The volume of that last declaration must have startled even Russell himself, because he went silent then, staring at Jesse and breathing heavily.
Jesse was paralyzed. What the fuck was he going to do?
“There is someone else in this house,” said Russell, recovering himself and replacing heat with ice as he nodded at the remains of Hunter and Beth’s feast and the TV, which was still on. “You’re hiding her somewhere in this house.”
He made a move toward the stairs, and Jesse pivoted to block his access. But what could he really do when it came down to it? If he tried to take Russell and failed, where would that leave his people upstairs?
Fuck. Fuck. Jesse felt a hint of the terror that Beth must have around this criminal. Terror and powerlessness.
“Are you coming up or do I have to come down there and move you along?” It was Hunter, calling from upstairs, but in a weird, fakey-sounding voice. Jesse was confused, but that was better than the panic that had been threatening. “Anyway, we left the champagne down there, so I’m coming down.”
And then Hunter appeared, walking slowly down the stairs . . . with no shirt on?
“Oh, hello,” said Hunter mildly, letting his eyes roam up and down Russell’s body.
Russell’s mouth fell open as he gawped at Hunter.
Jesse took a deep breath. Hunter’s appearance had let much of the air out of the confrontation, had given Jesse a moment to collect himself, to think.
“Jesse.” Hunter raised his eyebrows like he was not impressed. “Are you going to introduce me to your . . . friend?”
“Nope.” Jesse instinctively moved to stand in front of Hunter, who was perched on the bottom step. He was pretty sure Russell was only gunning for Beth, but he’d be damned if Russell laid a finger on Hunter.
“Holy shit.” Russell barked a sloppy, drunken laugh. “Holy shit.”
Hunter rested a hand lightly on Jesse’s shoulder. “Well, in that case, perhaps it’s time for—”
“You to leave,” Jesse broke in, glaring at Russell. Hunter’s hand on his shoulder was an anchor. Hunter—brilliant, sweet Hunter—had saved them. Had shifted the situation enough that they had the upper hand. “Get out of my house before I call the cops.”
“I always knew there was something off about you,” Russell said, almost thoughtfully.
“Get the fuck out of here!” Jesse roared, and, miraculously, Russell did, without even another word about Beth.
Jesse started shaking then, like a stupid frightened animal. What were they going to do? What was he going to do? He was supposed to leave on tour next week. He couldn’t abandon the whole thing and leave the band, not to mention the hundreds of people who worked for them, in the lurch. But he also couldn’t leave his sister here, an open target.
“Jesse,” Hunter whispered, and he took his hand off Jesse’s shoulder.
That was the opposite of what he was supposed to do. Jesse needed that hand back. He needed more than that hand. So he turned in place and wrapped his arms around Hunter, buried his head in Hunter’s chest. They were normally the same height, but since Hunter was standing on the bottom step, Jesse’s head notched perfectly under his chin.
Hunter hesitated for a moment, but then his arms banded around Jesse.
“Thank you,” Jesse whispered.
“I’m sorry if I made more trouble for you. I couldn’t think what else to do, and it seemed like this might get rid of him. He was on that tear about you hiding someone. I know you don’t want people to think you’re—”
“No,” Jesse interrupted, shaking his head against Hunter’s chest, his evening stubble grazing Hunter’s smooth skin. The difference in textures where their bodies touched made him shiver. “That was brilliant. That was perfect.”
Hunter squeezed him tighter, and it felt so good. Jesse wanted to stand there forever, safe in Hunter’s arms. Screw the tour, screw the label, screw his image, screw everything.
But he couldn’t have that. For a million reasons, not least of which was Hunter himself, who was now patting his back awkwardly, like the hug had gone on too long.
Jesse cleared his throat and pulled away.
Back to reality. He had a week to figure out how the hell he could go on tour and also keep his sister safe. They needed to get all the lawyers together on Monday. They needed—
“I think your sister and Gavin should move into my apartment while you’re gone.”
“What?”
