Noah and Reb burst through the gathered crowd, followed by Sam and the rest of the ‘Bama Boys. I’d barely registered their presence when arms came around me, lifting me off the ground. Panicked, I kicked out, aiming for the shins of my attacker.

“For fucks sake, Mols!” Nate snapped in my ear. “Calm the fuck down. It’s over.”

I blinked, clearing my eyes. It was over. Pete and his girlfriend were escorted away, hopefully out of the club. Everyone else started to turn away, realizing that the night’s entertainment was over.

Mike spoke to Sam before turning and stomping in my direction. As soon as he reached me, he leaned down to look at me, two fingers forcing my chin up. “What in the fuck was that?”

I jerked my head out of his grasp and glared back. “Apparently the douche canoe had a girlfriend. One that he forgot to mention.”

He only rolled his eyes. “Yeah, thanks for clearing that up, genius. I’m talking about you getting into a barroom brawl.”

God, he was so annoying. “You’re welcome, asshole.”

He shook his head once, eyes moving to my cheek. The damn thing stung, and I knew she got me good. I closed my eyes for a second, hoping to gather strength. If it was as bad as it felt, there wasn’t enough concealer in the world to cover it. Fuck!

When I opened my eyes, I found Mike peering down at me with worry in his eyes, his hands closing gently around my head as his fingers worked their way through my hair, massaging my skull. “She hit you?”

I shook my head. “No. Just the scratches.” I moved and pain shot through my back. “I hit my back pretty hard though.”

He cursed under his breath. “Okay. Let’s get to the hotel and I’ll look at it.”

I shook my head. “I need another drink.”

“Maybe back at the hotel. Right now, we need to get out of here.”

“Fuck, I need to call Lia.” I reached to pull the phone out of my back pocket when his hand stopped mine.

“No. Let her sleep.”

“She needs to do damage control before it’s too late.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he assured me. “Let’s get you to the hotel first and then figure the rest out.”

Like a well-oiled machine, Sam pulled one of the Suburbans around back, and Mike guided Nate and me into the backseat before climbing in the front. No one said anything on the ride back to the hotel; instead, Mike and Nate spent the time on their phones, texting or emailing. There’d been plenty of nights like this before, when a fight had broken out at a bar and we’d had to sneak out the back to avoid cameras. Usually, it was Nate, or one of the guys who had caused trouble, though, and I’d had to leave because I was collateral damage.

This was my first time in the naughty seat since I’d started performing with the band. My hand hurt, the side of my face stung, and my back felt like I’d fallen down a couple flights of stairs. A tense energy floated around the truck, putting me on edge.

Nate kissed me on the cheek when the elevator opened on my floor, and gave Mike a silent nod. Mike didn’t respond, instead holding out a hand in front of him so that I could go first. I wasn’t even going to bother with a bath tonight. I was going to find a bottle of Tylenol, down three tablets, and crawl into bed.

Mike had different ideas. “Take off your shirt,” he ordered as he flipped the lock on our door.

“Come on, Mikey. You’re not even going to buy a girl a drink first?”

He walked into the little kitchen area and turned on the faucet, completely ignoring the sass. Grabbing a cloth from one of the drawers, he held it under the water. “Mols. Shirt off.” When I still didn’t attempt to remove my clothes, he rolled his eyes, sighed, and then motioned me to him. I went, but only because I was too worn out to argue.

As soon as I got close enough, he grabbed my hips and lifted me onto the counter, moving in between my legs. My breath caught at the intimacy of the move. When his hands slid from my hips up the side of my torso and under my arms, my heart started to pound. Never taking his eyes off mine, he picked up my arms, holding them straight above my head, held both of my wrists with one hand while the other slid back down my side, skirting around my breast, until it reached the bottom of my shirt.

I swear he even stopped breathing for a moment as he worked the difficult zipper up, incredibly slowly. Every few seconds, his fingertips would brush against my naked skin, causing goose bumps to erupt all over my body. He lowered my arms as soon as the shirt was unzipped, and, eyes still on mine, unbuttoned the shoulder straps quicker than I’d ever been able to do it. With a small tug, the fabric barrier was gone.

His eyes drifted down, as if by their own will, and he swallowed audibly. I didn’t need to glance down to know that he was getting an eye full. I’d worn my favorite bra tonight, the one that gave me just enough coverage where I needed it, but pushed me up and out, showcasing the one feature of mine that all men seemed to enjoy. The girls did look fantastic in it.

His eyes were heavy when he glanced back up, full of lust. For a few precious seconds, he stared at my lips, and I knew he wanted me to kiss him. My alcohol-induced buzz had worn off long ago, so I couldn’t blame my feelings on booze, but damn if I didn’t want him to lean over and press his lips to mine.

As soon as his eyes met mine, though, the spell was broken and he swore. “Fuck. You’re gonna have a wicked shinah.” His Maine accent slipped out and caused me to smile. Usually, he did his best to hide it, but every now and then, he sounded just like Lia. “She got your eye.”

The washcloth was warm, but it still made me cringe as he washed the wound from the outside corner of my eye almost to my mouth. “Maybe I should go get a tetanus shot,” I joked. “I don’t know where that cat has been.”

Mike nodded. “That’s actually not a bad idea. Are your shots up to date?”

I shook my head. “I was kidding, Mr. Serious. All I need is some pain pills and a bed.”

He dropped the cloth in the sink and turned my body slightly before poking and prodding my back. “It’s gonna be a nasty bruise,” was all he said before moving on to my hand. After ensuring each of my fingers still bent and my knuckles weren’t shattered, he gave me a nasty look. “Stay put.”

Seconds later, he came out of his room, carrying a white first aid kit, and even though I insisted I didn’t need any further treatment, he disinfected my face, broke an instant ice pack for my hand, and gave me two Tylenol.

“My hero,” I muttered as he lifted me off the counter and grabbed his vibrating phone.

Giving me a wink, he patted my ass twice. “Now, go pack all your shit.”

“What? Why?”

He glanced up from his cell phone just long enough to give me an annoyed look. “We’re leaving in ten.”

“That’s not an answer, Mike!”

He shot off a quick text before tucking his phone into the pocket of his jeans. “A video from the bar was just uploaded. Tomorrow morning this place is going to be swarming with photographers. We’re leaving before they realize where we are.”

That made sense. “See? Was that so hard?”

“It would be a helluva lot easier if you’d just do what you’re told.”

I stuck out my tongue. “Never gonna happen, buddy.”

“You’ve got like eight minutes, kid. Then we’re leaving. With or without your shit.”

I hurried into my room, pushing my pants off as soon as the door closed and folding them into my already packed bag with the heels I’d worn. I’d left out yoga pants and a comfy oversized tee shirt to sleep in, along with sandals to wear onto the bus, and I put them on before grabbing my makeup case from the bathroom. I liked to sleep in the mornings, so I was always packed and ready to go the night before we were due to get back on the road. It gave me more time to sleep, and made it much less hectic. Grabbing my bag, I grunted a little and winced at the pain in my back when I realized how heavy it was, but I made it to the door before he did.