The Complete Rockstar Series

by Heather C. Leigh

  My mouth falls open when I see who is holding Agent Asshole up by the lapels, growling in his face.

  “Mitch?”

  Mitch

  The big man at the front door nods as I storm up the front walk of Gavin’s beach house. I recognize the man from on tour, thank god. Otherwise he might not let us into the house.

  “Mr. Hale,” he nods.

  “I need to talk to Gavin. I’m assuming he’s home since you’re here,” I say to the man.

  “He is. The FBI arrived a little while ago. They’re inside with him now.”

  My entire body coils up, tension vibrating through every nerve and muscle. I flinch when Sasha puts her hand on my back.

  “Mitch. We’re here to talk,” she murmurs.

  I don’t reply. My only thought is to get that twisted asshole Grant as far away from Gavin as possible.

  “This is Sasha Knight,” I tell the guard. “She’s also FBI.”

  Sasha helpfully produces her I.D. handing it to the large man. He inspects it, his sharp gaze matching the picture to Sasha’s face, then hands it back. “Go on in,” he says, turning the knob and pushing the door open.

  The bodyguard leans in the foyer, calling out our arrival. “Mr. Walker, you have visitors.”

  Across the length of Gavin’s open floor plan, I see Grant crowding Gavin against the countertop in the kitchen. My blood pressure rises to near explosive when he stumbles back as if caught doing something inappropriate. Which, in fact, he is.

  Dark, primal instincts unfurl in my chest. The need to protect and fight for what’s mine roars through me like a feral animal needing to stake its claim.

  Operating on reflexes, I sprint through the house and grab Grant by his jacket, slamming him against the nearest wall, which happens to be a pantry of some sort. The door behind him cracks like a thunderclap, splintering from the force of the blow.

  “Mitch?” I can hear Gavin’s surprised voice, but my only focus is on keeping this predator away from the man I love.

  Love? I shake my head, too enraged to think about that right now. “What the fuck were you just doing?” I snarl, literally bearing my teeth in anger.

  “Hale?” Grant sputters. “You’re insane! Let me go!” He tries to twist out of my grasp, so I clamp a hand on his throat to hold him still.

  His partner comes into the room and I hear Sasha trying to keep him out of the fray.

  “You fucking piece of shit,” I hiss, my inner caveman rejoicing at the chance to defend Gavin and get payback for the years of torture Grant subjected me to. “Don’t go near him.”

  Hatred bubbles up, burning my throat like bile. The urge to punch his smug face gnaws away at my lizard brain, refusing to be tamped down by reason.

  “You’re fucked up, Hale. Just like you were at the bureau!” Grant laughs, but it’s a high-pitched, nervous laughter.

  I pull my fist back, ready to break this fucker’s jaw.

  “Mitch, stop.” Gavin is at my shoulder, his warm hands curled around my wrist, attempting to calm me down.

  “Did he fuck with you?” I growl, glancing at Gavin over my shoulder.

  God, he’s beautiful. The adrenaline, the loathing, the need for revenge, Gavin’s presence… they all combine into a high so perfect, so rooted in the deep part of my brain that still responds to my animalistic needs, that my cock begins to stiffen.

  Van Zandt is becoming agitated where Sasha has him pinned in a corner of the kitchen. My gaze returns to Grant, his face red, a line of spit trailing from the corner of his mouth, and I see it. The man is shit-his-pants terrified of me. That cocksure attitude I used to find so attractive is gone, the façade peeled back to expose the manipulative coward that he is.

  I remove my hand from his throat and push back, not breaking eye contact until I’m sure he won’t retaliate, but I already know he won’t. Grant Halifax is only good at the mental mindfuck. He can’t and won’t hold his own with someone physically.

  Reaching deep into my rational side, I turn and take Gavin’s hand, towing him from the room and straight up the stairs. With a booted foot I kick the door to the master bedroom closed behind us with a deafening bang. When Gavin opens his mouth to ask a question, I grab his face and crash my lips down over his.

  Stunned, it takes Gavin a minute to respond, but when he does, he’s almost violent in his need. Gavin’s strong hands circle my ass, long fingers digging into the muscles painfully. His hard cock presses alongside mine and I counter by thrusting my hips forward, not caring that the rough fabric or zipper of my jeans is probably chafing my dick.

