Black Lilith: Book One (Black Lilith #1) (10 page)

“Oh my God… Mik… are you okay? What were you thinking?”

“Jesus, fuck! She came out of nowhere,” says Slate, coming up behind Mikayla and Tommy and wrapping them both in a hug.

Over Slate’s shoulder, Mikayla can see the security guards pulling the screaming fan to her feet and dragging her away. Dash is still standing there with the cowering fan behind him, looking between Mikayla and the abandoned knife on the ground three feet away from him. His expression is torn, as though he isn’t sure what he should be feeling, and then his face is obscured by his brother. Because Logan is there, pulling his younger brother into his chest as though he’s worried that Dash will disappear.

“I’m fine,” Dash says.

“I’m fine,” Mikayla echoes because Slate and Tommy are still asking her. And even though the fan hadn’t even managed to get close before the security guards had intervened, they seem to think that she’s going to fall apart at any moment. “I’m fine guys.”

Her heart is still pounding with the sudden adrenaline rush. She thinks that she might be trembling, but her eyes are blessedly dry. She shouldn’t need to cry, after all. She’d been completely safe and so was Dash. She doesn’t know why she’d felt compelled to throw herself between the blade and a man who’s taller, stronger, and faster than her. The security guards are already taking the woman away. Mikayla truly hadn’t needed to do that, but she’d seen the knife and reacted. She’d seen that Dash wasn’t going to move, so she’d done it for him.

Dash’s arms come up to hug his brother. Logan meets Mikayla’s eyes. There’s gratitude in those soft brown orbs, and she thinks that her actions—however ill-advised or unnecessary—were completely worth it. She feels Slate and Tommy’s arms tighten around her and allows herself to sink further into the safety of them as Logan watches her over his brother’s shoulder.

When they get back to the hotel, Mikayla arranges for a security detail for the band. They hadn’t had one until that point—they hadn’t thought that it had been necessary. They might have been well known in some circles, but none of the band members or the crew had ever felt unsafe at any of their venues or meet-and-greets. Not until that morning.

“But I’m fine!” Dash says as the band piles into Mikayla’s room. “She didn’t get anywhere near me.”

Mikayla’s room is large enough to fit five people but small enough to feel crowded. Slate and Tommy are on the bed leaning against the headboard watching Logan and Dash argue, while she sits at the desk in the corner and types emails on her phone.

“She didn’t get anywhere near you because security got in the way,” Logan replies. He doesn’t look angry, just tired. Mikayla can only imagine what it would be like to see someone attack her family and be too far away to do anything about it. “If they hadn’t stopped her, then Mikayla would have been the one wearing that knife.”

Dash looks guilty at that. Mikayla wants to wrap her arms around him and tell him that there’s no need, but she knows that it would be a futile gesture. Besides, it was
her
decision to stand between Dash and that knife.

“Did anyone recognize her?” Tommy asks from the bed.

All three of the other band members shrug.

“Honestly, it all happened so fast,” Slate says beside him. “I just froze… I wasn’t thinking…” he trails off then, and all four of them turn their heads to look at Mikayla. She can’t read their expressions.

“They’ve taken her to the police,” she says, holding up her phone and showing them the screen with a list of texts from the security guards who’d detained the fan with the knife. “Maybe they’ll have some answers as to why she attacked Dash.”

“Are
you
okay?” asks Logan, ignoring her words and running his eyes down her body as if he’s worried he’d missed an injury.

“Of course,” Mikayla answers. “She didn’t get anywhere near me.”

Tommy lets out a breath. “You took a big risk, Mik.”

All eyes on her. She ducks her head so that her fringe falls into her eyes, incredibly self-conscious even though she knows, on some deep level, that none of the band members want to make her feel that way.

Dash steps forward then, and Mikayla is struck suddenly by how tall he is. Up until now, the fact that he’s the little brother of the group has made him seem small, somehow. More vulnerable. He pulls her out of her chair and envelopes her in a bear hug. She can smell the sweat on his neck and feel his heart pounding against her chest as she wraps her arms around him and buries her face in his shoulder.

