by Megan Derr
Jason gave him a lawyer look. "Not when Azura is involved—especially not when rumors of the Emperor spring up as well. Those two factions have been bitter rivals for years, long before the current Azura took over from his father. Now that we're involved, and given my close ties to the band? It's going to take longer than days, or even weeks, for everything to quiet down."
Guilt washed over Jet all over again. "I'll fix it, I promise."
"You don't need to fix anything; I have it well in hand," Jason said, and he cut off Jet's angry protest with a hard kiss.
Too overwhelmed by the fact Jason was kissing him for no reason at all, had apologized, had told Jet to go to his house, Jet just kissed him back and tried to pretend for a few seconds that their lives had not been smashed to pieces by one stupid, fucking moment of panic.
"Stop worrying," Jason said in that way of his, as if it never even occurred to him that defiance was an option for anyone. "There's no sense in changing the way things operate now."
"The way things operate?"
Jason nodded and settled back against his pillow. "You cause a scandal, people scream, I fix it. Even if technically this scandal isn't your fault at all."
Jet winced. "That kiss was my fault. I'm just glad most people are ignoring it. I'll help fix everything, damn it. I don't know how, but I will. I'm not just going to stand by and let you take more hits."
"I have no intention of taking more hits. I fully intend to administer a few, however, one way or another," Jason replied. "Make somebody bring me some food. I'm starving. Then go home, rest, and leave me to take care of all of this."
"You can't take care of anything stuck in a hospital bed," Jet said.
"One thing at a time," Jason replied. "Food for now, please."
Jet rolled his eyes, but obediently went to go find a nurse. When that had been arranged, he stood feeling lost for a moment. Jason wasn't mad at him. Jason wanted him. Jason was going to fix everything.
Suddenly too exhausted to keep standing, Jet dropped down in the first empty seat he saw and leaned back, closing his eyes.
He didn't stir until someone kicked his feet, and he slowly dragged his eyes open to glare at Jack, the second of Jason's two bodyguards, though Allen was always referring to Jack as his handler. Jet still couldn't wrap his head around the fact that Jason was apparently tangled up with criminals, but then again, Uncle Henry's firm did represent the Azura Corporation and everyone knew what that crazy bastard did off the clock. Jet had only crossed paths with the guy once, when they'd been hired to play at a club owned by Azura. He had spooky eyes and Jet was totally willing to believe he had x-ray vision or something else just as creepy and fucked up.
The goons he'd put in place to watch Jason were just one more point on the spooky side, no matter how ridiculous a pair they could be. "What?" he asked.
"Time for you to go home," Jack said. "I'm taking you. Get up."
"You're not my bodyguard."
Jack shrugged. "Orders are orders, and Jason's orders are Azura's orders until I'm paid to believe otherwise. So get up, crazy boy, and let's get the fuck out of here." He handed Jet a pair of large, mirrored shades and a baseball cap. "I will drag you out of here if I have to, don't think I haven't done it before. You're cake compared to the crap usually dumped on us by Lord Blue Eyes. Move it."
Annoyed, but knowing when to concede defeat, Jet put the cap and glasses on, then stood up and followed Jack through the halls, into a service elevator, and down into the creepy depths of the hospital's basement floor. Jet shuddered as they passed what were obviously body bags on stretchers—and saw the room marked 'Morgue.'
God, what if that was where Jason had ended up? Jet felt sick just thinking about it. What if it still happened? Jason was doing something with the goddamn mob or whatever Azura was for fuck's sake. Then there was Uncle Henry, who was beyond pissed. Like there wasn't a word he knew of that described just how fucking angry his uncle was with the world right then—especially with Jason and Jet.
He rubbed at his bruised jaw, grimacing at the memory and pain. He didn't care what Jason said. Jet had fucked everything up and he would find a way to fix it.
Outside in what looked like a loading dock, a black car with heavy tinting on the windows waited for him. "I'm a fucking rockstar used to over-the-top measures and this still seems entirely too melodramatic."
"From what I've seen, melodramatic is the only way you know to roll," Jack said dryly. "Get in the fucking car."
