Jersey Six - Jewel E Ann Page 0,20
and followed Max without being asked to do so. She knew the next step involved getting fired. Chris was right. They’d be back at Marley’s in less than twenty-four hours.
“Where’s Chris?”
“I told you, he’s still tearing down.” Max worked her long, angry strides toward the exit.
“I’m not going back to Newark without him.”
Max ignored her.
“Did you hear me?” Jersey’s voice carried an edge to it.
Max stopped at the doors and whipped around. “Listen up, Jersey. Ian Cooper is not impulsive. He’s meticulous with his music, his business, and his personal life. But today he took off without telling me a thing. Then he hires two strangers off the street. You’re here because I trust his judgment. You’re here for a reason, even if he’s not ready to tell me what exactly that is … but nonetheless, I’m trusting him. That means it’s my job to protect you and Chris, but you have to help me out a bit. Okay?”
Jersey stared at Max for a few seconds, jaw set.
“I’ll take that as a silent yes.” Max pushed open the exit doors, tying the belt to her white coat as she strutted to a black SUV. Shane opened the back door. From the far side of the backseat, Ian glanced up from his phone and smiled at Jersey.
“Your special request for the day tried to beat up two members of your crew. I’m not saying they didn’t deserve it, but you know we can’t let that happen again.”
Ian’s smile faded. Jersey climbed into the backseat, holding his eye contact the whole time. She felt no regret for her actions.
“Goodnight.” Max shut the door.
The SUV took off as Jersey hugged her bag, eyes squinted a bit daring him to say something. Ian’s gaze moved along her face and the rest of her body. As much as she didn’t want a lecture or to get fired, his silence felt like a greater punishment than any words. After he seemed satisfied with his silent assessment of her, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes.
They stopped at a back entrance to the hotel. Ian slipped on a black beanie, like the gray one he gave Jersey, and hopped out of the SUV as Shane opened Jersey’s door, giving her a wry grin.
“Are you laughing at me?” She slid out and tried to get up in his face, which only amounted to her face meeting him mid-chest.
“Admiring your feistiness.” His smirk grew into something that she wanted to punch, but Ian cleared his throat behind her.
Jersey turned toward Ian, and they had another little stare off that Ian broke when Shane opened the back door to the hotel.
“Get your ass in the hotel, Jersey.” Ian grinned.
Jersey hated that grin—him dismissing her anger. She also loved it. And she hated herself for loving it, wanting it, feeling it on a visceral level.
Shane took them up the elevator and escorted them to a room at the end of a hall. Jersey inspected the doors. She didn’t remember her room number, and she didn’t have a key to it anyway.
“Inside, Jersey,” Ian called from the room where Shane held open the door.
“I think that’s my room.” Jersey pointed to the door to her right.
“You’re on a different floor.” Shane gave her a tight-lipped smile.
“But this looks like the hallway we went down earlier.
“It’s a hotel. All the hallways are identical.”
She frowned, feeling stupid but daring him to mock her for her lack of hotel experience—after all, it was her first time in a hotel. By the time she swallowed her pride and scuffed her feet into the room, relenting to Ian’s request and Shane’s shocking revelation, Ian was already in the bathroom with the door shut and the shower running.
“Night, Jersey.” The door slammed shut behind Shane.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Ian washed off the day, giving thanks for his life—every dream that came to fruition, every fan, every single breath.
Pay it forward.
He toweled off, dressed in a T-shirt and jogging pants, and ruffled his messy hair, making a mental note to get a slight trim before the next concert.
“What can I get you?”
Jersey jumped, tearing her gaze away from the window and the lights of Manhattan. “Get me?”
Ian twisted off the cap to a bottle of water. “Food? Drink?”
She nudged her chin toward his hand. “What is that? I notice it’s the only thing you drink. Clear bottle. Blue lid. Is it vodka?”
“Spring water.” He took a few gulps.
“You don’t drink?”
He shrugged, twisting the lid back on the bottle and folding