Guarded Read online

  Guarded

  by

  Cat Grant & LA Witt

  Copyright Information

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Guarded

  Second Edition.

  Copyright © 2014, 2017 L. A. Witt & Cat Grant

  First Edition published by Cat Grant Books.

  Forth Into Light song lyrics

  © Cherie Noel. Used with permission.

  Cover Art by Lori Witt

  This work contains graphic language and explicit sexual content between two consenting male adults. Intended for adult readers only. Not intended for readers under the age of 18.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher, and where permitted by law. Reviewers may quote brief passages in a review. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact L.A. Witt at [email protected]

  ISBN: 978-1-943426-44-7

  About Guarded

  On the surface, rock star Jordan Kane has it all. His band No Rules is burning up the charts and headlining a world tour. His bodyguard doubles as a hot, kinky boyfriend who knows just how to push all his buttons. But behind the scenes, he’s suffocating.

  Jase Hewitt never imagined he’d have a shot at bedding the larger than life rock star - never mind dominating him - but now he’s worried he’s in over his head. Jordan’s kinks run deep, dark, and sometimes dangerous, putting Jase’s desires to both pleasure and protect him at odds.

  They might have a fighting chance at finding the safe, happy medium between what Jordan needs and what Jase is willing to give, but there’s one problem: Daniel, Jordan’s childhood best friend, the band’s talented guitarist — and a volatile, hard-partying drug addict. Jordan is determined to save Daniel from himself, but Jase has been there, done that, and desperately wants to protect Jordan from the inevitable heartache of watching an addict self-destruct.

  When Daniel goes off the rails again, Jordan calls off the tour to get him help. Tension within the band skyrockets and pressure from the record label sends Jordan into a dark spiral. Now his band — and his life — are balanced on a knife's edge, and Jase is the only one who can pull him back... but only if the echoes of his own tragic past don't push him over first.

  This title was previously published.

  Disclaimer

  To quote director Kathryn Bigelow, “Depiction does not mean endorsement.” What’s hot on paper can be – and frequently is – injurious or even deadly in real life.

  This novel depicts a number of kinky sexual practices, including breath play. We as the authors of this book cannot stress strongly enough – do not try this at home, folks.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Forth Into Light

  Acknowledgments

  About the Authors

  Chapter One

  Jordan

  It all started the night that cabbie dropped us off at the wrong fucking bar. I could’ve sworn Jase, our new security guy, told the driver to take us to Britt’s, but instead we ended up in front of a dive called Blake’s that had a line trailing out the door and dance music blaring so loud the sidewalk vibrated. The half-assed headache over my right eye started throbbing to the same fucking beat.

  Awesome.

  Jase ran after the cab, but the driver was already speeding away with our money, including a healthy tip for driving us here from the stadium. “Fuck,” Jase muttered, pulling out his phone. “Sorry, Jordan. Hang tight and I’ll call us another cab, okay?”

  Curious glances flicked in our direction. I yanked up the hood on my jacket and hunched down, hands in my pockets. I was pretty good at making myself inconspicuous, but Jase should’ve known better than to call me by name in public. All I wanted was a quiet drink in a place where no one would bother me, not another fucking mob screaming, “Oh my God, it’s Jordan Kane!”

  “Let’s go back to the hotel,” Daniel said. “You can get a drink there.”

  From the wet bar in my suite, where I’d been cooped up for the past day and a half. Cabin fever hit hard on long tours, going from the bus to another nondescript hotel, from there to the venue, then back on the bus again. Was getting out for some fresh air like a regular human being too fucking much to ask?

  I shifted from foot to foot, my Nikes crunching on damp pavement, adrenaline still buzzing in my veins. We’d had a great show tonight, amazing energy from a sold out house, but as usual, it took me a while to wind down. If we went back to the hotel now, I’d drink myself into a stupor and have to be poured into the bus tomorrow morning.

  Milo hovered at my elbow, a bald, burly wall of reassurance. He leaned in close as I whispered, “Go see what’s taking Jase so long.”

  “So you’re not talking to me?” Daniel said, propping himself against a street sign while he lit up. My breath froze, until I saw it was a Marlboro. “Still pissed about the other night?”

  Same argument, different day. But after what happened in Austin, no way was I letting him out of my sight. “Not now,” I snapped as Milo and Jase walked back up.

  “The quickest we can get a cab down here’s about forty-five minutes,” Jase said. His Adam’s apple bobbed. Jesus, did he think I was going to fire him on the spot?

  “How far is it to Britt’s on foot?” I asked.

  Jase punched a few buttons on his phone. “Um, about five and a half miles.”

  Fuck. I eyeballed the dive’s front door. At least there wasn’t much of a line anymore. “Let’s go grab a beer while we wait.”

  Daniel stamped out his smoke with a snort and headed for the door. I gave Milo the usual “keep your eye on him” look and followed, Jase bringing up the rear. The bouncer waved us through without so much as a second look.

