by Cari Quinn
My phone buzzed in my pocket. My warning alarm.
I boosted the volume on Metallica, but I couldn’t turn back time. The worst of the worst was waiting for me.
VIPs were the shit stains on the bottom of my stall boots back at my mom’s ranch.
I wished like hell Teagan and I could get a break tonight. We both could use a quiet night in after today. Some takeout Thai, some music, a few good action flicks. One of the reasons I loved Teagan was she never begged for rom coms. Nah, she went straight for explosions, just like I did.
Even when they haunted me in my dreams.
I closed my eyes and tried to push down the annoyance building. Lila’s admonitions about staying safe cycled through my brain, pushing the music aside. It was my solace. Always had been. But lately, the walls and the noise and now the concern for Teagan were crowding everything else out.
So many rules. More boxes to be trapped in. Security standing like sentry at nearly every access point to the venues. For fuck’s sake, I was trained to find the weak points in a room. It never truly faded to the back of my mind—not even with over five years out of the Rangers.
Now with Teagan potentially at risk? If that fire had been intentionally set, if she had been home…
Fuck.
I tipped my head back and thumbed up the volume on my phone until my ears begged for mercy.
Cool fingers brushed over the back of my hand and I jumped. The heady, dick punch scent of peaches hit me first, followed by soft skin and curls flying everywhere as she stared up at me.
Teagan was decked out in her stage wear, which meant not much at all. A barely there skirt rode up her curvy thigh and her ridiculously distracting breasts were nicely showcased by her low-cut top.
Not that I was looking.
“Hey.” I tucked my headphones back into their case and shoved my hands into my pockets. It was either that or grab her. And that wasn’t on the menu right now. Her bluebell eyes were back to their usual hoodoo shadow for the stage with little extra sparkles that made me want to rub my own eyes in empathy. Her full mouth was slick with warpaint. The raspberry color made me want to lean in and hope it tasted like fruit instead of makeup.
“We gotta go in.” She shifted back a few paces until there was a gulf of tension between us.
Instantly, I bunched my hands inside my pockets, mostly so I wouldn’t grab her, but also, to give myself a little room. The cargo shorts I wore on stage didn’t hide jack shit. I had little to no immunity against her on a good day, let alone now when every instinct told me to tuck her under my arm and haul her back to my place. And it was going to get a lot worse while she was staying with me this week. Never mind while we were sequestered on the bus in our new setup.
Too bad she was so damn oblivious to my plight.
“Do they really need me?”
She gave me a hint of the crooked little smirk that made me nuts. “Yes. It’s time to go talk to Mr. Decker. Need pictures and all that.” She waved her hands. Neon pink polish coated her short nails.
“Who’s Decker again?”
She wrapped her cool fingers around my wrist and I let her lead me back toward Purgatory. Talk about an apt description. “Owner guy who’s donating to the Brooklyn Music School.”
“Right.”
Crap. I couldn’t blow him off. I might want to bail on VIPs, but kids? Yeah, that was another matter entirely. “Needed a little downtime after that meeting. Besides, I thought we were done with the ass-kissing.”
I opened the door, ignoring our looming security guy. I braced my arm over her to let her go by and she quickly scrambled past me.
“Do I smell or something?” I sniffed under my arm.
“What?” Her light laugh bubbled up and out of her. I’d literally kill to hear that every day of my damn life. “You’re silly.”
Once we were back in the hallway, I set my hands on her shoulders and wondered if it was my imagination that I could practically feel her nerves dancing under her skin. “Are you certain you want to do this?”
“The show? Uh, yeah, it’s my job.” Easing away from me, she flipped back her hair and gave me a determined smile. “I can do my job.”
“Of course you can. It’s just been a fucking difficult day.” I frowned. “Did he call again?”
“No.” Almost immediately, her face closed off. She headed toward the increasingly noisy backstage. Jamie’s voice rose above the steady hum of them.
