“Never fear, he’s not into skank,” Dave said as I heard the door behind me, the one to the suite, open.

I ignored the door opening and looked down at Dave.

“Well, not, you know, now,” he went on, his eyes dancing.

“Right,” I replied.

“Hey, Lyla,” a voice called, and I turned to it.

Two men I had met some time ago had entered.

One, the one who spoke, I had only met once.

And the other one I had spent a goodly amount of awkward time with last night.

Okay.

Shoot.

I didn’t remember the first one’s name.

Was it Tim, or Jim?

“Glad to have you back,” the younger, blond one who was in the band said to me as he offered his hand.

I took it, his hand closed warm around mine, he grinned at me then let go and looked to Dave.

“Thank fuck, coffee,” he said. “Mine’s bein’ mopped up downstairs.”

He took hold of the carafe as I turned my eyes to the other one who had come to stand beside me.

I knew his name was Tom.

And he’d had a recent shower.

“Hi,” I said quietly.

“Hey,” he said shortly.

Hmm.

Before I could say anything else or ask if anyone wanted something from room service, Dave asked Tim (Jim?), “Shit sorted?”

“Label’s takin’ care of it,” Tim (?) muttered. “Though the hotel is also not happy that Jesse’s escorting women in their underwear through the halls even if it was two o’clock in the morning.”

On this, the bedroom doors opened.

And I arrested.

Totally.

Because a wet Preacher was stalking out wearing nothing but a towel.

And…

And…

God almighty.

His body.

His slick with wet body with that chest and those shoulders and arms and that chest hair.

Was all of that even real?

I was asking myself this question as it occurred to me, he was also dragging a now totally nude Cynthia with him.

He jerked her to a halt, prowled back to the bedroom, snatched her clothes from where she’d obviously dropped them on the bed, and came back out.

He tossed them on the floor at her feet.

He then looked to me and the fury in his face ebbed a bit when he said gently, “Be right out, baby.”

And off he went, back into the bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

I heard the lock go.

It was then, something came over me.

Well, not something.

I lived my life. I’d learned how to stand up for myself.

Or, I’d watched my mom do it.

So, I knew what that something was.

I’d just never had to call on it.

And although I could feel the pulse of the room was unpleasant, and all of this was aimed at Cynthia, whose face was now as red as her underwear and who now seemed in a great hurry to clothe herself, thus it was highly likely one of three men in the room intended to get there before me.