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Managed:a VIP novel(21)

By:Kristen Callihan


Whip steps up behind him, his blue eyes flashing with impish humor. "Did you tell her about the initiation rites?"

"If it involves anything sexual," I say blandly, "I offer free nuttings  with a hundred-percent guarantee to leave a man incapacitated for an  hour at minimum."

Whip laughs. "I bet. Naw, you just have to drink a lot and make a fool  of yourself at least once." He runs his hand through coal back hair that  reaches his collar. Effortlessly cool rocker. "But I promise to take  the lead."

Jax crams in behind him and gives him a nudge to move on. "Out of the way, pretty boy."

Killian and Libby follow, and soon we're all crowded in.

Brenna leaves us as the bus gets ready to go. But she's right; they all  make me feel comfortable and welcome. If I'm going to be stuffed in a  bus with minimal privacy and space, bunking with these guys isn't a bad  option at all.

I remind myself of this and refuse to think of Gabriel Scott on his own bus, or how much space he must have to rattle around.

After settling in, I join the guys and Libby in the living area. Libby  is putting out a tray of biscuits, but stops to offer me one before I  sit.

"Get one now," she tells me in her soft Southern drawl, "because these jackals will devour them in a second."

I take a napkin and a flaky, hot biscuit. "You baked?"

She smiles wryly, and her grey eyes light up. "Made the dough before and froze it. Not much room for anything else."

Killian's hand reaches down between us, and he snatches two. "Best baker  ever." He gives Libby a quick kiss on her cheek. "Love you, Elly May."

She rolls her eyes and sets the tray down for the guys. "I'm thinking you're more loving my biscuits right now, lawn bum."

"Never."

They grin at each other, and I take a picture before sitting down.  Killian is right; Libby is an excellent baker. And Libby is right; the  food is devoured in a blink. I find a seat and simply watch the guys  interact. There's something comforting about witnessing old friends  enjoy each other's company.         

     



 

But they don't leave me out. Whip turns his attention to me soon enough. "So, Bren threw you right into the lion's den, eh?"

"You guys seem pretty tame."

He laughs, and I'm struck by the fact that he looks very much like Killian, only blue-eyed instead of dark. "Sadly, we are now."

"You miss being wild?" I ask, taking a picture because he's just too  pretty lounging in a black leather armchair, his toned body doing nice  things for the vintage Def Leppard concert tee he's wearing.

"Naw," he says. "I'm kind of liking this tamer phase. More productive, at the very least."

"He's just getting old," Rye says, opening a small fridge and pulling out a few bottles of beer.

"You're six months older than I am," Whip points out.

"I age better."

"Like moldy cheese," Whip says.

Rye plops down next to me on the small banquet. "I'm surprised Scottie was cool with you sleeping on this bus."

Killian passes me a beer. "Why wouldn't he be? It's her job to record us."

"It's cute that you described my job with finger quotes," I tell him, rolling my eyes.

He grins with teeth, so fake, and I snap a pic before he can stop. At this he scowls, but it lacks any heat.

"Brat. I'm not saying I like my every move being chronicled-and post  that goof one at your peril-but I'm admitting it's a needed aspect of  the tour, all right?"

I blink rapidly while clutching my chest. "Can't. Respond. Shock. Too. Great."

Libby laughs. "See? You'll fit in just fine."

"Thanks." I click beer bottles with her.

"Still not getting why Scottie would complain about Sophie on the bus,"  Killian says. "He was adamant that we treat her with … " His voice turns  crisp and clipped, mimicking Gabriel's accent to a tee. " … ‘the bloody  respect a trained professional deserves.'"

He said that? I become a little less ticked at him. Just a little.

Rye gives an expansive sigh. "Because dumbass Jax made it sound like he'd hooked up with her."

Killian's mouth falls open, and he stares at Jax as if he's sprouted  horns. "You told Scottie you slept with Sophie?" he all but squeaks,  which is impressive given his naturally low voice.

"It was a joke," Jax says from his sprawl across the couch. "Calm down."

Killian shakes his head. "Oh, man. That's nothing to joke about. You're dead."

