Guarded

by L. A. Witt

  “Holy shit,” I panted, trying to blink my eyes back into focus.

  Jordan sat back on his heels, and the miniature collar peeked out from his sleeve as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

  “Well done,” I whispered as I fixed my clothes with shaking hands. The limo slowed, and we both braced as it turned a corner, putting us on the street where Milo lived. “How are your nerves now?”

  Jordan grinned. “I think I’ll be all right.”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Jordan

  Normally I’d do anything to avoid attending awards shows. I’d had it with pasting on a smile while the latest shitty pop act walked away with all the accolades. But tonight was different, and not just because Jase was holding my hand, his thumb worrying the edge of that tiny collar he’d locked around my wrist. Tonight the whole band was stoked and jubilant, practically bouncing off the seats even without the bottle or two of champagne we’d usually cracked open by now. I’d asked the guys not to drink in front of Daniel, and for once they’d agreed without hesitation.

  Daniel sat across from me, staring blankly out the window, hands folded in his lap. “You’re awfully quiet,” I commented.

  He shrugged. “Just saving my energy for the show.”

  “What’re you gonna say when you win?”

  Now he laughed. “You really think that’s gonna happen?”

  “We got nominated, didn’t we?”

  Daniel rolled his eyes. Jase’s hand slid onto my shoulder. “Looks like we’re here.”

  The limo slowed as it turned the corner in front of the theater and inched up to the red carpet. I drew in a breath, closing my eyes. Chill, okay? This is our fucking night, whether we win or not.

  Then the door swung open, and the buzz of the crowd flooded in. “Go ahead,” I said to the rest of the guys. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  They all piled out, with Daniel bringing up the rear. He shot me and Jase a glance I couldn’t quite read, then climbed out, waving to the crowd, a gazillion flash bulbs going off.

  “Ready?” Jase asked. On my nod, he slid out first, his hand clasped around mine the only thing grounding me as I rolled to my feet. The paparazzi went nuts, cameras clicking and flashing. We started up the red carpet together, eventually catching up with the rest of the band. Whispers and pointed looks told me a few people had noticed that I hadn’t let go of Jase’s hand.

  “Hey, Jordan!” someone yelled. “Is that your new boyfriend?”

  More than one way to answer that—and if the fluttering in my gut was any clue, best to do it now before I lost my nerve. “Do you trust me?” I whispered to Jase.

  “Isn’t that my line?” His smile dimmed once he saw I was serious. “’Course I do.”

  “Then follow my lead, okay?” I said, before pulling him into a kiss. Hot. Heavy. Open-mouthed. Right there in front of God and everybody. Jase gave a start then went with it, hands sliding up my back and into my hair. His heart raced, thrumming against mine as the crowd burst into applause, cameras clicking and whirring fast enough to signal imminent battery failure.

  The rest of the band was clapping too—even Daniel. He’d pasted on a grin, but with his shades still on, I couldn’t tell if it reached his eyes. Couldn’t tell a lot of things.

  The crowd went fucking nuts, screaming and hurling questions at us. One woman tried to grab my sleeve. Jase hustled me to the door, where theater security checked our names against the list and ushered us inside.

  “I am so punishing you for that,” he growled, hand curling protectively around my arm.

  Something told me he wasn’t that angry—and even if he was, I’d still enjoy it later. Grinning, I glanced around—

  Shit. We’d left the shrieking hordes outside, but we still had a gauntlet of reporters and camera crews to run. Some asshole with a pink mohawk bore down on me, shoving a microphone in my face. “Hey, Jordan—Robbie Kennedy from MTV. How does it feel, being nominated for your first Rock Mag award?”

  At least he wasn’t asking about Jase or Daniel. But my relief lasted about two seconds when I swept the room and didn’t see Daniel anywhere.

  Oh, there he was—walking up to the fucking bar.

  I shot Jase a panicky “Go after him!” look while trying to summon up my usual canned response for Mohawk Guy. “It’s a great honor. The whole band’s really excited to be here. We’ve been working hard for the past five years…” I droned on while Mohawk Guy slurped it up with a spoon. They all wanted the same fucking answers. I didn’t even have to think about them anymore.