“While you’re gone, we’ll swap.” Hunter gestured around the living room. “I’ll move in here, keep an eye on the place. Beth and Gavin can move to my place. Her husband has seen me, but he has no idea who I am, and my address is unlisted. Plus, my place is on the top floor—much safer than being on ground level like this. We’ll trick it out with a top-of-the-line alarm system. She was looking into enrolling him in a school downtown anyway—my place is much closer.”
“You would do that?” Jesse asked, even though he knew the answer was yes. Because Hunter was a good man. Kindness came naturally to him.
“Of course.” Hunter flashed Jesse a big, guileless smile that nearly took Jesse’s breath away. “Now let’s go talk to Beth. She’s freaking out. And we have a ton of stuff to get done before we send you away on tour.”
There was a rap on Hunter’s office door, and he looked up, grinning.
But of course it wasn’t Jesse. Jesse was on tour, had been for two months.
The grin was Hunter’s Pavlovian response. His body had been conditioned to respond to a knock on his door in a certain way: his mouth to smile, his stomach to flutter with excitement. Which was stupid. Was he thirty-four or fourteen?
“Dr. Wyatt, do you have a moment?”
It was Andrea Bingham, the president of the hospital’s charitable foundation. Her presence probably meant she was going to ask him to do something he’d rather not.
But maybe it wouldn’t kill him to agree to whatever she was going to suggest. Hunter had been hanging out a fair bit with Beth and Gavin, and he and Jesse had taken to texting at night. Hunter was losing sleep—literally—because he was staying up to chat with Jesse after his shows, which, depending on which time zone the band was in, could be quite late. So, yeah, it was probably a good idea to devote some mental energy to something that wasn’t Jesse for one moment of the day.
“For you? Of course. Hit me.”
“What do you think about asking Jesse Jamison to emcee the gala next month?” Andrea asked.
Hunter laughed. Threw back his head and let it rip.
It didn’t matter that Jesse was currently in Houston. There was no escaping him. The rock star from the train had infected every nook and cranny of his life.
“No?” Andrea frowned. “And here I thought it was such a good idea, if a long shot. Those PSAs he did were so well received. And I looked at their touring schedule, and they don’t have a show on the tenth.”
“I thought you had Darren Singleton on board.” Darren Singleton was a Toronto Raptors player. Not a superstar, but a longtime player who was quite involved with the hospital foundation.
“I did. I do.” She made a sheepish face.
“But you’re thinking of firing him for Jesse.”
“I wouldn’t call it firing, per se.” When Hunter raised his eyebrows, she said, “The band’s new album is so popular.” It was true. It had debuted at number fifteen on the charts and had spent the month since climbing. It was currently sitting at number two.
Not that Hunter was obsessed with checking or anything.
“Do you think there’s any chance he’ll do it?” Andrea asked.
Hunter chuckled. “Yep.”
“And will you ask him for me?”
The chuckle became a resigned sigh. “Yep.”
Jesse got out of the shower and tried to pretend for five seconds that he wasn’t going to check his phone before he was even dry.
He lasted three.
It was probably too early. They usually didn’t sta
rt texting until midnight his time. Depending on the show, and the venue, he wasn’t always back to his hotel room before then. But tonight had gone like clockwork, and they were just staying a few blocks from the arena, so it was only eleven.
His pulse skittered when he saw a text from Hunter had indeed arrived while he was in the shower.
Good show?
He dried his hands and picked up his phone and replied. Yeah. The new amp was fine. No glitches. Everything went smoothly. Definitely best show so far. Something in the air in Dallas, I guess.
Hunter’s reply came immediately. You’re in Houston.
Jesse laughed. That about summed up touring. Right.
When he was younger and striving, and they’d go on little regional tours, crammed into their vans and doing their own roadie-ing, he would sometimes get confused over what day it was, where exactly in the world they were. But he’d blamed that on the partying. There was booze at every stop. There were girls at every stop. It all blended together, like one long bender.
He wasn’t sure what his excuse was this time. Another text arrived.
