Nalini Singh - Rock Addiction

Her sister didn’t waste time asking how Molly was feeling. Instead, she gave them the cold, hard facts. “The major news organizations aren’t reprinting the still photos lifted from the videos, given that the images were taken in a place where you had an expectation of privacy. The blogs and online fan sites are also staying clear.”

Still grim, she continued, “However, one extra skeevy tabloid has printed two stills with a promise of more, with the video to be uploaded on their site in just over twenty-four hours, and the publicity’s gaining steam. Several other sites have scraped the photos for their own pages. It’s trending on all the main social media platforms, and even the places that haven’t printed the stills are carrying stories about them, so people are going looking.”

Able to feel Fox’s body vibrating with the rigid control he had over himself, Molly put her hand on his knee. “So,” she said, “there’s no way to close the gate, is there?”

“Fox’s legal team can hit every single site that reprinted the stills with a lawsuit, but that horse has bolted.” Her sister checked an incoming call on her phone, didn’t answer. “I’ve already been in touch with them about getting an injunction to block the video, but the tabloid is based in another jurisdiction and I have a feeling they’ll just move up the upload deadline the instant they get a whiff of legal action.” She thrust a hand through her hair. “Only reason they haven’t already uploaded is to maximize the publicity.”

Molly wondered if she was in shock, she was so calm, but now that the first horror had passed, she didn’t feel numb. No, she was becoming angrier with every second that elapsed—because this was hurting Fox, her protective, possessive lover, and no one got to hurt her man. “I want to see what they’ve already posted,” she said. “I need to know how bad this is.”

Thea didn’t argue, just forwarded her the articles, then waited as she and Fox opened the file. It made Molly’s nails dig into her palms to see an image of herself sitting up on her knees with Fox behind her, both of them nude. They were laughing, and he had his hands on her breasts. The tabloid hadn’t blacked out that part, probably because Fox’s fingers covered her nipples, but they’d put a rectangular block over her genital region, with the word “Explicit!” across it.

The second published still was a back view of Fox, nothing blocked out. In the background, she could be seen lying nude in the tumbled bed, her hair a wild mass around her head. In this one, they’d blacked out her breasts.

The text of the “article” was a collection of exclamation points: Think these images are tame?! Well they are!! We have access to incredibly hot and explicit pictures of Fox and his current squeeze getting down and dirty!! Check back in two hours for a fresh fix as we count down to our upload of the original sex tape!! Exclusive!!

 “Only those two so far?” she managed to ask her sister through her fury, her mind filled with memories of that night, of the things they’d done. She was ashamed of none of it, would do it again, but only with Fox. The world had no right to violate the privacy of their bedroom.

“Yes.” Thea guzzled what was probably tar-thick coffee. “It looks like the tabloid must’ve bought exclusive rights to the video and they’re getting as much mileage out of it as they can.”

“Shut the fucking company down.” Fox’s voice was so cold Molly felt her skin prickle. “I don’t care how it’s done—tell legal to throw everything we have at the bastards.”

There was a knock on the hotel room door at that instant. Getting up, Fox walked over to open it. “You heard,” he said to Noah as the other man walked in. He’d clearly been pulled out of bed and wore only low-slung jeans, his blond hair a mess and his eyes chips of ice.

“Yeah. Let’s fuck the vultures up.” Coming to sit next to Molly on the sofa, he reached up to rub his knuckles over her cheek. “You holding up okay, Moll?”

“I’m tough,” she said, and it was, she was discovering, true.

Fox wrapped his arm around her waist again when he sat back down on her other side, his rage no less violent. “We’re talking about how to take the tabloid down.”

The guitarist nodded. “I might hate my old man, but the bastard is a shark,” he said, a mix of admiration and anger in his tone. “I called him as soon as I found out about this. He says for you to file a criminal complaint as fast as possible.”

“Right.” Thea nodded. “So anyone who does anything with the video risks falling foul of the criminal justice system, not just civil law. I don’t know if it’ll work with the tabloid based outside the country, but it’s better than nothing.”

They filed the complaint. Meanwhile, Noah tapped his father’s contacts to put a crack private investigator on the trail of the piece of scum who’d decided to use Fox and Molly to land a big payday.

“Someone in the security company either did this or was in on it,” Fox gritted out. “Maybe the same ‘real man’ who let in the groupie, probably for a fucking blow job.” Calling the head of the security firm, a former Green Beret he knew personally, Fox made no effort to hide his fury.

Apparently, that fury was shared—they had a name within the hour, after a check of the corridor surveillance footage from the hotel in question showed one of the guards walking into their suite during a concert. He was spotted going back inside minutes after Fox and Molly checked out, probably to retrieve the camera.

He hadn’t been behind the groupie however; that was traced to a newly promoted guard whom his livid boss had just busted back down to mall patrol. The only people now in the band’s security team had been with the firm for years, and all had also worked more than once for Schoolboy Choir. As for the man behind the video, he’d disappeared, but Molly knew he’d be found—greed this ugly didn’t make for intelligence.

 “This is your nightmare, isn’t it?” Fox said hours later, once they were alone again, the suite having been swept for any surveillance equipment in the interim.

“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?”

“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.