  “God I missed you,” I moan, plunging my tongue into his mouth, reveling in the familiar taste. I inhale deeply, letting the scent of coconut, and sun, and sweat overwhelm my senses.

  Breathless, Gavin rips his mouth away long enough to yank his threadbare T-shirt over his head and shove down his board shorts. He grips the hem of my shirt, practically tearing it off and tossing it behind his head. I can tell by the way his eyes widen that he’s going to ask about my scar.

  To distract him, I fumble to undo my fly. It works, Gavin slapping my hand away, deftly undoing it and kneeling as he pulls my pants down to my ankles.

  “Baby,” he moans, grabbing my ass and burying his face in my groin, inhaling deeply.

  “Jesus, Gav,” my breath hitches, then stops completely when he swallows my cock. “Fuu-uuck,” the air punches out of me in a huff at the pleasure of his hot mouth and perfect suction.

  Gavin moans, sending a shudder through my balls all the way up my spine. Much too soon, I can feel my release straining to be contained.

  “Gav, stop,” I pant.

  He pulls off my dick with a pop, staring up at me with those big blue eyes, his full lips swollen and wet.

  Desperate to claim him, I haul Gavin to his feet and throw him onto the bed, climbing on top until we’re eye to eye, our bodies lined up perfectly.

  “What about everyone downstairs,” Gavin rasps as I lick my way across his lightly stubbled jaw to the sensitive pulse point on his neck.

  “Fuck ‘em.”

  I bite down on that sweet spot and grind our hips together simultaneously, earning a long, loud moan.

  “Shit, Mitch. Oh god. Fuu-uuuck.”

  I slide down his body, licking and kissing my way across his chest, following the blonde hair down his stomach.

  “You don’t have to, Mitch,” he whispers.

  Breathing in his scent, I reply. “I want to.” Tentatively, I drag my tongue up the base of his smooth cock and then swirl it around the head. He moans, arching back as his fingers thread through my hair.

  “So good, baby.”

  Holding the thick length upright, I stretch my mouth around the flared head and suck, hard.

  “Fuck! Holy shit, Mitch,” he stutters. His hips thrust off the bed and I choke a little. “Jesus, sorry. It’s just so…”

  His words die as I recover and begin to move my hand and mouth in tandem, getting a taste of precome with each lash of my tongue over his slit. As his breathing gets louder, I pull off, my chest already sore from exertion. “God you taste good, Gavin.”

  “Come up here,” he rasps, his eyes unfocused and his mouth half open. I climb up the bed, once again settling on top of him with our hips lined up.

  One of Gavin’s hands finds my ass, pulling me closer to add pressure between our stiff cocks. His other hand weaves into the thick hair at the top of my skull. Gavin tugs hard, sending a shock of pain/pleasure across my scalp. He uses my hair to direct my lips back to his, claiming me in the messiest, hottest, dirtiest mouth fuck of my life. His tongue plunges in deep, pulling back before diving in again.

  My breathing kicks up another notch as he lifts his hips to thrust against me. Now my wound is on fire, but short of my chest tearing open, nothing is going to stop me from being with Gavin.

  I reach between us, swiping my hand over the heads of our cocks, smearing both of our precome down our combined lengths. Getting a go
od grip around us, I begin to move.

  “Oh god,” Gavin groans when the head of my cock rubs the sensitive underside of his with each pass. The sounds he makes are so erotic, my pace falters when he cries out. Yet I continue bucking against him while stroking our cocks in time with each thrust, never stopping, never wanting to stop, never wanting to let him go again.

  Gavin throws his head back and hisses my name, arching his neck and grinding his head into the bed. I nip at the strained tendons with my teeth and lick a wet path across his Adam’s apple, reveling in his pleasure.

  “Jesus, I’m already close,” I moan. My balls tighten and the familiar tingling sensation swirls in the base of my spine.

  “Me too, baby. Give it to me,” Gavin begs, digging his heels into the mattress to counter each one of my thrusts with one of his own.

