Connor sat on the pavement, leaning against the cement wall of the club, and tried to figure out how tonight had gone from being one of his best, to his very worst. He was happy he’d managed to slip out without waking Annette, but he wouldn’t mind having her close, selfish as that was.

Stuck here alone with Brave, he wasn’t sure if he should comfort the man, or punch him. He kinda wanted to do both. Might do them some good to have it out.

But every time he blinked he saw Tate, face all skinned from the road, one eye bloody and swollen shut, and a piece of bone sticking out of his arm. Winter’s Wrath didn’t need to fight amongst themselves. Not with the most fragile member of the band so broken.

How the hell could we let this happen?

“Connor…” Brave cleared his throat and put his hand on Connor’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about what I said. I don’t blame you. I should have…” He shook his head. “Fuck, isn’t this why we pay for security?”

“Yeah, something like that.” Connor sighed, tipping his head back. “I’m glad Malakai got Shiori out of here. Will she be okay?”

Brave made a face, gazing down the road where their bigger van had gone ahead of them with half the band, and Tank. “If anyone can get the sight of Tate all bloody out of her head, it’s my man. I can’t be all calm and reasonable. I want to kill North.”

“North?” Connor glanced over at Brave, taking in the shaved part at the side of his skull, which was red from where he’d been scraping his nails over it, as though he’d forgotten how short it was. The middle part of his hair was a bit past his shoulders, slick and black, glistening like oil under the moonlight.

He was a fucking good looking man and he knew it. But his lightly tanned skin had a grey cast to it. He might be an asshole more often than not, but under all that douchebaggery, he cared. About his brother and Malakai. About Shiori most of all.

And he cared about Tate. Sure, the kid had ended up roadkill after one of his more epic fuck-the-world episodes, but he saw Tate the same way they all did.

If North had somehow been involved in Tate getting hurt, Brave would bury him.

If I don’t get to him first.

Raking his fingers over his shaved hair again, Brave nodded. “North gave him drugs. I’m sure of it. After a few drinks, with no one to keep an eye on him, Tate was vulnerable. And the fucker who grabbed him took advantage of that.”

Connor’s throat tightened. “If he’d gotten Tate alone—”

“Don’t.” Brave covered his face with his hands. “Jesus, why does this shit keep happening? First Alder, now Tate.”

“We shouldn’t have split up. That’s my fault.”

“Fuck off. You get to have fun. And you were fighting for a good reason.”

“I wasn’t actually fight—”

“I know.” Brave let out a rough laugh. “What none of us knew was Tank would flake out. He says he lost sight of Tate for a minute, but I saw him at the bar, flirting with the barmaid. I interviewed security with Jesse. I wanted Tank because he was a big fucker and I thought he’d look good standing in front of the stage.”

Well, he kinda does. Connor sighed and shrugged. “To be fair, Tate’s hard to keep an eye on. Not making excuses for Tank.” He held his hands up when Brave glared at him. “But if North was getting our boy high… Shit, Brave, you know how Tate is. He’s been good lately, but the slightest temptation and he’s all over that.”

“Don’t you dare blame Tate for this.” Brave looked up, rage flaring in his eyes. He pushed to his feet “Done hiding, you slimy motherfucker? What the fuck did you give him? His treatment has to be delayed while they try to figure out what drugs are in his system.”

Standing between his drummer and his lead guitarist, North stared at Brave like he’d lost his damn mind. “Give who?”

Oh fuck. Connor surged to his feet, cutting in front of Brave to hold him back before he nailed the other vocalist. Brave was wiry, about half Connor’s size, but enraged as he was, it was hard to get a good grip on him.

“Tate! Do you know what could have happened to him? He could have been…” Brave shuddered and stopped fighting to get free of Connor. “You’re off the fucking tour. I don’t care what our manager says. You’re done.”

“Take a walk, Brave.” Skull came out behind the members of XVI Hours with Dariel, motioning the violinist forward. “Go with him.”

Dariel inclined his head, strode up to Brave, and latched onto his arm. “Skull gave me a brief rundown. Tell me the rest.”

Once Dariel had walked Brave out of hearing, Skull stepped up to Connor’s side and faced North. “Did you give Tate any drugs tonight?”

“No, I didn’t even think to offer.” North winced when his drummer, Quinton, punched him in the arm. “I bought him a drink. We danced. Then he took off with the next guy who bought him a drink. I got shafted, all right?”

