Holding a Hero

by Layne, Lyssa

  “I want you out of my house. Now.”

  “Cowboy—”

  “Get the fuck out,” he repeated.

  She reached for his dick again. “You don’t mean that—”

  “I mean every word.”

  A tear slid down her beautiful face. If he hadn’t known how well she could act, he’d have lapped up her bullshit. She’d tricked him before. He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

  More tears slipped from her big blue eyes. “You promised to release my album—”

  “And when I put that big diamond on your finger, you promised not to fuck my friends.” Disgusted, he grabbed his shorts from the floor and jerked them on. “Didn’t stop you, though.”

  He’d been massively turned on by the petite blonde the first time he spotted her at a concert. A great fuck had led to a quickie Vegas wedding. Shyly, she’d shared her lifelong dream of having her own music career. Her voice wasn’t bad, damn good in fact. To make his new bride happy, he’d agreed to produce an album for her.

  Then, a few weeks later, he’d walked into the studio and caught his best friend screwing her against the wall.

  He’d fired Keifer on the spot, and filed for divorce the next day. Johnny would never forget the hurt and anger on Keifer’s face when he told him to pack his shit and get out. Teal had come on to him, Keifer had argued, not the other way around. All she’d wanted was a step up to fame and she’d screwed half the bands in L.A. to get it. Johnny had been the only guitar slinger dumb enough to marry her. What was the big deal? They’d shared music, blow and pussy since they were kids back in Seattle.

  Teal was my wife.

  Even now, a year later, their betrayal still hurt like a fresh kick in the nuts. Johnny might be rock’n’roll’s bad boy, but he’d believed in his vows. Stupidly, he’d thought Teal had, too.

  Damn.

  Thanks to her, the band now had a gaping hole in the middle of it where his best friend since the eighth grade had always been. Fresh anger rushed up Johnny’s throat. He grabbed Teal’s upper arm and dragged her across the bed. “I want you out of my house and out of my life.”

  “But we were so good together.” She cupped his balls and squeezed. “We can be again. Give me a chance to make it up to you, baby.”

  For half a second, he wavered. A quick fuck… Why not? Her pussy wound him up like no other. Visions of her writhing like a porn star under Keifer filled his head, and he jerked away from her lethal touch. No matter how much he might still want to screw her, he couldn’t forgive her. “Ten minutes, Teal. Or I’m calling the cops on you for trespassing.”

  “You wouldn’t.” She grabbed the letter opener from his nightstand and swung it in a wild arc.

  A lifetime of evading bras, panties and even the occasional bottle lobbed his way had given him lightening quick reflexes, and he dodged. However, he couldn’t avoid the tip of the letter opener and it caught his chest, raking toward his groin.

  “God damn it, Teal. You almost cut off my dick.” From a safe distance, he held out his hand. “Give me that.”

  “I’m sorry.” Meekly, she handed it to him handle first. Her enormous wedding ring flashed in the dim light. Why was she still wearing it? He wouldn’t take her back on a bet.

  He took the weapon from her and placed it out of her reach. “You’re high. You on blow? Meth?”

  She shook her blonde head and pouted. “I’m not high. I’m mad at you.”

  Mad at me?

  For what? Marrying her? Producing her album? Oh, right. Dumping her ass for sleeping with his best friend and not letting her have the record he’d produced. “You’re wasting time. Five minutes.”

  “Please, Cowboy, I’m sorry.” She licked her full lips. “Being with Keifer didn’t mean anything.”

  “It meant something to me.”

  She changed tactics and her perfect pout turned ugly. “I’ll sue your ass.”

  He laughed. “Good luck.”

  “Keifer says the CD’s mine,” she insisted.

  Already disgusted, throwing his former best friend’s name in his face enraged him. “Time’s up. Get out. Now.”

  Teal pushed out her tits and ass, provocative as a stripper, and bent to retrieve her clothes, making sure he got a good look at every considerable asset.

  He stared at her, unmoved.

  When he didn’t respond, she dressed.

  She turned pleading blue eyes on him again. “Please don’t make me go out the front door. The paparazzi are out there. They’ll go crazy if they see me leaving at this hour.”

