Backlash (Winter's Wrath #1)

by Bianca Sommerland

  Their manager hadn’t gotten with the times on the whole ‘Love is love’ thing though. Metal equaled straight to most fans and Cole wouldn’t let any of them fuck up that image.

  Which was kinda funny, considering not a single member of the band was completely straight. Cole’d had high hopes for Tate—the kid hadn’t had much experience with either sex when he’d joined them.

  He should have known we’d corrupt the boy. Alder caught up with Tate and put his arm over the drummer’s shoulders. He wouldn’t fuck Tate just to satisfy the kid’s curiosity, but there were other ways he could help. “You’ll get everything you want in Vegas, Tate. I promise.”

  “Yeah?” Tate grinned, brightening up instantly at just the mention of his favorite city. “Cole can’t watch us all the time, right?”

  “Fuck no. And we’re there for a few days, so we can finally get a bit of a break.” A much needed break. Maybe Alder would be less inclined to murder his brother once they got some time away from one another.

  Rounding the corner of the trailer, where there was a frame tent set up, Alder stopped in his tracks, spotting Brave pressed close to a shirtless man against the side of another band’s bus. Ripped jeans and wavy, dirty blond hair…Jesse.

  Maybe fratricide wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  “Shotgun? I don’t want much.”

  At Brave’s request, Jesse Vaughn almost choked on the smoke he’d inhaled and dropped his joint in the dirt. He’d gotten most of the equipment loaded in the trailer and was taking a quick break. Brave wasn’t usually up this early—early being before noon. He still looked fucking good though. His long, black hair spilled wild down his back in soft waves, and the black liner he hadn’t bothered to wash off last night was smudged, making his golden brown eyes even more brilliant. He didn’t look tired though. More like a dirty, rugged angel that had just crawled out of the trenches. Hot and sweaty and ready for all kinds of trouble.

  Trouble Jesse should avoid if he wanted to keep his job.

  Crushing the joint under his boot, Jesse pulled out his cigarette pack to get some rolling paper. He had to roll a fresh joint now, so he’d keep it low on tobacco so it didn’t fuck with Brave’s voice.

  “You sure this is a good idea?” Jesse couldn’t remember the last time Brave had smoked anything.

  “No.” Brave let out a throaty laugh. “But we should do it anyway.”

  Yeah. Trouble.

  But he really loved his job. Even though he hadn’t been with the band the longest, Jesse pretty much ran the crew. Not the career path he’d originally planned on, he’d grown up with dreams of becoming a rock star. Or a professional wrestler. He’d gotten a wrestling scholarship for college, so his life had been set.

  Until an assault charge against a rich kid and a year in jail royally fucked all his prospects. Jesse was lucky he had connections in the music world to fall back on. He’d worked as security at a venue in Detroit for a few years, where he’d met Brave and Alder at one of their first shows.

  One of their roadies had fallen off the stage and broken his arm, so Jesse filled in. During the show he’d restrung Alder’s guitar and tuned it for him when the man’s stupid metal pick snapped a string. The band decided they needed him. And he’d been with them ever since.

  Keeping his head low and doing his best not to piss off their manager, Cole. He didn’t give them shit about using their position to get as much pussy as they could, but they weren’t supposed to get too friendly with the band.

  Fair enough, but Brave made it hard. Real fucking hard.

  There’d been a time or two Jesse had come close to crossing the no-fucking-the-band line. With both brothers. What could he say, they were hot. Both tall, with black hair and similar features, but other than that, very different.

  Brave was long and wiry, his hair reaching to the center of his back, his eyes a golden brown that practically glowed with anger or lust. He had a way of moving that made it impossible not to think of sex.

  Alder had broad shoulders, a nice build, but not like a man who obsessively worked out. Or carried around band equipment every day. He wasn’t as muscular as Jesse, but he had the roundest fucking ass.

  Off limits. Both of them. But after a few drinks, shit happened. He’d made out with Alder once when the bus broke down in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky and they had to walk to get cell reception to call for repairs. Alder had been plastered and Jesse was a little stoned. And they were tired and the side of the road looked like a good place to lie down for a few minutes.