Skull inclined his head. “Fair enough. Did you see the man he left with?”

“Yeah. Shaggy blond hair, long nose, grungy clothes. Kinda creepy.” North stared off into the distance. “Can’t figure out what Tate saw in him.”

“Did he ditch you before or after the drink?” Connor’s neck heated as all eyes turned to him. He expected his question to be waved off. No one ever really wanted his input.

But Skull frowned, giving North a sharp look. “That’s a good question.”

“I don’t know…” North rubbed his fist against his lips. “The song ended. I was gonna go to the bar and get us another drink. Turned for a minute and the guy was already handing Tate one. Tate drank it and was moving to the music. Started dancing with the guy. I thought we were gonna have fun, but I don’t fight for attention. It comes to me.”

“Fuck you’re a dick.” Quinton folded his arms over his chest. “The guy gives you weird vibes and you walk away?”

“No, I got distracted by the hot chick you dragged me away from.” North’s eyes narrowed. “Was gonna either be her or Tate sucking me off. What difference does it—”

One swing, fist connecting with that cocky mouth. A wave of satisfaction filled Connor as North went down. He didn’t give a shit if he got grief for punching the guy. He fucking deserved it.

Kace took a knee beside North, restraining him before he could come at Connor.

A shame. I really want to do that again.

Quinton smirked, not moving.

Skull sighed and shook his head. “That’s enough for tonight. Come on, Connor. Let’s see to Brave.” He nodded to Quinton. “Thank you for your time. Have a pleasant evening.”

Quinton stepped forward, putting his hand on Connor’s arm. “I didn’t see Tate, but I heard he got hurt pretty bad. Is he gonna be okay?”

“I hope so. I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”

“Please do.” Quinton pulled out his phone, checked the number, then showed it to Connor. “Give me a call.”

Burner phone. Connor remembered getting those when he started touring. He pulled out his own phone and put Quinton’s number in his contacts. “Will do.”

After collecting Brave and Dariel with Skull, Connor started for the van. Then stopped and glanced over at the XVI Hours tour bus. The band had returned to their bus, and after punching North, he wouldn’t be welcome, but he hated the idea of leaving without saying goodbye to Annette.

Tonight might not have meant anything to her. Or…maybe she wanted to see him again as much as he wanted to see her. If he and the rest of the guys could reason with Brave and keep XVI Hours on the tour they’d have plenty of chances to hang out.

But not if he ghosted on her.

He shook his head, laughing a little as he sent a text to Quinton.

Connor: Hey, it’s Connor. Mind doing me a favor?

Standing in front of the bus, Quinton looked over at him, brows raised.

Quinton: Sure. What’s up?

Connor: Give Annette my number? Tell her sorry I had to take off like that.

Quinton: …

Connor: ?

This time the look wasn’t friendly. Quinton leaned over his phone.

Quinton: Annette… As in our Annette?

Connor: Ah…yes?

Quinton: Fine. But I may have to kill you next time I see you if you fuck with her, dude.

Connor: Little late for that.

Stupid. Think before you press send.

Connor: Shit. I mean… Of course.

Quinton: lol You got your warning. I think I like you. For now. And I’ll give her the message.

Connor: Thanks

All right, maybe that hadn’t gone so bad after all. Quinton was pretty cool. He’d give Annette the message.

Now Connor could focus on Tate. He’d had to wait here while Skull had gone into the club to talk to the bartender, then find North to see what he could learn about any drugs. Or the man who’d tried to take off with the little drummer boy.

Skull would drive Connor, Brave, and Dariel to the hospital to stay with Tate. Malakai and Brave had talked and decided Malakai would be the better choice to break the news to Alder. As much as the Trousseau brothers’ relationship had improved, they still weren’t great in stressful situations. And Shiori wanted to change into something less revealing, then be there when Alder called Danica, since the women had become close friends and Danica adored Tate.

Tank had gone back to the bus so Jesse could deal with him. Connor didn’t envy the big security guard. Jesse had gotten even more hardcore after he’d been promoted to tour manager. He’d have Tank on the next plane to the US before dawn.

Dariel opting to go to the hospital, rather than back to the bus, was a bit of a surprise, but probably shouldn’t have been. Tate was fucking loveable, and Dariel treated him the same way the rest of the band did, even though he’d only ‘officially’ joined them a couple months ago. Granted, Dariel indulged Tate a bit more when the kid was flirty, completely ignoring Alder and Malakai’s glares, but Connor didn’t think he’d mess with the drummer.