  “It’s a lonely walk of shame.” He crossed his arms over his oozing chest.

  Tears formed in her eyes again. “Cowboy, please—”

  “You love the press,” he reminded her. Good, bad or ugly, seeing her name or face in the papers made her ecstatic. “Fine. I’ll let you out the back,” he agreed, more for his benefit than hers. You can walk up the beach and catch a cab from Starbucks.”

  Her pout returned. “You’re mean.”

  He looked at the thin line of blood trickling toward his stomach. “Yeah. Whatever. Time’s up. You’re out.” Taking her arm, he escorted her to the sliding glass doors leading onto the deck and the Malibu beach beyond. “Hopefully, the paps won’t notice you.”

  No sooner had the words come out of his mouth than a half dozen flashbulbs exploded in the predawn light. Teal fell back against him and he slammed the door shut. “Damn it. They spotted you.”

  Her chin trembled. “I don’t know how they found out I would be here.”

  The truth dawned on him. “Bitch, you set me up.” Her wicked smile told him he’d hit the nail on the head. “Why? You’re not going to gain anything by making people think we’re back together.”

  “Aren’t I?” She fisted her hands on her hips. “The public eats up a love story. You. Me. Together again. Your CD coming out soon. The publicity benefits us all.”

  “Nothing’s happening between us.” He ground his teeth. “Not ever again.”

  She ran a finger in the blood trickling down his chest, over his shorts and the unrelenting hardness underneath. “We’ll see.”

  His traitorous cock jumped at her touch. He fought the heat wave she ignited in him. “Just fucking leave.”

  He dragged her to the front door and opened it to a dozen flashing cameras and reporters calling her name. He pushed her through the door, slammed it behind her and reset the security code. He’d changed it a half dozen times and somehow she always found her way back inside.

  In the master bath he found peroxide and cotton balls in one of the cabinets. Luckily, she hadn’t stabbed him deep enough to need stitches, but pouring the bubbling liquid over the long, jagged scrape hurt like hell.

  Patting the wound dry, he applied antiseptic ointment and pulled on a soft cotton T-shirt.

  In his bedroom he sat on the edge of the bed and dialed his manager.

  After a few rings, Joel Ernstein answered, his voice sleep-filled. “This better be important.”

  “It’s Cowboy. Haul your ass over here right now.”

  Joel’s groggy tone sharpened. “On my way.”

  ~*~

  Instead of his usual custom-made suit, Joel wore jeans and a T-shirt. No Italian loafers, just Nikes without socks. Overnight stubble covered his chin. He stared in disbelief after Johnny filled him in on the morning’s events. “Teal broke in here and stabbed you? How’d she get close enough to do it?”

  “I woke up with her rubbing her ass on my dick. When I refused her charms, she grabbed a letter opener and swung it in my direction.” From his perch on his cream-colored sofa, Johnny lifted his T-shirt. “Although I wouldn’t exactly call this a stab. More of a scratch.”

  “You need medical attention. A tetanus shot for sure.” Joel looked ready to throw up. “I’ll get you a doctor—”

  “No fucking way. I’m fine.” Johnny shuddered at the thought of the press getting wind of him being attacked. Any hint of more scandal and the
reporters would become even more relentless. The year since his breakup with Teal had been hell with reporters pressing him for every intimate detail, when all he’d wanted was to forget the whole mess. “Are those paparazzi fucks still hanging around outside?”

  “I didn’t see any. They must have followed Teal wherever she wandered off to.” Joel stomped around the expansive living room, running his hands over his head. “That bitch is crazy. Cowboy, we have to get a restraining order on her.”

  “I don’t want to,” Johnny said. “That’s exactly the kind of press I don’t need. I just want to put the Great Teal Incident behind me.”

  Joel paused at the grand piano in the corner near the ocean view window. He ran a finger over the keys. “Obviously she doesn’t feel the same way. The next time she sneaks in here, you might wake up dead.”

  Johnny walked to the bar and poured orange juice into a glass and added a liberal amount of vodka. He gulped half of it. “I’ll get the security codes changed.”

