Page 13 of Echoes of a Muted Song

Never too late until both feet are in the grave and the ditchdiggers have started shoveling.

That had been one of my grandfather’s favorite sayings and damn did it hold true today. I had now and every moment moving forward, that’s what I needed to focus on, and that’s why I knew that bringing in Damage Control now needed to involve Johnny’s band, too. If he’d been alone he could have been hurt or trapped among a throng of people he’d have had no way to extract himself from. Several videos of that nature had circulated over the years, and each time I’d watched Johnny being swept along with a crowd of revelers and party goers, the night one of binging and debauchery that had earned him several nicknames in the dirt rags over the years.

Orgy King being one of them.

I’d never throw stones at him for that, I couldn’t, not when I’d taken two and even three women to my bed on more than one occasion. Only each time I’d seen Johnny swept up in one of those situations, there had been a little voice in the back of my head, jumping around and screaming about Johnny needing a keeper.

And now he had one.

Me.

And I’d be damned if anyone ever put him in jeopardy like that again.

He was still sprawled where I’d left him, his body splayed out in the middle of the bed like a sleepy angel, the blue fringes of his hair hanging in soft lines across his cheek. He’d always been beautiful and deep down it had always confused me when my eyes had sought him out in a room filled with scantily clad and willing females. There were times when afterparties had been hell because I’d been so focused on what he was doing, and other times when I’d tormented myself by taking a partner right next to where one was riding him. I’d envied him his ability to float between partners regardless of gender. He just loved getting down and dirty and having fun.

He'd never been a walk away right afterwards kind of guy, either. Whoever his chosen partner or partners were for the night, they got his full attention until the party came to an end.Somehow, in all the chaos, in all the offers we received night after night, in all the fanfare and the stardom and the way people loved to revere us like we were gods, he’d never lost his humility. Oh, he was as cocky as they came when it came to the way he carried himself, strutting and flaunting that amazing body like he was living in a cosmic spotlight, but he never treated people like they were beneath him. He genuinely cared about people’s feelings, when they gave him a chance to. The way I’d always seen it, the kind of ambush situation we’d been in tonight tripped everything into fight or flight mode, and Johnny just wasn’t a fighter.

He'd battle with that sassy, sarcastic mouth of his, his cutting whit and scathing ability to weave two and three languages together when he was pissed off. But he’d be the last person to throw a punch and the first to eat one, throwing himself in harm’s way to protect a friend.

Kneeling on the bed with my container of warm, soapy water and a washcloth, I took my time wiping him down, watching the way his eyelids fluttered at the feel, but he still wasn’t tracking me. The sounds he made, low and content, spurred me to hurry up a little, but I still did a thorough job of cleaning him. Only when I was certain I’d washed the last traces of our lovemaking from his skin did I set the container aside and crawl up onto the bed with him, gathering his arms and legs so I could lifthim a little and slide him over on the bed. He just sighed and cuddled into my embrace, hummed a bar from a song I didn’t quite recognize, and pressed his head to my shoulder.

So soft.

So pliant.

“Daddy,” he murmured.

I pressed a kiss to his forehead, wishing I could say any one of the dozen things that were running through my head. It didn’t take long for him to go limp, his breathing deep, rhythmic and completely at ease. Too bad every time I closed my eyes all I saw was the frightened look on Johnny’s face as the crowd pressed in around us. Giving up, I felt around for the remote, trying to remember where we shoved it last, but my fingertips encountered only soft cloth, rather than the hard plastic I was searching for.

Then I spotted it, on the end table on the other side of Johnny. It would have been laughable, only the last thing I wanted was to make any kind of movement that might disturb the sleeping man in my arms. Guess I was watching videos on my phone then.

Only a quick scan of the room, and most specifically, the end table I could barely make out over my shoulder, showed that it was farther away than the remote. Talk about a comedy of errors. When I’d pounced Johnny the last thing I’d been thinking about was where the electronics had wound up. Now, I’d haveto be content with my thoughts and hope the boredom would eventually be enough to lull me to sleep.

Gods, he felt good in my arms. Like he was made for me. It was enough to make me want to kick myself for waiting and watching for so long without acting. I’d convinced myself that my attraction to him was about the music, the comradery and how much I admired his fierce, devil may care attitude. He never put on a front, he never tried to be anyone but who he was, and he rarely apologized for it, though a few times over the years, when he’d crossed lines he hadn’t meant to cross, he’d appeared contrite and repentant in front of fans and reporters to personally own up to it.

Which was how I knew he wasn’t responsible for the accident they were trying to pin on him. He’d have owned it if it had been his mistake and he’d have done everything in his power to help the family, despite knowing he’d never be able to make it right. He’d never needed to tell me that he was innocent, I’d known it because I knew him, and he’d always owned a little piece of my soul.

A piece that had grown so much over the years that I wasn’t sure there was a part of myself yet that he hadn’t invaded.

I mapped the contours of his arm with my fingertips, imprinting the image of him sleeping in my mind. I was so enchanted byhim that I forgot there was a world outside of our hotel room, until my phone blew up with the screaming of an electric guitar, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. Johnny twitched, groaning and burrowing in tighter, until the thing screamed again, and again, and again, the series of text bombs prompting Johnny to seek shelter beneath the blankets and one of the pillows.

As much as I hated that he’d freed my arm when he rolled away from me, at least I could grab the phone and figure out what the fuck was going on, and mute the damned thing, too, so it wouldn’t keep disturbing him. On the way back to the bed, I killed the lights and retrieved the remote, returned the water to the bathroom, too, so I wouldn’t accidentally knock it over floundering around for something on the bedside table in the middle of the night. After dealing with the mess on the street tonight, I was in no mood to deal with another.

Joy.

There was a text message from Jagger that just saidWTF dude are you guys okay? accompanied by a video clip of the events that had taken place earlier.

Holy shit what’s wrong with people, was the message I’d received from Rebel, with texts from Robbie, Keegan, Ozzy and Dash all saying similar things. It was good that Johnny’s bandmates were as concerned as I was. I just hoped thatwould make it easier for them to get on board with hiring Damage Control to be their band’s security like I’d done earlier in the week for Damaged Saints.

And speaking of Damage Control…there was a text from Sully, too.

I’m on my way to your hotel with three guys, we’ll all be on bikes. You’ll have an escort for your reunion with the band. Don’t leave the building until we get there.

We won’t.I typed back.

I didn’t have to tell him what room we were in, I’d already given him that information, along with our checkout date when I’d hired them. He’d asked then if I wanted him to send guards out to me, now I was kicking myself for turning the offer down. I should have known we’d run out of luck. You could only fly under the radar for so long before someone noticed you.

Hey Oz, would you and the guys be willing to give some thought to hiring Damaged Control on as your security force?

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