“Who does that?” she said, blood hot where she stood by the window. “Who thinks it’s all right to spy on people in their most private space?” She fisted her hands on the sweatpants she’d pulled on—along with a zipped hoodie—for the visit by the cops. “Who thinks that way?”
“Scum.” Fox walked over, eyes shadowed and voice taut as he said, “You gonna run?”
“No, I’m going to fight.” Running out on Fox was simply not, and wouldn’t ever be, an option. “Never again is anyone going to turn me into prey—and I refuse to allow them to hurt you. We’ll kick their butts.”
Fox’s arms locked so tight around her that she couldn’t breathe for a second. Tugging back her head after easing his hold a fraction, he claimed her mouth. His kiss was wild possessiveness, unrelenting demand… but his body, it shuddered. Running her hands down his back, she held him close.
If she ever came face-to-face with the man responsible for putting that look in Fox’s eyes, as if he was readying himself to lose her, Molly would beat the bastard bloody. “No running away,” she said when their lips parted. “Not today, not tomorrow, not any day to come.”
“My tough, beautiful Molly.” His body shuddered again, his eyes dark. “I’m so fucking glad you’re mine.”
Molly held Fox’s words bang against her heart, her fingers locked bloodlessly tight with his as they stood ready to walk out the hotel’s main door midmorning. She’d been running on anger and adrenaline since four a.m., had, until a few minutes ago, believed she had the tools to deal with the media mauling about to happen. Now, with the horde only meters away, she wasn’t so sure. Her stomach churned, her chest painful beneath the peach top that she loved, the one with the softly tied bow at the throat.
“You sure we have to do this?” she asked Fox.
A squeeze of her hand. “We take the offensive,” he said, his confidence and determination a powerful force. “We control the situation, and we damn well stand proud.”
It was the same thing Charlotte had said when Molly called her best friend.
“Don’t you dare let them shame you.” Charlie’s voice had been fierce. “Go out there and show the world that Molly Webster is a force to be reckoned with. Also, try not to smack anyone—you sound like you’d really like to.”
Molly realized the anger was still there, embers burning beneath the nerves. “Charlie told me not to smack anyone,” she said to Fox, “but I’m not sure I’ll be able to stop myself if a reporter gets out of line with you.” Fox had focused only on her pain, shrugging off the exposure of his own body, but Molly was fuming over the way this incident had torn open his scars. “Don’t let me do anything dumb.”
His dimple appeared, her Fox back with a vengeance. “Follow my lead,” he said, and hauled her in for a deep kiss, his free hand covering the side of her face in the hold that always made her feel cherished. “Ready?”
Chapter 37
“Yes.” There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.
Looking over his shoulder, Fox nodded at Noah, David, and Abe, who were set to follow.
She’d thought the distance to the hotel entrance would seem endless, but the five of them were walking through the automatic glass doors what felt like a second later. David flanked Fox, while Noah and Abe stood next to her, a solid wall of friendship and loyalty. Charlie might not have been physically present, but Molly could hear her best friend’s voice in her mind, telling her not to smack anyone. It almost made her smile.
The mass of reporters, photographers, and cameramen—corralled off the hotel steps by a wall of black-suited security—began to scream questions the instant they spotted Fox.
“Spin is everything,” Thea had said to Molly and Fox in a call a quarter of an hour ago. “Make the world see you as an ordinary couple trying to have a relationship under the spotlight—and point out that this could happen to anyone.”
Her sister had barely taken a breath before continuing. “Allow them to glimpse your anger but don’t look hounded. The scent of blood only makes predators hungrier—shrug and say you’ll deal, but that the ones behind this will pay. No one messes with you and gets away with it.”
Now, looking at Fox as he stood in front of the cameras, ignoring the screaming until the media people began to nudge one another to shut up, Molly thought Thea had been wasting her breath. He’d do exactly what he’d do.
“Fox! Fox!” One reporter’s voice rose above the other fading ones. “Do you have a statement about the recent intimate photos of you and your”—the slightest pause—“lover?”
“Yeah, I have a statement,” Fox said, his tone a growl.
The entire rabble went quiet.
“Being caught with a gorgeous, sexy woman having one hell of a good time isn’t exactly something I’m going to apologize for.” He paused as the reporters laughed, the tension dropping in a steep dive. “Especially when that woman is Molly.”
Heads swung toward her, questions congesting the air.
“Are you going to introduce us?” another reporter managed to shout above the wall of noise.
“World, meet Molly.” Gripping her jaw, Fox kissed her full on the mouth, complete with tongue. “Molly, world.”
Blushing, she found herself half-laughing as she faced the cameras. “I’m going to kill you,” she muttered under her breath when his hand landed on her butt.
His smile turned wicked.
“Molly! Molly! Are you as unworried about this as Fox?”
“Well, I did get caught in bed with a rock god. I’m real sorry.” She didn’t know where the words came from, but they were the right ones from the way the reporters began to hoot and clap.
Fox held up a hand when they would’ve shouted more questions, his other one hooked into the back pocket of her jeans. “One thing I want to say—Molly and I, we’re never going to be sorry about what we do between the sheets.”
Another wave of laughter and conspiratorial grins.
“But,” Fox continued, “I’m the possessive type. I share my music, my voice, and I don’t think anyone will argue when I say I’ve been more than open when it comes to interviews”—a round of nods—“but the one thing I will not share is Molly.”
He waited to let that sink in before continuing, the ruthless edge back in his voice. “No matter how long it takes, I will crush both the voyeur who decided to get his pathetic rocks off by violating our bedroom, and the scum-sucking site that put the footage up.”
He held up his hand again when the media would’ve asked more questions. “I have a request of Schoolboy Choir fans—we’ve always been accessible to you guys in every way we could be. Now I’m asking you to honor the years we’ve been on this rock-and-roll ride together by not sharing or reposting this content. This isn’t about the music, it’s about hurting my girl, and that is not fucking okay.”
Molly wanted so badly to kiss him at that instant that she almost didn’t hear the question that floated into the air as they turned to leave.
“Molly! Is that a Kiwi accent?”
She knew there was no point in prevaricating; her whole life would soon be an open book to the media, the past she’d tried so hard to outrun thrown in her face. “Yes,” she said, her fingers locked once more with Fox’s.
“I told you you’d handle it.” Fox closed his arms around her the instant they were alone inside their brand-new luxury coach.
As of now, Schoolboy Choir would no longer be staying in hotels during the tour. Aside from the driving section up front, which was sectioned off by a soundproofed wall, each coach had a furnished living area and bedroom, as well as a section for the facilities. It reminded Molly of the small apartment she’d rented right out of university, neat and functional, though without much extra space.
It would require some logistics to get the coaches to concert locations on time, with the band often having to fly ahead, but that was a minor issue compared to the guaranteed privacy. Each coach could only be accessed by a thumbprint scan.