Protecting His Assets (19 page)

Remembering the night she’d spent in Chase’s bed that way—as being smothered rather than being comforted—helped her shuffle it into the proper box in her head. He would hold her, yes, for a while. And it would be lovely until he started holding her back—and then he would take off, like her mom. Because that’s what Chase did. He roamed from town to town with his team, like a perennially sour-faced Peter Pan. This was another pit stop for him. Even if he got out of baseball, she figured he’d do the security thing until it bored him. Then he’d be on the road again, forever wandering.

She frowned. So why couldn’t they wander together?

“You ready?” Jax appeared at her side, his warm smile easing her nerves. Some of them. “The natives are getting restless.”

Summer swallowed and looked over her shoulder, peeking through the curtain that fronted the stage. “Yeah. I’m good. Hell of a week for Kyle to get pneumonia.”

“You don’t need him.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead the same way Chase had that morning in his bed, which felt like a lifetime ago. So why didn’t her heart flutter and her breath speed up? Why did she feel nothing at all except momentary comfort? “You’re going to kick ass tonight. And I’ll be watching.”

Jax’s smile flashed while her mind unwittingly replayed the scene she’d tried to block since yesterday. What
she’d
watched outside The Palladio, between Chase and a blonde woman with tits like watermelons. She’d draped herself all over him, and he hadn’t exactly fought her off. And then, if that wasn’t enough, he’d ripped down the flyer for her show. So much for thinking he supported her.

She’d come to The Palladio to take advantage of a free hour onstage during the afternoon lull to test the acoustics for her show, but after seeing Chase and his blonde, she hadn’t cared anymore. Chase Dixon was the only person who had the power to crush her desire for her dream, and that meant he had to go. He was out of her life, now he needed to get the hell out of her head.

And heart.

“If my presence isn’t enough to rock your world, you have another friend in the audience tonight.”

Summer tugged at her short, fringed, dark skirt. Then her hands fell still as Jax’s words pinged around in her brain. “Chase?” she asked hoarsely.

“Not that I know of, though it wouldn’t surprise me.” He didn’t give her time to puzzle over that before he continued. “Don’t suppose you’ve changed your mind on that score?”

He’d asked her several times if she wanted to reconsider making a more concerted effort to…wrangle Chase, for lack of a better term. Actually she’d begun to wonder if Jax had a vested interest in her agreeing, though she couldn’t figure out what. He didn’t seem too forthcoming either.

She looked away, saying nothing. She constantly feared she’d buckle and beg him to help her, no matter what crazy scheme he concocted. And she couldn’t go there.

Blowing out a breath, Jax forged ahead. “Well then. Moving on. Cass accompanied me. She’s already fortified herself with a drink since apparently she doesn’t like country.” He shook his head. “She disappoints me.”

“A drink? She never drinks.”

Jax circled her wrist to steady her still busy hands. She couldn’t stop fussing. “I’ll take care of her,” he said with an edge that had Summer’s gaze jerking up to meet his.

Whoa, hello there
. Jax’s typically placid hazel eyes glowed with a ferocity Summer hadn’t expected, and it was all for her best friend. Perhaps Cass’s luck in the men department was improving?

The thought caused an unbidden pang in Summer’s chest. At least maybe one of them could be happily coupled up. If anyone deserved love, it was Cass. God knows she’d endured enough crap in her life.

She
didn’t need love. She had her voice, and her guitar, and a few people to enjoy her music. That was all she wanted.

“Okay,” Summer murmured, trying to use her tone and her expression to convey that she trusted him to take care of Cass. She didn’t know him all that well, but he’d always struck her as a stand-up kind of guy. He’d refused to get into specifics about what had originally ended his and Chase’s friendship, but that really wasn’t her business. Relationships began and ended for all sorts of reasons. Some were resurrected in time. And some stayed dead.

“I’ll take care of you too.”