"Scottie needs to lighten up. And you do too."

"He has every right to kick your ass." Killian wings a bottle cap at  Jax. "You violated the first law of the man code, Mr. Dead Man Walking."

Jax frowns. "No way."

"Yeah, you did," Whip adds with a laugh.

Even Rye shakes his head. "You didn't know? Who put you up to even telling Scottie that story?"

Jax sits up straight. "Brenna brought it up to him!"

Rye makes a noise of horror. "That's just mean. Even for Brenna."

"Eh," Jax says, rubbing the back of his head. "I think he was giving her shit for something."

"Clearly the man was playing with fire," Rye deadpans.

"Truth."

"What the hell is the first law of the man code?" I cut in.

Killian takes a sip of his beer before answering. "Never encroach upon your buddy's territory."

"Territory," I parrot. "You make us sound like dogs."

"Soph," Whip says solemnly, "when it comes to guys and sex, we're all dogs."

"True," adds Rye.

"I'm not Gabriel's territory for him to piss over." Not that anyone seems to believe me.

Killian's dark eyes fill with amusement. "You're the only one he lets call him Gabriel."

"Shit," Jax says with a wince. "You're right. I missed that."

"You're blind then." Whip gives Jax's flat belly a slap. "Dude, he saw her first. That's like calling-"

"If you say ‘dibs'," Libby cuts in, "I will gag."

Killian laughs and slings an arm around her. "Aw, honey, no gagging without my helping."

At this we all gag.

"But still," Jax says when the guys settle down. "How was I supposed to know? We're talking about Scottie, for fuck's sake."

"What's so strange about that?" I feel compelled to ask.

"He isn't known to … er … partake," Rye says with a shrug.         

     



 

"Partake?" I look around at the guys.

"Fuck around," Killian supplies. "He's kind of like a monk."

Whip nods. "When was the last time anyone saw him with a woman?"

"Fucking forever ago." Rye shudders as if the thought terrifies him. "If he's getting any, he's doing it on the sly."

Something ugly twists in my stomach. I don't want to think of Gabriel  with women. And really don't like the idea of the guys discussing his  sex life, or lack of one. Gabriel is a proud man; he'd hate this  conversation. "We shouldn't be talking about him this way."

"You're right," Killian says. "No doubt his Scottie Sense is tingling."

"We shouldn't be talking about him," Libby says in a stronger voice, "because it's rude and none of our business."

I knew I liked that woman.

Killian kisses her cheek. "Right you are, Libs." He gives Jax a look filled with warning. "Sleep with one eye open, man."

"He's on another bus," Jax grumbles.

"You look worried," I point out. I admit this gives my inner toddler some satisfaction.

Jax's smile is self-deprecating. "Little known fact, honey, Scottie boy  is scrappy as shit. I've seen him make men twice his size cry for their  mommas with a well-placed kick-punch combo. Fucking bare knuckle  legend-"

Killian clears his throat loudly and gives a slight shake of his head.

But I'm a dog on the hunt now. "Hold on, he's what?"

"A stone cold badass," Rye says. "But you didn't hear it from us.  Seriously, he really can kick all our asses so … yeah, no more talking  about Scottie, ‘kay?"

He's laughing as he says it, but I get the feeling he truly doesn't want  Gabriel to find out I know about his fighting. I can respect that.  Doesn't stop me from thinking of his hard body and muscles that strain  his properly cut shirts. Is that how he developed those? As a fighter? I  can't picture him getting into a fight out of anger, but a controlled  match? I can see that, and it leaves me feeling oddly morose.

They move on to another topic, but I can't help looking out of the  tinted window. There's nothing but darkness and the occasional flicker  of headlights. Somewhere behind us, Gabriel is alone on his bus. I know  full well he wants it that way, but I hurt for him all the same.  Isolated from his friends, and why? Why does he hide himself away? Does  he get lonely?

I hate that fate for him. The urge to be with him instead is so strong, I  imagine myself leaping from the window and somehow landing on his bus,  straight up Super Girl style. No, Wonder Woman. That way I could tie him  down with my lasso when he protests my invasion of his Fortress of  Solitude.