  The place was jam-packed, the bass-heavy sound system shaking the walls. Six deep around the bar, and not a single fucking table free. A sign over a door on the far side of the room read, “Patio.”

  “Get me a pint of whatever they’ve got on draft and meet me outside,” I shouted into Jase’s ear, then started pushing through the crowd.

  The patio was pretty crowded too, but thankfully the music wasn’t so loud out her
e. Only a handful of postage stamp sized tables, all occupied. I ventured to the edge of the patio—well, okay, more like the lip of the parking lot—fished in my pocket for a smoke, then tilted my head back to look at the sky. Dark, velvety blue dotted with tiny lights. We’d played an outdoor theater tonight, but the stage kliegs were so bright I couldn’t see past the first few rows. How many cities had we blitzed through these last few weeks, stopping just long enough to play a show or two? No time to relax and enjoy beautiful nights like this. Hell, no time to relax, period.

  I’d just stamped out my butt when I saw Jase making his way over to me. “Sorry it took so long,” he said, handing me one of the pint glasses he was holding.

  “Thanks.” I took a swig, glancing up at the sky again. The heavy beat in my pulse was slowing, post-show drop setting in.

  “Want me to leave you alone?” Jase said. “Milo told me to give you your space, so I can go stand over there—”

  “You’re fine where you are.” I flicked a glance at him. He still looked jittery as hell. “I’m not gonna fire you over the cab thing, okay? It’s not your fault the guy was an asshole.”

  “Oh. Thanks.” The nervous glint in his eyes didn’t fade, though. What else did I expect? He’d only been with the tour a few weeks. I could just imagine the stories the crew had told him about me.

  We drank our beers in silence, trading furtive glances. I’d noticed him looking at me like that before, but I didn’t think it meant—well, what else could it mean? Sure, he wanted me. Everybody did, until they found out what wanting me entailed, then they couldn’t run for the fucking door fast enough.

  At last my glass was empty. “Want another?” Jase asked.

  I shook my head and handed him my glass. “I’m good.” I’d drunk it fast, and now that sweet liquid-warm buzz started creeping through me. One beer, so it wouldn’t last long—just long enough, hopefully, to get back to the hotel and collapse.

  If I didn’t end up collapsing right here. Leaning against the concrete wall, I let my eyes drift shut. Shit. I was more tired than I thought. One drink didn’t normally affect me like this.

  Jase’s hand landed tentatively on my shoulder. It felt good—warm and strong, with just enough of a grip to set things stirring below my belt. Fuck. Not here. I hastily zipped up my hoodie.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  Where’d that sexy rumble in his voice come from? “Fine. Just give me a minute.” I blinked hard, trying to banish the ghosts from the flickering fluorescent lamp overhead. No one out here was paying us any attention, except this one guy squinting at me from a few feet away.

  He started toward us, until Jase pulled a pack of smokes from his pocket and offered me one. He leaned in as we both lit up, close enough feel the warm puff of his breath over my skin—God, was he doing that on purpose?—subtly but effectively putting himself between me and Mr. Curious. I peered over Jase’s broad shoulder as the guy halted in his tracks, his expression morphing from, “Is that really…?” to “Nah, can’t be.”

  I exhaled a long breath that wasn’t all smoke. “Thanks.”

  “No problem.” His lush lips quirked up in a shaky smile. “That’s what you pay me for, right?”

  I’d never seen him this close before. Looked about thirty, though from a distance he could pass for younger—a few years past pretty either way. Something behind those clear green eyes told me he’d seen a lot—hardly a shocker. Nobody stayed innocent very long in this business.

  That gaze sent a hot flush creeping up the back of my neck. Time to get this convo back on a more professional footing. “You getting along okay?”

  “Um, yeah.” Why was it so hard to look me in the eye? He’d never had trouble before. ‘Course, he’d never flirted with me like this before either. “Milo’s showing me the ropes.”

  “This your first tour?”

  “As part of a road crew? Yeah.” He zipped up his jacket. “I did a couple of regional tours with my old band.”

  Which didn’t surprise me either. Most roadies were musicians too. In fact, pretty much all the good ones were. “What happened?”

  “Same old song—we broke up, I needed a job, so... here I am.”

  “Well, welcome aboard.” Weird thing to say after all this time, but I tried to keep the crew at arm’s length. Sure, they all signed confidentiality agreements, but that didn’t stop a couple of slackers I’d shit-canned from spilling stuff to the tabloids. Compared to them, Jase was a dream employee. He showed up on time, never complained about the crazy hours or balked at anything I asked him to do. He kept the nutjobs away, brought me food when I was starving backstage before a show, and made sure I had quiet time when I needed it.

