Chapter 11
VAN
Leave.
Leave now, and don’t look back.
I ignored the common sense loop in my head and closed the gap between Brodie and me.
With the way he’d ordered me to get off the couch, I thought for sure he’d make the first move. But he just stood there, frozen in place. His hands tightly fisted, his chest moving in and out at a rapid pace, his eyes glittering in the darkness.
I stepped into his space and slid one arm around his waist.
He groaned, and I answered.
One simple touch triggered an intense desire that threatened to consume me. My dick liked what we were doing a hell of a lot more than I’d anticipated. My dick got so hard, so fast, that I was lightheaded, aching, throbbing.
From one touch.
I pulled him closer until our hips collided, and we started swaying to the pulsing music.
I wasn’t lying when I said I was a shit dancer, but then again, that wasn’t what we were doing. We were barely moving in time to the beat.
I splayed my palm against Brodie’s back and traced the gap in his corset vest. Slipping my fingers underneath the laces, I gave an experimental tug.
His breath caught, and mine followed.
I was surrounded by his scent. Deep and spicy, warm, as heady as the man himself. It had me dying to taste his skin.
Then I ran the tips of my fingers under the laces and reveled in the feel of his smooth, bare skin against mine.
I brushed my lips against his ear. “You’ve never worn this before.”
“Do you like it?” Brodie asked, his body trembling.
“I more than like it.”
I pulled back to look at his face, his cheeks flushed and his eyes glassy.
“Brodie? Are you okay?”
He blinked and nodded. “I’m more than okay. I just…it’s been so…”
He paused and licked his lips.
Brodie lost for words was an anomaly I wasn’t prepared for.
My eyes were transfixed on his slick mouth.
Not for the first time, I wondered how soft his lips were and how he would taste.
It dawned on me just how closely I’d been watching him all along.
The expressiveness when he sang. The way he bit his lip when he was frustrated. The curl of his sneer when he was angry. The way his lips stretched wide when he laughed out loud.
I wanted to taste it all.
“Guys, we have a problem.”
Dawson’s booming voice startled Brodie and me.
I turned without thinking, realizing, too late, that my rock-hard dick was tenting my trousers.
Thankfully Dawson’s gaze didn’t waver from mine.
“Regan and the secondaries are having issues with a drunk on the dance floor. They’re headed out with the guys. We need to leave. Now.”
A possible security threat had my dick deflating just like that.
But instead of stepping away from Brodie, I took his hand as Dawson guided us out of the VIP room and down the stairs.
Brodie made no effort to let go.
And fuck me, holding his hand felt as natural as everything else between us.
When we got outside, I noticed Regan and her team with the rest of the guys, including Nate and his bandmates.
As we drew closer, my eyes hovered on Holloway, who was holding his hand to his cheek.
“What happened?” I asked.
“Some asshole wouldn’t take no for an answer, so I told him to fuck off. Then he punched me. Or he tried to,” Holloway replied and rolled his eyes.
Dawson gently pulled Holloway’s hand aside and inspected his face.
“I’m fine. He just grazed me; he was too drunk to do any real harm,” Holloway insisted and drew his head back.
“Do you need to go to the hospital?” I asked and looked around. “Did anyone else get hurt?”
“It was just Holls,” Faisel replied. “He defended himself, and then Regan was there to get us away before it could escalate.”
“He’s gonna have a bruise for sure, but it didn’t break the skin. Are you dizzy or nauseous?” Dawson asked.
Holloway shook his head. “I told you, he barely hit me. I’ll ice it. I’ll be fine. For fuck’s sake, I’ve had worse injuries on stage.”
Dawson crossed his arms and continued to stare at Holloway. “Did you defend yourself like I taught you?”
“Fucking right, he did,” Nate commented. “It was like a scene from a goddamn movie! You gotta teach us those sick martial arts moves, Holls.”
“No one is teaching anyone anything right now,” Regan interrupted. “Let’s get in the vehicles before we draw a crowd.”
Nate stepped up to me and offered his hand. “Merci encore for inviting us tonight, Van. We really appreciate it. Can we talk after the concert?”
Then I remembered I was still holding onto Brodie’s hand. I dropped it and stepped away from temptation, reaching for Nate.
“Yeah, of course,” I nodded and shook Nate’s hand. “Looking forward to Halloween.”
“It’s going to be a night to remember,” Nate replied as he and his band brothers gave hugs to the Wayward Lane boys and waved goodnight to the rest of us.
Killmine headed back into the club while we headed for the SUVs.
Brodie walked and talked with Holloway, making sure his friend was okay. I was following behind them when Brodie turned around and gave me a glare over his shoulder.
I wasn’t happy about our disruption either, but now was not the time.
Reality was seeping in, along with doubts and concerns that began to float to the surface of my mind.