The violinist simply gave and took attention indiscriminately. Except with Connor. Connor he barely tolerated. A reaction Connor had grown used to over the years.

He tried not to take it personally.

They got to the hospital in about forty-five minutes. Skull led them straight to Tate’s private room. One of the perks of the band gaining prominence in the music world was that every member had the best insurance, even overseas. Clean bandages covered the right half of Tate’s face and he looked relaxed as he lay on the thin mattress with tubes coming out of his arms.

But he was pale. So fucking pale. And his one uncovered eye couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

The nurse attending him jotted a few notes on her clipboard and inclined her head to them before stepping aside to let them approach the bed. She said something in German to Balthazar, who had pulled a chair up to the other side of Tate.

He shook his head, replying calmly, but firmly. She frowned at him, nodded, then walked out.

Balthazar sighed, rising and coming over to stand in front of his brother. “He’s going in for surgery in about fifteen minutes. He’s not supposed to have so many visitors, but I told her you wouldn’t stay long.”

Skull inclined his head. “We won’t.” He moved closer to Tate’s side, crouching down to make it easier for the young drummer to see him. “How you doing, kid?”

“Hate hospitals.” Tate wrinkled his nose, then winced. “Everything hurts. They told Ballz they couldn’t give me the good drugs until they did more test. But I had three…” He held up four fingers with his good hand. “Only three beers. Maybe a shot. I was good, right?”

“You were good.” Skull took his hand and patted the back of it. “I don’t think it’s the alcohol. You started feeling funny after that last drink, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… How did you know?”

“I found out everything I could so I could help the doctors.” Skull gave Tate a gentle smile. “Ballz and I will go talk to them now. The guys are here with you though. They’ll keep you company.”

“What guys?” Tate squinted his uncovered eye. “Not Alder? He’ll be so mad.”

“He won’t be mad.” Brave took Skull’s place as the older man left with Ballz, who spared Connor a brief glance before exiting the room. Brave looked Tate over, expression drawn, and shook his head. “I should have made you stay with us. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Connor exchanged a glance with Dariel, and moved with him to the other side of the bed, Dariel taking the chair already close and Connor pulling up another. For the first time, Dariel didn’t seem detached, or even irritated with Connor’s presence. His jaw was hard as he focused on Tate’s injuries, as though staring at them long enough could make them heal faster.

He cleared his throat, gingerly laying his hand on Tate’s shoulder. “Me and Connor are here too, buddy.”

“Hey!” Tate let out a wheezy laugh. “Change your mind about letting me suck your dick?”

Dariel blinked. “You never offered.”

“Oh.” Tate frowned. “Totally planned to. Raincheck?”

Lips parted, Dariel looked up at Connor as though to say ‘help?’.

Now you like me?

Connor chuckled. “I’m feeling left out.”

Tate grunted. “Already sucked your dick. You won’t play with me anymore. No one will.” He sighed, his good eye drifting shut. “Maybe I can get a pity fuck after this. Would be nice.”

“Jesus.” Brave chuckled and shook his head. “How the hell can you think of sex while you’re—”

“Broken?” Tate’s eye shot open, tearing. He blinked fast and a tear trailed down his cheek. “I won’t be able to play. I’m useless.”

“That’s not true. I mean, no, you won’t be able to play.” Connor cringed as both Brave and Dariel shot him a cold look. “Worry about getting better. Then me and you will keep doing our vlog. You broke your left arm, so you can still sign shit. And your mouth is working fine.”

Those looks didn’t ease up. Connor couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t helping, but damn it, he was trying.

Snickering, Tate tipped his head to the side. “They’re pissed aren’t they? Well, fuck them. I mean, don’t really fuck them, unless you want to, but…” More tears spilled. “It’s good to know I can still do something.”

All right, maybe Connor hadn’t fucked up too bad. He nodded as his throat tightened, leaning closer to the bed to put his hand on Tate’s sheet-covered knee.

“We’ll find something for you to do. We’ll cancel the tour until you—”

“No.”

Tate’s sharp response got an immediate reaction.

“What do you mean, ‘no’?” Brave stepped away from the bed as though afraid his shock would hurt Tate more.

Dariel scowled. “I’m not playing without you.”

