Managed (VIP #2)(101)

Whip tosses himself on me, which bloody hurts, and musses my hair. “We love you too, Scottie boy.”

I shove him to the floor. “Animals, the lot of you.” But I feel better. Except I don’t. Not at all. “I am f*cked, aren’t I?”

“Pretty much,” Killian says with a nod.

“I’m not falling in love,” Jax declares. “I have enough f*cked emotions to work through.”

“Famous last words, dude,” Whips says from the floor.

“So, did you apologize to Sophie?” Jax asks.

“Of course. But I cocked it up, and she asked for space.”

“You didn’t give her space, did you?” Killian sounds horrified.

It gives me pause, and I peer up at him. “Wasn’t I supposed to?”

“No, you don’t give them space,” he wails. “That’s only some shit they say to see if you’ll fight for them.”

Outrage punches through me. “Why the bloody hell would they do that to us?”

“To see if we’re paying attention?” Jax offers.

“To torture us?” Rye counters.

“It’s simply biology,” Whip says as if he’s suddenly an expert. “Men are wired to love the hunt, and women are wired to love being hunted.”

“That sounds like something women would call sexist,” I counter.

“They might protest,” Whip agrees. “But deep down they know it’s true.”

“Women should come with instructions.” Rye takes a sip of his beer and stares down at the bottle. “Or a warning label.”

Killian laughs. “They do, man. You just have to learn how to read them. Problem is, most of us don’t learn how until a woman has knocked us on our asses. Trial by fire, my friends. And you will burn.”

“Killian James, prophet of doom,” I say, knowing he’s right. And hating it.

“Look,” he kicks my foot. “You f*cked up. Now you gotta go make a gesture that shows her she’s the most important person in your life.”

“Should I go sing a song that calls her an easy lay?” I ask. Which is low, because that was Killian’s mistake with Libby.

The guys snicker, and Killian kicks me again. “I married the girl, jackass, so I won.”

Marriage isn’t something I’ve ever wanted, or even considered. But I could marry Sophie. I picture it: my ring on her finger, all my assets guaranteed to go to her. She’d be financially safe for life. She’d be mine for life. And instead of the future being a blank wall I never examine, it would be sunshine and light. It would be her happy laughter and soft warmth. Perfection.

Yearning adds to the ache in my heart.

I haul myself up, wincing at the pain in my chest and stomach. “Everyone out. I have gestures to plan.”

“Thatta boy, Scottie.” Rye slaps my shoulder. “Just, whatever you do, don’t make it a Star Trek theme.”

Because I know it will please them, I flip the finger as I head toward the shower.

My progress stops when Brenna bursts into the room.

“You complete *,” she says by way of greeting.

“I see you’ve been talking to Sophie.” I refrain from demanding where she is and how she’s doing. But only just.

Brenna sneers. “Did you really tell Jules to send Sophie home? Like she’s some f*cking lackey you can fob off when things get difficult?”

My blood runs cold. “What?”

“Sophie heard you telling Jules to put her on a plane. Not first class this time? Ring a f*cking bell?”

“Oh, shit,” Rye says somewhere behind me.

I ignore him, horror prickling my skin and making my ears ring. Sophie thinks I want her gone? No wonder she appeared so hurt, lashing out at me like the walking wounded. And I gave her space with that to brood on all night.

“I was talking about Jennifer, the sodding roadie who let that f*ckwit Martin into Jax’s room! Sophie is my life, for f*ck’s sake.”

“Oh,” Brenna says, looking pleased. “Well, that’s good.” But then her happy face falls. “Actually, it’s bad.”

“Why?” It’s all I can do not to grab Brenna and shake her.

Brenna’s nose wrinkles. “She, ah, left a note saying she was going ‘on walkabout’.”

“What the f*ck is a walkabout?” I roar.

“Crocodile Dundee,” Killian calls out behind me. “You know, when he went roaming around the outback?”

Sweet hell, my girl is a nut. An adorable little nut.

“Where is she walking about?” I grit out.

Brenna grimaces. “Australia. Her flight leaves at five.”

My girl is an adorable, misguided, evil nut who I’m going spank as soon as I get my hands on her. I need to get to her. Oh, God help me, I need to make that gesture Killian was going on about.

I might truly be ill when it’s all said and done. But I can do this. For her, I’ll do anything.

I let out a breath and shove my hands into my hair to hold my pounding head.

“All right,” I say. “All right, I need help, and I need it now.”

And my mates, God love them all, rise to the occasion.

“What do you need, Scottie?”