Saddened, Molly laid her head against his shoulder and didn’t ask further questions. As she wouldn’t betray Charlotte’s secrets, she didn’t expect Fox to betray Noah’s. “The streets are so quiet and pretty this time of night.” Rain had fallen not long ago, and everything shimmered, the lights reflecting off the tarmac. “Let’s do this in other cities.”
Fox ran his fingers lightly over the side of her face where she lay tucked up against him. “Just don’t tell anyone I’m doing romantic bullshit.”
“Tough guy.” Snuggling into him, she said, “Can we ride around for a while?”
“Long as you want.”
They stayed out almost to dawn, stopping to play barefoot in a deserted fountain and dance under the moonlight in an otherwise empty plaza. Held in Fox’s arms, his cheek against her hair and the only sound that of their breaths, Molly drew in the scent of him and felt her heart overflow with love.
“Sorry ’bout the ropes,” she said sleepily much, much later, cuddling up to him in bed.
“Nothing to be sorry about—I’ve never had a better night out.” Fox stroked his hand down her spine, the callused pads of his fingers a delicious, familiar roughness, his words a gift against her skin. “I’ve decided to save the ropes for when we have hours to play. I wouldn’t want to rush.” A kiss to her shoulder as goose bumps broke out over her skin. “Good night, Molly Webster.”
“Good night, Zachary Fox.” I love you.
Fox was the one who found Abe the next afternoon when the big keyboard player didn’t meet the rest of them for a late lunch in Fox and Molly’s suite. “I’ll go wake him,” he said with a grin. “Maybe I’ll use this ice cube to do it.” Plucking the cube from his otherwise empty orange juice glass, he wrapped it in a thick napkin.
Noah and David grinned, but with restraint. Both their heads had to be throbbing since it turned out that after Noah showed his women the door last night, he’d woken David up and talked him into another drink or five.
“The rock-and-roll life,” Molly said sweetly, “is not healthy for your livers.”
David groaned. “Fucking tequila. Never again.”
“You said that last time.”
“Shut up, you minion of evil.”
Noah splurted his coffee. “Minion of evil? Last night you were declaring your undying love.”
“I’m going to stab you in a second.”
“For the record, Molly,” Noah said, turning his attention to her, “we’ve been saints since we returned home. Saints. We didn’t want Fox’s girl to get the wrong impression about us.”
Rolling her eyes, Molly took pity on the two males and was pouring them fresh coffee when her cell phone rang. It was Fox. “Get in here, bring the others.” He hung up after that terse instruction, and she saw why when they reached Abe’s room.
The keyboardist was sprawled in his bed, reeking of alcohol, bottles strewn around him and the brunette from the club nowhere in evidence. This, Molly knew at once, was more than a few too many drinks. “He needs medical attention.” She’d seen her mother like this, the memory an ugliness under her skin.
“It’s on its way.” Fox’s jaw was a brutal line. “I called 911.”
Thinking past her instinctive anger, the rage an old one, and back to the first-aid course she’d attended during university, she said, “We have to turn him to his side, make sure he has a clear airway.” Abe had thrown up at some stage, that much was apparent, but he’d survived. They had to keep him that way until the paramedics arrived.
The men rolled Abe into the correct position while she checked to make sure his airway wasn’t obstructed. His breathing did seem to steady after the change in position, but it remained shallow, the normally rich mahogany of his skin pallid. “Has he done this before?”
“No. He drinks, but nothing more than the rest of us.” Noah’s fists were so tight his skin had gone bone white. “Cocaine was his problem, but he kicked the habit. He made it.”
Except it was clear to all of them that Abe had only switched addictions.
Five hours later, the keyboardist was conscious but in no state to get out of bed. “It was just a binge,” he said when the others confronted him in his private hospital room.
Molly had stayed outside the room, knowing this was something the four men needed to discuss alone, but she remained within earshot. Noah’s temper, from what she’d seen, was as hot as Fox’s. Abe wasn’t far behind. David was calmer, but he was furious today, white lines bracketing his mouth. If needed, she’d step in to defuse the situation before it got violent. None of the men were the type to raise a hand against a woman.
“A binge?” Noah shouted. “You were almost in a coma!”
“Shit, lower your voice.” It was a groan.
“What the hell are you doing, Abe?” Fox asked through what sounded like clenched teeth. “You stopped snorting coke, so you’ll kill yourself this way instead?”
“What I do in my own f**king time is my own f**king business.”
“You want to go there?” David said, and he didn’t sound like the calm one at all. “You really want to say that when we might have to go onstage tomorrow without you?”
“I’ll be fine by then.”
“Have you looked at yourself?” Noah demanded. “Your hands are shaking and you can’t even get out of bed.”