Chapter 8

Everything hurt. Tate Maddox cried out as he tried to lift his arm. He had to move.

What just happened?

The events of the night flashed behind his closed lids as he gulped back bile and tried to ignore the pain.

Tate had danced until his shirt was soaked with sweat. Pressed against the hard body of the man who’d bought him his first drink, enjoying the way he moved. The sound of his deep voice, like the purr of a leopard in his ear. He’d noticed the man the second he’d walked into the VIP section of the club, but tried to play it cool. Flirt with Dariel and tease Shiori and pretend he didn’t know the man was watching him the whole time.

But then they’d reached the dance floor and he’d seen that long, wiry body in slick leather grinding down low, dancing as though the beat of the music had a hold on him, not caring whether anyone was moving to the same beat. The next song the man had nodded toward the bar. Tate joined him.

“You’re fucking gorgeous. I’m gonna sound like a fanboy.” The man ducked his head, glancing around like he was afraid someone would hear. “But I watched from side stage when you played. After trying not to stare since the tour started. I can have anyone. But I want you.”

The man was fucking smooth. And Tate didn’t mind at all. After wanting to experiment with a man and not getting anywhere until Brave and Connor were both stoned and horny, Tate loved when a guy paid attention to him. One that wasn’t doing it because he was forbidden and it would piss people off.

After that night, Tate had gotten the nerve to flirt with a few guys, but if a member of the band was around, they scared him off.

They’d probably scare this guy off too, but he’d enjoy being the object of his lust while it lasted.

“Tell me what you want from me.” Tate fought to keep a straight face. Damn, how lame was that line?

But the man laughed. “You gonna ask my name?”

“Do I need to know it?” Tate looked back at Shiori and Dariel. Shiori was with Brave and Malakai. Dariel was hitting on the lady bouncer.

Malakai glanced over and frowned.

Fuck.

Framing Tate’s jaw with his hand, the man forced his attention back to him. “I’m not afraid of them, Tate. My name is North Beauregard. And I always get what I want.”

“You still haven’t told me what that is.”

“Let me buy you a drink. Then I’ll tell you.”

One drink. Dancing. Not much talking, but Tate enjoyed feeling North’s body against his. Then some guy came over with another drink. A few sips and the room started spinning.

He was pulled away from North. Who looked irritated, but turned his attention to a pretty young woman on the dance floor.

He’d been toying with Tate. Didn’t really want him.

Why did that keep happening? Tate pressed his eyes shut as he danced with a guy he couldn’t even see. His vision was blurry. He tried to excuse himself, but the man pulled him closer. He put his hands on the man’s shoulders as the room tipped sideways.

“You okay?” The man held him close. “Want to get some air?”

“Yes. Please.” This club was too hot. Tate looked for Brave and Malakai as he let the man lead him out, but he couldn’t see them anywhere. No problem. He was a big boy. He didn’t need anyone looking after him.

A car door opened. He was pressed back into the seat. Slumping over, he tried to thank the guy, but the words wouldn’t come.

The door slammed shut.

The car started moving.

“Wait, where are we going?” Panic cleared his head a little. Just a little. He tried to see the man. His vision swam.

“My place. Fuck, I didn’t think I could get you alone.” The man laughed. “Would have been a waste of a plane ticket, but I had to try. I am going to make you feel so good.”

“No, you’re not. Bring me back.” Tate fumbled for the door handle. “Who are you?”

“The man you need. I know it’s only rumors, but you fucked that son of a bitch. I know you did. How could you?” The man let out an angry snarl. “I’ve spent years trying to get your attention. You ignored all my tweets. All my messages.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. A crazy fan. Hadn’t Winter’s Wrath had their quota already? This couldn’t be happening.

He wasn’t taking any chances. Alder had almost died the last time a nutcase got too close. No way was Tate dying in a ditch somewhere in Germany because he’d taken a drink from the wrong person.

He opened the door and threw himself to the street, screaming as he fell. His arm hit the ground first. Then his face. Pain erupted through his body, but he tried to push to his feet. He had to run.

