Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112917 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 565(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“Fucking assholes!” Landry jabbed his phone screen to end a call. He paced Zane’s Shaky Knees dressing room, where he and the other men Zane called his “brothers” had congregated after Zane’s set ended.
The fact that Zane’s friends had arrived not long after Zane and I had our dust-up and had managed to cheer him up and distract him the way I wished I could while I stood in the corner silently watching was neither here nor there.
I was a professional, damn it. Zane was my principal.
And maybe if I repeated those words to myself for another year or two, I might begin to believe them.
“What’s up?” Zane grabbed Landry’s arm in a friendly gesture and forced him to stop his pacing.
My eyes zeroed in on the spot where Zane’s tan hand met Landry’s slightly paler skin with a laser-like intensity.
I immediately looked away, afraid Landry might have noticed me looking, though Zane hadn’t.
“Now they want me in Paris a full week before the shoot.” Landry threw himself into a chair and pouted, which I had to admit was not a bad look on him.
I was sure Zane thought the same… and I told myself that was neither here nor there, either. Zane’s friend was tall and beautiful, as most fashion models were, and my principal was an even more gorgeous, openly gay man. It was only natural that there was an attraction there.
Even if they hid it when they were in public or with their other friends, I’d heard what Zane and Landry got up to behind closed doors.
And it was none of my business.
If I currently wanted to grab Landry, drag him away from Zane, and buy him a one-way ticket to… someplace populated by actual bears… that had nothing to do with my crush on my principal and everything to do with wanting Zane to focus on the very real security threat rather than on his friend’s modeling woes.
I inhaled a breath. “Folks, I’m going to need you to get the hell out of here. Zane needs to be moved now… and without an entourage.”
Landry side-eyed me. “It seems to me he’d be better protected if we walked as a large unit circled around him to keep the riffraff at bay.”
I could just imagine the janky-ass circle these fuckers would attempt. It bore absolutely no resemblance to anything taught in a close-protection skills course. “A ball cap disguise will do a better job of getting us out of here without drawing attention than a circle of hot rich men. No offense.”
Landry flicked his long, blond hair over one shoulder and sniffed. “None taken, obvs.”
Zane peered at me and tried to fake a grin as if he was super chill and not at all affected by the target stamp. “You think my friends are hot?”
I saw right through his “fine-ness” as I always did. Zane was terrified that someone had gotten close enough to ink that target on him, and I felt the twist of guilt deep in my gut.
I hadn’t been there with him in that moment it had happened. I’d let myself get distracted by Noelle and her incessant attempts to reconcile with her former client.
“Hot like too much wasabi, hot,” I grumbled. “The kind that makes you sweat and want to die at the same time. Let’s go.”
As I waited impatiently, Zane said goodbye to his friends.
I reached for Zane’s arm and felt his muscles contract. Now was not the time to be distracted by his biceps and the feel of his warm skin on my fingers. There was never a good time for that.
I handed Zane the ball cap I kept as a makeshift “disguise” for him and spoke into the radio using our prearranged code. “Lou, coming out west-side door in three. All clear?”
“Copy. Clear to the vehicle. Echo Delta.”
Zane moved a little closer to me as we headed for the door leading from the backstage area to the staging lot outside, where the SUVs would be idling. Ed Hilton always drove the second vehicle, so we would head straight for that one this time.
Zane finished stuffing his long hair into the cap and tilted his face down. He’d already changed out of his sweaty Majestic Rocks T-shirt and into a clean black T-shirt with no markings. I threw a plain black windbreaker over his shoulders and nudged him to put his arms in it. Not only would the windbreaker help hide his recognizable tattoos, but it would also cover more skin to keep any happy-stamper from getting easy access to him again tonight.
Lou’s voice came over the radio. “West-side door still clear.”
She and I had worked together long enough that we both knew this meant the east entrance.
“Coming out.” I opened the east-side door and pressed my hand against the small of Zane’s back as I guided him out. The staging lots were supposed to be free of any fans, but I’d learned long ago that there were always fans among the backstage crew and facility people who were authorized to be in these restricted areas.