Down to My Soul (Soul Series Book 2)(56)

Concert-goer number two agrees, eyes fixed on Kai as she dances across the stage. “Didn’t they break up, though?”

“But he got to f*ck her first.” The guy cackles, licking his lips like he can taste my girl. “How else you think a chick from Nowhere, USA gets here this fast? He probably wasn’t the only one she f*cked to get on that stage.”

I knew there were some people who thought like that. Hell, that was Kai’s greatest fear, but to hear someone talk about her that way when she’s worked her ass off to get where she is; when she’s trained since she was a kid, sacrificed all her life and pressed through every delay, including her mom’s illness—it makes me furious. If I give in to this, I jeopardize my disguise and maybe cause a small commotion when people realize who I am. I can see those headlines now. Kai would never let me live that down. I jerk the reins on my control, pulling my own ass in line. I can’t resist some retaliation, though, however small.

I bump my shoulder against douchebag’s like someone jostled me, dumping my beer into his lap.

“Dude, what the f*ck!” He drops his pretzel, patting the huge wet spot on his jeans.

“My bad,” I mumble. “Sorry, man.”

“Just stay in your lane,” he snaps, looking at me an extra minute like he’s trying to place me. I pull my hat lower over my brow and bend, pretending to retrieve something from the floor. That wasn’t the ass-kicking he deserved, but at least I get to see my girl without causing a brawl.

She’s on her second song when I realize something isn’t right. She misses a step, and even though she recovers quickly, I know from her face something is wrong. She loses her place in the song, the band and the dancers moving forward without her. It’s like I’m watching it all in awful slow motion. One minute she’s standing in her skimpy little outfit, small and alone at the center of the huge stage, a choreographed spectacle behind her. The next minute, she presses her hand to her forehead, her face crumpling, her eyes rolling back in her head, her slim body falling into a glittering heap on the floor.

And taking my heart down with it.

I don’t make a conscious decision to rush toward the stage, but that’s what happens. I’m shoving everyone on my row, barreling down the aisle until I slam into a mass of flesh and bone and muscle. I jerk against two sets of hands gripping my arms on either side.

“Let go,” I say through gritted teeth.

“Man, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” one of the security guards says. “Return to your seat or we take you out.”

“No, you don’t understand.” I can barely get the words out because my heart is stuffed in my throat. “That’s my girlfriend. I need to get to Kai.”

“You and every other guy in this place.” The other guard starts dragging me back into the crowd. Onstage, the music still goes on, but the dancers have stopped, several of them running center stage where Kai lies completely still.

“No!” I dig in my heels in. “She is. Why won’t you . . . you have to let me . . .”

They’re dragging me backward. I’ve never felt so completely helpless in my life. She’s gone. A burly security guard scooped her up, taking her limp body offstage. A few dancers straggle back, but the whole crew is leaving. The announcer asks for everyone’s patience. Patience is a completely foreign concept to me right now. I strain against the strength of two massive security guards when it hits me. They don’t know who I am.

“I’m Rhyson Gray.” My eyes zipline between them. I try to keep my voice low when everything inside of me is rising and surging and clawing to get backstage.

“Geez, man,” Guard number one says, shaking his head. “You’re taking this fantasy kinda far. You gotta go.”

“Listen to me, shithead,” I ground out. “I’m Rhyson f*cking Gray. I’m wearing a disguise because I wanted to watch the show in peace, but my girlfriend just collapsed, and I need you to get me to her right now, dammit.”

Despite the death grip on my arm, I manage to get my hand to my mouth, peel the moustache away, and push my Dodgers cap back just enough for them to see.

Guard number one is still pulling me back, but the other one squints, studying me more closely before his eyes widen, recognition on his face.

“Curt, it’s him,” he says. “I think he is Rhyson Gray.”

Curt stops in his tracks, peering at me.

“Shiiiit. You sure?”

“Look.” I channel the coldness of my mother’s negotiator voice. “I am Rhyson Gray, and I promise you that if I’m not backstage in the next minute, both your jobs are mine. I need you as discreetly and quickly as possible to get me to my girlfriend. Now.”

They look from me to each other for a few seconds before shrugging in synch and dragging me again, this time toward a side door.

“This’ll get you backstage fast,” Curt says. “But we’ll need to see your license as soon as we get back there to confirm.”

“Whatever.” I nod, quickening the pace so I’m practically dragging them.

As soon as we’re backstage, I dig out my license. With that hurdle behind me, I’m not sure what should be next. There’s a flurry of activity as Luke’s dancers scramble to go on earlier than anticipated. There’s no sign of Luke or Malcolm or anyone I know.