  “Again? For what, the fifth or sixth time?” Joel pushed one of the keys on the piano. “Maybe you should just let her have the album.”

  Johnny shook his head. “Never. I own those rights and they’re staying with me.”

  “If you continue to withhold them, you’re going to make her even angrier.” Joel pressed another key. “Maybe even cause her to snap. You want that?”

  “No.” Johnny finished his drink. “But I don’t care to help her either.”

  “I hear she and Keifer are putting together a band,” Joel said. “They’re talking trash all over town, saying your career is dead.”

  “Fuck ’em. I ain’t dead.” Johnny waved a hand toward the wall filled with Grammys and various other awards. “Far from it. This new record is going to put us back on the scene.”

  “This one absolutely must perform, or you are going to be a has-been.” Joel sat at the piano and tapped a few notes. He was a fair piano player when he wanted to be. “But you’re not going to have to worry about it if your crazy ex keeps sneaking in here with knives.”

  “Damn, man. You’re creeping me out.” Joel didn’t have to remind him what was at stake with the new CD. He knew all too well. Teal’s brand of crazy didn’t worry him so much. He could handle her.

  “Johnny, listen to me. Why don’t you get out of town for a while? Let things cool down. The CD is almost done. You could take a break until the tour starts next year.”

  Joel’s use of Cowboy’s Christian name grabbed his attention. He’d gone by Cowboy from the time he started his first band back in the sixth grade.“I can’t. I have a million things to do. Record more songs, mix tracks, interviews to set up—”

  “I’ll reschedule the interviews,” Joel said. “Consider it done.”

  Weighing his options, Johnny shrugged. “Where? Someone is sure to leak wherever I go. Teal’s settlement gives her plenty of money to follow me anywhere I might hide.”

  Joel frowned, then snapped his fingers. “Colorado.”

  Johnny brightened. “Aspen? Fuck, yeah.” He’d partied hearty there a few times. The locals weren’t kidding when they talked about a Rocky Mountain high. “Telluride?” A lot of his celeb friends had second homes in the mountain getaway, although he’d never been there.

  “No, not Aspen or Telluride.” Joel stopped plinking on the piano and faced him. “You remember how to hunt?”

  “Animals?”

  “Yeah. Elk, deer.” Joel held his fingers over his head like a pair of antlers. “You know, things with horns? Antelope, buffalo. That sort of thing. I went to college with a woman whose father guides big game hunts. I’ll track her down and ask if he will hide you for a week or two. That would throw Teal off your trail. And give you time to have your security system updated.”

  Johnny’s first instinct was to refuse. Hunting wasn’t high on his list. But then he thought twice. As a kid he’d bagged a lot of blacktail bucks hunting with his old man in the Cascade Mountains. Making records and touring had kept him away from the sport for many years, but maybe it was time to revisit it. Teal, or reporters, would never think to look for him in the wilderness.

  “I don’t want to go with a group,” he said. “I can’t deal with a crowd begging for autographs and that shit. If I go, I want a private tour with my pop. It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out.” He loved his fans, they’d made him, but sometimes they wanted more than he could give.

  “That’ll probably cost an arm and a leg,” Joel, always money conscious, grumbled.

  “I don’t care about the fucking coin,” Johnny said. “Call this chick and see if her old man can fit me in.”

  “I’ll set it up,” Joel said. “Keep a low profile until you can leave town. I’ll order a new security system installed while you’re gone. In the meantime, load your guns and keep them next to you at all times in case Teal tries to break in again.”

  “Yeah, because I need a murder on my hands,” Johnny said. “That would do wonders for my career. Not to mention yours.”

  “You better hope she doesn’t kill you. Because if you’re dead, you’re not going to have a career to worry about,” Joel shot back. “I’m going to hire a bodyguard. Maybe two.”

  “I don’t want a fucking bodyguard.” Carrying his drink, Johnny moved to his couch, flopped onto it and felt around for the remote. The Seahawks were playing today and all he wanted to do was watch his hometown team score a few touchdowns. “I don’t need a babysitter. I can handle Teal.”