Mikayla can feel the eyes of everyone in the room on her then. She wants to tell them that what she did isn’t a big deal. That it wasn’t even necessary in the end since the security guards had everything under control, and if she’d taken two seconds to actually think about it, she would’ve known that.

Of course, if she’d taken two seconds to think and security hadn’t reacted, then there’s no telling what could have happened.

“Thanks, Mik,” he says gruffly.

She shakes her head. “You don’t have to thank me, Dash.”

They stay like that for a moment longer before her phone buzzes, and she pulls away. Slate and Tommy are watching them from the bed, smiling with relief and fondness. Logan is watching Mikayla with an unreadable expression, but she’s gotten used to that so she ignores him as she scrolls through her phone.

“
Bass Note
says they’re happy to hire extra security as soon as you sign off on it,” Mikayla says. She gives Logan a stern look. “Apparently, I can’t arrange for bodyguards for you all because I’m not allowed to access your accounts.”

Logan huffs in annoyance as Tommy pipes up from the bed, “What? You’re not allowed?”

“No,” says Mikayla.

Slate, Tommy, and Dash all wear identical looks of confusion.

“But you’re our PA,” says Slate. “You organize us. Don’t you need money?”

She hadn’t realized that the band didn’t know about that. She’d assumed that they had made the decision collectively as they seem to make all of their other decisions. She can see Logan out of the corner of her eye, chewing his lip and avoiding the other band members’ gaze, his jaw working in a way that makes her want to reach out and soothe it.

“Logan?” asks Tommy insistently. “Did you know about this?”

She decides not to give Logan a significant look at that point, and only because she feels that she doesn’t need to. This whole conversation is like a verbal glare in Logan’s direction.

“Yeah, I knew,” Logan says simply. Then he looks at Mikayla. “I’ll tell them to go ahead with it. We’ll need a security team before we do anything else on this tour.”

“We’ll need hotels for them,” Mikayla tells him. “Plus, travel arrangements.”

He nods. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Shouldn’t Mik be taking care of it?” Slate asks, sitting up straighter on the bed and leaning over to get a better look at Logan. “She’s the PA… that’s her job.”

“Why don’t you just tell
Bass Note
to let her use our money?” Dash asks. He’s still got one arm slung around Mikayla, and she can see the tired slant to his eyes and the way his skin seems to be flushed around the neck but still too pale in the cheeks.

She squeezes his arm, hoping to send some comfort toward him without words. It feels a bit weird to be standing there, quiet, while the men are talking about her as though she isn’t there. But it isn’t the weirdest thing she’s had to deal with since she started working for
Black Lilith
.

“I-uh,” stutters Logan. He looks like he’s doing some fast thinking. Then he shrugs. “You’re right. I’ll tell them to give Mikayla access.”

“Why didn’t she have access before?” Slate asks.

Logan gives him a look like he’s being an idiot. “Slate, you met her backstage and offered her a job. For all you knew, she was a serial killer.”

Slate snorts. “Mik wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“She’s actually actively trying to keep us alive,” Tommy adds. Dash gives Mikayla’s shoulders a squeeze, winking when she glances over at him.

“Well, we know that
now
,” replies Logan, in a tone that gives Mikayla the impression that he thinks that the rest of the band should be understanding where he’s coming from, and he’s frustrated that they don’t. He wipes his brown hair out of his eyes so he can see them better. “But we barely knew her when she joined up.”

Slate and Tommy both shake their heads at him. Dash rests his temple against the top of her head, so she can’t see his expression, but she gets the feeling from the way his arm has tensed protectively over her shoulders that he’s giving Logan a disappointed look that matches the ones worn by Slate and Tommy.

Mikayla had expected to feel triumphant when she finally got access to the band’s account, but she doesn’t. She’s just tired and wants to get the security detail sorted out so that her band is safe.

Her band.
That morning, she’d been feeling out on the edge of the action, but now, with Dash’s arm slung around her and Tommy and Slate defending her, it makes her feel like she’s part of the group again. Maybe that’s what being on the tour will be like for her—a series of moments where she will feel left out, and then be a part of their make-shift family, and then be left out again. Mikayla wonders if she’ll be able to handle that.