  Alder’s phone had rung just as Jesse began seriously considering fucking his best friend in the dirt. Thankfully, things weren’t weird between Jesse and Alder after. He’d have hated to fuck up their friendship because he’d been stupid.

  But it was different with Brave. Whenever they were alone, Brave would do or say something that made it almost impossible to care what Cole thought.

  Like right now.

  Cole had gone ahead to the next venue in South Dakota, which had been a late add to the tour, to check out the place and make sure security was tight. With him out of the way, Jesse had one less reason to keep his distance.

  He lit the tip of the fresh joint, drawing in the smoke as Brave braced his hands on either side of him against the metal siding of the bus. With the joint between his lips, Jesse smiled, then took the blunt away from his mouth, letting out the smoke slowly.

  “You have to sing tomorrow.”

  Brave shrugged. “That’s why I wanna share. I’ll be fine.”

  “That’s not why you wanna share.”

  “Maybe not.” Brave gave him a hooded look. “But you’re playing hard to get.”

  Laughing, Jesse sucked on the joint, blowing the smoke off to the side. He hadn’t gotten high enough to dull the effect Brave had on him, but he wouldn’t let it show. Even though he could feel the length of Brave’s dick against his thigh. And the thick stench of weed couldn’t drown out the heady smell of sweat and faint cologne. Just having Brave close made him hard, but this wasn’t a game to him. Brave would respect him more if he didn’t give in.

  “I’m not playing.” Jesse slid his hand to the side of Brave’s neck. He ran his thumb along Brave’s tense jaw. “Open your mouth.”

  Brave’s eyes drifted shut, his tongue running over his lips as they parted.

  Taking a deep haul on the joint, Jesse brought his mouth close to Brave and breathed out the smoke. His lips were practically touching Brave’s. Another inch and he could kiss the man. He wanted to, wanted to take all Brave could offer, but it wouldn’t last. The fans and the fame had spoiled Brave. He’d grown arrogant. And distant.

  The closed off man he was to everyone else wasn’t good enough for Jesse. As he worked one hand into Brave’s hair, offering another exhale of smoke, he met Brave’s eyes.

  Not a good idea.

  Those fucking eyes had him ready to trash all the reasons his brain came up with to avoid becoming another of Brave’s playthings.

  Until they stopped seeing him at all. Brave glanced over his shoulder as footsteps approached, his lips slanting in a cold smile. “Need something, bro?”

  “No.” Alder looked ready to kill his brother. “Sorry to bother you.”

  Another fight. Nothing new. Jesse sighed and nudged Brave aside, looking from Alder to Tate. “You’re not bothering me. What’s up?”

  “Forget it.” Alder brushed Tate’s hand away when the drummer tried to grab his arm, then headed back the way he’d come.

  Not sure what was up with the man, Jesse handed Tate the rest of his joint and followed Alder, latching on to his wrist before he could climb back onto the bus. “Hey, you wanna chill out? Did you need something?”

  Alder’s jaw ticked. He squared his shoulders. “Tate needs cookies.”

  “Okay. You want me to go, or you just need a lift?”

  Inhaling roughly, Alder leaned against the side of the bus. “Seriously? Right now, I don’t give a shit about that.
What the fuck are you doing? You know what Brave’s like. Maybe it’s none of my business, but—”

  “You’re worried.” All right, that made sense. Jesse grinned as he put his hand on Alder’s shoulder. He couldn’t blame Alder for being protective. He was that kind of friend and Jesse would do the same if he saw Alder messing with the wrong guy. “I get it, and I love you for caring, man.”

  Alder snorted. “You’re full of shit.”

  “I mean it. But I know what I’m doing, okay?” Jesse hooked his arm around Alder’s neck. He grinned when Alder relaxed at his side, keeping pace as Jesse returned to the back of the bus to fetch Tate.