  I kept talking until Jase and Daniel stepped away from the bar, a glass of something clear and fizzy in Daniel’s hand. “Gotta go, man. Talk to you later,” I said, slapping Mohawk Guy on the shoulder before walking away.

  Another pair of reporters lay in wait, but the rest of the band crowded around them, grabbing their attention so I could slip away.

  I gave Milo and Greg the thumbs-up as Daniel yanked off his sunglasses, glaring at me. “Will you call off your fucking watch dog? I told you, I’m fine.”

  His eyes were clear and alert now—which didn’t mean they would be later. “What’s in the glass?”

  “Club soda, for fuck’s sake. Here.” He shoved it at me. “Taste it.”

  It was club soda, all right—bubbly and bland, without a trace of alcohol. “Jase, would you get me one of these?” Felt weird, me giving him orders, but we couldn’t take a chance on someone overhearing us. Jase’s gaze bounced from Daniel back to me before taking in the rest of the lobby. The place had security posted at every door and circulating amongst the crowd. He didn’t need to worry. “I can handle being on my own for five minutes,” I added. “Go on.”

  “Okay,” he said, giving my hand a squeeze before disappearing

  Daniel sipped his club soda and glanced down at the ugly red and gold carpet.

  I took a more leisurely look around the packed lobby, letting out a slow whistle. “Everybody and their dog’s here tonight.”

  “No shit. If they dropped a bomb on this place, they’d wipe out the whole fucking music industry.” He cracked a lopsided grin. “Not such a bad idea, if you ask me.”

  We laughed, and for a few precious seconds it was the way it used to be, just me and Daniel—friends, brothers, out to conquer the whole fucking universe. “How’s everything going?” I asked. “We haven’t talked much since you got back.”

  “S’okay.” His shrug didn’t convince me, though. “No highs, no lows, just... normal, I guess. Kinda forgot what that felt like.”

  Jase returned with my drink, an identical club soda in his other hand. Barely had time for a sip before chimes sounded, chandeliers dimming. Our cue to go in.

  They usually seated the nominees and presenters down front at these things. Two dozen tables ringed the auditorium, bottles of red and white wine serving as centerpieces. A quick nod at Jase, and he put our bottles on another table before Daniel and the rest of the band ambled in.

  The food was actually decent for a change—not five stars, but not the usual rubber chicken either. My stomach still doing flip-flops, I picked at my salad while keeping half an ear on what the rest of the guys were saying. Everyone sounded excited about heading back into the studio next week, and I hadn’t even shown them the songs I’d finished in the last couple of days. I couldn’t remember the last time the music had flowed out of me so effortlessly. I drummed my fingers on the table, wishing it was my guitar.

  Jase’s hand closed over my wrist—the one that wore his collar. “Breathe.”

  I leaned closer, chuckling. “I’m fine. Just a little nervous.”

  “About winning, or…” He cocked his head at Daniel, who sat staring at the stage, focused on nothing. Didn’t look like he’d eaten more than a few bites of his steak.

  Then the lights dimmed, the orchestra striking up “Wrecking Ball.” The emcee walked onstage, and—

  Fuck. It was that asshole Chad Wilson, lead singer of the Carn
al Malefactors. Great, just fucking great—

  An usher came up and tapped me on the shoulder. “Time to go backstage, Mr. Kane.”

  “Oh. Okay.” Didn’t realize New Rock Act would be coming up so soon—production on this show was so rushed, there’d been no time for rehearsal—but best for my nerves to just get it the fuck over with.

  With all the extra security around, Jase didn’t have to come with me, but I didn’t stop him from following me backstage. Knowing he was there, his hand hovering at the small of my back, helped steady me. The stage manager handed me an envelope and a card with a few lines on it—my script. Okay, nothing too difficult. I’d presented awards before. I could wing it.

  They introduced me, and I walked onstage, blinking into the lights, so fucking bright I couldn’t see a thing past the orchestra pit. Should’ve remembered to bring my sunglasses.

  I read off the nominees, announced the winners—this band I’d never heard of called The New Black—handed them their engraved chunk of glass, then stood aside while they whooped it up and thanked everyone they’d ever fucking met. Kind of sweet, actually. Reminded me of Daniel and I back in the day, before the endless grind of recording and touring pounded our enthusiasm into dust. Hopefully the new album would help us get it back.

