Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
JACK
Thirty-seven years old – June
“Your presence isn’t required.”
Arlo’s cool words had been ringing in my ears ever since he’d said them.
“Your presence isn’t required.”
At first, I’d been angry. Indignant, almost. Eight years guarding Arlo, and he thought he could call the shots?
I didn’t fucking think so.
Yes, he was the client, but that’d gone out the window when he’d gone behind my back and had bruises added to his body.
I’d crossed every line that day and never looked back.
In the three years since, Arlo had never asked me to stay behind. Okay, so he hadn’t insisted on me accompanying him everywhere either, but he certainly hadn’t objected.
The anger and indignation soon gave way to confusion. Why didn’t Arlo want me there? Did he think I wouldn’t do as good a job as Simon?
If so, he was fucking wrong. No one could protect Arlo like I could.
No one.
That couldn’t be it. Maybe he was feeling guilty about my so-called lack of life again. It came up every few months. Arlo would protest about me not taking time off and force me to go visit my family for the day.
Whenever I returned though, it was obvious how much being apart cost us both. His hands would be red from how long he’d played, cigarette smoke on his breath.
He knew I hated it when he smoked, but I never got angry when he did it while I was away.
It was how he coped.
Inevitably, we’d spend the following few days almost glued together, parting only to go to our separate rooms at night.
Over time, Arlo encouraged me to take time off less and less, which suited me perfectly. I had an irrepressible itch whenever Arlo was out of my sight. My brain would spiral out of control, coming up with insane scenarios of the different ways he might get hurt.
It wasn’t healthy. Part of me wondered if I should make an appointment with Arlo’s therapist, but she might encourage me to put some distance between us. Or, at the very least, put some professional boundaries in place.
Deep down, I knew there wasn’t a chance of me doing that.
The confusion finally gave way to grim acceptance.
Arlo could say he didn’t want me to guard him, but he couldn’t tell me where I could and couldn’t go.
I was a free agent, after all. There was nothing stopping me from going to the same restaurant he was going to. Maybe I wanted to have a nice lunch.
My flimsy reasoning went up in smoke the second I turned down a table from the hostess and instead took up a guarding position where Arlo could see me.
Yes, I had a problem. No, I wasn’t going to do anything about it.
Other than glaring at me for a few seconds, Arlo didn’t acknowledge my presence. He didn’t even glance at me as he breezed past after the meal, pointedly chatting to Luca instead.
Guilt that I’d directly gone against his wishes twinged, but that wasn’t enough to stop me tailing him to Luca’s house and sitting outside in my car.
I’d be here if he needed me. That was all that mattered.
I opened my window as Simon approached. “All right?”
“Yep.” The other guard leaned on my window. “What’re you doing here?”
“Arlo’s here.”
Simon pursed his lips. “I’m capable of protecting him, Jack. I might not have been in the SAS, but I’m more than qualified to babysit two men inside a house.”
I winced but didn’t back down. “This isn’t a comment on your abilities, Simon.”
“Then what is it?”
I had no idea how to explain it in a way that wouldn’t seem crazy. “It’s Arlo.”
Simon studied me for a minute before nodding slowly. “Okay, I get it.”
I wasn’t sure what exactly he got, but I was so relieved he wasn’t asking me to leave that I didn’t push him. “Good.”
Simon tapped his fingers on the door frame for a second. “They’re going to a club tonight on Bedford Place. Called The Closet.”
I frowned over at my blank phone screen. “Arlo hasn’t told me that.”
“I don’t think he’s planning on telling you, to be honest. But you’re only going to tail us there anyway, so I reckon I may as well. Besides, clubs make me twitchy. I’d rather another pair of eyes on the two of them.”
I nodded briskly. “I’ll be there. I don’t understand why Arlo wouldn’t tell me though. He knows better than to go somewhere that public without me.”
Simon hesitated, like he was wavering over something. “I think he’s going to hook up.”
“So? He’s done that with me there plenty of times before.”
Not that I enjoyed that. In fact, I dreaded it. Not because I was jealous, but because I couldn’t watch over Arlo if he was getting naked with someone. What if they did something he didn’t like? What if he needed me?
I hated it. I’d follow them back to whichever venue they settled on—usually a hotel—and stand outside the door so I’d hear if Arlo called me.
It was hard to tune out all the…other noises. Noises that would haunt me for days after.