  Malakai had joined Tate and Brave, taking over the joint—and not sharing much if Tate’s pout was anything to go by. All the guys looked out for the young drummer, but Malakai tended to treat him like a kid brother, with more affection and watchfulness than the Trousseau brothers shared. He’d also known the boy the longest, so he’d been around when Tate had dealt with some serious addictions as a teen.

  As far as Jesse knew, other than him, only Malakai and Cole had any idea how bad his drug addictions had been. Tate’s grandmother checked in with Cole regularly, having gotten Tate away from his sister’s guardianship when he was fifteen. She was the one who got her grandson clean and interested in playing drums rather than shooting up.

  Cole had explained the situation to Jesse so he could help keep an eye on Tate. Which was almost impossible on the road. So long as he didn’t do anything stronger than pot, Jesse wasn’t too concerned, but Malakai tended to pull an intervention even with mild drugs.

  The cold look he shot Jesse as he approached made him rethink his stance. He’d have to be more careful lighting up around Tate if he wanted to stay on the bassist’s good side.

  “You heading to the store?” Malakai asked as he dropped the joint and crushed it under his heel. He arched a brow at Tate when the younger man cursed under his breath. Running his hand over his close shaved head, he smiled tightly when Jesse nodded. “Good. Let’s go.”

  Oh, this is gonna be fun. Jesse pulled out the keys to the van and glanced over at Brave. “Coming?”

  “Naw, just pick me up some orange juice and a few snacks. You know what I like.” Brave smirked as he passed his brother, who’d gone still at Jesse’s side. Their shoulders slammed together and Jesse was almost positive one of them growled.

  Be good to separate them for a bit. Connor was usually the one that pulled them apart when they came to blows, but he was hanging out with one of the other bands this morning, probably working out. Out of all the guys, Connor was the most down to earth, the calming presence that kept the others sane. Bringing him along would make the shopping trip easier, but Jesse hated to admit he hated dealing with the guys in public.

  Inside the van, Tate claimed shotgun, practically bouncing in his seat. “We should go to Walmart. Stock up.”

  Shoot me now. Jesse met Alder’s eyes in the rearview mirror.

  Alder shrugged as though to say “What’s the worse that could happen?”

  You want a list? Jesse sighed and pulled out of the parking lot behind the venue. The Walmart was only about a five-minute drive without traffic, and there was none since all the people who earned money doing sane office jobs were sitting behind their desks. Then again, Jesse didn’t have much to complain about. He loved the guys, and even though he didn’t make a ton of money, he’d be miserable at a job that didn’t revolve around music.

  Besides, Alder and Malakai were easy to manage when they were sober. So the only one he really had to keep an eye on was Tate.

  Who bolted from the van the second Jesse parked.

  “What’s the rush?” Malakai shouted after the drummer, who was dodging strollers and old ladies.

  Tate spun around for a split second, face red, and held up two fingers. Then he was gone.

  Fair enough. There were some things you couldn’t do on the bus. Even Tate couldn’t get in trouble in the bathroom. He wasn’t a child.

  But Jesse still hesitated when they passed the entrance, feeling like a parent not quite ready to let their kid out of their sight.

  Alder laughed and punched him in the arm. “He’ll be fine. Come on, this will go twice as fast if we get his cookies for him before he gets to browsing.”

  “Very true.” Jesse grabbed a cart, following Alder and Malakai to the food section. Halfway there, both men made a detour and grabbed some socks. A bit further and a display of DVDs caught Malakai’s eye. He stopped to check them out, picking a few new ones to kill some time on the road.

  The book section was what grabbed Alder. He picked up two true crime novels; his literary drug of choice, then paused with his eye on a Game of Thrones box set. Not his style. As far as Jesse knew, only Brave had read any of the books. Just the first one actually. He’d mentioned wanting to get the others, but he hadn’t had time.

  Brow furrowed, Alder picked up the set. He put it down, then picked it up again, shaking his head before tossing it in the cart.

  Neither Jesse, nor Malakai, said a word. Alder and Brave had the most fucked up relationship of any siblings Jesse had ever met. He could tell they cared about one another, but it was like they were afraid to let it show.

  Safest thing was to pretend not to notice.

