Private Dicks (11 page)

Pressing my nose into the back of his neck, I inhaled deeply. He smelled like old cigarettes—not his—stale beer—definitely his—and hot, sweaty man. It certainly didn't bother me that he hadn't showered before jumping on a plane for home. His familiar fragrance soothed and relaxed me as much as my Jacuzzi had, and I had to nuzzle in closer.

The events of the day still weighed heavily on my mind, but I was able to let them slip away so I could bask in the sweetness of having Jade home. Tomorrow was a new day, though more than likely it would be a difficult one. It wasn't every day the man you loved was accused of being someone's baby-daddy.

We didn't quite make it through to the morning. I did that thing I do with Jade's dick in my mouth then he did that thing he does with his tongue in my ass. Both were shortly followed by that other thing he does with his dick in my ass. We fell back asleep, sticky and spent, too exhausted and in love to care. The morning brought the uncomfortable peeling apart of hair and sections of skin that had been stuck together, but this was quickly remedied in the shower where we got sticky all over again.

I brainstormed about a few more things we could do to each other while I watched Jade cook me breakfast. He was wearing the smallest pair of boxer briefs ever designed with the word "pounce" stretched across his tiny ass. I wanted nothing more than to do exactly what the briefs suggested, but I contented myself with staring at the hotness I'd missed so much in my kitchen. We immediately settled into our usual morning breakfast topic: my eating habits.

"All I want is coffee, Jade."

"You have to eat something in the morning. It gets your metabolism ready for the day."

"My metabolism prefers to sleep in, thanks."

"You're so grumpy in the morning."

"That's because you always insist on waking up my metabolism too early."

It was kind of like our own Abbot and Costello act, and despite my protests, Jade always got his way. I often marveled at how domestic he was and how much he enjoyed being that way. If his fans could only see him fussing about, tidying, cleaning, baking, they more than likely wouldn't believe he was the same stage-jumping, fist-pumping, hair-flipping dynamo they saw on the stage every night.

"You taking today off?" he asked, breaking me from my thoughts and tearing me away from staring at his mouth-watering ass.

Uh oh, here goes. "I have a case."

He turned to look at me, all wide grin and bright eyes. "Cool. Can I help?"

Oh sweetheart, you have no idea how much. "Yeah, about that, the case sort of involves … you."

His eyes narrowed, his smile turning upside down. "What?"

I told him to finish up what he was doing before we talked. He grumbled a bit until I said I didn't really need to kick start my metabolism anyhow. That earned a strong "bastard" thrown my way, but he turned and finished cooking.

Once he had put heaping plates in front of us both, he focused his gaze on me and said, "Explain."

So I did and he reacted exactly as I'd thought he would.

"You don't think I ...?"

He looked so serious and upset, the wideness of his mouth and eyes were replaced by tightness and worry. I almost laughed from the sheer sweetness of his face. That, of course, would not have been a good thing, so I contained my chuckles and brushed a hand over his cheek. "Of course not."

His hand covered mine, the concern in his eyes suddenly heartbreaking and in no way humorous. "… Because you gotta know I haven't been with anyone else since we got serious. I'd never… "

I kissed him to turn off the pained words, the press of my lips soft and supportive. He kissed me back, but his mouth stayed tight, his brain obviously still mulling over the information and what it meant.

He pulled away, one hand tangled in my short hair, his gaze flaring with unanswered questions. "If you don't think I'm responsible, then why take the case? I can take a test and prove it's not mine."

How could I explain how much it infuriated me to think people could make up this shit and run with it with no consequences? And to have those people walk into my office and accuse Jade? They needed to be taught a lesson in humility and common decency and I was just the fucker to do that.

"I'm gonna prove they're lying. Doesn't all the shit that people make up about you bother you?"

He shrugged, releasing his hold on my head and staring down at his now-cold breakfast. "Only matters what you think, Mase. You're the one I wanna spend my life with, so what's it matter what others think? They're still gonna buy the albums and come to the shows. Any publicity is good publicity, right?"

"Except when you can be charged with statutory rape because of it."

His gaze darkened and he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth. "They can do that without proof?"