Connor kept his mouth shut. He wanted to tell them to hear Tate out, but that was probably the wrong thing to say. The band couldn’t exactly perform without their drummer. Still, he knew how much it sucked when no one was willing to listen, even if you were wrong.

Eye closed again, Tate shook his head. “I don’t wanna talk about this now. Can I have my phone?”

Brave went to search Tate’s rumpled pile of clothes on the chair in the corner while Connor tried to think of another subject to distract the kid. The sterile white room was oppressive and the random noise from the hall made it hard to focus. Fuck, he hated hospitals. How long would Tate be stuck here? He’d be more comfortable on the bus.

Except he had the top bunk, which would be hard to climb into with his arm busted.

“I want you in my bed.” Connor shook his head when Tate grinned and Dariel frowned at him. “I mean, I’ll take yours. Mine will be easier to get into.”

“Wouldn’t mind if you meant something else.” Tate shifted restlessly, then sighed. “I wouldn’t be here if every sane person didn’t reject me. One minute North is all about getting with me, next he’s found a chick he likes better.”

Strange, since North seemed to think Tate was the one who’d lost interest. Connor shrugged. “I punched him, if that makes you feel better.”

Tate spat out a laugh. “You did? Shit, man, did you get in trouble?”

“No. And he won’t.” Brave came over, handing Tate his own phone, then fussing with the drummer’s pillow as though he needed something to do. “Not sure why you stopped me from fucking him up though.”

“I thought we should give the man a chance to explain himself. He did.” Connor looked down at his knuckles, which were only slightly bruised. He couldn’t remember what North had said, but he remembered the burst of rage. “I didn’t like his response.”

“North isn’t our problem.” Dariel’s jaw ticked. “Tank is. I’m assuming he’ll be replaced?”

“You’re damn right he will be.” Brave fussed with Tate’s sheets, growing paler as his gaze skimmed over the bandage covering the drummer’s arm. “I’ll get Jesse to call a few places tomorrow and see how soon they can send someone.”

Dariel nodded slowly. “I have someone in mind if you trust my judgment. He’s looking for work. There’s a good chance he can book the next flight out.”

Some of the tension that seemed to have been weighing on Brave eased away. He even smiled a bit as he looked at Dariel. “Of course, I trust you. And that would be perfect.”

The violinist excused himself to make a call while Brave and Connor remained to stand watch over Tate. Leaving him alone here was gonna be tough.

Not that he’d be completely alone, Balthazar would probably stay with him, but being on the bus without the high-spirited drummer… Damn it, Connor would miss him getting excited over random topics. And how he absently kept a beat going on any available surface with his fingers.

“Stop looking so miserable, Con. I’ll be out of here tomorrow.” Tate nudged Connor’s arm and forced a smile. “You don’t think I’ll leave you with all the boring old people, do you?”

“Watch who you’re calling old, punk.” Brave gently ruffled Tate’s hair. “We’re all sticking together. The bus is being moved closer to the hospital. Someone will be with you at all times.”

“Unfortunately, not for the next few hours while I’m performing surgery.” A tall blond woman strode into the room, holding out her hand to Brave. She had a faint German accent, but her English was flawless. “I’m Doctor Atwood. The nurse told me Tate’s band was reluctant to leave him, but I want to assure you, he’s in good hands. Your manager, Sophie, called the hospital not that long ago, concerned about having the very best specialist available to make sure there will be no lasting damage.”

Brave shook the doctor’s hand. “And you’re the best?”

“I am. I’ve worked on athletes in the past who fully recovered and went on to win gold medals and championships. I spoke briefly to Tate earlier about his diagnosis, but I’d like to give him a few more details.” She turned to Tate, her expression softening. “You look much more comfortable, now that your friends are here.”

“Yeah…” Tate made a face. “I still don’t like the idea of you cutting me up and screwing shit in my bones.”

The doctor let out a soft laugh, then began pulling out X-rays. She spent the next few minutes describing the procedure.

Which made Connor’s stomach turn. Was this supposed to make Tate feel better? Her confidence might help, but she still warned of complications. Nerve damage and stuff. Then she answered Tate’s questions about physical therapy, which would take months.

But he would be fine. That was all the mattered.

When the doctor was finished, Brave and Connor were shooed off while Tate was rolled out by an orderly to be prepped for surgery. They met up with the rest of the band in the waiting room. Alder looked ready to kill someone, but Jesse was by his side, doing his best to keep the lead guitarist calm. Shiori’s eyes were puffy and red, like she’d been crying nonstop, but she immediately pulled Brave into a tight hug and led him to Malakai, where the three stood, speaking quietly.