“Did you call him back?”
“God, no. Why would I?”
“Some part of you has to be curious. Maybe enough to want to make sure he wasn’t involved with last night.”
“Right, and a quick text or call is going to prove that?”
I snagged her hand. “I don’t know. You knew him. Lived with him. Loved him.”
Her head whipped back toward me. “It was a while ago. People make mistakes.”
I swore. “Don’t tell me you’re still making excuses for him.”
“Hardly. I mean me, Coop. I made a mistake with him. Sometimes you fall for the wrong person. You think you get them and you just…don’t.”
“Yet you still don’t believe he was involved in the fire, coincidental phone call and all.”
“I just said it seemed unlikely, okay? But I didn’t say it was impossible.”
“I know you.” I rocked back on the balls of my feet and struggled to keep my tone level. Even after the better part of two years, she still didn’t grasp how well I understood her and her reactions. At least most of the time. Sure, sometimes she threw me for a loop, but I’d made a damn good study of her since she’d been with the band.
Chump.
“Yeah, and you’re assuming I’m reluctant to accuse him because I’m, what, still carrying a torch for the guy?”
“You tell me.”
She shook my hand free and crossed her arms. “Hardly. I wanted to jump Noah a few months ago, so obviously, I’m not still hung up on Pat.”
A couple of parts of that sentence struck me at once.
Wanted—past tense.
Not still hung up on Pat.
And most of all, that she’d finally admitted she had a thing for Noah. Which scorched a path through my chest like whiskey, leaving behind fiery ash and regret.
It should have been me. I should have been the one who nudged her beyond her feelings for that asshole in her past. Instead, it had been her lustful fantasies over Jordan.
Anyone but him.
I mirrored her crossed arms. “Past tense?” I needed to know. Had to hear her say it again.
She blinked. “What?”
“How you felt about Jordan.”
“Oh. Yeah.” She scrunched a handful of her curls. They sprang beautifully into place, framing her heart-shaped face. “Honestly, it wasn’t so much feelings as I just wanted to bang him.”
So, the second time hearing that theoretically should’ve felt less like a scapula carving out my heart before serving it to Hannibal Lecter. And yet, no.
“You never went for it?”
“Uh, you’re at my house all the time. Did you ever see him there?” When I didn’t answer—because there was a rock in my throat—she shook her head. “I mean, he’s a good guy, but it’s not like that with him. It was a thing, then it wasn’t. He never saw me as anything other than furniture anyway.”
“How could he not?”
She stopped scrunching long enough to arch a brow. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because I’ve been labeled cute as a button all my life, and some guys aren’t into adorable?” She wrinkled her nose. “Like kittens and bunnies and redheads with a ton of freckles and braces.”
“You don’t have braces anymore.”
“Thank God.”
“You’re beautiful and funny and smart. And smart-assed.” To save the moment from being weird, I reached out to yank on one of her bouncy curls. “What’s not to like?”
“I’ll remind you of that when my snoring keeps you awake.”
Thinking about us sleeping within the same four walls sent my mind spinning into a place it definitely should not go. “It didn’t this morning.”
“You were down the hall. I was just getting started.”
“Oh, it gets worse, huh?”
“Yeah. Especially when my allergies are acting up or I’m overtired.”
“After a night of that wine-soaked sex you mentioned earlier.” This time, when I touched her hair, the backs of my fingers brushed her cheek. Her throat bobbed, and I knew I should move back.
But I didn’t.
“Been awhile for me, gotta say.” Her voice was unnaturally cheerful, much like her expression. Her pupils, however, were huge. “Though I find ways to get the job done.”
“Do you?” I rubbed my knuckles along her jaw. Her skin was so fucking soft. I wanted to explore more of her and watch her lashes flutter, much as they were doing right now. “With or without wine?”
“I meant without the man.”
“Oh, I understood that part. Just wondered if you need a little…lubrication to get you to that place.”
