John Valentine came barreling into my living room like a raging bull looking for the stupid son of a bitch with the red cape. And at that moment, it appeared that I was the one with the cape.

Christ, the man was even bigger than I remembered. He stood well over Garrett, who was a good six and a half feet, and even topped Ian, who was a goddamn beast. And age hadn’t done shit to diminish his frame. He looked like the type of guy you’d expect to see eating raw steaks for every meal and ripping phone books and bowling balls apart for exercise. He was fucking terrifying.

“You!” he bellowed, pointing a long, thick finger my way. “This is all your fuckin’ fault!”

“John, enough!” Helene came scrambling up behind him, the complete opposite of her husband in every way. Short, curvy, and with an abundance of flaming hair, Helene Valentine could easily pass as Tatum’s slightly older sister. Age had barely touched the woman. She was still a looker. “You promised before we got here that you wouldn’t go off half-cocked.”

The older man crossed his tree trunk arms over his barrel chest. “Yeah, well I changed my mind.”

“Well change it back, right this second, or so help me God, you will not like what I do to you.”

The only thing I had going for me was Helene’s support. John might’ve had size and strength on his side, but his wife had always been the one to wear the pants in their family. He wouldn’t dare cross her.

“John, Helene. Good to see you. It’s been a while,” Garrett said in a conversational tone.

“Hi, Garrett. It’s good to see you too.” Helene came forward and placed a kiss on his cheek. The Viking suck-up had always been every parent’s favorite all our lives.

“Anyone ever told you that you need a haircut, son?” John grunted in way of hello.

“He cuts his hair and I’ll be pis—angry. And he doesn’t want to answer to me.” We all turned at once to see Gwen coming down the stairs with Liddy on her hip. “Hi,” she offered with a kind smile as she reached Tate’s parents. “I’m Gwen.”

“My wife,” Garrett threw in, coming up to wrap an arm around her shoulders. “And this is our little girl, Liddy.”

“Well hello, Liddy,” Helene cooed. “Aren’t you precious?”

“My daddy says I’m a princess,” she replied before turning her inquisitive eyes to John. “Wow,” she breathed. “You’s really big. Can you squash people like bugs just like Ian?”

“Sure the hell can,” he mumbled under his breath, giving me a glare that could melt the polar icecaps.

“Language,” Gwen and Helene chastised at the same time.” Leave it to Baby Mama to have no fear and go head-to-head with a man more than double her size.

“Uh, guys,” I started, wishing I could melt into the walls instead of facing Tatum’s father’s wrath, but that wasn’t an option. “How about we move into the living room. Are you hungry? Thirsty? You’ve been on the road for a while.”

“I’m not here to make pleasantries. I want to see my daughter,” John demanded.

“She’s sleeping right now,” Gwen told him. “Our friends Gina and Corrie are up there with her right now. I only came down to see what all the yelling was about. Maybe you should take some time to cool off and talk to Declan about what’s going on before you see her. Let her get some rest.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Helene agreed. But John was having none of it.

“No offense, little lady, but you don’t know the first thing about me or what I need to do before seeing my little girl.”

“You’re right. I don’t know you. But I’m a mother, and I’m Tate’s friend, so I’m on the side of her best interests right now. Not yours.”

“Ooh, darling. I like her,” Helene whispered to Garrett from behind me. “She’s absolutely perfect for you.”

“Don’t have to tell me,” Garrett returned, and I could hear the smile in his voice.

“I also know that your daughter is currently perfectly safe and sleeping upstairs. She isn’t going to disappear into vapor in the amount of time it takes for you two to take a load off after a fourteen-hour car ride. And I really think it would be best to get the full story from Declan so you know exactly what’s happening, and everything that’s transpired in the time it’s taken you to arrive, before you go up there. Don’t you agree?”

John actually seemed to be considering what she said. Then, seconds later, he turned and stomped on his giant feet into my living room, making himself comfortable in the recliner I’d been sitting in right before he showed up.

Note to self: never, ever screw with Gwen Wilder. She’ll skin you alive.

Helene followed suit, after giving me and the other guys warm greetings on the way in. She rested casually on the couch, crossing her ankles demurely, always the picture of pure class. And when it came to her, it wasn’t an act. She was the real deal from top to toe.

“So fill us in,” John stated.

I took a seat on the other end of the couch, across from Helene, resting my forearms on my knees and clasping my hands in front of me. Mace and Kill stood sentry behind us. Garrett and Gwen took the love seat, with him balancing his little girl on his lap, and Ian remained by the window, mumbling into that goddamn phone.

