TWO

Jon tucked the phone to his ear. The cackling tin of the laugh track grated until he wanted to smash the phone into the wall. The regurgitated call letters of the radio station burned his ears for the fourth time in fifteen minutes. He was all about radio, just not morning radio.

“An ice pick would be good about now,” he muttered in response to Jeff and Lindsay in the morning’s jingle. Where the hell was he even calling in? Charlotte? Or was that at ten thirty?

Fuck, he hated phoners.

He snarled at the knock on the door. Christ, he’d shuffled Richie off to get the calls done. Not that he couldn’t sleep through it, but he’d needed the alone time. Blessed silence clicked in his ear as he swung the door open.

“What? You couldn’t find someone willing to share your bed, Sam—“ the words died in his throat. Wrong Sambora. His belly tightened and his temple throbbed in time with his dick. Fucking perfect.

James filled the doorway, her jasmine scent swirling inside his head. Part of him wanted to drag in the scent and lose himself in her skin, the other half demanded that he hold his breath against the temptation. An insolent sneer twisted her bite-worthy lips and her hair hid half her face. A baggy sweatshirt should have turned her sexless. Instead, it only accentuated the boxer shorts that left almost three feet of bronzed legs to taunt him.

So not what he needed this morning.

She buzzed past him without a word, before he could shut the door he spotted Tico in the hallway behind her. Instead of saying anything, Teek just leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his massive chest. Jon gave him a questioning eyebrow, but he simply tipped his chin in James’ direction.

Hell. What now?

“Jon! We’ve got some listener questions if you’ve got the time.” Lyndsay’s chirpy voice cut through the silent communication.

“Sure,” he automatically said and shut the door. He turned into the room and sucked back a groan. James was on his bed, leaning back on her elbows, her legs crossed to showcase every inch of tanned skin possible. Purple tipped toes swung with impatience and attitude.

He answered the inane questions on autopilot. Did they really fucking care what his favorite color was?

She grinned as he answered another stupid question and sat up. She drew her foot up, tucking her heel into herself as she wrapped an arm around one knee. The shorts inched higher. Trying to ignore the line of sweat that slicked his spine, he prayed for the interview to be over. At least…nope, there was the hair question. He sighed, kicked the friendly back into his voice and did his thank you schpiel.

Turning away from her, he put the base of the phone down and leaned on the dresser. He willed his dick to behave and his hormones to go back into their box. He picked at a stray sticker advertising Free HBO on the wood and gave his required call letters commercial for the station before he hung up.

By the time he faced her again, she was tugging her sweatshirt over her head. Tiny straps of a tank held on for dear life, stretching taught across her chest. The tips of her nipples were obviously free of a bra and pressed against the cotton, making his damn teeth itch. He closed his eyes for a moment, sucking in a breath thru his teeth when her hand slid along his waist.

“James.”

“Don’t use that warning tone with me.” Her thumb snuck under his t-shirt, brushing along the line of hair that curled from his belly button to the snap of his jeans.

When she flicked it open, he took a step back. “Don’t try to distract me with things I can’t have.”

She caught his zipper in her clever fingers and managed to tick it down a few teeth before he wrenched her away. She smiled at him, not an ounce of contrition in her eyes. “I keep telling you, I’m more than attainable. All you have to say is yes, Jonny.”

“You’re trying to distract me,” he said again. He rounded the chair and table that was jammed into the corner of the room.

She pulled her hair over her shoulder, drawing the feathering dark strands around her face until they curled across her cheek with fiery streaks. “You’re not running are you?”

“Hell, yes.” He’d lost the fight with his pride around the first week in May. He wanted her so bad his balls were in a permanent blue status when she was in the room. He chose retreat. He’d been built to survive, and if that meant running—well, he was up to about four miles each day. More than two of them were to cope with Jamison.

She sighed and collapsed into the tiny u-shaped chair across from him. “I do have something to talk to you about. I don’t want you to get all bat-shit crazy about it, but I don’t want my girls to have to worry either.”

The switch from siren to human female was always jarring. He was pretty sure she did it just to make him crazy. He was pretty sure she breathed to make him crazy, but fuck if he could follow what she was saying. All the blood flow was decidedly south of his belt. Suddenly suspicious, he growled. “Is there a cop involved in whatever you need to tell me?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Yeah, let’s not go with cops as the first option, stud. We don’t get—“ she stuttered to a stop with a laugh. “Okay, so there have been a few close calls, but this isn’t one of them. It’s probably nothing. I can handle him, but it’s just a precaution.”