For once she didn’t argue. This was just a job to him. Nothing personal. “Thanks, Jax.” She smiled. “Tell Cass I really appreciate her coming. I’ll throw in a couple rock songs for her. Maybe even some Stones.”

“Unless you can get Sir Mick himself here to sing ‘Gimme Shelter’, don’t bother. She’s a tough crowd to please.” Grinning, Jax pushed his tattooed hand through his cropped dark hair. “Knock ’em dead, Sunny Z.” After giving her a paternal tap on the nose that made her smile rather than growl, Jax strolled away.

Summer hauled in a breath and glanced back at that suddenly menacing curtain. Any second now it would come up and she would be exposed to the noisy crowd. They would love her or hate her, but either way, she was living her dream.

She was finally living.

The sparse backup band she’d put together on the fly in Kyle’s absence began to play, and she stepped into the center of the stage to grab her microphone.

Showtime.

She sang “I Love Rock and Roll”.

In the dark corner where Chase stood, the music rolled over him like a tidal wave, dragging him under so deep that even breathing became a feat. This far back, he couldn’t see her smile, but good God, he could hear it, and that joyful sound spread over his heated skin like foam from the surf. As warm and light as a caress she wouldn’t give, grounding him in this moment. Making damn well sure he would never forget it.

He’d heard most of her other songs, but tonight they tasted new on his tongue when he caught himself singing along. He wasn’t the type to go nuts at a concert, and this wasn’t a rager in any case. Still, singing with her felt natural. If she could get up there and belt her fucking heart out to a writhing throng of strangers, he could follow along from the back. All the while imagining she was singing to him. For him. While they were in bed, and he was fisting his hands in all that glorious dark hair and sliding inside her, inch by inch.

He shifted and cursed under his breath. Great. Now he had an erection. At least he didn’t have to worry about not being able to move fast enough to keep her safe tonight. She had someone to handle that.

Someone named Jax Wilder.

Even considering all the years of bad blood—and then dormant blood—between them, there was no one else Chase would’ve entrusted her to. He still hadn’t acknowledged to Jax that he wanted him as a partner or even that he intended to put his name, of sorts, on the agency itself. But they were moving toward that conversation, as they were moving toward rebuilding their friendship. It wouldn’t happen overnight.

Nothing worth having ever did.

Except falling for Summer. That had happened in an instant, when he’d stood in a club much like this one and her silken voice had washed over him for the first time. He’d been playing catch up ever since. It was a hell of a thing to want what you’d almost had. A special kind of hell he had no desire to ever repeat.

A couple of new numbers rounded out the set. Her new band contributed to the richness of her sound, but he wondered where Kyle had disappeared to. As great as Summer’s vocals were, he missed their harmonies. Perhaps she was moving up in the world and expanding as she’d mentioned she thought she needed to. He couldn’t argue with the results. The crowd seemed positively feral for her tonight, screaming at an ear-splitting decibel. They sang along and held up iPhones with flickering lighter apps.

Chase snorted at that. Damn, what he wouldn’t give for the good old concert days where people used actual lighters and didn’t shove each other like maniacs whenever they had a moment’s downtime between songs. Well, okay, at least they’d used lighters.

She finished up with the first song he’d ever heard her sing, the one about missing her lover. The emotion in her voice tonight seemed particularly poignant, and when she grabbed the microphone and bent at the waist to belt out the words, he had to fight the instinct to push his way through the crowd to get closer. She wasn’t singing about him. Miss him? Ha. Why would she think about him when she had so much else in her life?

The instant the show ended, Jax bounded onstage, followed by a woman sporting a bright shock of red hair. Cass. They surrounded her and even at that distance, Chase could see their excited movements. Eventually a guy in a dark suit joined them and led Summer backstage. The dark curtain that swallowed the two of them up closed Chase’s throat and he caught himself pressing his fist to his thigh. The pain that streaked along the inside of his elbow barely reached his consciousness.