“There was a story posted late last night on several celebrity gossip sites. It detailed my relationship with Tate from the time we were kids until the time we broke up. Whoever leaked the story came from inside our camp, because they had information that had never been made public.”

“You mean like you cheating on my girl and breaking her heart?” John rumbled, making me feel an inch tall.

“Yeah,” I said quietly. “That and… there were pretty explicit pictures posted about that night.”

“But what’s that have to do with Tate?” Helene asked, her forehead creased in concern.

“Well, that’s where the article went off course and started posting lies about her. It even went so far as to claim that she’s having an affair with Camden Knight as some sort of revenge. The internet is basically tearing her to shreds. She was handling it. But then….”

“What?” John snapped.

“She was assaulted by some… overzealous fans after the news broke. She wasn’t physically hurt, but there was a lot of name-calling and… spitting.” Retelling that particular horror story to Tate’s folks was one of the most difficult things I’d ever had to do. I could still recall the stricken look on her face in the car as tears ran down her face. I didn’t think I’d ever get that image out of my head, and it made me sick to my stomach.

Helene sucked in a disgusted gasp as John boomed, “Someone spit on her? Are you fu—” He stopped when Gwen lifted a chastising brow. “Are you kidding me? All because you’re famous?”

“Well, it wasn’t just because of me. It was her connection to Camden too. He’s got a pretty big fan base as well, and they’re not too happy with the idea of her using him to get back at me.”

Helene’s eyes shone with unshed tears as she muttered, “My poor girl.”

John leaned forward in his chair. “So what are we doing about tracking the as—man who posted these lies?”

Ian, who had just disconnected his call, stepped into the fray. “That’s where I come in.”

“You Ian?” John asked. “The one who squashes people like bugs?”

His mouth quirked like he was trying to fight a smirk. “That’d be me. I’m the head of security for the band. I’ve got a buddy back in Virginia who owns his own security and private investigation firm called Alpha Omega. I got in contact with him earlier today, and he’s been doing some digging.” Ian’s eyes came to me. “Looks like you were right about who you thought leaked the story.”

“Fuckin’ knew it,” Garrett snarled.

“Mommy! Daddy has a potty mouth!” Liddy shouted.

Gwen stood, hoisting her daughter up with her. “I’ll let you guys finish this conversation while I take this little monster into the kitchen for some ice cream.”

Liddy shouted with glee as they disappeared, and we got back to it.

John looked around the room, his eyes landing on each of us before asking, “Why do I feel like there’s something I don’t know?”

“Our old manager, Chris Evers,” Mace answered. “We fired the bastard when he leaked private photos of Gwen and Liddy a few months back. Fucking Chris Evers.”

“I’m gonna fuckin’ kill him,” I growled, clenching my hands into fists. Looking at Ian, the words were still a rough rumble as I told him, “Get in touch with our attorney. Give him everything he needs to destroy that asshole’s life. I want him buried so goddamn deep he’s never able to climb out of the hole he dug for himself. I want your guy to find every single speck of dirt on Chris that exists. I don’t care if they have to go all the way back to when he pushed some kid on the goddamn playground. Find it. Then you call Brenda. Have her leak all of it.”

At that, Ian grinned full-on. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen the stoic man smile before. “On it,” he muttered as he started messing with his phone once more and headed out of the room.

I turned my attention back to the guys, ready to drop a bomb, but I should’ve known better. They weren’t just friends or bandmates. They were my brothers.

“We’re with you, whatever you decide,” Killian stated before I had a chance to speak.

“Tour’s off.” None of them so much as batted an eye when I said that, so I continued. “Until we get all this shit taken care of, no way in hell am I leaving for Asia.”

“Not even a question, brother.” Mace nodded. “You do what you have to do.”

“I’ll call Eugene in the morning,” Garrett offered. “He’s liable to have a heart attack, and you’ve got enough to deal with. I’ll handle it.”

“Wait, wait,” John broke in. “You’re canceling your whole tour?”

“But isn’t this a big deal?” Helene asked.

“It’s a very big deal. And there’s no way they’re canceling.”

I shot around to find Tate, Gina, and Corrie standing in the entryway of the living room.

“I’m not letting you cancel that damn tour. You’re going.” She was looking at me with that familiar fire in her eyes, and the knot that had been in my chest all day finally started to untangle… at least until she spoke again. “But I can’t be your manager anymore.”