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I should buy her a parka.
It’s a little cold in here.
Maybe I could find her a jacket.
I could definitely send one of the roadies out to buy the biggest coat they can find. Then I’ll wrap her up in it and snuggle the fuck out of her.
In the corner.
In a very romantic way, so she’s satisfied and has a good birthday. While blocking her from sight of all the assholes here tonight. It’s a solid game plan.
I curse under my breath, shaking my head.
I really am losing my damn mind.
There’s ultimately no guarantee that she’ll be up for handing off the level of control that I need to be content in a relationship.
My instincts tell me she might be, but those fuckers have been all over the place lately. I exhale heavily and accept the fact that I’m not going to be comfortable at all tonight. Not until we’re out of here and settled in somewhere safe.
* * *
I take my eyes off Tinley for less than a minute to hand off my guitar to a roadie following our performance, and when I look up, she’s gone.
My chest heaves as my fists clench. I don’t think I ended up with PTSD following the riot. Large crowds don’t bother me, or they didn’t until I had someone else to keep safe. Fine, maybe I do have a little trauma surrounding how fucking unpredictable humanity can be.
I don’t bother heading backstage and around to get to the dance floor.
I jump down from the front of the stage and beeline for Ava. Fans try to stop me to talk or for autographs, but I’ve got tunnel vision.
This is the problem with friends who aren’t real friends.
There’s no loyalty.
“Where is Tinley?” I growl, making it to their cluster at one of the high-top tables.
“She got a phone call.” Ava points to the hallway with the restrooms. “She went to answer it.” Her words are slightly slurred. It would do no good to lecture her. “I offered to go with her, but she said she was fine.”
I spin around, stomping toward the bathrooms. If that’s true, then Tinley and I need to have a conversation about safety in numbers.
I’m a big motherfucker, even for an alpha. Not many men can meet me at eye level. It makes it easy to spot Tinley. She’s at the back of the hallway, real fucking close to the emergency exit, talking on her phone. She’s alone, but it’s the two assholes standing four or five feet away with their eyes on her that make me very sure I’m going to jail for murder tonight.
The club is in the opposite direction. That’s where their interest should be. I slide up behind them long enough to gauge their intent.
“Damn, I wonder if she has glasses. She could totally pull off a hot nerdy vibe.” The one on the right bumps his shoulder against his buddy’s.
“She’s pretty enough,” the other asshole replies.
“You’re going to want to fuck all the way off,” I growl. “Right now.” Their reactions are almost cliché, but they scurry away just fast enough that I manage to hold myself back.
I take their spot against the wall and watch as Tinley cluelessly continues her conversation.
I can barely hear her over the music, but I’m pretty sure she’s talking to a friend or family member who called to wish her a happy birthday.
“You’re ridiculous,” she says, laughing. “A girl can dream. Ohmigod, forget I said that.” There’s a short pause, and she groans. “He sent pictures? He better be afraid to go to sleep tonight.” There’s silence, likely while the other person speaks. “Shanna! Yeah, I better get back out there. I miss you too. Thank you for calling.”
I wait with an unnaturally giddy excitement for the moment she spins around.
A jolt goes through her entire body as she catches sight of me. Her phone bounces between her hands as she wobbles.
