Black lights and the odd strobe light hampered Balthazar Bornstein’s vision in a way he didn’t much like as he trailed after Connor in the crowded club, but he resisted the urge to grab the back of the guitarist’s neck to keep him close. He’d guarded the man before, surrounded by much bigger crowds and managed just fine.

As soon as his eyes adjusted, he could do his job properly. He was tense because the surroundings were unfamiliar. Nothing had changed. If he pulled off a full night without Connor getting into a fight, he’d succeed at his assigned task.

Only, protecting Connor hadn’t seemed so difficult before. The risks had been cut and dry.

An hour alone with him and Balthazar couldn’t help look back at all the times he’d failed. The signs he hadn’t known to watch for. The threats he hadn’t seen coming.

Not happening again.

Balthazar considered himself an observant man. Before a single member of the band had opened up to him, he’d had a good idea of their major issues. Of them all, Tate worried him the most. The drummer had a troubled past, but wasn’t ready to face it yet. Everyone around him wanted to save him from himself. Waiting for the kid to reach out drove Balthazar to distraction.

Fuck, he missed the military. Evaluations weren’t optional while a soldier was on duty. Not that his men and women hadn’t hidden anything they considered a weakness, but all the officers he’d worked with took mental health seriously. Obvious issues were addressed quickly. Troubling behavior was never ignored.

With the band, he had to wait for them to come to him. To accept that they needed help.

Malakai had been the first, with a firm nudge from the band. Alder not long after. Even Brave came to him now and then, though he made it clear he didn’t consider their talks ‘therapy’.

That Tate hadn’t come to Balthazar yet felt like a failure. But he’d never considered Connor might be the one who truly needed him. The drummer at least had the rest of the band who cared for him like a young sibling. Connor didn’t seem close to anyone.

Frowning, Balthazar watched the young man half a step ahead of him, pacing slowly in the small clearing at the end of the bar as he surveyed the crowd. Hands shoved into the pockets of the worn black jeans hanging low on his hips, muscular shoulders hunched. His tousled, light brown hair fell into his eyes as he glanced back. His lips curved slightly and eyes, blue with just a hint of green, warmed as they met Balthazar’s.

“Just realized I have no fucking clue where I’m going.” He made a face, adorably clueless. “I usually have someone to follow.”

Balthazar chuckled, which earned him a big, sheepish grin. He searched the area, taking note of the exits, then spotted a staircase at the far corner of the room. A bouncer stood in front of a velvet rope, turning away several people who craned their necks to peek up to the second floor. This looked promising. Guarding the band in a VIP section was a lot easier than dealing with them surrounded by randoms.

On average, he only had to worry about the overenthusiastic fans who got handsy. A firm tone and drawing his charge away usually did the trick. He’d had to physically herd fans back with Brave and Tate, but even that was rare. With the other members of the band, admirers tended to be sane. Not that he didn’t keep just as close an eye on anyone under his watch, but he ended his nights with fewer scratches when he was trailing Malakai or Alder.

Though, with Alder, he had to make sure a sudden movement didn’t trigger the youngest Trousseau brother’s PTSD. Being stabbed on stage had left him wary of anyone he didn’t know getting too close. Understandable. But at this point, the chances of him hurting someone else were much higher than him being attacked again.

This was the first time Balthazar was responsible for Connor alone. And he wasn’t sure what to expect. Like every member of the band, Connor had his hardcore fans, but he blended into a crowd easier than the others.

But he seemed a little lost. Not only because he wasn’t sure where the other bands were hanging out. His comment about having someone to follow implied he wasn’t sure what to do with himself otherwise.

After the drive here, Balthazar wasn’t as inclined to simply drop the guitarist off with his fellow metalheads and stand back while he drank himself stupid. He had the strangest urge to find a table and continue talking over a couple of beers.

A very bad idea. Balthazar couldn’t let himself get too familiar with his charges. The therapy sessions didn’t count, because he still treated the men like clients. The line between them was clear.