The car slowed. Started backing up.

Light speared the darkness. Shouts came at him.

Wheels skidded on pavement.

Everything hurt. Tate couldn’t move his arm. He choked back another cry as someone grabbed his shoulder. He tried to see them, but there was something scratching one eye and the other was still blurry.

“Tate, look at me. Fuck!” Ballz lightened his grip, carefully easing Tate down to rest his head on Ballz’s thigh. “Don’t move.”

People were running toward them. So many all around.

Ballz shielded him with his body, his tone barely more than a growl. “Call him an ambulance, you useless son-of-a-bitch!”

“I lost sight of him for a couple minutes. This isn’t my…” Tank groaned somewhere to the left of them, closer than the others in the crowd. “He’s just a bit scraped up, right? Shit, his arm…”

My arm? Tate couldn’t feel it anymore. The pain had lessened. Maybe he’d be okay.

“Call. Now.” Ballz made a rough, irritated sound. He thanked someone, then pressed a soft fabric against Tate’s cheek. “Tate, you need to slow your breathing a bit. Can you tell me what happened?”

Tate realized his breaths were sawing rapidly in and out. He inhaled slowly and shivered as the temperature dropped abruptly. “I was dancing. With North. There was another guy… He brought me to his car. I shouldn’t have gone. My…my head is all weird.”

“I need to know if you took anything, buddy.”

“I didn’t.”

“No one will judge you.”

“But I—”

“Did he say he was with North?” Brave, on his other side, taking his hand, his tone sharp. “He’s been popping pills all night. Did he give you any?”

“I didn’t…” Tate’s eyes teared and he shook so hard his teeth jammed together. They all thought this was his fault. The fucking junkie. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand held him down. “Let me go!”

Ballz brushed his hair back. Spoke softly. “Try to relax. If you said you didn’t take anything, I believe you.”

Tears spilled over Tate’s cheek in a stinging trail and he winced. “I can’t feel my arm. Is it still there?”

“Yes. But it’s broken.” Ballz cleared his throat. “I hear the ambulance. You’ll be okay, kid. I’ve got you.”

My arm. My arm is broken. What the fuck am I going to do now? The band was his life. If he couldn’t play, would they just send him home? Replace him? His stomach twisted violently and he barely managed to tilt his head to the side in time to avoid puking on the bodyguard.

“What the hell’s going on? Tate? Fuck, are you okay?” Connor called out, snarling. “Get out of my way, Brave.”

“Hey, this isn’t on me.” Brave sounded fucking pissed. “Weren’t you the one who was supposed to keep an eye on him?”

“I came before all of you.”

“And got in a fight.”

“We’ve already discussed that!”

“Yeah, but maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t fucking every member of every band on tour!”

“You’re one to talk!”

“Boys!” Skull shouted over the two as though they were little kids fighting over a toy.

How fucking appropriate.

Skull continued, his tone soothing. “Help me clear the way for the ambulance. Tate’s in good hands.” He paused. “Ballz, will you go with him to the hospital? Your German’s good enough to ease the process.”

Ballz ran his hand over Tate’s hair lightly. “Sure thing, Bro. But don’t leave the children with Tank. We still don’t know where that fucker who grabbed Tate went.”

“Did you call the police?” Skull’s voice was quiet. Calm.

“No.” Ballz cursed under his breath. “He’s probably long gone by now, but the police will likely question him at the hospital.”

“I’m going to be sick again.” Tate tried to turn, but pain sliced through his face and arm. He coughed and dry heaved as Ballz carefully turned him on his side.

The EMTs finally reached him, but he blacked out before they got him in the ambulance. Next thing he knew, he was in a hospital bed, surrounded by nurses and doctors. He searched the room for Ballz, but couldn’t find him.

He tried to call out. There was something in his throat. He struggled. Let out a scream that he couldn’t hear.

A pale face filled his vision. Then he felt a coolness in his arm. A weight all over, like he was sinking into the thin mattress.

And then…he was seeing the night play out, all over again.