  They finally hit the snack aisle. Malakai took off to get some “Real food”, leaving Jesse and Alder to fill the cart with chips and cookies and cereal. The cookies, which were the priority, took the longest. Alder had all Tate’s favorites memorized, but the aisle was crowded. He waited patiently behind a family of seven, a tired looking mother with children ranging from newborn to thirteen. The teenage girl was the first person to recognize him, and let out a piercing scream.

  Her mother looked ready to cry as her daughter leapt on Alder, babbling about how much she loved him.

  “Wendy, please!” The woman grabbed her daughter’s wrist. The baby strapped up in a car seat attached to the cart began to cry. Two of the toddlers climbed onto the shelf, knocking over a dozen packages of cookies. The woman gave Jesse a helpless look. “I’m so sorry.”

  “That’s quite all right.” Jesse caught one of the toddlers as he slipped off the shelf. He bent down to the kid’s level. “Wanna help me pick these up, buddy? I’ll give you a dollar?”

  The little boy nodded. His—twin?—joined in while their mother picked up the hollering baby and scolded her eldest child.

  To his credit, Alder had managed to gently pry Wendy’s hands off him, all while chatting with her about the band’s latest album and offering to sign something for the girl if she promised to help her mother.

  Naturally, Alder didn’t have anything on him to give the girl. Or a pen.

  Jesse laughed when Alder opened his wallet, looking totally lost. He took pity on the guitarist and plucked a guitar pick out of his pocket, handing it over.

  Wendy took it with a big smile. She squealed when her mother found a pen in her purse. “Can you sign my bra?”

  “No!” Both her mother and Alder exclaimed in unison.

  “Hey, what’s going on?” Malakai asked as he ambled over, his arms full of frozen fruits and vegetables.

  The scream the girl let out drew the attention of every shopper in the area.

  Likely the entire store.

  “Is Brave here? Please tell me Brave is here too!” Wendy latched on to Malakai’s shirt, her eyes wide. “I would do anything to meet him.”

  Malakai tried to back away from her. “Letting me go would be a great start.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am. Are they bothering you?” A heavyset man who looked like he’d walked straight out of ‘The Worst of Walmart’ strode up behind the woman, glaring at Malakai as though the bassist was some kind of predator.

  Jesse wasn’t sure if he should laugh or save his boys. When Malakai’s eyes narrowed and the woman didn’t answer—not her fault, her baby was screaming again and Jesse was pretty sure she’d lost a kid—Jesse decided they’d had enou
gh ‘fun’ for one day.

  He put his hand on Malakai’s arm, nudged him toward the cart, and smiled at the big guy with the pizza sauce stains on his shirt. “Just a little issue with an avalanche of cookies. Wendy was about to help us pick up the rest of them.” He glanced over at the teen. “Weren’t you, sweetie?”

  Her lips parted, her cheeks went red, and then she knelt beside her brothers to pick up the rest of the boxes. Pizza man grunted, grabbing a few boxes of sugar free cookies before storming down the aisle.

  During the distraction, Alder had managed to get all Tate’s favorite cookies. The woman retrieved her children, apologizing again before doing a quick head count. She went white.

  “Where’s Bobby?”

  Jesse patted her hand. “What does he look like?”

  She held up her hand to chest level, tears spilling down her cheeks. Malakai headed to the toy aisle. Alder headed to the electronics.

  And Jesse stayed where he was as the woman ditched the carriage, taking only the baby as she began calling for her son and darting through the food section.

  One of the kids was playing on a phone, another was sitting on the floor, talking to himself, so Jesse focused on the twins and the teen. Wendy chattered happily about everything she knew about the band. The twins tore open a box of cookies and started chowing down. He considered stopping them, but they were staying put and he had no idea of the protocol on telling someone else’s kids what to do.

  His phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked the text.

  Tate: 911

  “Are you fucking serious?” He looked at the kids. He couldn’t just leave them. So he quickly replied.

  Jesse: What’s wrong???

  No answer. His blood went cold. Tate was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a drama queen. He wouldn’t text something like that for nothing.