  I move faster, the slick moisture from our cocks giving just enough lubrication to keep the friction on this side of painful. It’s glorious, like discovering something new and amazing and coming home at the same time. My breath is coming hard and fast, matching Gavin’s heavy gasps. His eyes glaze over and his body stiffens, his mouth opening in a silent scream.

  Then, he shouts, loud and uninhibited. “Oh god, oh god, yes! Fuck, Mitch!”

  Gavin’s release spurts out between us, hot and thick and filling the air with the scent of sex. I watch his gorgeous face contort with ecstasy and it tips me over the edge.

  “Fuck, Gav. So fucking good. You’re so goddamn perfect.” Sparks explode behind my eyelids, shorting out my brain as sweat drips down my temple. I feel Gavin shudder and it sends me flying. “Uuuhhh!”

  Cum erupts from my cock, joining Gavin’s, wet and slick between our bodies as I stroke myself to completion. I let out a final gasp before collapsing on top of him, sated and exhausted and feeling better than I have in weeks even though my chest burns like hell.

  Gavin’s eyes flutter open and he starts to speak, the bliss on his face replaced by the demand for answers.

  “Wait.” I hold up a finger. “Let me clean us up.”

  After grabbing my shirt off the floor and doing my best to wipe up the mess, I open the bedroom door and listen for voices. Not hearing anything I close it again and shoot a text to Sasha.

  Me —Sorry. Did you leave?

  She responds almost immediately.

  Sasha —No worries. I made Lex and that ass Grant take me to my hotel.

  I cringe, forgetting that Sasha came all this way to see me.

  Me —We’ll do dinner tonight to make up for it. My treat?

  Sasha —You bet! Say high to your sexy man, stud.

  I laugh and toss the phone on the floor.

  “What’s so funny?” Gavin asks from his sex coma. I scoot under the covers, curling up behind him.

  “Nothing,” I whisper into his hair. “Nothing at all.”

  Gavin

  “Mitch, what happened down there with you and Halifax?”

  The length of Mitch’s body stiffens behind me, the muscles in his arms tensing up around my waist as if preparing for a fight.

  I wriggle out of his hold, rolling over until we’re face to face. My hand finds its way to his cheek, gently drifting down the rough stubble to his neck. Continuing my journey, I choke with emotion when I reach his chest.

  “Jesus, Mitch,” my voice is thick and slurred. “You almost died.” A single fingertip traces the four-inch scar to the left of his heart. “I—” My mouth opens, but there are no words. Emotion burns my eyes and the scorch of hot tears slide down my face. “Fuck.”

  “Don’t cry, baby,” Mitch croons. He wipes the moisture away with his thumbs before pulling me to his chest. My arms tighten around his torso, the torso of a man who nearly died for me. I appreciate the sound of his heart, vital and strong beneath my ear.

  Mitch slides his fingers through my hair and down my back, offering comfort when all I really need is the knowledge that he’s alive. And that he’s mine. Words fill my throat, struggling to burst free. I’ve never said them before, never wanted to say them. Now, it seems as if I have no choice.

  When they come, they come easily. Easier than I ever thought possible.

  “I love you, Mitch.”

  The hands on my skin freeze and I hear Mitch’s steady heartbeat flutter. I lift my head to look in his soft, grey eyes.

  “I love you, Mitch,” I repeat, louder, more absolute this time. “I think I have for a while now.”

  The grip Mitch has on me tightens, the pads of his fingers digging into my flesh. He pulls me up until we’re nose to nose, his breath warming my skin. “I love you too, Gavin.” His voice catches, bringing a deep red tinge to his cheeks.

  A smile spreads across my face, feeling as if it might split me in two it’s so big. I kiss Mitch thoroughly with sweet reverence, showing him how much I love him.

  “Now, tell me what the hell was going on in my kitchen.”

  * * *

  I pace the length of the master bedroom, wearing only a pair of briefs.

  “That motherfucker is Grant? Your ex-partner?” I snarl.

  Mitch nods, his gaze wary as he watches me stalk back and forth at the foot of the bed.