Skull had wanted him to bring Connor because he knew Balthazar would keep the kid out of trouble. And, knowing his big brother, Skull also wanted him to find a balance between protecting the guys and stifling them. They were adults, perfectly capable of making their own decisions. And learning from them when they inevitably made the wrong ones.

“Hey…” Connor put his hand on Balthazar’s forearm. “I’m good from here. Seriously. I’ll just wander around until I find someone. You don’t have to stay with—”

“I do.” Balthazar shook his head, then nodded toward the stairs. “I have a feeling the other bands are up there. Let’s go see if you’re on the list.”

Of course, he was. The bouncer let them pass and they headed upstairs to find a completely different setting than the one below.

Aside from the deep bass, the music from the main club was almost inaudible. Here the sound wasn’t meant for dancing. Low enough to be heard over, while still adding to the atmosphere of the smoky room. Tables with dark red velvet booths lined the perimeter, with black and red lounging chairs and fat cushions spread out around the center. There didn’t seem to be a bar area, but Balthazar noticed a few scantily clad men and women coming in and out of a door in the back, carrying buckets of beer and trays of mixed drinks and shots.

Well, this is…not at all what I expected. He took a deep breath, schooling his features as the sweet scent of apple shisha and weed drifted through the mist rising from the hookahs on half the tables. He didn’t mind the smell, but he had little patience dealing with people who were drunk and high. Which he’d have to work on if he wanted to keep his job. A year in and he still hadn’t gotten used to this behavior, except when it came to his band. Their standards had gone up as of late.

There was nothing wrong with imbibing a little to relax after a show. For the most part, the usage was harmless. So long as the men knew their limits.

Tate didn’t, but his bandmates would keep an eye on him.

Connor wasn’t very good exhibiting restraint either, but no one had ever shown much concern. Would he even listen if they did?

You’re not here to baby him, Bornstein. Keeping to Connor’s side, Balthazar eyed the bassist from one of the opening bands, who was laughing uncontrollably. He tipped off his seat at the edge of the booth just as Connor passed, almost slamming into him. Balthazar maneuvered Connor away, stepping over the idiot on the floor, his hand still on the small of Connor’s back.

Connor stumbled and glanced back at Balthazar. His cheeks reddened as he righted himself. “Ah…thanks.”

“Just doing my job.” Balthazar moved his hand, avoiding Connor’s questioning gaze at his sharp tone. He set his sights on a familiar face and let out a sigh of relief. The female vocalist from XVI Hours, Annette, was leaning forward in a massive black cushion chair, looking like she was having an animated debate with their lead singer. Having met the band, Balthazar had a feeling Connor would be better off with them than anyone else here.

They were drinking, but slowly, relaxing rather than trying to get wasted. The lead singer, North, was arrogant and abrasive, but Connor managed fine with Brave, so no worries there. North was sitting on the floor, knees spread, idly running his hand along the throat of one of XVI Hours’ guitarists. Hopefully, a sign that he was in a happy relationship and not on the prowl. The drummer and the other guitarist seemed harmless enough, both nodding to everything Annette said.

Not the type Connor usually hung out with, but maybe he needed a change. He was an intelligent young man, despite how people perceived him. And he wouldn’t have any trouble making real friends once he let down that cavalier front.

Friends like Annette. Maybe even North.

But not you.

No, definitely not. Balthazar smiled as Annette looked up at him, then turned to Connor, who was sticking a little too close to his side. “Connor, this is Annette Paige. Annette, Connor is the—”

“Rhythm guitarist for Winter’s Wrath. About time you got here, we’ve been waiting to suck up so we can improve our position in the industry.” Annette’s tone was dead serious, but her eyes sparkled. She scooted over and patted the cushion beside her. “Come. Tell me all your secrets.”

Balthazar bit back a laugh as Connor stared at her. North shot her a dirty look, but the other members of the band were all snickering.