Her lower lip trembled before she grinned. “I can handle that part all on my own.”
“Mmm. I bet you can.” I didn’t know what impulse made me step forward until I was crowding her even more. Some dominant part of me liked that she had to crane her neck to look up at me.
A muscle twitched madly under her jaw. Or maybe that was her pulse, hammering just like mine was in the head of my goddamned cock at being this close to her. Her juicy peaches scent would be branded on my skin.
“So, we gotta go. Out there—with our band. Where they’re waiting. For us. You know?” She stumbled backward into the wall.
Suddenly, I was calm as could be as I reached out to steady her. “You all right?”
“Fine. Awesome.” She evaded my grasp while her gaze tracked over my shoulder. Silent but hulking was probably watching our byplay.
Even with Riggs right behind me, it was nearly impossible for me not to grin. I’d affected her. She didn’t know what to make of it, and maybe she wouldn’t like it once she figured it out, but for one moment there, I’d been firmly dislodged from the friend zone.
And thank fuck she was looking anywhere but at my groin right now, because the current situation was hard as hell.
“Then why are you so jumpy?”
“Just tired. Noises still spook me. Plus, leftover nerves from last night at the club, and oh, my place almost being reduced to dust. The usual.”
“You’re sure that’s all it is?” Not that any of those things alone wouldn’t be more than enough. But my battered ego in her direction just wanted a small bone.
Yeah, probably shouldn’t think about that particular analogy right now.
“Of course. What else would it be?”
I dropped an arm around her shoulders. Casual. Light. Best friendly-like. Kill me. “You know we won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I know. Noah has it handled.”
I slid my arm away. “Right. Chuckles always has everything under control.”
“Back on the Chuckles brigade.” She rolled her eyes.
“Oz is onto something.”
She sighed. “He’s just doing his job. I don’t know why you guys have to get all bitchy about it.”
“Did you just say bitchy?” I nudged her shoulder.
“Shut up.”
She sailed into the U-shaped cluster of our friends, shaking that ridiculously delectable ass of hers. Some days, I hated my job. Especially when my current level of self-inflicted torture was at somewhere around an eleven.
Then again, being twisted up with want was better than focusing on someone possibly wanting to do her harm. That it could be her ex somehow made it even worse.
I jammed my fists into my pockets so it wasn’t so obvious that I had less than innocent thoughts about everyone’s favorite little sister. Watching our bandmates’ faces soften as she came toward them made me feel even more like an asshole.
Until the appreciative gaze of Jonas Decker made my palms itch. He was the owner of Purgatory, a slick Mick with his perfect black-on-black suit that probably cost the same as my entire drum set. A ruby stone winked from his forefinger in a thick, hammered pewter ring that looked like it belonged on Game of Thrones.
The minute Teag got close to the circle of our band mates, Decker started spinning his ring with his thumb.
Every man had a tell.
It was just a flicker of reaction. Then again, I couldn’t exactly blame him. I lived with that jaw-clenching frustration daily. Didn’t stop me from wanting to throat-punch him.
I’d had relationships, some longer, some shorter. But hell, if I’d ever been as possessive as I was of this woman. And I didn’t know how to throttle back.
She was all smiles. Petite where the rest of the ladies in our band were Amazonian. She was the kind of beautiful that made a man want to take care of her. I knew she was fully capable of handing a man his nuts—I’d even witnessed it a time or two when a few men got too familiar around her in the autograph lines.
I scrubbed my fingers down my bunched triceps and tried to find some semblance of calm. Then Noah came forward with his ever-present clipboard. Lila spent her life consulting her iPad, and Noah was old school annoyed with a perpetual checklist.
Both of them lived to ride herd on us. Granted, this situation required a lot of patience and scrutiny of the most minute details.
Not so rock and roll.
At least Lila did what was required with cool professionalism. Noah was furrowed brows and derision. I didn’t even know why he was still on the team. He could have handed off this job months ago.