He leaned on the table, his fingers splayed. “Handle who?”

She swallowed quickly, the long line of her throat working the spit down. Her pulse fluttered madly on the left side that was free of her heavy fall of hair. It did nothing to soothe him.

“Relax, macho man. It’s nothing.” She covered his hand with hers for a moment, before drawing back into herself. “I swear it.”

Impatience and temper locked his elbows as he loomed over her. “Let me be the judge of that.”

“All right, all right. Geeze.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “Something happened on the bus.”

His shoulders instantly eased. Christ, it was just a girl fight. Thank God. “What, did you have it out with Steph or something?”

“Or something.”

He stood up, crossing his arms, he dug his fingertips into his biceps. “It’s an adjustment period, that’s all. We went through it too. You just have to remember to get out of each other’s face for a few hours each day or you’ll end up killing each other. Your brother and I learned that the hard way.”

“Look, I’d love to blame it on bus squabbles, Ace, but it’s not that simple.” She stood and wandered the room, finally lighting on his bed, sitting Indian style in the center of his mattress. Her nails scored up and down her thighs.

Frowning, he sat next to her. “Spit it out, James. I’ve got to do another phoner in about twenty minutes.”

She bounded off the bed. “Just forget I came in here.” She swung the door open and growled. “Dammit, T!”

“Spit it out, querida, or I will.”

“Somebody better spit something out, or I’m going to knock heads together. What the fuck is going on, James?”

She sneered at Tico and slammed the door closed again. She twirled around and her hair fell back around her shoulders. Angry red welts on their way to purple dotted her right cheekbone. At his look, she must have realized her reveal and tugged her hair forward.

He grabbed her wrist. “Too fucking late, Jamison.” Rage threatened to spew, but he held himself in check. Lifting his other hand to brush bangs and layers away, the tips of his fingers probed at her cheekbone. When she hissed, taking a swing at him, he blocked instinctively. “Easy.”

“Well, don’t touch it!”

“I just wanted to make sure your cheekbone wasn’t broken.” She jerked back, but he caught her chin. “Tell me what happened?”

“Hands off, Ace.”

He stroked his thumb just under the broken skin and dropped his hand. Instead of asking again, he just arched a brow.

“Like I said, it’s no big deal.”

“If that’s the case, then spit it the fuck out, James.”

“You’re not going to like it, and I don’t want to cause trouble. And you need to promise not to tell Richie.”

“Do I come across as stupid? I’m pretty sure I’m not.”

“You can’t tell Richie.”

He closed his eyes. If one of her damn hookups had done this, he’d kill him. It would be easy. Even if Richie wasn’t helping, he could arrange it. “You haven’t even told me what this is about. I’m not making any promises,” he warned.

She fluffed out her hair and the swollen cheek was swallowed up by her dark chocolate layers. “I so don’t want to tell you this.”

“Jesus, James, just tell me!”

“It was Alec, all right! Alec did this.”

“Alec who? I—“ His ears went hot and felt like his monitors had gone all white noise. She tumbled over her words. Trying to explain to him that it was just the drugs talking. That Alec didn’t mean to hit her. But all he heard was Alec had hit her. Al, that he’d known since the pre-Jovi days. Al, that was part of his own neighborhood.

Al.

He held up a hand and his stomach bottomed out as she flinched. “I’d never,” he whispered hoarsely. “Ever.”

“I know!” She grabbed his hand, pressing it between hers. “I know, I’m sorry. I’m just a little punchy.” An hysterical bubble of laughter broke. “Punchy, wasn’t the best choice of words.” When he tried to tug his hand away, she held on tighter. “Don’t,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to even tell you. I wanted to handle this on my own, but T had to drag him off me, Jon.”

The ring of the phone made them both jolt. He ignored it. There was no fucking way he could do an interview now. He shut his eyes. The heady scent of her shampoo and the wild jasmine broke through the numbness. He couldn’t stop himself, not now. He dragged her in close. She was solid and real. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” She pushed against his chest, but he held her tighter. “Just a second longer,” he whispered against her hair. His fingers sifted through the heavy silk of her hair. When her hands slipped up to his shoulders, he stepped away. The need to soothe was a physical ache inside him. It wasn’t his place. Even if he wanted it more than breath some days.

He gripped the window frame. He had a fine view of the dumpster and rigs that were readying themselves to head out to the venue. The Devotion bus was right under his damn window and he hadn’t seen a thing.

