32. Men with Guns

32

MEN WITH GUNS

SOPHIA

What's the saying? Ask, and you shall receive .

Things go very, very wrong.

I follow behind Preston, step for step up a staircase that leads to a door with a square glass window in it. From our vantage point behind the glass, we spot Mazen, Oliver, Cannon, Murphy, and Ashton. My heart rate accelerates, even as I accept that they're all okay, alive, until I turn to see my partner in crime's face. Preston's expression hardens like marble. He's now a mask of stone that has my blood pumping at an alarming rate. My eyes peer through the glass, and my stomach tightens.

In horror, I watch as Knox Caddell climbs out of the back of a blacked-out Audi. He stands and then roughly pulls out the woman who took me under her wing and became my best friend on this tour from the vehicle, Vanna. It's a futile attempt to keep the fear that rises in my throat to myself.

"No. Damn it. Why doesn't anyone leave well enough alone? I had things covered. A plan." I turn to Preston, fuming. None of this should be happening. Yet here we are. These boyfriends of mine couldn't just let me handle my business. "My sister was just with her earlier. How in the hell did Knox get to her that quickly?"

Preston stays silent.

"She's my friend." Anguish tugs at my broken voice. "If you know something, spit it out."

"Mazen hired a PI. His guy found a connection between Lorenzo Wilde and Julian Caddell."

This isn't news to me. I know all about their years of friendship.

"The PI went missing the day before yesterday. Gone without a trace."

Caddell's threat about me being shark food resurfaces. He's evil incarnate. Did he have Mazen's PI killed? Suddenly, the timeline makes sense. Mazen's recent emotional distance. Knox's random text messages.

"Mazen called his dad, pushing for info. Told him someone had kidnapped you as a ploy to get him to talk. Ashton said he really laid into him. Lorenzo flew into town this morning, claiming that they needed to have a conversation that wasn't suited to be done over the phone. Ashton assembled a team—"

"That you clearly weren't on?"

"The band said they only trusted you with Ashton or me."

My fingers press at my temples where the stress is collecting. "Great. You got babysitting duty."

Offering a wry smile, Preston continues, "Look, I shouldn't even be telling you this. Here I am, blabbing like the roadies." He takes a breath, then admits, "When they went to the meeting spot, Lorenzo wasn't there. "

Sliding out his cell phone, he motions for me to look.

"This was." He proceeds to show me a picture of the note that was waiting to be found by Mazen. Preston's face hardens as he reads the words from the screen out loud. " More innocent lives will be taken in the crossfire if you don't back off ."

"A warning? What did the PI find?"

Though Preston doesn't answer me, I watch as his eyes darken a shade before they move past me. Journeying to the situation behind the glass, roaming over every person in sight, detailing the predicament the men who employ us have caught themselves in. He's assessing the scene before us in a way that reminds me that Ashton, him, and the others on their teams are trained professionals. Preston keeps his features composed, a look of merciless determination on his square jawline. The uncanny awareness of the severity of the meet and greet we've stumbled upon sets in, along with the start of a full-blown anxiety attack.

Intrusive thoughts pound like fists against my skull.

What if this is a setup?

Why do they care about me so much?

What if I lose one of them?

"You need to rein in whatever's going on right now. I can't save them if I'm worrying about their girlfriend."

I let out a throaty laugh as if to say, as if. "You're sorely mistaken. I'm with Mazen. You meant his girlfriend." It's not a question. A simple fact. One I've recited internally for two weeks since we all laid claim to one another in the most intimate of ways.

We're not ready to tell the world about our…situationship, yet.

"Come the hell on, Sophia. I'd have to be blind not to see the chemistry you have with each of them. "

"Since you're toting around a loaded gun and all, I certainly hope you're not visually impaired."

Eyes as flat and unreadable as plywood meet mine. "Let's skip the part where we have a heart-to-heart, and you confess that you love them all, and they love you back. Which they do," he adds. "They wouldn't be meeting up with your kidnapper if they didn't."