  “Sounds like she’s the one handling you. Or at least your dick.” Joel stood, walked to the bar and poured Diet Coke into a tall glass, squeezing a lime into it. “Next time she might chop it off. Or worse, tear it loose with her teeth… if you let her close enough.”

  A shudder crawled up Johnny’s spine. He was extremely attached to his cock. He’d hate to lose it. “Instead of a bodyguard, how about sending over a couple of chicks to keep me company?”

  Joel glared at him. “A girl is what got you into this mess. Can’t you think with the head on your shoulders instead of the one between your legs? Just this once?”

  “You sound like a bitch,” Johnny said. “Man up, for Christ’s sake.”

  “Somebody’s got to look out for you.” Joel sounded hurt.

  Next to Keifer, there’d been no one Johnny trusted more than Joel. He’d watched his back for the last five years. But he was a worrywart, always looking at the glass as half empty. Sometimes Joel’s constant pessimism drove Johnny nuts. Still, he knew his manager only wanted to help. “Sorry, man. I didn’t mean that.”

  “Yeah, you did.” Joel sighed. “Remember those underage groupies in London? Who got you out of that mess?” He tapped his chest. “Me. That’s who.”

  “Sure, man. I remember.” He couldn’t forget because Joel wouldn’t let him. Thirty years old and treated like a fucking child half the time. When had he become unable to run his own life? A couple of weeks in the wilderness sounded better by the minute. He could clear his head, and forget Teal, Keifer and the relentless press. Breathe on his own for a change. “Shouldn’t you call this chick to see if I can hang in Colorado?”

  “I’ll do it immediately.” Joel pulled his phone from his pants pocket and began scrolling. Johnny had no doubt Joel could get the president on the line if Johnny suddenly had an urge to talk to the big guy.

  He flipped on the TV and surfed through the channels, looking for his football game. The morning had been a real bitch. Hopefully the afternoon would shine a little brighter.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Montana Weaver stared in disbelief at the balding, paunchy man she’d known since kindergarten. She fought the urge to reach across the desk and scrub his glistening head with a Kleenex. “You can’t mean that.”

  Aaron Rawls tapped his pen on his enormous cherry-wood desk. “I wish I didn’t.” He sighed heavily. “It’s not my decision, Montana. It’s the board. We’ve had so many defaults that they’re cracking down on anyone who’s more than three mo
nths behind. My hands are tied since you’re almost there. If you don’t have all overdue payments to me by October first, we have to start foreclosure proceedings.” He pushed a piece of paper across his desk at her. “There are late fees and interest, too.”

  She scanned the page, finding the total at the bottom right side. Her hands shook. “That’s barely a month to come up with ten thousand dollars.” The pale beige walls seemed to shrink in on her as she fought to breathe.

  “Do you have any hunters coming in this fall?” Aaron looked as if he wished he were anywhere but here. A trickle of sweat ran down the side of his face into his pristine white collar.

  “No. Just a small group of fishermen later this month.”

  The three couples’ fees would barely pay expenses. After groceries, gas and someone to help out, there wouldn’t be much left. She did a mental rundown of her assets: enough in the bank to make it for a couple months. Twelve horses, six mules. A five-year-old pickup. Stock trailer. Her century-old farmhouse. Four guest cabins that had been remodeled last year.

  The reason for her crushing debt.

  To compete with the seemingly dozens of other similar places springing up daily, and to keep out-of-state tourists coming to her Colorado ranch, she’d had to update her accommodations. She’d borrowed heavily for the refurbishing.

  Business hadn’t matched her expectations. This summer had been the slowest ever with an even lazier fall. Normally, she guided plenty of big game hunters who paid enough to get her through the long winters. But this year she didn’t have a single booking.

  “You could sell part of your land,” Aaron suggested.

  “Never.” Not an option.

  One hundred acres of prime mountain acreage had been in her family for five generations. For as long as she could remember, someone had been trying to wrestle it away from them. Her ancestors had fought off land grabbers from day one. She’d be damned if she would be the one to lose her family’s land.

  Aaron tapped his expensive pen on the desk again. “Sell the horses and mules?”