  “Hey, Jordan.” A familiar sneering face jumped out at me from the shadows as I followed the winners backstage. Shit. I thought I might be able to duck out of here without catching Chad’s attention, but no such luck. “I hear congratulations are in order,” he said, flicking back his greasy dreadlocks. “When’re you and your bodyguard tying the knot?”

  Jase’s eyes narrowed. He started toward me, but I waved him off. I could handle this jerk myself. “Hey, Chad. Charming as ever, I see.”

  A sliver of bright white teeth peeked through his raggedy-ass beard. “I always knew you were a cocksucker.”

  “Who told you that? Sean?” The Malefactors’ drummer. I’d sucked him off at a music festival in Italy a couple of years ago. “Funny, but he said the same thing about you.”

  “Then he’s a fucking liar. I’m no faggot.”

  “Guys tend to speak the truth when they’re balls-deep in another guy’s throat. But that’s just my experience.” With all the noise and people dashing around backstage, I had to lean closer so Chad could hear me. The repulsed curl of his lip—well, hello there, closet case—made me bite down on my cheek to keep from busting out laughing. “Don’t worry.” I winked. “I won’t spill a word.”

  “Fuck you!” Chad took a swing at me, which Jase blocked neatly, sending the jerk skittering back. Puffing like an enraged bull, he looked ready to take another run at me, until the stage manager shoved him out onstage.

  Jase’s hand at the small of my back again. “You okay?” I nodded, and we turned to go—

  “Our next award is Guitarist of the Year.”

  I spun around, catching Jase’s sleeve. “That’s Daniel.”

  The presenter announced the nominees, and... shit, Daniel was up against some heavy hitters. I really hoped he’d win. He sure as fuck didn’t need another blow to his ego right now—

  “And the winner is…” The presenter tore the envelope open. “Daniel Barrett from No Rules!”

  Oh my God, he won. He motherfucking won.

  I barely registered Jase’s hand on my shoulder or the tidal wave of cheering and applause as Daniel walked onstage to accept his award.

  “I, um... wow,” he said, turning it over in his hands. Reminded me of that kid in the Christmas movie who finally got the be-be gun he’d always wanted. “I’m honored that y’all thought of me this year. Thank you. This means a lot.” He held it up in the air like a boxing champ declaring victory. “This is for Greg and Andy and Milo and the fifty-odd other people who keep our tour buses humming and our bellies full when we’re out on the road, and for our engineers back home in the studio. But most of all, this is for Jordan.” His gaze zeroed in on me standing there in the shadows. “For watching out for me. For having faith in me. I wouldn’t be here without you, man.”

  The orchestra struck up the usual bum’s rush tune, and they hustled the presenter and Daniel offstage. “You look like you just got hit by a truck,” I said, reaching blindly for Jase’s hand, the churning in my belly fading as his fingers closed around mine.

  Daniel stared at the slab of glass as if he were afraid it’d melt right there in his hands. “Did you, uh, pay them to give me this?”

  “No! What d’you think I—” He flashed me a “Gotcha, motherfucker!” grin. I threw my arms around him. When he hugged me back, my heart practically floated away. God, I was so fucking happy for him. “You won it fair and square. ‘Bout fuckin’ time too.”

  * * *

  We ended up winning all three of the awards we’d been nominated for. It was worth walking up on that stage two more times to see the envy oozing from Chad’s toxic gaze—the Malefactors had apparently gotten shut out this year. Couldn’t happen to a nicer bunch of assholes.

  Milo, Greg and the rest of the band went off to Millennium’s after party—to finally get a fucking drink without feeling guilty about it—while Daniel, Jase and I piled in the limo and headed home.

  “You don’t have to skip the party on my account,” Daniel said. “Drop me at the house and go have some fun.”

  Oh, we plan to. Smiling, I caught Jase’s wicked glance. “We’re good.”

  Nobody said anything else, though, strangely, it didn’t feel like an awkward silence. Daniel fingered his award and stared out the tinted glass like he was trying to memorize it all—the sky, turning that gorgeous deep blue right before the stars came out. Four lanes of flashing red brake lights and gray asphalt. The rolling hills of a city we’d called home for the better part of thirteen years.