I settled my hand on top of his, my thumb drawing slow circles on his smooth knuckles. "It's not always innocent until proven guilty, sweetheart, especially in the media."

He seemed to accept the statement, nodding his understanding and flicking his eyes back up to meet mine. "So what's the plan?"

That was exactly what I was asking myself.

*~*~*

Surveillance. It was defined in the dictionary as keeping close watch over someone or something. Stake-out. Surveillance monitoring of an area, building or person. What both definitions seem to have forgotten were the words boring or boredom or any other word that defined exactly how mind-numbing surveillance and stake-outs could be.

We were sitting in my car down the street from the Durango abode. Jade grumped that we should have taken his SUV since it was more comfortable and had a DVD player and all the other perks a rockstar should have in his vehicle. All valid points, without taking into consideration that it was a 2012 metallic amethyst Porsche Cayenne S Hybrid. The thing made me drool every time I got in it, but inconspicuous it was not.

So it was my beat-up, poop-brown 2002 Civic we were huddled together in—surrounded, of course, by healthy snacks courtesy of an insistent Jade. And speaking of Jade, he was just as cute as he could be. His eyes were hidden by big-assed sunglasses and a baseball cap—the hat a big fail in managing to keep back the hair Jade had stuffed under it—turned backwards on his head. There wasn't a hint of make-up on his face, and he wore a baggy T-shirt and ripped jeans. He was certainly incognito, at least from a distance.

The plan was to follow Shahara in hopes she would give up the face and location of her real baby-daddy. She was a cocky sixteen year old going on thirty. And she wasn't likely to think about being watched since, in her eyes, she was in the clear and the case had been left in my capable hands. All true, except that I was working the case against her rather than for her.

Did I feel guilty about that? Maybe a little for taking her father's money when I had no intention of doing what he'd hired me to do. On the other hand, Durango was so blind to what was actually going on, it was time he had his eyes opened—wide. I was doing it mostly for Jade, but also for all the other unjustly accused celebrities and normal people who had their lives turned upside down because of someone else's selfishness and dishonesty. I'd never known myself to be quite so sanctimonious or vindictive, but I was feeling like a mama bear whose cub had been disrespected one too many times.

Jade's fingers lacing through mine brought me back to the present. When I looked over at him, he had pushed the sunglasses to perch on the back of his cap. His eyes displayed the same flickering of confusion as when I'd told him the situation in the first place.

"I'm okay," I struggled to reassure him.

He shook his head, turning back to stare out the dirty windshield. "Liar."

I squeezed his hand, but he didn't look at me. "Do you wanna go home? You don't have to spend your time-off doing this. You should go relax or have some fun."

"We both gonna go home?" he asked. His voice was deep and husky, as well as wrought with emotion. I didn't understand what was going on with him.

"No. I have to—"

"Then what fun would I have?"

I fiddled with the large-lensed camera in my lap, turning the switch off and on a few times until Jade covered my hand to still my fidgeting. "What's going on, babe?" I asked, watching while he worried his bottom lip, his face unhappy and tense.

He peered at me for a second and then looked away again. "I haven't seen you in a month, and you want me to go fucking home or go have fun without you."

I tried not to sigh too loudly, knowing my frustration wouldn't help anything at the moment. "Sweetheart, you're home for a while, right? There'll be lots of time to be together. Just let me do my job and I'll be home before you even realize I'm gone."

He shook his head again, taking his hand from mine and twisting his fingers together in his lap. He drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. It was a trick he used to calm his thoughts. When he opened them again, his gaze was more defined, more focused. "If it wasn't for me, you wouldn't be doing your job here right now … "

I opened my mouth to protest but he cut me off. "I don't want lots of time, Mason. I want always."

"I am always."

He huffed and looked out the passenger window. "You just don't get it."

"Then explain—"

"Is that her?" Jade cut me off, his intent gaze staring out the front window. "She doesn't look pregnant."

"They gave me a document from a doctor. She's about three months along." I really wanted to find out what Jade was upset about, but the hasty departure of Elizabeth/Shahara made me shuffle his issues to the back of my mind. "I'm going to follow her. You with me?"