Not that walking away was his style. No matter what.
I’d had no other choice.
Eventually, I’d been able to box most of my baggage into the corners of my brain. Shadowy places where I dumped all the night terrors and blood and screams wrapped in the echoes of gunfire.
Compartmentalizing all of it allowed me to live an almost normal life—at least once I was finally out of it. Even if there were those who saw me as a deserter, I hadn’t broken free only for myself.
No matter what Noah probably thought.
I’d assumed he would be a lifer, but an injury had put him off the team. From what I’d been able to gather from a few old teammates who still spoke to me, Noah had just traded one classified life for another firewall-layered one working for Roth Securities. His specialty was high-end targets who needed protection or jobs that made use of Noah’s sharpshooter talents.
Or his ability to uncover who was stalking members of a record label.
It was hard to believe that Ripper Records could require so much of Noah’s time or that he didn’t have other more higher profile clients. Then again, Donovan shelled out big bucks to keep us safe. For good reason. We brought in big money.
And the threat against us was apparently just as big. Big risks. Big stakes.
Big fucking everything.
When it was my turn, I did my thing with the autograph seekers, smiling, giving hugs, and signing whatever I was presented with, whether it was CDs, flyers, or T-shirts. One particularly zealous fan yanked up her denim miniskirt and presented her inner thigh to me, dangerously close to her lime green thong. I tried not to look—or touch too much of her skin—as I scrawled my name where she indicated.
“Now add your sticks.”
“My sticks?” I glanced up at her through the dark hair hanging in my eyes. It was cut short in back as always, but that one longer piece on top was my “touch of rockstar” as Teag liked to call it.
Speaking of her, where was she? A quick look around did nothing to answer that question. This part of the venue was packed, and the line of fans snaked down the adjacent hallway. Big hulking security guys and shrewd-eyed women loomed in each doorway and clustered in every corner, not letting anyone get away with anything.
Except maybe this slinky brunette leaning f
orward to whisper in my ear.
“I love looking at your sticks. I’d love to see another one too.” She reached forward to cup my cock and my reflexes must’ve been a hair too slow because she got there before I could stop her. A fast squeeze and she grinned at me, tugging her skirt that much higher as if she expected me to service her right there in the line.
“Think you’re good.” I handed her back the marker and resisted the urge to adjust myself behind my zipper. Her talon-like nails had possibly taken off some flesh. “Enjoy the show.”
“Aww, no backstage pass? I’ll do anything to get one.” She licked her glossy lips. “Anything at all.”
“Sorry, we’re all out.” In reality, I didn’t know the last time I’d invited a woman backstage. Even this one’s enormous breasts half hanging out of her lace-up halter top didn’t merit more than a glance.
Been there, done that. I wanted something else now.
My gaze connected with Teagan’s over the fan’s shoulder for one brief humming moment before said fan decided to end our interaction with a kiss—on the mouth, with tongue.
I was nudging her and her greedy tongue back just as club security reached her. “No touching,” the female bodyguard barked while the male bodyguard at her side sent me a wink and melted back into the crowd.
Because hey, of course I liked it, right? I was a dude. If someone grabbed my cock and forced me to kiss her, naturally, I had to want just that. Even if I didn’t.
I searched for Teagan again and realized she was in the same spot, surrounded by her own clutch of fans. Her expression clearly said she’d seen everything, except she probably thought I was going to do the show with that chick’s number in my phone.
“Fuck,” I muttered as Teagan aimed a bright smile at some dude beside her, effectively blocking me out.
I wiped the back of my hand over my mouth and forced myself to grin as the next fan approached, her eyes hopeful and her hands shaking around the CD she held. “Hey there, darlin’, what do you have me to sign?”
Hopefully, not herself.
Before she could reply, the flash of vivid red hair disappearing into the crowd made me swallow a groan. Perfect timing for me to being going home with Teagan tonight when she probably thought I was trying to set up an easy lay.
