Chapter 3 #2
“I’m betting you have that road covered. If you decide to take that direction, assign not-you people for the one-on-one details, to reinforce that you’re keeping things on a professional footing. We’ll scramble the team makeup if needed.”
“Okay, I’ll let you know. Gotta think.”
“In the shower?”
“Already took one,” he said in an even tone.
A cock teasing, throaty chuckle came over the line. “I bet. All right. I need to get back to the sub tied to my bed.”
“He’s been waiting on you?”
“Yep. Blindfolded and with noise canceling headphones. I’ve planted my naked ass on his chest, and after I hang up, I’m going to sit on his face and make him earn the right to his eyes and ears. You’ve done me a favor, increasing his anticipation and frustration.”
Roy imagined putting DJ in a similar situation and shifted in the chair. Damn the woman. “Have fun with that. I’ll tell Warren I’ve solved the mystery. You draw energy from sex instead of sleep.”
“Being a succubus was my childhood dream, so I’m living the dream. Holler if you need anything else.”
Roy disconnected. Staring at the image on the screen, he gave himself permission to mentally travel the road DJ was advocating, with G’s input added to the mix.
He did know how to compartmentalize. He treated his emotions like clients, putting them where they were safe and protected, out of his way while he handled the threat.
DJ knew how to use his body, his expression, the tone of his voice, all the gifts God had given him. He was off the charts smart, shifting between respect and wiseass with maximum impact on Roy’s Dom side.
Roy considered how he could put him off balance, and what he’d become when he unraveled under Roy’s command.
He liked the thought, intensely, but G’s point was valid.
Roy would blow off some steam at The Zone, an excellent kink club with locations in both Miami and Tampa.
That way, if he did take DJ up on his offer, he’d go at him for the right reasons, and with a level head.
If the intrepid bastard inspired him to take a step in that direction before then, he could still make that work. As G suggested, he’d make it a mentor thing, not a romantic relationship with messy dips into emotional waters that didn’t make sense for a temporary job anyway.
The key was being very clear on what they were and weren’t, and what lines they wouldn’t cross because of his primary task. Protecting DJ and keeping him alive.
Roy returned to his work. The psychological profile of the stalker he’d requested made him frown.
This kind of stalker was delusional, but he compartmentalized as well as Roy.
So far, he’d been excessively careful. They had only speculation on how he’d play his end game.
While they assumed it would be a kidnapping attempt, he could take any number of destructive steps in the interim to keep them guessing, like the drug-laced chocolates.
But knowing exactly when something might happen was a unicorn in Roy’s business. They’d keep the boundaries around DJ tight, every team member alert for the unknown but inevitable.
He sent additional recommendations to Warren and G.
G must have finished with her sub, because she wasn’t far behind Warren in sending suggestions that tweaked their plan.
Since he and his team were relieving Warren at noon, it was time to hit the bed.
He’d get enough sleep to recharge, then do his workout.
As Roy lay down and propped an arm behind his head, he thought about DJ, about seeing him later. His cock wanted him to do some one-handed thinking, but denial was an essential component to self-control. With DJ, Roy needed to hone that skill razor sharp.
Considering the ways he could apply that same edge to the young rockstar sent him to sleep with a smile.
That smile was nowhere evident when Roy got out of his SUV at the studio. As he’d pulled into the parking lot, he’d received a text from Warren.
Boss, might want to step it up. Got some rockstar bullshit going down.
Roy strode past the lobby receptionist with a bare nod. Fortunately, she recognized him, and the look on his face had her buzzing him past the locked access door to the studio spaces without him having to break his pace.
“You dumb, stupid, son of a bitch…” Steve’s yelling could be heard all the way down the hall. Roy reached the doorway to the live room just as DJ rushed past him. Tal was bent over his drum kit, laughing maniacally.
Warren saw Roy and gestured, indicating he would manage Tal and the others. Pivoting, Roy gave chase. He didn’t have to go far, as DJ shoved through the closest bathroom door. Roy followed him as DJ stumbled into a stall, dropped to his knees and shoved his fingers down his throat.
What the hell?
The kid choked and hacked several times before he began to expel the contents of his stomach, in that rough, raw way that happens when the body had no plan to throw up. But DJ kept pushing his fingers in, kept on vomiting, until nothing else came up and he was dry heaving.
Which meant he couldn’t stop, his body convulsing. Roy planted his feet on either side of the narrow hips before he leaned down and stroked his back.