Great. Now, my eyes are misty. Is our adoration that easy for people to read and notice?

"Julian Caddell is holding Lorenzo and Vanna as hostages." His voice is gravelly. It's the only sign that his line of work, the situation we've been pulled into, is affecting him.

If you could hear a heart break, I imagine it'd sound like the sharp intake of breath that gets stuck in my lungs.

"Stay here," he instructs. "I'm gonna slide out to get closer. When I'm close enough, I'll tackle Knox from behind. This'll buy Ashton a minute to figure out a plan from there. He's quick and resourceful. It's why he's the best in the business."

For a long moment, I hold Preston's stare. A thousand things are said between us, our silence speaking volumes.

Be careful. Tread lightly. Don't shoot anyone unless it's absolutely necessary.

His dark eyes reply, Stay put. Don't you dare open this door once I slip out. Run and hide if you must.

We exchange another moment of silent pleas before he opens his mouth, giving light to a fear. "They'll kill me if something happens to you."

"I think you seriously doubt how much your rock-star employers value their freedom," I scoff. "Can you picture Mazen in an orange jumpsuit?" Humor laces my tone. It's my factory setting. When every emotion threatens to pull me under the tide, humor keeps me afloat. "He'd probably just walk around with his sausage swinging before he was caught dead in anything other than black."

"Here's to hoping we never have to see either of the pictures you just created."

The pause between us settles thick, like the smog in the city after a rainstorm.

"Don't let anything happen to her or them. Please, Preston. They're in this situation because of me. I love them."

"There's the truth. You shouldn't deny it again. It saves lives."

"So do badass, gun-carting security men. Go save theirs."

With that, Preston slips out the door, sealing me inside with nothing but my nerves.

Sliding my phone from my back pocket, I shoot off a message to my sister. I'm not sure what is about to go down, but you can bet your sweet tits that if anyone can get a SOS into the world, it's Lacey. She might fold under pressure, but she can cause a scene like no one's business. Karens out in the world should fear the Laceys of the world.

Without giving my sister too much detail—she's not very good at discretion, and keeping secrets is not her strong suit—I fill her in the best I can, asking her to contact Lindsey before ending the call.

By the looks of the budding confrontation outside this small window my face is plastered against, it's safe to say something big is about to go down. She'll be on media control when shit hits the fan.

Convincing myself I can't hear well enough, I crack open the door. Muffled voices linger in the air. I widen the door more, as cautiously as humanly possible .

"Our money isn't good enough for you? Last time I checked, paper was green." Oliver advances toward Knox, who is planted in front of the vehicle he climbed out of.

It's not lost on me that Caddell is nowhere in sight. He's the ventriloquist. The backbone of the operation. The sleazeball made that known when he not only had Knox doing his bidding, keeping tabs on me and bedding me for years, but also when he sent his muscle to threaten me years ago.

"It's not your money he wants. It's hers ," he says through clenched teeth .

The her he's referring to is me.

Cannon steps up, towering over Knox by a solid four inches. It shocks me how graceful his well-muscled body moves. "Let's cut the bullshit. We have the money you want, and you have two people we need."

"You have no say in this battle, Thor." Knox comes in hot with a joke that falls flat at Cannon Rhodes's feet.

"Fucking children."

My body goes rigid at the sound of Julian Caddell's voice as he exits the back seat, looking every bit as vile and slimy as I remember and straightens his suit.

On instinct, I'm moving. I can't just stand here praying that the people I love are safe, including the only female friend outside of my family I've ever had. If falling for three rock stars has taught me anything, it's resiliency. You can't just date the most eligible bachelor in the world and not get any flak from the media and trolls on social media.

If I can survive the haters on RockTok, I can stand up to Julian and Knox Caddell one final time.

I couldn't save Roman. I can save Vanna.