“Umm…not sure I have any secrets.” Connor rubbed the back of his neck. Then he cocked his head. “But I’ve heard your stuff. Jesse made a good choice, inviting you on tour with us.”

Annette flashed him a huge smile, brilliant red hair spilling around her face as she popped up to grab his wrist, then tugged him down to squeeze in beside her on the chair.

“Aww, I think Annette’s in love.” The drummer rubbed his face against her leg affectionately. “Name one of your babies after me?”

“Absolutely! Quinton’s a cool name.” Annette ruffled his hair. “Now pass the man a beer. We have to discuss wedding plans.”

“God damn it, Annette.” North groaned, rubbing his hands over his face. “Will you chill?”

Crimson lips slanted, Annette inclined her head. Then turned to Connor. “So how soon can I meet your parents?”

Eyes wide, cheeks flushed, Connor’s lips moved like a goldfish plucked out of a tank by its tail. He looked to Balthazar for help.

Balthazar gave him a slow smile, inclined his head, then pointed to the corner of the room, his standard guard post. He wasn’t here to participate. He had to make it very clear he had a job to do. And nothing more.

Besides, Connor would be just fine.

* * *

Damn, the man was fine. Actually, both of them were.

Still, Annette didn’t have too much trouble looking away from Balthazar to focus on Connor. Sure, the security guard had been nice earlier, but now he was clearly all business. Fair enough.

The sexy guitarist by her side was here for fun.

Or would be, once she assured him she was joking about the whole marriage thing. He appeared to need confirmation. Either that or he was feeling out of place.

And we can’t have that. Annette relaxed at the opposite side of the huge cushion chair, taking a moment to enjoy the view. Muscular guys didn’t usually do much for her, but Connor had a nice build. Not steroid beefy. More like working out was his favorite hobby and he didn’t like sitting still for long. She could relate to the latter.

His eyes warmed as he met her gaze and she had to bite hard into her bottom lip to hold back a sharp inhale. There was something about his disarming smile that made being close to him even more appealing. She’d met charming men before, with passion and ambition, but none that gave off the vibe that they were truly living life in the moment, with her, here and now.

Connor wasn’t checking his phone or even the hot waitresses or groupies around them. Which North and the other guys were doing. Annette had his full attention.

And damn, it felt good.

“I’m hoping you know I was playing. I’m so not the marriage type.” Annette thanked Kace as he handed her, then Connor, a beer. “I was looking forward to meeting you.”

“We all were.” Kace leaned close to Connor’s thigh, not touching him, but gazing up at him with admiration usually reserved for North. “I know you only just started doing vlogs with Tate Maddox, but I’ve watched every one and you guys are awesome. Real and fun and…well, I’ve learned a lot about the business.”

Connor tipped his beer to his lips, gulping down a few swallows before grinning down at Kace. “Thanks, man. Me and Tate have a few YouTubers we check out whenever we’ve got good Wi-fi. A lot of bands do cool stuff on their channels, but not regular vlogs, so we figured it would be something different. We don’t have time to record them every day, but we’ve got tons of footage, and Tate edits about six every other week. Jesse gets them uploaded for us three times a week. So far the response has been great. We even got a few new sponsors.”

“Not gonna lie—totally jealous over the brands backing you.” Quinton caught the eye of a waitress who’d been serving one of the other tables, giving her a hooded look when she wiggled her hips and winked at him. “I want that.”

Connor snorted, then turned back to Annette. “What would you think of doing a collab on the vlog while we’re touring together? Me, you, and Tate, just sitting around talking about the whole experience.”

Annette blinked at him, stunned he’d asked her instead of one of the guys. Was he just being nice?

North frowned at Connor. “Wouldn’t it be better if I represented the band?”

“Why?” Connor looked genuinely confused. “She’ll look great on camera and female fans will love hearing from a chick who’s the lead singer of a metal band.”

“Only…” North’s tone hardened as he shifted forward to glare at the guitarist. “She’s not the lead singer. And sucking up to her won’t get you laid, pal. But nice try.”