“Slow it down, Dory. Easy breaths. Slow it down.”
DJ reached up and gripped his hand, an acknowledgement, then grabbed the bowl again. When he was done, Roy backed off. DJ flushed the toilet and turned his shoulders to the stall wall, pulling his knees up. Roy brought him a wet paper towel to wipe his mouth, and DJ took it with a nod of thanks.
Since he didn’t look ready to say anything, Roy didn’t offer conversation. Not until DJ pushed himself to his feet and moved toward the sink. He was wobbly, so Roy stayed close. DJ washed his hands and rinsed his mouth several times.
“Shit,” he muttered at last, his eyes closed.
“What did he do?” Roy kept his tone level, instead of sounding like he was ready to beat the answer out of Tal.
“Dumped some shit into my tea. Said it would help loosen me up.” DJ made a face. “I’m not going to be able to drink that blend for a while without tasting vomit. Hell, it’s one of my favorites.”
“Dory, this is serious. You need to kick him to the curb.”
DJ cracked a flashing eye. “I don’t abandon my brothers, Roy. Tal needs us.”
“You grew up with Steve and Pete. They deserve that kind of loyalty. Tal is a different animal, and you know it.”
DJ straightened. “Tal is a different animal because he didn’t have us, the way we had each other. Things happen for a reason, and he’s part of us now so we can help. Wow, you’re cold. What would Jesus do, man?”
“He’d say if someone isn’t listening to you, shake the dust off your feet and move on. Yes, my mom took me to church every Sunday, and made me do vacation bible school in the summer.”
“Why am I not surprised?” DJ sighed. “Well, Jesus wasn’t a foster kid.”
“Technically, I think he was.”
DJ’s expression eased into rueful humor. “You have an answer for everything. Trust me, Roy. I know what he is, and I’m managing the problem as best as current circumstances allow. I respect your job; let me do mine.”
The last two clients Roy had protected needed their managers to do most of their thinking for them.
G had reinforced what DJ confirmed now. When it came to his bandmates and the people who were part of Survival’s success, DJ was head of the family.
Pete and Steve deferred to him as their unspoken leader, and they also were older than him.
Even Tal did, when the drugs weren’t making him a rebellious adolescent ass.
“Crap. I’m going to get a faint buzz off that shit. Time to hydrate myself like a camel.” DJ closed his eyes briefly, then glanced at Roy again, sending him a tilted half smile. “Thanks for caring, man. It’ll be all right.”
“If he puts anything in your drink again, he’ll learn to play drums with your dainty teacup up his ass.”
“It’s a very manly mug, from the local radio station that played our music before anyone else did. So if you put anything up his rectum, I prefer it’s not that.”
DJ headed out of the bathroom. Roy sighed and followed him. After he briefed Warren and took over the shift, he tuned back into the live room to hear Tal babbling an apology.
“DJ, man, I’m a dick, I’m sorry. That was a crap move.” Though his eyes were glazed, his behavior said Steve and Pete had gotten through. “It wasn’t the strong stuff, I promise. No worse than weed.”
Roy rethought putting Tal’s head through a wall, but DJ nodded. “Don’t do it again, okay? Trying to vomit that shit up is going to do worse things to my throat than that January night we spent in the van in Ohio. I’ll need a few dozen lozenges to keep it loose.”
“Oh man, it was freezing that night,” Pete recalled. “Steve wouldn’t stop spooning with me.”
“You were fatter then,” Steve said.
DJ had looked toward Pete and Steve a beat before Pete spoke up. A hundred messages passed between them. Steve still looked pissed, but he offered the insult in an amiable, if slightly stiff, voice.
“Let’s call it a day.” DJ closed the distance between him and Tal and put his hands on either side of the man’s gaunt face.
Tal stiffened, his countenance shifting to uncertainty.
Roy saw a flash of tiredness and despair.
DJ moved to Tal’s shoulders and squeezed, a reassurance. “Hold it together, man.”
“You know it. I always do.” Tal stepped back, shrugging off the moment, but added, “I’m going to stay and practice a little more. So I won’t let you guys down at the festival.”
“You won’t. Don’t wear out your hands.”
Tal shrugged. “The way I play, my wrists are going to give out eventually and I’ll need someone to cut my food for me.
I’d rather give it my all now. Hey, you know Blue Mod is going to be there?
We need to get those guys to jam with us on stage.
The crowds love it when we do spontaneous shit like that. ”