Page 13 of Tortured Tones

I brushed my fingertips over the hollow in my neck. “My throat is still sore. Good hit.”

The subtle grin that quivered across her lips held too much satisfaction. Yeah, I couldn’t mess with her. She’d take me down. Was it wrong that I thought that was kinda hot?

But stupid.

I’d seen that flash of heat in the depths of her eyes when I’d held her against the wall. In my current state, I hadn’t been able to tell if it was attraction or pure hate. It’d better have been the latter. I had enough shit to deal with without adding her to the list. She had a job to do. So did I. Mine involved drinking and hooking up. I didn’t care in what order they happened.

“Ava, if you need any tips on babysitting my brother, just ask.” Tia wedged her crutches beside her, then tapped my foot with her moonboot. She had a few more weeks of recovery left after ankle surgery. She’d been as bad as me, keeping secrets from everyone. Hers had recently surfaced and changed our lives. But she was happy now. I couldn’t wish for anything more . She was the best sister a guy could have.

“He’ll keep you on your toes,” Tia continued to talk to Ava like I wasn’t right there. “He’s like a puma: sleek, smooth, and seductive. Girls readily offer themselves as prey, but he has a weakness for the supermodel types.”

I shrugged my shoulder. What could I say? Tia was right. But there were more to my preferences than just looks. Most girls I hooked up with were regulars. They were career-oriented chicks who constantly traveled across the globe, chasing fashion shows, movies, and photoshoots. They didn’t want commitment. Neither did I. We were friends with benefits without any complications. My only other stipulation was no blondes...not since my night with Shelby.

Ava was blonde. Despite being tall and okay in the looks department, she was my bodyguard...so I had to stop eyeing her in that suit. Hmmm. There was something about a woman in uniform that warmed my blood. Shit. Stop. Don’t be a dick.

“Supermodels. Noted.” Ava’s expression was impossible to read, all neutral and set in stone. “As we will be working together, let’s get the rules straight. You stay in the venue. Stay in the designated VIP sections. Stay out of trouble.”

“I can’t promise that.” I threw Ava a sorry-not-sorry smirk, then stared out the window as we drove off. But that was the truth. The guys and I didn’t always start problems when we went out, but we often attracted them. Usually, it was from other men getting jealous of their girlfriends talking to us...or getting too friendly. We’d been in more fights than I cared to remember. But now Flint was with Sutton, Lewis was with Tia, and Slip had toned down his antics for some reason. Our outings had been different, less disruptive. Incident free. That was kinda nice. I couldn’t deny that. Plus, I liked my face the way it was. I didn’t miss cut lips, bruises, or black eyes—the one from Flint had almost disappeared. I didn’t need to risk damaging my hands from fending off jerks. I needed to drum more than I needed oxygen. We still drank, danced, and had a shit load of wild fun. And I was more than happy to entertain the ladies. “We do like a good time.”

“That’s fine.” Ava dipped her chin. “My job is to ensure you can do that without being mobbed, knifed, drugged, or hurt in any way. My team and I have your backs.”

I half-grinned, swayed toward Ava and raised my eyebrow. “Hmm. I’d like to see you on your back.”

Her gaze hardened, prickling my skin. Her tone cut sharply. “When? When I throw you onto the ground in a self-defensive maneuver? Or when you’re asking for three broken ribs?”

I chuckled. “Well, it certainly wouldn’t be when fucking.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, Mr. Tanner.” A muscle ticked in her jaw. “I am your bodyguard. Not one of your hookups.”

My sister slapped me on the knee. “Cole, be nice to Ava. Her job may involve taking a bullet for you.”

Fuck! The reality of that hit me hard. We had some overzealous fans. Our recent gig at Hayley’s Bar had highlighted that fact. Flint and Sutton could’ve gotten hurt. It was one element of being famous we all struggled with. We loved meeting and greeting our followers, but I’d hate to ever be in a situation where someone’s life was endangered. “Would you do that? Take a bullet to protect us?”

Ava didn’t miss a beat. “There is an element of risk in being a bodyguard. I pray it never comes to that. But yes. So don’t give me a reason to step out of the way.”

Being shot would be one way to avoid the meeting tomorrow. But no. I wasn’t that fucked up. I just wasn’t ready for the change. The hours were ticking by too quickly. Fuuuuck! This was my last night of freedom. I had to enjoy every damn second of it.

Ten minutes later, we arrived at the club. The rest of the band pulled up behind us. Bypassing the long line of partygoers waiting at the door, we followed security into the huge venue. Summoning my party mode, I pushed my worries to the back of my mind, rubbed my hands together and hollered at my friends, “Let’s fucking do this. Bring on the shots. The girls. The party!”

As we weaved through the packed crowd, people’s faces lit up, mouths gaped, cell phones cameras flashed in my eyes. Being recognized still gave me a rush. It validated the fact that we were good at what we did. Sometimes I needed that reminder...but not tonight. Loud music thudded through the speakers and thundered through the center of my chest. The dance floor overflowed with gyrating bodies. Disco lights flickered across the crowd. The electric energy pulsing through the air took over me, mixing with the buzz from alcohol already coursing through my entire system.

Oh yeah. Tonight will be good.

Upstairs in the VIP area, we took seats in our reserved section of navy and red velvet sofas and chairs. Tia and Lewis rejoined us after taking the elevator. She tossed her crutches aside and sank onto the seat opposite me. “I can’t wait to get rid of those things.”

“In three weeks you can.” I said, then smiled and waved to the girls at the table next to us. The evening just got better. Our security stood nearby. Ava and Beckett were at the front of our area by the stairs. Sloane and Wyatt were behind us, by the wall. Good. I didn’t want them to cramp our style.

Slip fell onto the sofa beside me and was quick to order a bottle of vodka and bourbon from the cute waitress wearing metallic pink hot pants and a black tube top. But I didn’t look twice. My mind kept drifting to tomorrow.

Slip nudged my arm with his elbow. “You feeling okay?”

“Yeah. Why?” Other than a little more drunk than expected at this hour of the night.

“Normally, you’d be all over that chick.”

“So would you.” I clipped the back of his long blond hair. “What is with you lately?”

A big grin inched across his face. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

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