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“At some point between when you saw Carter and when Xavier went to find him to call him to the stage…” Ramsey’s head shakes and my heart stalls.
“What?” I ask.
“He’s on his way to the hospital.”
“We think he overdosed,” Gavin says. “But I personally helped Xavier flip the room, looking for the drugs, and we couldn’t find them. Meaning, we have no idea what to tell them he took.” He studies me, like I might know.
“I don’t have anything to do with that stuff,” I assure them.
“We know that,” Ramsey says, running his hand down my back. “But did you see anything that might have been helpful?”
My stomach drops as I glance between them. That guy was kind of intimidating, but if keeping my mouth shut could put Carter at risk…
My panic rises as I realize the picture will have to be recovered by tech and that could take extra time. I tell them everything I saw and how Carter intervened on my behalf.
“That could be anyone. Venue staff, one of the roadies, a random connection he has in the city.” The guy with Gavin curses, pulling out his phone and typing on it. “I’ll let them know. They’ve got to be almost at the hospital by now. The police escort had to have helped, despite the traffic.”
Ice slides through my veins because that sounds especially serious.
“All right,” Gavin says. “You’ve got to get out there. The crowd is waiting.”
“You’re still performing?” My mouth falls open. They’ve been bandmates for ten years. It feels like they should be heading to the hospital to check on their friend.
“It’s too late to cancel,” Gavin says, as if that should be obvious.
“War will be doing rhythm while Fitz does lead. It’s not the fans’ fault.” Ram glares at Gavin. “Carter needs real help, which we’ve mentioned, but hopefully this will force someone to listen!” His concern radiates through the bond, making my chest ache. Yeah, it’s clear he’s torn and unsure what the right call is.
“Come on, you’ve got to go.” Gavin waves a hand.
“Steve is going to be with you the entire time we’re on stage,” Ramsey says, nuzzling his cheek to mine.
I’m so overwhelmed, all I can do is blink. Holy crap, what a nightmare. I’m not fond of Carter, but I do hope he’s okay.
ChapterTwenty-Six
Warrick
Our plans to propose to Tinley during our show go out the window because of Carter. We’ve been friends for a decade, and despite my anger over the position he put my omega in, I’m still worried as fuck.
It’s complicated. I feel like a total dick. The last thing I did was punch him in the face.
Carter is in stable condition. We’re going to see him tomorrow because the hospital’s visiting hours are over tonight.
Who the hell knows why the label booked us three shows in a row in the same city, two weeks apart. There’s a brief discussion about what to do about our flights. They’re set to leave in the morning, but we decide as a pack that it isn’t the right time to fly to Maine.
We spend a somber night in a hotel in New York, and I field a call from Rooker Jacobs before six the next morning. He’s Jamen Jacobs’s son, and they’re several hours behind us in Colorado, which might account for why he’s calling at such a ridiculous time.
Rook is in the process of taking over for his father to run the label. After a lengthy conversation, where it’s made very clear our concerns haven’t been making it to those at the top, he passes me off to a tech specialist. The guy’s name is Storm, and he barks orders like I’m on his payroll.
“I don’t understand how you’re going to access a deleted picture on a memory card from another state.” I sigh, grabbing the adapter Tinley uses and plugging it into her laptop.
“It’s a version of screen sharing. I’m going to let myself in by remotely accessing your girl’s computer. All you have to do is click the link I’m sending to her work email,” Storm says as I boot up the machine. “Can you get access to it?”
“Yeah, but it’ll take me a minute. It’s still turning on.” I yawn, trying to keep my voice down to avoid waking the others. “What’s the purpose of all this?” I’m still half asleep and confused as fuck why they’re asking for this information instead of the police.
“If it’s someone employed by Ruined, then we’ll be ensuring they look for other employment. Someone had to remove the drugs after he was incapacitated, which tells me the dealer either knew there was a chance they could be laced, or he was anxious after the interaction with your girl. He found Carter and left him,” Storm says. “There’s no telling if the police will follow up. It falls to how busy they are and what else comes across their desk. It’s also a major holiday, but this feels especially personal. I’m not prepared to let it go. Not yet.”
“Right,” I mutter.
