Twisted(90)

Her stomach wobbled. This was not good.

Gray’s hand landed on her shoulder an instant before Nick spoke again. “Snake, what are you doing here?”

“Now is that any way to say hello to your old buddy?” Snake muscled his way into the foyer and gave Nick a hug that Nick returned with little enthusiasm.

“And look at this, my replacements are here too. It’s like old fucking home week.” Snake swaggered across the hall and stuck his hand out at Gray, ignoring Jazz completely. “What’s up, man? Greg, isn’t it?”

“Gray,” he responded, clamping his palm that much tighter on Jazz’s shoulder. “You remember Jazz.”

Snake acted as if Gray hadn’t spoken. Jazz shifted, moving more securely into the circle of Gray’s arm. Not for protection, but because he’d tensed like a wild animal on the verge of leaping for the kill.

“Where is Tori?” Nick asked, bracing his arm on the open door. “How the hell did you find out where we’re staying?”

“Tori’s waiting in the car. She accidentally let it slip about the cabin’s location and I offered to give her a ride here, seeing as we’re old friends and all. Guess you guys had a little hot tub soiree type thing the other night?” Snake circled his finger. “She just thinks you’re the hottest thing ever. Which kind of sucks for me, since we’ve been hitting it since that party backstage last year. Guess a current Oblivion guitarist is worth more than a has-been Oblivion drummer.”

Nick shot Jazz a look. Jazz flung one at Gray, who stared at Snake as if he were the same sort of creature that he’d taken his name from.

“Okay, so you’ve got a thing for Tori. Works for me. She neglected to inform me that you two were acquainted.” From Nick’s thin smile, he’d be sharing his displeasure about that fact with her soon enough. “If you want to take her and go, by all means.”

“Really, man? That’s where we’re at after all this time?” Snake shook his head and glanced at Gray. “You ever have a friend you’ve known since you were kids, one you’d give your goddamn life for, sell you out for the flavor of the month? Fucking blows.”

“Yeah, I know what it’s like to have a friend I’d give my life for.” Gray tightened his embrace on Jazz. “You’re looking at her.”

Jazz’s heart squeezed and she glanced up at Gray, unable to suppress her smile. But he wasn’t looking at her. His attention was locked on Snake, who was glaring at Nick.

“That’s not what happened and you know it. I had your back long after Simon and Deacon turned theirs. I fought to keep you in the band. You promised me you’d keep clean and you broke those promises time after time.”

“Speaking of promises, I ran into someone else you guys know recently.” Snake walked over to the door and closed it, leaning a beefy shoulder against the wood as if he expected someone to try to forcibly shove him out.

No one moved.

Jazz figured the guys were as shell-shocked as she was. This was just supposed to be a relaxing night hanging out. She’d hoped to continue the good streak they were on, and now they had this sneering giant of a dude causing shit.

Nick pushed a hand through his hair, his frustration leaking through. “Yeah? Who?”

“Not sure you know her, Nicky boy, but my man Gray over there sure does.”

Jazz went cold. She didn’t look at Gray but she didn’t need to. The rigidity of the arm around her shoulders told her everything she needed to know.

What was coming next wouldn’t be good.

“About five-six, long blonde hair, blue eyes. Fucking stacked—”

“Mind your manners, asshole.” Gray stepped in front of Jazz as if Snake had thrown an actual punch her way rather than a metaphorical one. She didn’t even think she was his intended target, just a casualty of his war with Nick, Deacon and Simon. Oblivion would always be their band, and he’d never stop seeing her and Gray as outsiders.

But at least before she’d had Gray on her side. Always. Right now, despite his solid frame blocking her view of Snake, she felt very much alone.

“Gray.” She nudged him back but he didn’t move. So she sidestepped him and slapped her best I’m fine smile on, the one that had served her well from facing her first foster mother at twelve to looking Mrs. Duffy in the eye at sixteen after her oldest son had tried to rape her.

She would never break in front of anyone.

“No, you shouldn’t have to listen to his obnoxious BS. He came here just to start trouble. He doesn’t know what the fuck he’s—”