  When the limo swung into the driveway Daniel climbed out first and made a beeline for the front door. I threw Jase a look. “Mind if I—”

  “Go ahead. I’ll take care of the driver.”

  I gave him a quick kiss and darted after Daniel, the heels of my dress shoes tap-tapping on the marble tile in the foyer. “Hey,” I called. “Are you really okay?”

  He smiled, but it didn’t come close to reaching his eyes. He looked tired. Blank. Like he was having trouble focusing, even though he was looking right at me. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “You seem... quiet.” I shrugged. “Different, I guess.”

  “I thought that’s what you wanted. For me to be different. To get well.” He held his arms wide, in a classic “ta-da!” gesture. “This is what ‘well’ looks like on me.”

  Obviously the evening’s excitement was wearing off. He’d feel better once we got back in the studio next week. If there was one thing he loved, it was getting his mitts on new songs. “Want to see what I’ve been working on?”

  His gaze flicked to the stairs—no, to Jase climbing them, his footsteps a soft thump on the carpeted risers. “I think someone’s waiting for you.”

  “Oh. I, um…” The hot glow in Jase’s eyes told me he didn’t want to be kept waiting. The throb between my thighs agreed with him. “In the morning, then. Okay?”

  He smiled and hugged me again, so tight I thought I’d pass out. “G’night, Jordy,” he whispered, then he turned and disappeared into his room, the door swinging shut with a sharp click.

  * * *

  Jase was waiting for me in the bedroom. He’d already stripped off his jacket and was trying to unknot his bow tie, but it looked like he’d turned it into an even bigger tangle.

  “Here, let me,” I said. Good thing I kept my nails a bit long for playing, though it still took me a couple of minutes to loosen the strip of satin. He knocked my hands away before I could start unbuttoning his shirt. “What’s the matter?”

  His eyebrow arched. “Remember what I said about punishing you?”

  I laughed. He didn’t. “Look, I didn’t mean to—”

  “Out us like that, in front of every cable network on the planet?” He dr
opped to the foot of the bed and started working on his cuff links. “I wish you’d told me what you were planning.”

  “I didn’t plan anything, it just... felt like the right thing to do.” I sank down next to him, his sharp glance warning me away from trying to help. Oh God—his family. He’d never talked about them, which I no doubt should’ve taken as a warning sign. “I’m sorry, Jase. I should’ve realized you might not be out to—”

  “My folks know. So does my sister. My grandparents and other relatives, well…” He shrugged. “They know now, I guess.”

  “I’m sorry,” I repeated softly.

  “S’okay. Now it won’t be such a shock when I bring you home to meet everybody at Christmas.” Cracking a tiny smile, he reached for my hand. “I mean that, by the way. I’m proud of us, Jordan. Proud of you. I can’t wait for them to meet you.”

  He leaned in for a kiss that stole my breath and sent euphoria racing through me. Daniel was back. The band was happy. We’d just had one of the best nights of our lives. The man I loved was taking off my tie. Unbuttoning my shirt.

  Pressing his hand up against my throat. “Do you want your collar back?”

  God, yes. I nodded.

  “Go get it.”

  I grabbed it off the dresser, then sank to my knees in front of Jase while he buckled it on. His fingers skimmed the strip of leather, brushed over my skin. I shivered. Pulled in the first easy breath I’d taken all evening. “You, um, said something about rewarding me…”

  “I did, didn’t I?” He rolled to his feet, bringing me along with him. “Strip. I’ll be back in a second.”

  His bag was in the closet. I heard him rummaging around in it while I tried to keep my mind on peeling off my shirt and cummerbund. Kicking off my shoes. Unzipping my pants and letting them fall to the floor. I was already rock-hard, and he’d barely touched me. One stroke of my hand—or his—and it’d be all over—

  His hand landed on my shoulder instead of my dick, with pretty fucking close to the same result. I gritted my teeth, barely holding it together as he pulled me close, my back to his naked chest, his scent washing over me. Warmth. Sweat. Aftershave. “I want to try something different tonight,” he whispered. Kissing and biting my neck wasn’t different—not that I was complaining—but the thing in his hand…