“Freddie’s on her way,” Brian announces, propping open the door halfway for their manager’s entrance. The buzz of the outside crowd drifts into the bus. “She’ll brief us on the tour, then we’ll head back to the hotel.” He cuts a sharp glance at Griff. “Look at you. She’s already got you in those claws.”
Griff waves off his cousin’s words. The last thing he’s worried about is Brian and his shitty opinions. “Make yourself useful and get us a beer.”
For once in his life, Brian ignores him. He takes a step forward, arms crossed, face red. This time, he stares down Alabama. “You just couldn’t do it, could you?”
Alabama turns her body toward Brian, facing him fully. Her eyes blaze. “What I do is none of your business. Understand that.”
Griff frowns, not liking Brian’s slimy tone, the implication that he’s already had a little chat with Alabama. If Brian’s the reason for Alabama getting spooked, his cousin better learn how to run. Fast.
Griff rips a hand through his hair, wanting a goddamned explanation. “What the fuck are you two talkin’ about?”
But he’s ignored by both Alabama and Brian. They’re staring each other down like two guard dogs.
“I warned you to leave Griff alone.”
Alabama gets in his face and hisses, “You don’t own me, Brian. And no matter what you think, you don’t own Griff.”
Brian lets out a bitter laugh. “Don’t know what I expected from Alabama Forester. But it certainly ain’t hands-to-yourself.”
Griff turns his head sharply to look at Brian. “Careful,” he warns. His voice low and venomous. “Watch how you talk to her.”
Brian shakes his head, his nostrils flaring. “You ready to wear that ball and chain, Griff? You two take up now, she’s gonna ruin you. It’s easy to fix, man, all you gotta do is drop her. Go back to your old sound, your old life. I know you want that. You miss it. The way you’re actin’ around her—she ain’t worth it.” He holds Griff’s gaze. “We both know why she’s here, anyway.”
Griff freezes, raging inside, knowing Brian’s calling out Griff’s bet, the real reason Alabama’s been hired by CMI.
Griff meets his cousin’s eyes, and it’s all he can do not to go fucking nuclear. Christ help him, he wants to swing a fist right now. So damn bad. But he looses a breath, controlling himself. Through gritted teeth, he tells Brian, “What Alabama and I do is our business. Not like I owe you a goddamn explanation.”
But Brian can’t take the hint to shut the fuck up. He goes on, his eyes on Alabama, his expression one of disgust. “I don’t understand, Griff. I don’t understand why you’re dirtyin’ your hands with a little slut like her.”
A soft gasp comes from Alabama.
Griff’s head snaps to her. His heart clenches at the sight of her teary eyes, her expression hurt, so broken it already has him balling a fist.
No one makes her cry. Fucking no one.
His temper rising, Griff takes a step toward Brian. “I am gonna whip your ass.”
Alabama puts a hand on his chest. “You don’t have to defend my honor, Griff,” she says, her voice shaky.
“Why not?” he growls, placing a hand over hers. “Someone has to.”
A smirk snakes across Brian’s face. He juts his chin at Griff. “Don’t buy the act. She is what they say she is. Trash. Makin’ her mark on every man in Nash—”
Griff interjects with a sharp right hook.
Brian staggers back against the wall and then Griff swings again, knocking him out the open door. Brian sprawls down the stairs and Griff goes after him. They grapple in the parking lot. The crowd outside erupts into chaos at the scene. Cameras flash. Griff barely feels Alabama’s hand on his arm, trying to pull him away, talk him down, but he can’t be restrained. He won’t be.
Another sharp right sends Brian to the ground. His cousin stares up at Griff, wiping blood from his lips.
Griff levels him with a steely eye. “Pack up your shit. I want you off the bus. Tonight.”
That’s when Griff raises his eyes to the crowd.
They’re staring, dumbstruck, cameras flashing, and he realizes what he’s done. He started a fight, the one thing he explicitly promised Freddie he wouldn’t do.
Griff’s stomach plummets.
He just tanked the tour.