He rested his forehead on the cool windowpane. He wanted to punch something—anything. He’d known that Alec was dipping into the band stash more than anyone else. He’d just assumed that he was using it to pick up women. What if he’d been doing more and more of it to get the kick of the high?

Just how much would Doc let slide for the good of the tour? How much farther would Alec have gone before he noticed?

Jon stalked to the door and opened it again. “T—c’mon in here, man.”

James stood in the middle of the room, her fingers clasping each elbow as she held herself tight. Part of him wanted to go and hold her. To tell her it would all be all right. But he knew that even that much contact would be stupid. He was already walking the nasty edge of lust. He had no intention of letting it go from lust to coveting.

“Is it true, T?”

“I’m sorry, Jonny.” Tico gripped a wide hand over his shoulder. “I’m not entirely sure what would have happened if I hadn’t see him getting on the bus.”

Jon’s stomach twisted. Tico was the last man to get involved with anyone’s personal business. “How long have you been watching him?”

Tico’s tanned face went ruddy. “For awhile.” He rubbed his palm over the back of his neck. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at any of the girls lately. He’s been watching from corners. Hell, Jonny, he was even freaking some of the girls out that come to the parties.”

How had he missed all of this? “Did he…” he swallowed. God, had Alec hurt someone already?

“Nah, don’t think that way Jonny. I was just being careful. He watches you and Rich get all the play. Hell, even Davey is hooking up with anything that walks.” He glanced at Jamison and winced. “Sorry, querida.”

James shrugged. “You’re only speaking truth. Alec is always the last to get a girl. And the ones he does are sloppy seconds that have already boned a roadie to get backstage.”

“Jesus, James.”

“What? You think I’m blind? I’m at those parties too, Jon. I know we’re on the outskirts of the inner circle, but we see and we definitely observe. Alec gets twitchy as the night goes on. We’ve just learned to avoid him. And that’s what I intend on continuing to do. I don’t want to cause any trouble for anyone.” She slowly made her way to stand next to Tico. “I’m grateful for Tico, but I think this was just a really bad trip. Whatever he was on, he didn’t come down off of it like he usually does. It was probably a one-time thing.”

He jammed his hands into his pockets. “I can guarantee it.”

“I’m sure you’ll take care of it.” She cuddled into Tico, brushing her cheek against his in natural affection.  “Happy now, Papa Bear?”

“No, not happy, kiddo. But I’m more at ease.”

Jealousy burned hot and bright in his gut. She pressed a kiss to Tico’s cheek, her smile sweet and without guile. Nothing like she was around him. “I’ll see you at the venue.”

Jon picked up her sweatshirt off his bed and handed it to her. “I’m glad you came to me, Jamison.”

She tugged it over her head. “I only did it for the other girls. I can handle myself.”

Jon glanced at the bit of her cuts that still showed. When her chin lifted, he sighed. “I know you can.”

“Damn straight. That’s why I don’t want you to tell Richie.”

His gut twisted for a whole different reason. Lying to Richie went against every instinct he had and it felt like every other breath included a lie lately. “I have to, James.”

“No, it’s none of his business. I came to you, so you could talk to Doc—Chain of command. Don’t drag Richie into this.” Her shoulders squared. “I’m mean it, Jon. It won’t be good for anyone if Richie gets involved in this. He’d just go hurt him and it wouldn’t solve anything.”

“What makes you think I’m not going to go hurt him?”

“It’s not how you do things,” she said simply.

He bristled. “How do you know that?”

Her lips curved. “I know you,” she said into his eyes. She held his gaze for a moment, humbling him when her amber eyes went soft. “Just for me, all right. Make this easy on me for once.”

He rubbed his hands over his face. “Goddammit. Just go, get out of here. I’ll think about it.”

She ran to the door, the raised welts seemed to glow off her pretty gold skin as she looked back at him. “You know I’m right.”

And she was gone.

“She’s right, Jonny.”

He sighed. “Not you too, T.”

“Look, we know Richie’s not all that stable when it comes to Jamie. He likes his oblivious bubble where he doesn’t notice shit. Let’s leave him there.”

Jon sighed. Tico was right. Richie would rip Al’s hand—or worse—off and stuff it down his damn throat.

The phone rang again and he lifted the receiver up. “Hey, give me just a second.” He pressed the phone to his chest. “I gotta take this. I’ll talk to Doc. I’ll make sure it’s fine, T.”

“I know you will.”

He cradled the phone at his shoulder. He wished he had as much faith in himself as Tico did. “Hey, Jessica.” One more phoner…just one more.