I’d almost kissed Brodie in that club.
A step I’d never taken before with any man. Never mind someone I worked with. For.
What the fuck was I doing?
My legs were weak, and my hands were shaking, my phone almost slipping out of my fingers.
The heated pull between me and Brodie was undeniable, so fucking real.
I didn’t know whether to be ecstatic or laugh out loud at the predicament I was in.
I’d never crossed the professional line. It was just asking for trouble, and yet… I wanted to be reckless with him.
Brodie made me feel things I’d all but given up on ever feeling.
I found myself alone in the SUV with Dawson and Lennie, a secondary bodyguard, while Brodie went with Holls, Ronin, and Faise.
My phone buzzed, and I glanced at the notifications.
Holloway’s incident at the club was already making the rounds of social media.
There were many concerned comments asking if he was okay. Like the pro he was, Holloway posted a photo of him and Brodie in the car, smiles on both their faces. That would calm the fan frenzy for now.
Without thinking, I zoomed in on Brodie and saved the picture as a screenshot.
Then my phone rang.
It was my boss.
Greg was a smart businessman but a total control freak. You don’t make it to the top of the music world by being anything less.
We’d had our share of arguments over stuff like press access and creative control, but overall, I respected Greg.
Brodie, of course, had his fair share of fights with him.
Brodie was never shy about speaking up—for himself or for others.
He was determined to walk his own path, even if it put him at odds with the label.
Greg knew talent and he rewarded it. He respected his musicians and they returned it. For the most part.
Not that I was being all that respectful myself.
Only a half hour ago, I was eager to shove my tongue down the throat of Greg’s biggest star. I could just imagine the anger that would unleash if Greg found out about that.
Esti de calisse de tabarnak... Translation: fuckity fuck fuck.
“Everything’s under control,” I answered in my calmest voice.
The band, yes. Me? Fuck no.
“Are you sure about that?” Greg’s voice boomed out on the other end of the line. “What happened?”
“Some drunk got aggressive, and Holloway defended himself. The team got them out of there before it could escalate. Everything’s fine.”
“Yeah, I saw the picture Iain posted, but I want to hear it from you. Please tell me he doesn’t have a concussion.”
“He said the guy barely grazed him. There was no blood or anything, just a red welt. Apparently, Dawson taught him self-defense moves.”
“Interesting. Maybe the rest of the band should receive the same training.” Greg paused. “How’re things shaping up for the concert?”
“Great. We met up with Killmine, and they’re gonna be an awesome opener. Rehearsal took longer than normal, but the venue’s historic, so the tech and the power are temperamental.”
“Is that going to be a problem? The last thing we need is three thousand pissed-off fans if we have to cancel.”
“There will be no canceling. Brodie and the rest of the guys can improvise if they need to. They’re professionals.”
Unlike me.
“And interviews? What kind of coverage have we got?”
I leaned my head back and sighed. It was past one in the morning, and I’d been up since six. I was tired and frustrated, but I swallowed it back and answered my boss.
“So far, twenty-four interviews the night of. Mainly local stuff, five national. And two entertainment shows from L.A.”
“Good, and since we’re not making any money on this one, make sure to play up the charity angle. At least we’ll buy good press with the fans.”
“It’s not an angle,” I snapped. “Brodie didn’t push for this event just so the band could look good. Despite his sharp tongue, he actually cares about people.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
Shit.
Biting off the head of my boss was not going to benefit anyone.
“I realize that, Van, but this is still business. Everything we do has a reason and purpose. I’m sure the band feels the same. Especially Brodie. He’s not just a musician; he’s a brand, and he knows it.”
Yeah, he did. But he wasn’t always happy about it. So many people wanted a piece of him, and there were certain parts he wasn’t willing to give. I tried as much as I could to protect him, but I didn’t always succeed.
“He’s a person too. And you can rest easy; everything will happen as it should. This concert will be a win for everyone.”
I knew Brodie. He would’ve paid out of his own pocket if the label had said no to this gig. Once his mind was made up, nothing stopped him. I admired his tenacity, his fire. It was the first thing that drew me to him.
“I’m sure it will.” Greg paused. “One more thing. Brodie hasn’t been seen with anyone lately. I want you to confirm a date for him for concert night. A local celebrity, a guy who’ll get people talking. He can be seen with Brodie at the afterparty. That’ll drive speculation and fan engagement.”
Arranging “dates” for high-profile musicians was nothing new, but Brodie never needed help in that department. And now, just the thought of having to set him up with some gorgeous model made my blood boil.
“I’ve got a few ideas,” Greg continued. “My assistant will send along a list with contact details. Set it up.”
“And if Brodie refuses?”
I barely managed to choke out the question.
“Convince him otherwise. That’s what I pay you for.”