Jet rolled his eyes and walked toward it—and reared back when some dude in a cheap suit popped out of fuck nowhere. The way he seemed to vibrate in place reminded Jet of the night he'd accidentally had five shots of espresso in the span of ten minutes.
"Jet, I wanted—" the man broke off with a sort of squeaky sound when he abruptly found a gun in his face.
The smile Jack gave the man was all sparkles and charm, but somehow seemed to make the air around them about twenty degrees colder. God, Jet was tired of it all. "I suggest you go far, far away," Jack said, voice a customer service type of cheerful.
"Okay," the man said and fled.
Jet whistled. "That was impressive. You're scary as fucking hell, but that was impressive."
"Get in the car."
Jet got, and slumped in relief when the car pulled away, grateful to leave the hospital and the goon squad behind, even if he sorely missed Jason. He dozed until the car stopped, the sudden lack of motion waking him up. He rubbed his eyes and then looked around the yard and street, checking every bush and corner he could see. After several minutes he sighed in relief to see that there appeared to be no one stalking Jason's house. Thanking the driver, he climbed out and headed in, locking the door behind him.
He headed straight upstairs, suddenly too tired to do anything more than piss and strip off his clothes before he climbed into bed and fell asleep shamelessly cuddling a pillow that still smelled like Jason.
A furious pounding at the door jerked him awake, and Jet stared blankly around the dark room for a minute before everything came rushing back. Ugh. Fuck. What the hell time was it? He sat up and shoved back the blankets, then realized his phone was vibrating. He leaned out of the bed and snatched up the discarded jeans. Fumbling the phone out of the pocket, he flopped back on the blankets as he hit accept. "What?"
"Let us in or I'm going to break a goddamn window," Dai snapped.
"Coming," Jet said and pushed himself out of bed. He pulled on the jeans then stumbled downstairs. Crossing the kitchen, he unlocked the back door; he'd barely opened it when Dai shoved through, the rest of the band spilling in behind him. Ricky slammed the door shut and locked it again.
Kim went straight for the fridge. "Fuck, I am sick of media. Our fucking lawyer had better be one hell of a lay, Jet, that's all I have to say."
Jet opened his mouth, but paused when Dai pointed a finger at him and administered a death glare. "One word and I will make sure you never get laid again."
Heaving an aggrieved sigh, Jet replied, "He's worth it," to Kim, then asked the room at large, "Anyone hungry? I'll figure out food. What are you guys doing here?"
"We came to see if you'd heard the latest," Misha said grimly.
Jet groaned. "What now? I haven't done anything else, I swear it."
"Murder," Dai said quietly. "They found some guy named Alvese Fehr with a bullet in his head, laid right out in the middle of downtown, like three hours ago."
"What the fuck time is it?"
Misha pushed a beer toward him. "A little after three in the morning. The news ain't saying much, but people are already whispering about it being a hit. Your dad looked ready to shit kittens."
Jet drank half the bottle in one swallow, started to set the beer down, but then decided to finish the rest of it in another swallow. Pushing away from the island, he went to the fridge and started dragging shit out of it, going through cupboards next until he had what he needed to throw together a quick meal. Cooking would keep his mind away fr
om panicking. "I think I met him," he said. "Alvese. Olive skin, curly hair, lots of jewelry, right? He was creepy."
"He's dead, and it was only three hours ago, but already crazy shit is being said if you know where to eavesdrop," Misha said. "Your boytoy—"
Kim and Ricky both snorted at that, and Ricky said, "I think we both know that Jet is the boytoy in that relationship."
Jet grinned, but at another look from Dai, went back to dicing veggies and throwing them in a hot pan with melted butter.
"Anyway, Jason is in some deep shit. But hey, at least the hit is distracting everyone from the whole banging his cousin thing, right?" Kim said. Dai sighed and drank his beer.
"I don't think I'll ever figure out how to unfuck everything," Jet said.
"On the other hand, sales are up," Ricky said dryly. "By all means, keep kissing our lawyer. Shit, maybe you can renegotiate what we pay him."