Avoid the bowls of white powder. It’s bad for memory. Doctor’s orders.
He laughed again. This tour, this was his constant. No matter where he was, no matter how the show had gone, he could rely on a text from Hunter to make him smile.
“Jesse, dude! Get dressed!”
It was Billy, who’d pushed his way into Hunter’s room—along with two women wearing Jesse and the Joyride T-shirts and extremely short cutoff shorts.
Jesse tightened the towel around his waist. “Jesus, Billy. Have you heard of texting?”
“Dude. I did. You ignored me.”
Jesse looked down at his phone, backed out of his stream with Hunter, and sure enough, there was one from Billy a few minutes ago—he wasn’t sure how he’d missed it—exhorting him to get ready because the rest of the guys were setting up shop in the hotel bar.
In the meantime, another text arrived from Hunter. I have something kind of weird to ask you.
Billy tapped the doorframe the way Jesse used to when he’d pick up Hunter at his office. “You promised to come out with us tonight, old man.”
He had. Had even kind of been looking forward to it. The show had gone extremely well, and he was still buzzing a bit on the triumph. Plus, he’d learned that making an appearance every few nights at whatever the guys had going went a long way toward keeping morale up—and morale was important for maintaining the momentum needed to power their three-month excursion. He was keeping his promises to Matty, but on the road, he needed to make sure everyone was happy.
“Hey!” Billy said as a song snippet Jesse had set as Hunter’s custom tone signaled another incoming text. He plucked the phone out of Jesse’s grasp. “Dude! Is that Hunter? I have to ask him something!”
Jesse lunged for the phone, but Billy held it out of reach. And before Jesse could stop him, Billy initiated a FaceTime.
Cutting his losses, Jesse turned around, looking for some clothing.
“Doc!” Billy exclaimed when Hunter picked up. “I need you to look at something for me.”
“Keep your pants on, Billy!” Jesse shouted.
“Is this a bedbug bite?” Billy extended his neck and aimed the phone at a spot near his collarbone. “Hang on. Let me move into better light.”
“Billy!” Jesse tried to stop Billy from pivoting his body because that was going to put Billy’s entourage as well Jesse’s towel-clad self in the picture Hunter was seeing.
“Oh, hey!” said Billy, apparently surprised by the appearance of others behind him. “Doc, meet, uh . . .” He turned and squinted at one of the women.
“Kelly,” she supplied.
“Kelly!” Billy echoed. “And . . . Kelly’s friend.”
Now he was zooming the phone over the women.
Jesse contemplated hiding in the bathroom, but there was no point. Billy would just hunt him down and it would look like he was hiding, which was somehow worse than not hiding to begin with.
And in reality, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It wasn’t like Hunter expected an accounting of who was in his hotel room in what sort of attire—or lack thereof.
So when the phone scanned over him, and Billy said, “And you know this asshole, of course,” Jesse gave a little wave.
And tried not to audibly inhale at the sight of Hunter clad in a tight, gray tank top.
“Did you know that Jesse has that Bon Jovi song ‘Bad Medicine’ as your custom ringtone?” Billy asked.
“Really?” Hunter chuckled.
Fucking hell. Jesse wanted to die. It had seemed like a funny diversion, but Jesus Christ, assigning your friends custom ringtones? Not exactly on-brand. What had he been thinking?
“So.” Billy craned his neck again and turned the phone back on himself. “Is this a bedbug bite?”
There was a moment of silence, and then Hunter’s voice from the phone. “I’m pretty sure that’s a hickey, Billy.”
Jesse barked a laugh.
“Oh, riiight. You’re totally right. I forgot about that.” He made a face at Kelly that was half apology, half leer, and Jesse braced himself for a remark about being in need of one on the other side so he could have a matching set or some shit, but for once, Billy spared them.
“Okay, thanks, Doc.” He swiveled the phone to Jesse, who’d been rummaging through his bag looking for clothing. “Say goodbye to Jesse, because he’s coming out with us tonight.”