He didn't smile, but he did nod, so I put the Honda in drive and followed the baby pink Mustang down the road.

*~*~*

Daddy's girl stopped outside a badly maintained motel about fifteen minutes from her house. She parked in the back while I pulled up to the side of the building. I wasn't all that worried about Shahara seeing me. As far as she was concerned, I was on her side. I didn't, however, want her to see Jade, since a real fan would probably recognize him even through the disguise.

"Want me to wait here?" His arms were crossed over his chest, his bottom lip partially puffed out as he feigned indifference to his own question. I had to force back my own grin at his adorable pout. I leaned over and nipped at his mouth and was rewarded with a half-smile. "Can I use the camera?"

I passed it over, enjoying the change in his demeanor from sulking teenager to kid set loose in a candy store. "You remember how to use it?"

He snorted in my direction, but his face and eyes had brightened. "I'm the one who bought it for you and read the manual." His sunny aura was back and as I reached over and popped his sunglasses back on his nose, he shot me that fan-melting smile again.

The Welcum Back Motel (Yes, that was how it was spelled) was one of the most depressing places I'd seen in a while, and considering I basically visited these establishments for a living, that was saying a lot. It only had ten rooms and it appeared half of them had broken windows or barely functioning doors. Beer bottles and cigarette butts littered the ground and, if I was not mistaken, there was an actual crime-scene chalk outline outside one of the rooms. The whole place made my skin crawl; the less time I spent there, the better. I wondered if Daddy Durango knew his darling Shahara frequented places like this?

Shahara's pristine car looked entirely out of place in the parking lot, and though we hadn't seen which room she'd gone in, the choices were very limited at the back of the building. There was the room with the broken window, the one with the door literally hanging open on its hinges, the one that obviously housed a very angry newborn baby, or the two that looked relatively intact. I motioned for Jade to follow behind me, noticing in amusement that he cradled the camera in his arms like a sleeping infant. He must have seen me ogling him because he stuck his tongue out as he slipped behind me. Child in a candy store indeed.

We bypassed the first three rooms, pausing outside the dirty window of the next. There were no curtains or blinds to hinder our view so we quickly determined it was empty—littered with garbage and crap, but definitely empty. The last room was furthest from the road, secluded, and quiet, the perfect place for a tawdry affair or session with a pedophile.

I saw her as soon as I peeked in the partially-curtained window. She was half-undressed, her bare back and bra facing me as I quickly looked away. Jade must have seen me flinch. He peered in, frowning when he looked back at me.

"I'm not taking nudes, Mase. That's way out of my comfort zone … and she's a goddamn child."

"Just try not to get private body parts We have to get a usable picture of the scumbag she's with."

Jade scowled at me but lifted the camera to his face, fingers adjusting this and that accordingly. He made a funny little noise in his throat, not quite a groan or a gasp, but something in between. I didn't push him to ask what was wrong, just swiveled my head around to ensure we were still alone. Jade always did an awesome job with the camera. It had been a hobby of his for years, and he still took exquisite photographs of the places he toured. I had no doubt he could make a good living doing it if he chose to sell his photos.

"Motherfucker," he whispered under his breath.

I heard the camera's shutter click five more times, and then Jade was gone, walking swiftly back to the car.

"Hey," I hissed. "What the fuck's going on?"

He didn't answer, just kept striding towards the car. By the time I caught up, he was already huddled inside, arms crossed over his chest, and face frozen in a sad frown. He didn't even glance my way when I jumped in the driver's side and tore out of the parking lot.

"We need to develop these," he said softly. "Might as well use my darkroom at the studio."

"What the fuck did you see, Jade?" My patience for our little adventure was wearing thin and this whole not-telling-me thing was getting old fast.

He stared quietly out the window for the rest of the ride, his demeanor and attitude toward talking to me not changing. Damn stubborn, moody-assed rockstar. Jade was a people pleaser, but when he got a bee in his bonnet about something—or something was hurting him—he turned into a raging bucket of PMS. No offense to any of my women friends, but holy fucking Christ, I wanted to strangle him.