Nights too. They’d make me wake up with a confusing hard-on and Arlo’s hoarse cries ringing in my ears.
“Maybe this time he doesn’t want you there.” There was a note in Simon’s voice I didn’t understand, like he was hinting at something obvious. “Maybe he wants to be able to get off without you being close by. Maybe he doesn’t like you listening to him.”
I dismissed his concerns with a wave. “Nah, it’s not like that. Arlo knows I’m just around to keep him safe. I’m not bothered by the other stuff.”
“It’s not like that for you, but what if it’s like that for him?”
My mind went blank at what he was implying.
“Think about it, Jack.” Simon tapped my car once more before straightening up. “I don’t hover outside while Luca hooks up. He has a panic button on his phone, just like Arlo does. They’re all trained to use it, just like we’re trained to respond to it.”
I didn’t answer Simon. I wasn’t even looking at him. No, I was staring at my white knuckles on the steering wheel, picturing Arlo going to bed with a faceless stranger while I sat at his house and waited for him to come home, his cheeks pink and looking freshly fucked.
Why did that thought make me so fucking…angry?
“If you can’t come tonight, I’ll arrange for Rhys or Dylan to come instead,” Simon said quietly, referring to Kai and Silas’s guards. “Maybe it’ll be better if you take the night off. For both of you.”
Simon was right. Maybe I should. Things between us had become so blurred. I’d thought of Arlo as mine for so long, it was startling to realise he wasn’t.
Not really.
I went to the club.
I don’t know why I was surprised by this. I shouldn’t have been.
It was inevitable. Nothing Simon could hint at would make me leave Arlo while he was in such a vulnerable position.
Simon was the one who spotted me first, rolling his eyes but staying in position on the edge of the crowd. A second later, I located Dylan. He was dancing close to Arlo and Luca, looking like a regular clubber rather than a guard.
He might’ve looked like the carefree life of the party, but I noted how his gaze was sweeping the crowd, his arms tense like he was ready to spring into action.
Clubs made us all itchy. There were too many people, too many dark corners.
I still couldn’t see Arlo though. At five foot nine, he wasn’t short, but there did seem to be an unusually high number of very tall and broad men in this club.
Lots of them seemed to know each other too, greeting one another with slaps on the back. Was some special event going on?
That was when the crowd parted.
And I saw him.
Arlo was topless, sweat glistening on his chest under the sweeping disco lights.
Arms in the air, his head was tipped back as he swayed to the music.
I tracked down the long lines of his neck, over his Adam’s apple, all the way to the happy trail that disappeared into his shorts.
Shorts that were so tight I could see the outline of his cock.
I swallowed, forcing my gaze away. That was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have been looking at his cock. I was straight, for fuck’s sake.
Then why are you looking again?
I’m checking he’s safe. Uninjured.
Fuck. That sounded flimsy even in my head.
Rubbing a hand over my face, I decided I needed a drink. Arlo was currently enjoying himself, and with Luca and two guards within spitting distance, he didn’t need me.
No matter how much I wanted him to need me.
I’d have a better view of him from the bar. And maybe a beer would help me screw my head on straight.
It took a while for me to grab the attention of the bartender. Dark haired and tall, he had the most peculiarly coloured eyes. They were grey—almost like slate. I’d never seen anything like them.
The man noticed my attention and smirked. “Family trait.”
I cleared my throat. “Sorry, didn’t mean to stare.”
“S’all right,” he replied cheerfully, putting the beer I’d ordered in front of me. “See that grumpy-looking Viking over there?”
I turned my head in the direction he indicated. Sure enough, a towering bloke with long red hair was glowering at us.
“That’s my ma-man,” the bartender said, stumbling slightly on his words. He covered it by leaning over the bar, far closer than I was comfortable with given he was a stranger. “We do this thing where I flirt with the customers, and then he takes me out back to ‘teach me a lesson.’”
The only surprise I allowed my face to show was a slight raise of a brow. “That’s a lot of information to share with a stranger.”
“Eh, I like your face,” the bartender said, grinning again. “It looks all moody and pouty, just like my big guy’s.”
Said big guy was now cracking his knuckles, a muscle in his jaw jumping.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree with me.” I took a sip of my beer. “I’m straight.”
The bartender smirked again. “You know this is a gay bar, right?”
“I’m aware. I’m guarding someone.”
“Doing a great job of that with your back turned.”
I sighed. “I know. I’m just working up to it. Find it difficult to watch him dancing like that wearing next to nothing.”
