Page 43 of Protecting His Assets

For once she didn’t argue. This was just a job to him. Nothing personal. “Thanks, Jax.” She smiled. “Tell Cass I really appreciate her coming. I’ll throw in a couple rock songs for her. Maybe even some Stones.”

“Unless you can get Sir Mick himself here to sing ‘Gimme Shelter’, don’t bother. She’s a tough crowd to please.” Grinning, Jax pushed his tattooed hand through his cropped dark hair. “Knock ’em dead, Sunny Z.” After giving her a paternal tap on the nose that made her smile rather than growl, Jax strolled away.

Summer hauled in a breath and glanced back at that suddenly menacing curtain. Any second now it would come up and she would be exposed to the noisy crowd. They would love her or hate her, but either way, she was living her dream.

She was finally living.

The sparse backup band she’d put together on the fly in Kyle’s absence began to play, and she stepped into the center of the stage to grab her microphone.

Showtime.

She sang “I Love Rock and Roll”.

In the dark corner where Chase stood, the music rolled over him like a tidal wave, dragging him under so deep that even breathing became a feat. This far back, he couldn’t see her smile, but good God, he could hear it, and that joyful sound spread over his heated skin like foam from the surf. As warm and light as a caress she wouldn’t give, grounding him in this moment. Making damn well sure he would never forget it.

He’d heard most of her other songs, but tonight they tasted new on his tongue when he caught himself singing along. He wasn’t the type to go nuts at a concert, and this wasn’t a rager in any case. Still, singing with her felt natural. If she could get up there and belt her fucking heart out to a writhing throng of strangers, he could follow along from the back. All the while imagining she was singing to him. For him. While they were in bed, and he was fisting his hands in all that glorious dark hair and sliding inside her, inch by inch.

He shifted and cursed under his breath. Great. Now he had an erection. At least he didn’t have to worry about not being able to move fast enough to keep her safe tonight. She had someone to handle that.

Someone named Jax Wilder.

Even considering all the years of bad blood—and then dormant blood—between them, there was no one else Chase would’ve entrusted her to. He still hadn’t acknowledged to Jax that he wanted him as a partner or even that he intended to put his name, of sorts, on the agency itself. But they were moving toward that conversation, as they were moving toward rebuilding their friendship. It wouldn’t happen overnight.

Nothing worth having ever did.

Except falling for Summer. That had happened in an instant, when he’d stood in a club much like this one and her silken voice had washed over him for the first time. He’d been playing catch up ever since. It was a hell of a thing to want what you’d almost had. A special kind of hell he had no desire to ever repeat.

A couple of new numbers rounded out the set. Her new band contributed to the richness of her sound, but he wondered where Kyle had disappeared to. As great as Summer’s vocals were, he missed their harmonies. Perhaps she was moving up in the world and expanding as she’d mentioned she thought she needed to. He couldn’t argue with the results. The crowd seemed positively feral for her tonight, screaming at an ear-splitting decibel. They sang along and held up iPhones with flickering lighter apps.

Chase snorted at that. Damn, what he wouldn’t give for the good old concert days where people used actual lighters and didn’t shove each other like maniacs whenever they had a moment’s downtime between songs. Well, okay, at least they’d used lighters.

She finished up with the first song he’d ever heard her sing, the one about missing her lover. The emotion in her voice tonight seemed particularly poignant, and when she grabbed the microphone and bent at the waist to belt out the words, he had to fight the instinct to push his way through the crowd to get closer. She wasn’t singing about him. Miss him? Ha. Why would she think about him when she had so much else in her life?

The instant the show ended, Jax bounded onstage, followed by a woman sporting a bright shock of red hair. Cass. They surrounded her and even at that distance, Chase could see their excited movements. Eventually a guy in a dark suit joined them and led Summer backstage. The dark curtain that swallowed the two of them up closed Chase’s throat and he caught himself pressing his fist to his thigh. The pain that streaked along the inside of his elbow barely reached his consciousness.

No reason to be jealous that Jax got to hold her and damn near dance around with her, or that some slick dude in a fancy suit so easily commanded her attention. She was free and unencumbered, just as he was. And no matter how much Chase wished things were different, or how eager his agent was for Chase to hurry up his surgery so they could work on getting him rehabilitated and his rep “cleaned up” for next season, the fact was being a free agent meant you kept your own counsel and did your own thing. That applied to baseball and life.

But Chase didn’t have to like it.

He stood there in the center

of the crowd still cheering for an encore that obviously wasn’t coming and debated his next move. Saturday night meant he was free tomorrow, not counting the two meetings he’d scheduled. One with Jax to finalize their business plans—in his case, to finally admit in actual words that he wanted and needed Jax on board permanently—and another with David, the promising pitcher who’d never returned to the game after his elbow operation. He wanted to be informed when he walked into surgery.

Because he was walking into it. Running was no longer an option. If he didn’t return to baseball, at least maybe he wouldn’t be chained to a bottle of pills. Or his own negativity about the process.

The outpatient procedure was scheduled for three weeks away, something he still hadn’t told his agent. Let him stew a day or two longer. In the meantime, Chase was mighty sick of stewing himself. He used to be a man of action, not one who hung around with his thumb up his ass, bemoaning fate.

He strode through the crowd toward the stage. Fuck that crap. If he wanted to say hello to Summer like a rational human being, then he would. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t be civil and polite enough to compliment her on her great show, despite his bitterness over not being the right guy to actually be with her. He had manners, for shit’s sake.

People milled around backstage in a thick throng, everyone talking and laughing. The next act was getting ready to go on and the band was already doing warm-ups, so every few minutes a discordant sound, usually of the guitar variety, arose from the stage. Often accompanied by a few colorful swear words.

Despite how many people were backstage, he couldn’t find Summer or her suited dude. Who he did find? His sister, who brushed past him with Jax hot on her heels. Neither of them looked his way.

What the hell? Jax was supposed to be sticking close to his client—not too close, but within reason—not chasing after Cass, especially since his sister’s pained expression had indicated she didn’t want to be caught. At least not by Jax.

Chase turned, of half a mind to follow them and mediate if need be. He also intended to chew out Jax for abandoning his post. What could be more important than protecting Summer from the insanity backstage? Some guy could sneak into her dressing room and push her up on the table and slide his mouth between her toned, supple legs.

God, how she’d tasted. Sweet and raw. And she’d been so wet and ready for him.

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