Dai punched his arms. "Shut up. All of you shut up. I do not want to hear about my brother and my cousin. Ugh. God. Bleach. Somebody drop bleach into my head."
"Stop being a baby," Misha said. "It's not like we aren't accustomed to Jet's TMI anyway. Let's face it, this only comes as so much of a surprise. At least it's not your f—"
"If you finish that sentence, we'll both kill you," Jet said from the stove as he started adding strips of chicken to the pan. "Just because you have loose morals—"
Kim snorted. "I'm sorry, who in this room is going to get brought up on incest charges if anyone figures out the tabloids are actually getting something right for the first time ever?"
Jet pointed his spatula at Kim. "Do you really want to start getting into what the tabloids have accidentally gotten right over the years? Because we can start with Kyoto, smart ass."
"No!" Dai burst out. "Christ, Jet, you're burning the food. Sit down, I'll finish cooking." He shoved Jet onto the barstool he'd just vacated and took over at the stove. "No one is going to charge you with anything, and it probably wouldn't stick if they tried. Not unless you call a press conference to say that yes, you're fucking my brother."
"I'm more worried about the whole Azura mess, especially now that Alvese guy apparently had a hit put on him. This will get worse before it gets better. Poor Jason, the firm will dismember him and eat him for breakfast, and your dad won't do anything to stop them given how pissed he is at Jason for sleeping with me."
Dai shook his head. "I'm pretty sure Jay has lost his job, or will shortly after he gets out of the hospital."
Jet couldn't breathe for a moment. "What?" He'd lost Jason his job? Jason loved that job, even if he did bitch about it sometimes. He was good at it—at least as good as he was at his romance novels.
Fucking hell, what else was Jet going to screw up?
"Jesus, Jet, you look like you're on the verge of freaking out again. Breathe, man," Kim said, gripping his shoulder and shaking him.
Jet shook him off. "I cost him his job? Really? Does Jason know yet?" Fuck, they'd only barely sort of patched things up. What was Jason going to say, going to do, when his father fired him or made him quit?
Dai stepped toward him, looking concerned. "Jet—"
He fled, not wanting to fucking hear one more word. God. When had he become such a mess? Maybe people were right and he'd always been a mess. He fled to Jason's study and closed the door, not locking it, but if Dai tried to fucking bother him he so would.
Sitting in Jason's chair behind the desk, Jet folded his arms across it and buried his head in his arms. After a moment, he sat up and retrieved the remote control in Jason's top drawer, flicking on the TV and flipping through the news stations. His mouth tightened as he watched a report on the body, feeling sick when he saw Alvese's image. Had he had something to do with Jason's beating? Jet couldn't see how he couldn't have. Had Azura really ordered the hit on the guy?
Jesus, he felt like he'd fallen into a bad movie. His life always felt a little surreal, a little too much like a dream, but it had exploded into a nightmare in a big fucking way.
Pictures of the concert started flashing across the TV screen, along with dozens of other pictures of the family, the firm, Azura and other people Jet didn't know. He turned it off, feeling like he was going to fucking throw up. The door opened and he scowled—but backed off when Dai scowled right back and said, "I'm just bringing you food, asshole. You wanna keep hiding away and sulking, fine. Do whatever you want."
"I'm not sulking. I just didn't want to freak out again because god knows that's when the reporters will show up. Don't they have anything better to talk about?"
"You mean other than the professional hit on Alvese Fehr? Apparently he was a longtime lover of Alana Winthrop. She's a big name in corporate circles. Rumor has it she's dating Lawrence Lord these days. Don't know what she does, missed it while the guys were talking. But no, right now nobody has anything better to talk about than an extremely public showing of a professional hit of a well-known businessman with extremely powerful ties. Especially when it took reporters twenty seconds to connect him to us and that concert. There are videos showing him and Jason leaving the ballroom at the same time and returning just a couple minutes apart. The cops told me that one—there's a lot not making it on the news."
Jet looked up at that. "I'm surprised the cops haven't been by to talk to me."
Dai shrugged. "They know you didn't kill the guy, and they're not going to waste their time chasing tabloid rumors. Even if they believed it, they've got more important things to worry about than kissing cousins."