Connor shoved his hands in his pockets, feeling like a third—or was it seventh?—wheel. Fine, Danica wasn’t here, but she was probably who Jesse was texting, so she might as well be.

He cleared his throat. Maybe he could make himself useful? “Anyone want a drink? I’ll go find the coffee machine.”

Malakai shot him a curious look, then turned, nodding to the alcove in the corner, which held snack and drink machines. And coffee.

“Oh.” Connor bit the inside of his cheek. “Maybe I can find a place for better coffee?”

No one was listening. Not that he minded, since they’d probably think he was being an idiot. He pressed his eyes shut. Maybe he should just take a walk.

He turned and slammed into a solid body.

A heavy hand settled on his shoulder, and he opened his eyes to see Balthazar.

“Coffee’s a great idea.” Without moving his hand, Balthazar guided him toward the exit. “I’ll bring you to the place I found while they were taking care of Tate’s eye.”

“Shit, I never asked about that. Is it—”

“There’s significant damage. His left eye will be fine. His right…” Balthazar’s jaw tightened. “They’ll keep it taped shut while it’s healing. The scarring may reduce his vision considerably. There are treatments to improve it later, but they’ve done all they can for now.”

Rubbing his arms as a chill settled over him, Connor swallowed hard. “If I hadn’t asked to leave early, you’d have been watching over Tate. None of this would’ve happened.”

“There’s no way to know that for sure, Connor.” Balthazar’s grip tightened on his shoulder, forcing Connor to stop as he did. He met Connor’s eyes, his azure ones hard. “Don’t you dare blame yourself.”

“Why not? We both know you would have kept Tate safe.”

“I was keeping you safe.”

“And I was distracting you. Being selfish and stupid as alw—”

Balthazar silenced him with a finger over his lips. Connor’s breath caught. He wasn’t sure what to make of the look in the man’s eyes. Almost like he might strangle Connor. Or kiss him.

Pulse pounding, palms growing damp, Connor waited. A blink and Balthazar would shut down again. Go back to being all professional. If he didn’t move, maybe Balthazar’s lips would cover his with a kiss as intense as that look. Or maybe he’d do nothing but keep looking at him, seeing something no one else ever did.

“Fuck, you’re dangerous.” Balthazar stroked his thumb along Connor’s jaw. Smoothed it over his bottom lip, careful of the cut there. “I should punish you for insulting yourself. I don’t like it.”

“Punish me?” Connor repeated the words, not sure he knew what they meant anymore.

“Mmm. And that I want to is wrong.” Balthazar’s lips curved slightly. “You’re not mine to discipline.”

Goosebumps rose all over Connor. He had to breathe before he got any dizzier, but he couldn’t seem to make his body work right. “What if I was?”

Pressing his eyes shut, Balthazar shook his head. He lowered his hand, drawing away slightly, while still maintaining his strange hold on Connor. “I’d build you up. And I’d break down every one of your barriers. I’m not a kind master, boy. If you were smart, you’d stop tempting me.”

How could something sound perfect and terrifying all at once? Balthazar had implied before that he was into some kinky shit. The ‘Master’ thing sounded like what Danica and Shiori whispered about after sharing a hot book. Like that look Malakai got in his eye before he’d wrap his hand around the back of Brave’s neck and growl something in his ear.

Connor was breathing again, in shallow little bursts as his dick hardened and he met Balthazar’s steady gaze. He could see some challenge there, as though the man expected him to back down.

“What if I don’t stop?” Connor leaned forward, fisting his hands at his sides, feeling like he was facing a guard dog that had already given all the warning signs to back off. “You said you wouldn’t touch me again. That what happened in the bathroom was ‘inappropriate’.”

“I did.” Balthazar framed Connor’s jaw with his hand, lightly brushing his lips over Connor’s and letting out a soft laugh. “But you don’t listen very well. Maybe you need someone to change that.”

The man didn’t kiss him. Instead, he stepped away and continued in the direction they’d been headed as though the exchange hadn’t happened.

Cursing, Connor hurried to catch up, hunching against a burst of cold air and glaring at Balthazar. “So you think you can, what, teach me? You’ve got some crazy plan to make me behave?”

Balthazar chuckled without even glancing his way. “You’re going to wish you hadn’t asked me that.”