  “So he knew,” I state, the fury growing exponentially, tunneling my eyesight down to one narrow and very specific vision—hurt Agent Halifax. “He knew this whole time that you and I…” My fingers curl up and gouge my palms. “He knew about us and what?” I shout. “He wanted to fuck with you? With me?”

  Mitch’s eyes grow watery, his humiliation obvious under the anger. “Probably both. He’s not right in the head, Gavin. Almost as inhuman as the predators he chases.”

  I whirl around, stopping in front of Mitch where he sits hunched over on the corner of the bed. “I’ll tell you what he is,” I snarl. “He’s a fucked-up, closeted asshole who gets off on toying with gay men because he’s too chicken-shit to admit who he is!”

  “Most likely, yes.” Mitch’s face remains impassive at my ranting.

  I cock my head, studying Mitch carefully. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”

  He shrugs. “I figured it out after I quit. Everything made sense somehow. In his own twisted way, I was Grant’s only outlet for his sexual frustration and loathing.”

  “Bullshit,” I roar. “All he had to do was man up and admit he likes cock. There’s no excuse for fucking with people’s heads the way he does! He’s fucking married, Mitch!”

  Mitch nods. “I know.” His blank stare turns dark. “I could literally kill him for what he tried to do to you,” he whispers, as if saying it softly would negate the seriousness of his declaration.

  My anger fading, I sit next to Mitch on the bed. “He didn’t do anything, Mitch. He tried his fucked up mind games, but the only reaction he got out of me was irritation.”

  “Because you’re stronger than me,” he admits.

  I put my hand under his chin and pull his face up to mine. “Because I never trusted him to begin with. You didn’t have a choice, Mitch. He was your partner. You spent days with the man. It’s hard to see the truth when it’s…” I blink, in shock at the thought that just ran through my head.

  “When it’s what?” Mitch asks, his brow crumpled in confusion.

  “When it’s right in front of you,” I murmur. “Holy shit. I think I might know who’s been leaving the notes.”

  75

  Mitch

  “Sasha,” I see my friend waiting for us in the restaurant of her hotel, a gorgeous Mediterranean style resort right on Huntington Beach.

  “Mitch,” she hugs me before turning to Gavin.

  “Sasha, good to see you,” he wraps his arms around her to receive his own embrace.

  “I have a table waiting,” she announces. We follow her to a table tucked away in a corner of the room.

  A huge grin overtakes her face, causing two dimples to pop on her cheeks. “Back together, I see?” Her eyes flick down to my hand on Gavin’s knee and I flush. But I leave my hand where it
is. Gavin covers my hand with his and squeezes.

  “Yes.” I glance over at Gavin and he gives me a small smile, turning my insides to mush.

  Sasha’s face splits in half again. “Wonderful.” Then her expression turns serious, making the nerves that already twist in my gut clench even harder. “We’ll order before we talk business. I’m starving.”

  We agree and wait until our food arrives to listen to Gavin give us his terrible theory. He takes a deep breath to gather the courage to speak.

  “I think my father sent the notes,” he admits, a tinge of sadness in his voice.

  “Your father?” I nearly shout.

  “Mitch, don’t make a scene,” Sasha hisses.

  Of course she’s right. Gavin is very recognizable, and with me sitting here after his announcement that we were never a real couple, it causes several heads to turn our way and mouths to drop open in surprise.

  “Sorry, I didn’t think.” My hand grips Gavin’s knee, probably causing discomfort but he doesn’t complain. “You really think your father did this? Cut off a human finger? That he’s a serial killer?” I rant.

  “No, not a killer. You said there were two suspects, one tame and one serious. I think he’s the non-threatening one, sending notes to keep me in the closet,” Gavin explains.

  I grunt non-committedly as Sasha nods, obviously agreeing with Gavin’s hypothesis.

  Gavin turns his upper body to face me. “Think about it Mitch. The notes started a long time ago, years. According to Ross, they weren’t threatening enough to even bother telling me.”

  “Okay, but it could be anyone, so why your dad?” I ask, trying to wrap my mind around a parent being so cruel. Yet I know it could be true. I’ve seen humanity at it’s worst, and sending homophobic notes is nothing compared to what I’ve dealt with.

  Gavin’s mouth curves down in distaste. “He came to my house the other day.”