"Uncle Henry doesn't," Jet said with a sigh. "God, Jason is going to kill me when he realizes my goddamn behavior cost him his job."
Giving him a look of disbelief, Dai replied, "Come on, you know Jason better than that. He doesn't need to be told. He probably knew before the rest of us."
Jet shrugged, part of him agreeing that was true because Jason was always six steps ahead of everyone and everything. But if he knew his life had just been trashed that last little bit, there was no way he would have told Jet to hide in his house—and kissed him.
Fuck, he could really do with more kisses right then. And naked. Lots of naked. Nothing felt better or more right than tangling in the sheets with Jason, and he could use that sweet oblivion for a little while. He really hoped that dumbass gave himself suitable time to heal.
They both turned when the door opened again and a familiar figure stepped through. "You should still be at the hospital!" Jet burst out. "It's the middle of the fucking night."
"Strictly speaking, it is four oh three in the morning," Jason replied.
Jet stood up and crossed the room. "I don't fucking care what time it is, you're supposed to be in the hospital—" Jason's mouth crashed down on his, and he tasted like medicine and soda, but Jet really didn't fucking care. He clung tightly to the front of Jason's t-shirt and kissed him back, tasting it when Jason's poor lip split again.
From behind them came a pained sounding, "Oh, god."
After kissing him a moment longer, Jason drew back and looked over Jet's shoulder at Dai. "Why are you and the others here? Is something wrong?"
"Did you hear about Alvese?" Dai asked.
"Yeah, it's why I got out tonight. The hospital staff is going to be pretty ticked with me, but they'll have their paperwork waiting for them. I'll start sorting this mess out; you guys just keep laying low."
Dai nodded. "Do our best. We have a show two weeks from now. Should I cancel it?"
"No," Jason said. "I'll make sure nothing goes wrong. We want to lay low, not hide like cowards. You guys want to crash here?"
"Yeah, but I want the room farthest away from yours."
Jason snorted. "You know where my room is, so pick your own room out. Now get out unless you want to be traumatized further."
Dai didn't move. "Are you sure you're okay to be out of the hospital?"
"I'll heal better here than there. Allen and Jack are in the kitchen. Make sure they're good for the morning before you go to bed."
Jason gave him a look that was equal parts confused and horrified. "Don't call me that, it's weird."
Dai rolled his eyes and left without another word. The door had barely closed behind him when Jason resumed the kissing. Jet was pretty sure he should have been protesting or something, but he was more than happy to kiss back, at least for a little while. When they eventually drew apart he said, "You really shouldn't be up."
Jason snorted softly. "I'm fine."
"Yeah, apparently you've taken more beatings than anyone's realized."
Rolling his eyes, Jason let go of Jet and, after kissing his temple, walked stiffly over to his desk. Jet stared after him, startled by the affectionate kiss. Jason had never done anything like that, never shown any inclination to. They were cousins with serious benefits, but Jet had never really thought …
He startled as Jason turned to look at him. "Something wrong?" Jason asked, frowning at him.
"N-nothing," Jet said and cleared his throat. "Please don't tell me you're going to start working now."
Jason shrugged then winced slightly. His hand started to move up toward his chest, but then he aborted the movement. Two fingers on his right hand were still wrapped; Jet remembered hearing they'd been dislocated. He'd done that once while they were in Scotland; it had fucking hurt. "I'm awake. I'm tired of sleeping. My secretary is coming over at ten and I have an appointment at one."
"Would you like some food? Coffee? Are there some pain meds you need to take?"
"I'm not taking anything the hospital gave me; it'll just knock me out," Jason replied, slowly sitting down behind his desk. "I wouldn't mind the coffee and some ibuprofen, though. Thank you."
Jet nodded and slipped away, bemused by the quiet, easy way they were behaving. It was as if they were both … walking on ice, waiting for it to crack. The kitchen was empty when he reached it, though somebody—Dai, likely—had already started a pot of coffee and left out four mugs. There was a post it stuck to the top of the coffee machine as well: Give A & J coffee.