“Wait!” Jesse straightened and tried to look dignified—as dignified as a person could look wearing only a towel in a hotel room full of groupies.
“Uh, okay, have fun, you guys. I’ll talk to you later, Jesse.”
“No.” Jesse grabbed the phone from Billy. “I’m not going.”
“What?” Billy managed to sound butt-hurt, like he was five and Jesse had stolen his favorite toy. “You promised.”
“Tomorrow,” said Jesse, holding up a finger to Hunter to try to forestall him from hanging up. “I’m tired. I’m going order up some food and then go to bed.”
Suddenly, “Kelly’s friend,” who had heretofore remained silent, said, “Oh, come on—pretty please!” with what he suspected she thought was a sexy, pleading voice.
“Nope.” Seriously. Behind curtain number one was the usual bar scene, populated by the guys and Kelly and her friends. There would be fawning. There would be flirting. There would be as much action as Jesse could want.
Behind curtain number two was Hunter. Who would have been enough on his own, honestly. But Hunter with “something weird” to ask him?
No contest.
“Out,” he said, raising his voice and opening the door. He tried not to laugh at the parade of forlorn faces that filed past, Kelly’s friend again aiming for sexy, this time of the pouty variety, and Billy looking like a forlorn puppy.
He bolted the door behind them, sighed audibly in relief, and brought the phone back up to face level.
“Sorry about that. Billy and his groupies invaded my room a minute ago,” Jesse said, but then immediately felt weird about it, because, again, it wasn’t like he owed Hunter an explanation of what he’d just seen.
“Seriously, don’t let me keep you,” Hunter said. “You’ve worked hard—sounds like it was an amazing show. Go have fun.”
Jesse tried not to stare at him too intensely. He was lying in bed—the bed in Jesse’s guest room, because he was staying at Jesse’s place while Beth and Gavin occupied his—bathed in the golden glow of the bedside lamp. He looked like the subject of a Renaissance painting. Like he only had to reach his hand up and God himself would come down and high-five him.
They had been texting pretty much daily since the band had departed, initially under the auspices of Jesse asking after Beth’s well-being. But that had morphed into chatting—about the ins and outs of the tour and the ins and outs of the hospital.
But it had all been over text. They hadn’t seen each other until now.
Which should not have been particularly sexy.
And yet.
He could imagine Hunter padding around his dark house, Hunter’s work spread out on the kitchen island.
Hunter wasn’t wearing his glasses, and his hair was down, for lack of a better word. Instead of being slicked back into his daytime pompadour, it hung loose, like he’d just washed it or brushed it or something. As at the cottage, there was a casualness about him that wasn’t part of his public persona. An informality that felt, suddenly, extremely intimate.
“You’re not keeping me,” Jesse finally said. “You’re saving me. I’m not in the mood for the party scene tonight.” He lay down on the hotel bed and rolled over onto his side, angling the phone against a pillow so he didn’t have to hold it. “What’s up? You wanted to ask me something?”
“Yeah. Andrea Bingham from the hospital foundation asked me to ask you if you’ll emcee the hospital gala on June tenth. Apparently you don’t have a show that night.”
Jesse blinked. It was a perfectly reasonable request. Not to be overly self-impressed, but if he were Andrea Bingham, he’d be asking him too.
So why was he disappointed that that had been Hunter’s big question?
“Don’t feel any pressure,” Hunter said quickly, making a dismissive gesture with one hand. “I said I would ask you, but I didn’t promise you’d do it.”
“Oh, I’ll do it.” Of course he would. He couldn’t say no to that hospital anymore. He was in deep. In fact, he was already talking to his money people about making a big donation.
“Really?” Hunter looked surprised but pleased.
It occurred to Jesse he would probably get to see Hunter in a tux. “Do I have to wear a tie?”
“Normally, I would say yes, but I’m pretty sure they’ll take you in any format.”
“Can Avery come?”
“I don’t see why not, if they’re up to making the drive in. She’s doing really well.”
Infamous Page 11