It doesn’t matter
, she tells herself as she locks eyes with Logan, who doesn’t look in any way guilty about freezing her out, just annoyed that the rest of the band hadn’t seen things his way when he was caught.

I’ll probably be moving on at the end of the tour
.

Unless
… No, she’ll be moving on.

It makes sense. She’s an events manager, not a PA.

“Look, whatever, I’ll get it done,” Logan says. “In the meantime, how do we get a security detail before our next show?”

Mikayla takes a moment to realize that he’s talking to her. He isn’t looking at her. She looks down at her phone screen and selects a number. “If you call this number, we can have a detail by tomorrow. You’ve got interviews in the morning. Considering this afternoon was an interview—”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he says, taking the phone from her.

His fingers brush against hers. It’s so cliché, and she hates herself for thinking it, but there’s a moment after their fingers touch when she feels static electricity jolting through them and a low heat coiling in her belly. Their eyes lock again, and there’s something in his expression that makes her wonder if he felt it too.

The moment is over now, and he’s looking away from her to stare at the phone. Then he takes his own battered smartphone out of his pocket and types in the number. He leaves the room to make the call.

“That was weird,” Slate says once the door has closed on Logan’s retreating back. “Mik, why didn’t you mention that you don’t have access to our accounts?”

“I thought you knew,” she said honestly.

Dash steers her over to the bed and pushes her down so that she’s lounging against the headboard next to Tommy, who puts his own arm around her shoulders as well. It’s a tight fit with the four of them there, but Mikayla can’t imagine trying to move away. She feels warm and comfortable and
safe
. Is this what it’s like to have siblings?

Her own family hadn’t been very tactile when she was growing up. Her father was the sort of man who showed his affection in little things, like making sure that the syrup was warm when she had pancakes, or holding the door open for her mother when she walked into a room. Her mother liked to show her affection with gifts. Mikayla sometimes thinks that it should have been obvious that their marriage wouldn’t last beyond her tenth birthday. They were never compatible.

The divorce hadn’t been the worst of it. The worst part was seeing her mother go through husbands, trying to find the spark that she’d been missing in her first marriage, while Mikayla’s father had worked himself into an early grave.

She pushes those thoughts out of her mind as she settles further into Tommy and Dash’s sides.

Tommy gives her shoulders a squeeze. “You were really brave today, Mik,” he says.

She snorts, but it doesn’t drown out Slate and Dash’s approving noises.

“If I’d had the chance to think about it, I would’ve realized that the security guards would have taken care of it,” says Mikayla.

“The fact that you didn’t think about it proves how brave it was,” Slate replies.

Mikayla can feel the heat growing in her cheeks. She’s always been uncomfortable when people praise her. Even if she likes to be praised, or she’s grateful for the recognition, she never knows how she’s meant to act. Should she be modest, or grateful, or cheeky and playful? She decides to just duck her head and hide her face. Tommy and Dash laugh and pull her into a tighter hug.

The door opens, and Logan comes back inside the room. His expression flickers as his eyes linger on Dash and Tommy’s arms slung around Mikayla’s shoulders, but then he grins like he’s in on the joke and throws himself onto the bed, across all four pairs of legs, ignoring their protests.

“It’s all sorted. We’ll be meeting our new detail tomorrow,” he says. He meets Mikayla’s eyes, and she understands the unspoken addition. That she can access the band’s accounts now and that she can finally do what she’s being paid to do. Instead of deferring to him for every decision.

Good
, she thinks, because she’ll need to arrange the accommodation and travel expenses for the band’s new bodyguards. She might even have to arrange for another bus—the one they have might be too small depending on the size of the detail. And catering at the venues will need to be modified and notified as soon as possible. There are a lot of factors. She’ll need to be very organized. Lucky for
Black Lilith
, being organized is what she’s best at.

But that could all wait. Right now, she’s enjoying being in the middle of the pig pile, basking in the knowledge that her band is safe.