Oh for fuck’s sakes. Annette used her foot to shove North back into the big pillow behind him. “Stop it. Your asshole is showing.”

“You know I’m right.”

“Hey, I’m not trying to start anything. We’re talking business.” Connor put his hands up, inching away from her as though to enforce his words. “I’m not making a play for your woman.”

“Good.” North folded his arms over his chest. “Speaking of business, where’s—”

“Nope. Rewind, you arrogant, possessive bastard.” Annette was seriously tempted to punch North. Maybe Connor as well. “His woman? Fuck, and you were doing so well. I love the idea of our female fans having some representation, but after that I doubt your vlog is the right platform.” She eyed North, completely disgusted with his posturing. “You ever lay claim on me like that again and I’m out.”

She shot to her feet, stomach turning as she strode away from them all, not sure where she was going, but needing some space. She sensed someone behind her. A quick glance showed her it was Orion. She’d expected Quinton, and she might have told him she needed to be alone, but Orion was only here because of her. He’d been quiet through the whole exchange. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking now.

Before she could start down the steps into the main club, he caught her wrist, nodding toward an exit that brought them out back. There were only a few lights along the building to illuminate the moonless night, and the rickety metal stairs didn’t seem that safe, but she followed him out and sat beside him, leaning close when he put his arm around her shoulders.

She let out a heavy sigh, staring out into the darkness. “I overreacted.”

“Did you?” Orion shook his head. “I don’t know. I had to take a walk before I hurt North. Not sure if Quinton will hold back. Neither of us likes him toying with you like that.”

“He wasn’t toying with me, he just—”

“Just knows you had feelings for him and needs to let you move on. And I don’t mean leave the band. Fuck, I was proud of you for calling him on his bullshit. Don’t back down now.” Orion pressed his lips to her hair, reminding her so much of her big brother she felt a little homesick again. He gave her a little squeeze. “You don’t look at him the same way anymore.”

Tipping her head, she peered up at him skeptically.

He smirked. “Yes, you still notice how hot he is. Hell, I can barely tolerate him half the time, but I notice. You don’t have that…longing I guess? Like you hope someday he’ll love you back.”

“I know he won’t.” More importantly, though, she’d accepted it. Which was why she’d gotten so mad. Not too long ago she would have given anything for North to tell another man she was his. She didn’t want that anymore. “Connor has no clue about any of this though.”

“No, but he still stepped in it.”

“Maybe… But we don’t need to make enemies of the headliner.” She tucked her head against his chest and groaned. “I can’t believe I made such a scene. The other bands are gonna think I’m a crazy bitch.”

“They’ll also know not to fuck with you.” He rubbed her arm, then slid over, as though sensing she didn’t need his comfort anymore. “You going back in?”

Did she want to? If she didn’t, her reputation could suffer. Then again, all the drunk and stoned people lounging around might not have even noticed the heated exchange. She didn’t have a thing to prove to them, either way.

But she wasn’t a coward. And North didn’t have the power to have her sneaking away to lick her wounds. Not anymore. He’d rarely disparaged her position with the band as much as he had tonight, but leaving wouldn’t show anyone she belonged here as much as he did.

Staying, however…

“Yes.” She stood, then held out her hand. “Come on, let’s go see if the big guys have gotten here yet.”

He made a face, staring at her hand. “I guess this means I have to go back in too?”

“Yes, but don’t worry. I’ll protect you.” She was teasing, but only a little. If he showed any signs of anxiety, she’d get him out of here. But until then, they had a job to do. “This is our band and we’re going to make an impact on the music scene.” She pulled Orion to his feet and tightened her grip on his hand when he shot an uncertain look at the door. “They need to remember our names. Every single one of them. And North needs a reminder of how we got here.”

Orion swallowed hard, then inclined his head. “Together.”

“That’s right.” She reached for the door, bracing herself for a night that likely wouldn’t get much more pleasant. “Together.”