No reason to be jealous that Jax got to hold her and damn near dance around with her, or that some slick dude in a fancy suit so easily commanded her attention. She was free and unencumbered, just as he was. And no matter how much Chase wished things were different, or how eager his agent was for Chase to hurry up his surgery so they could work on getting him rehabilitated and his rep “cleaned up” for next season, the fact was being a free agent meant you kept your own counsel and did your own thing. That applied to baseball and life.

But Chase didn’t have to like it.

He stood there in the center of the crowd still cheering for an encore that obviously wasn’t coming and debated his next move. Saturday night meant he was free tomorrow, not counting the two meetings he’d scheduled. One with Jax to finalize their business plans—in his case, to finally admit in actual words that he wanted and needed Jax on board permanently—and another with David, the promising pitcher who’d never returned to the game after his elbow operation. He wanted to be informed when he walked into surgery.

Because he
was
walking into it. Running was no longer an option. If he didn’t return to baseball, at least maybe he wouldn’t be chained to a bottle of pills. Or his own negativity about the process.

The outpatient procedure was scheduled for three weeks away, something he still hadn’t told his agent. Let him stew a day or two longer. In the meantime, Chase was mighty sick of stewing himself. He used to be a man of action, not one who hung around with his thumb up his ass, bemoaning fate.

He strode through the crowd toward the stage. Fuck that crap. If he wanted to say hello to Summer like a rational human being, then he would. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t be civil and polite enough to compliment her on her great show, despite his bitterness over not being the right guy to actually be
with
her. He had manners, for shit’s sake.

People milled around backstage in a thick throng, everyone talking and laughing. The next act was getting ready to go on and the band was already doing warm-ups, so every few minutes a discordant sound, usually of the guitar variety, arose from the stage. Often accompanied by a few colorful swear words.

Despite how many people were backstage, he couldn’t find Summer or her suited dude. Who he did find? His sister, who brushed past him with Jax hot on her heels. Neither of them looked his way.

What the hell? Jax was supposed to be sticking close to his client—not too close, but within reason—not chasing after Cass, especially since his sister’s pained expression had indicated she didn’t want to be caught. At least not by Jax.

Chase turned, of half a mind to follow them and mediate if need be. He also intended to chew out Jax for abandoning his post. What could be more important than protecting Summer from the insanity backstage? Some guy could sneak into her dressing room and push her up on the table and slide his mouth between her toned, supple legs.

God, how she’d tasted. Sweet and raw. And she’d been so wet and ready for him.

Or she could invite a guy in, shut the door and peel off his dark, probably tailor-made suit.

“Fuck,” Chase growled, pushing his way down the hallway. He tried a couple of doors and found one locked, then stepped into a supply closet that reeked of bleach and…other things. The dressing room at the end of the hall was also locked, and a knock on the door yielded a terse response from a giant in purple lycra who was sporting about three coats of guyliner and possibly lipstick too. Not only did he not know Summer, he suggested Chase insert something up his “rectal cavity” that did not go there under normal circumstances.

Chase blew out a breath. Evidently Summer and her suit had disappeared. Maybe the time had come for him to do the same.

He strode out a side door into the parking lot and tipped back his head to gaze at the dark sky. Often there weren’t that many stars visible in the city, but tonight they seemed to be everywhere, twinkling madly. It was a warm night, the breeze more reminiscent of September than early December. People milled around the parking lot and he tucked his hands in his pockets and headed for his SUV, determined to ignore them.

Being alone didn’t mean he was lonely. When did that ever happen? He’d been in the center of an adoring crowd for years, and the only reason people hadn’t come up to him tonight was because of the dark knit cap and dark glasses he’d worn for most of the show. He hadn’t wanted to be recognized, so he wasn’t. Plain and simple.

His fans weren’t forgetting him. Not yet. And so what if they did? He’d told Summer she needed to find her own sense of acceptance inside herself, and he obviously did too. No better day to start than the present.