Chapter Twenty-Four

Cross

 

 

If Indie had proof that Drink had an inappropriate relationship of any kind with an underage girl, I would’ve kissed her right on the mouth. ’Course, I would’ve done that anyway. I didn’t want that girl to have been subjected to Drink’s attention. He was a dick on a good day. But if he’d slept with her, I’d rather have a way to prove it. For the girl and for the band.

I blinked exactly six times. I still couldn’t believe she’d just said she had proof. There was only one thing left to ask. “What proof?”

“A picture, obviously.”

Fuck, of course. She had the camera on her about ninety-nine percent of the time I saw her. She probably photographed some crazy shit. But this one… I needed to see.

“Show me,” I said breathlessly.

Indie grabbed my hand and pulled me from the room, then the arena. The sun outside was still bright enough to blind me until my eyes adjusted. Then she weaved us around bus after bus until we got to hers. They all looked the same, but she’d know where she left hers.

When she pulled the door open, I didn’t know why, but this uneasy feeling crept up my spine. That feeling of walking into an empty building but that you’re either not alone or someone else had just been there.

“What the hell?” she said before I started up the stairs, so I couldn’t see what she was talking about.

I double-timed up the four steps and saw what she did.

Someone had been in here. Prints of pictures Indie had taken were scattered in pieces around the area like confetti. Indie bent down to pick up a piece of plastic. She turned it over and over in her hands while I tried to control the anger growing in the pit of my stomach.

“This was my photo printer.”

Fucking hell.

“Mother fucker,” she muttered, almost so quiet, I couldn’t hear it.

Indie reached out and pulled something from under the table. A silver mass that had formerly been known as her laptop.

“I’m going to punch him in the dick,” she said as she stood.

“Who?” Which was an extremely dumb question, but I was just trying to put this shitstorm together. She’d had longer to think about it.

“Eric.”

The burning in my stomach intensified.

“We both know this was him,” she said and was right. We did know. “Look at this.” She flung her arms out around her. “He even broke my fucking computer. I had fantastic pictures of Courting Chaos on her. And Kissing Cinder.” Then she slammed the former laptop against the table three times.

“Do you use the cloud?”

Indie groaned. “No. I never thought it was secure enough. That’s how celebrities nude photos get hacked. I have this external drive I do backups on but it’s at home. I’ve never had a problem until I went on tour with a fucking psychopath.”

“I’m sorry, Indie,” I said because what else could I say? “We’ll replace everything. I’ll replace it when we get your new camera.”

“Do you think I care about the money?” she snapped back.

Yeah, probably not. Her dad could get her whatever she needed.

“The picture, Cross. Somewhere in this mess of paper was the picture you needed of Eric and that girl.”

Fuck. I hadn’t thought of that.