. I’ve had a few.”
I ditch the act and growl my next words into the receiver. “Where are you, baby.”
