Propelling himself through the crowd, he barreled after them. He didn’t know what to expect, but he was ready for a fight.
• • •
“Watch her head,” Fallon barked as George picked up Jade and carefully laid her down on the chaise longue next to the wardrobe racks. Sweat clammed thick on Jade’s body, the costume for the group number sodding, clinging tightly to her body with wet suction. Some of the sequins had fallen off a loose thread and the small black circles were sticking to her arms, highlighting the fresh puncture to the inside of her forearm. A small red pinprick already forming the early stages of a bruise.
“I’ve got her,” George assured quietly. But Fallon heard the waver in his voice, his concern.
Naomi worked her way around the chaise and squatted next to Jade’s legs, the rest of her girls huddled close by. “She just stumbled out of the bathroom.” Na choked. “She latched onto the mirror and then she just fell. Should . . . should I call an ambulance?”
“No,” Fallon said quickly, running her hand over Jade’s sweaty, matted hair, peeling it from her sticky face. She’d seen Jade like this before. Once, shortly after Jade had moved into the apartment. “Check her to make sure she didn’t get cut when the mirror fell,” she ordered. She spoke to no one in particular; she just needed to claim the control of the situation. She needed to feel in control.
“What happened?”
The voice that carried through the small room backstage rained over her in a mist of concern. His voice was hard and stern, willing the answer he was seeking with the rich depth of his tone and the pure control in his volume. She felt the tension in the room shift to him, as if he were absorbing the panic from her dancers. She didn’t need to look at him to know his posture embodied security, protection. Because she felt it—even with her back to him she felt it.
Which made him more dangerous to her than she could possibly even realize.
She kept her eyes on Jade, squatting next to her, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. The hairs on the back of Fallon’s neck pricked when Rafe’s leg brushed against her side as he approached.
“She’s high,” he stated.
Baring her teeth, she narrowed her sights on him. “I know, dammit!” She stood up and took a step away from the chaise. Jade had promised she’d never pull this stunt again. She’d been clean for nearly two years. When Fallon had found her strung out and on the streets, she’d offered her the apartment, offered her a job. And she’d told Jade she wouldn’t put up with this shit. She’d be out on her ass.
But as she looked down at her, sweaty and still and silent on the couch, Fallon’s heart broke. She wouldn’t turn her back on Jade just because she’d fucked up. She couldn’t. Not then, not now.
Spinning around so she was facing the wall—away from the waiting eyes of her girls—she drew in a deep breath and smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. Anger chased her, hot and enflamed, like a raw, swelling welt on her heart.
A hand tucked firmly against the small of her back and she allowed her posture to lean into it, allowed him to absorb some of the fury coursing through her body. His other hand secured around her elbow, fingers curling into her skin as he pressed his chest into her side.
“What was her preference?” he whispered. She appreciated his discreetness.
“Heroin.”
“Fuck. Okay,” he started, spinning her around to face him. “Do you know what to look for?”
She shook her head. She’d seen her days of teenage rebellion, but she’d never slipped deep enough to familiarize herself with hard drugs like heroin. But she could probably figure it out.
“It’s a honey-colored powder, most likely in a small clear bag. Find it and flush it. Look in obvious places,” Rafe said, his fingers digging into her arms gently so he didn’t hurt her, but just hard enough to encourage her to respond.
She nodded, trancelike. How could this happen? Right under her nose? In her club? She’d let Jade down—she should have noticed she was using again. Was she using again?
Her body trembled, palpitated by defeat and guilt.
“Hey.” Rafe’s fingers lifted to her chin, forcing her to meet his waiting gaze. She knew what was waiting for her in those eyes, and she couldn’t afford to get lost right now. She needed to remove the fog, not get swallowed by it.
“Fallon, babe, you got to pull it together. I’m right here. I’ll stay right here.” He released his hold on her, his hands expelling the trance she fell into.
She stepped to the side, making sure her girls could see the authority she forced back into her expression. “Molly, your time to shine, baby. Get your ass onstage. Na, go tell Simone to call Ace and tell him to get here, now. Keep the lineup the same, just alter it without Jade. It should be no big deal.”