  I’d been in this business so long, I could tell within thirty seconds if someone was trying to play me. Jase didn’t give me that kind of vibe. He’d never hit me up for any special favors—or hell, even for time off.

  I sucked down another lungful of smoke, then, “What was the name of your band?”

  “Oh, um…” His face went red. “You’ve never heard of us.”

  “Try me. I listen to a lot of stuff.”

  “Ever heard ‘Day of the Dead’ by Flogging for Coffee?”

  “Holy shit, that was you?” I’d downloaded their EP a while ago, on one of those long nights in the back of the bus when my brain wouldn’t shut up. “Impressive debut, man. Why’d you guys break up?”

  “Our bass player’s girlfriend got pregnant, and he didn’t want to leave her to go back on tour. And there was some... well, bad blood between me and the drummer.” He shrugged, fidgeted. “The usual stuff, I guess.”

  “That’s a fucking shame. I liked your sound.” Sort of punk, sort of metal, with a dash of alternative. Sort of what we sounded like back in the day. “You record it yourselves?”

  The shrill buzz of his phone cut in before he could answer. “H’lo? Okay, we’ll be there in a minute.” He hung up. “Cab’s here. I’ll text Milo to meet us up front.”

  Jase walked ahead of me, elbowing our way through the crowd. I looked around for Milo and Daniel once we got inside, but I didn’t see them. I almost lost Jase when some half-drunk asshole lurched between us. Jase shoved the guy away, then offered me his arm.

  Warm, solid muscles bunched and flexed under my fingers. I didn’t want to let go, even after we’d exited the club. The cab was waiting at the curb, but still no sign of Milo or Daniel.

  Jase checked his phone. “Milo hasn’t texted me back. Get in the cab. I’ll go find them.”

  “Jase, don’t—” Too late. He’d already dashed back in. And here came that familiar old knot of anxiety twisting in my gut. I hated having to go out in public with bodyguards. Wasn’t so long ago—four, five years—when I could walk down the street without getting mobbed. Now one lousy drink in a public place required more planning than storming fucking Omaha Beach.

  Leaning against the cab, I lit up another cigarette. The bouncer started eyeing me, so I turned around. I’d just inhaled my second puff when this wave of sound rose up behind me, a roar of voices that nearly drowned out the thump-thump of the shitty dance music—

  And Milo, Jase and Daniel burst through the door like it’d spat them out, a flood of people on their heels.

  “Get in! Get in!” Milo screamed, shoving me and Daniel into the backseat. He and Jase piled in behind us. “Hit the gas!”

  Didn’t need to tell the cabbie twice—he punched it so hard he flung us against the seat cushions. The mob shrank in the view from the rear window, but that didn’t stop my heart from thrashing in my chest.

  “Th-the fuck?” My gaze flicked from Daniel to Milo. “What happened?”

  “Mr. Wonderful here started chatting up some girl, and she recognized him.” Milo scowled, wiping at a cut on his forehead. He had a red mark on his cheekbone that’d be a gorgeous shiner by tomorrow. “She told her friends, and they told everyone else.”

  And from Daniel’s smug expression, he’d no doubt done it j
ust to fuck with me. I stared out the window, watching flat concrete and a parade of high rises zip by, fists curling and uncurling in my lap. Not in front of the cabbie. Last thing you need is for this to show up in the papers.

  The driver dropped us off at our hotel’s back entrance. Milo paid the guy and we headed inside. The elevator doors slid open the second I touched the call button. I waited until it started moving, then I hit “stop” and shoved Daniel against the wall. “What the hell did you think you were doing back there? You nearly started a fucking riot!”

  “Aw, c’mon, I was just trying to have some fun. You remember what that’s like, huh?” His jittery, bloodshot gaze locked on Milo and Jase, like he was expecting them to come to his rescue. “Can we go upstairs? I’m fucking tired.”

  I didn’t smell booze on his breath, and for a change he seemed fairly lucid. But from the way he was shaking—and sweating like he’d just run a fucking marathon—he had to be high on something. God, not meth again. Anything but that.

  I hit the “start” button, my heart dropping down the fucking elevator shaft. I couldn’t face this, not tonight. Couldn’t entertain the prospect of another tour cut short because Daniel needed to go back to rehab. The thought simply wouldn’t fit in my mind.

  We had the entire top floor to ourselves, two suites on opposite sides of the hallway. Daniel opened his door and disappeared inside. Milo shot me a “What d’you want me to do?” look.

  “Don’t let him out of your sight,” I said. “Sit on him if you have to.”

  A familiar resigned sigh. “Whatever you say, boss.” Milo nodded at me and Jase and went inside, the door clicking shut behind him.

  Which left me standing here so fucking exhausted I wasn’t sure I could make the two lousy steps to my own suite.

  Jase’s hand slid under my elbow. “Give me your card.” I wrestled it out of my pocket and handed it over. Jase unlocked the door, letting it swing open. “There you go.”