Something hardened in the bartender’s face, all former geniality vanishing. His boyfriend was suddenly beside him, also glaring at me.
“Why’s that?” The bartender’s question was deceptively soft, raising all my alarm bells. “Too gay for you in here?”
I snorted. “Fuck no. I’m not a homophobe, far from it.”
“Then what’s the issue?”
That was the moment Arlo decided to drop onto the stool beside me. He ignored our audience—in fact, I didn’t think he’d even noticed them. “What are you doing here, Jack?”
My eyes landed on his bare chest, his tiny nipples making me feel funny. What was wrong with me? I’d seen Arlo topless before but never reacted like this.
Fucking Simon. It was all his fault, putting stupid thoughts in my head.
I shifted on my seat. “You knew I’d come. It’s my job to look after you.”
Arlo’s scowl deepened, his arms folding over his chest. “Funny way you’ve got of doing that, looks like you’re chatting up the bartender.”
Said bartender suddenly became very interested in something his boyfriend was saying.
“Don’t be stupid,” I muttered. “You know I’m not into men.”
Arlo smiled. It was so brittle it looked almost painful. “That I’m very aware of.”
Then he was gone, stalking back towards the dance floor.
“I’m so fucking confused,” I whispered. Why was he getting mad at me for talking to another man when he knew I was straight?
Even if I weren’t, didn’t Arlo realise he was all I could see?
“Okay, it makes sense now.”
I jumped at the bartender’s words. I’d forgotten he was there. He was alone now, his Viking boyfriend having vanished. “It does?”
“Yep.” He filled another pint glass and plopped it in front of me. “Classic case of gay boy pining over his confused friend.”
“Bodyguard,” I corrected automatically.
“Oh, so you eye-fuck all your clients that way?”
My jaw dropped. “What? I didn’t eye-fuck him. I’m straight.”
“Mm-hmm.” The bartender wiped up a spill. “That’s what all the bi boys say right before they meet the one.”
“What one?”
“The one they can’t look away from. The one they spend every waking moment with because they physically can’t cope with being away from them. The one they get wildly jealous and possessive over when they see them with another man.”
My annoyance was spiking. Were all the bartenders here this interfering, or was it just this guy’s special talent? “I don’t get jealous or possessive over Arlo.”
“Oh good,” the bartender said, humour ringing through his voice. “Then I guess you won’t have a problem with the guy who has his tongue down his throat.”
I whipped around so fast my neck cracked.
“Not jealous, my arse.”
I barely heard him, my heart in my throat as I stared at Arlo.
The bartender hadn’t been lying. Arlo was making out with some guy. A guy who was far too old for him. Christ, he had to be closer to my age than Arlo’s.
I didn’t like the way his brawny arm was holding Arlo so close. Was he hurting him?
Then I registered the hand down the back of Arlo’s shorts and saw red.
I started to cut through the crowd, but suddenly they were on the move too. The manhandler was leading them to a door marked EXIT, Arlo’s curls bobbing along behind him.
Simon was following them, but I waved my hand to get his attention before slashing across my throat.
No. This was for me to deal with.
The other guard gave me a wary nod before melting back into the crowd.
Spinning on my heel, I stormed towards the entrance. I knew from the recon I’d done earlier that day that the exit they’d taken led to an alleyway that ran behind the club. I’d be able to get there faster by going outside and around, rather than fighting through a packed crowd.
Every step I took had my temper climbing higher. What the fuck was Arlo thinking? It was one thing to hook up with a stranger. But to do it in public? Didn’t he realise how much the tabloids would pay for a shot of Arlo in a compromising position?
He’d stayed out of the spotlight in recent years, but they were just waiting for a reason to drag him through the mud all over again. With the label constantly breathing down his neck, the last thing he needed was to give them any ammunition.
Leaving without telling his guards where he was going was the final straw. I had to assume he was going back to the dude’s house, but leaving without passing on the location was breaking the first rule of having a security detail.
Then I rounded the corner, expecting to find them heading for a car, but what I saw was so much worse.
Clearly, they weren’t planning on going anywhere. The fucker Arlo had been dancing with was leaning against the wall, his lips parted and shirt held up in his hands. His jeans were undone, his hips rocking forward as he stared down at Arlo.
My Arlo, who was on his knees in this dirty alleyway, a stranger’s cock in his mouth.
Fuck.