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“Do I have to tell you?”
He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his enormous chest. “Not at all, but I think I can guess. I used to be a cop. A detective. I was working on a case when my wife called, but I was too busy to talk to her.”
“The wife that Tanner’s assistant shot?” I asked, confused.
“No. Rogue… Frankie. She’s the drummer for the Gods. She recovered from that shooting… eventually. This was my first wife. My assistant said she sounded weird, but she didn’t answer when I called her back, so I went back to working the case. I got home late.” His eyes dropped as if he was reliving the memory. “She’d been shot. Murdered in our bed.”
My hand pressed to my mouth.
“And my baby boy had been suffocated. I blamed myself for years. Quit my job, worked the clubs as a bouncer, and eventually ended up running security for the band.” He let out a breath. “What I’m trying to say, Marshall, is that I know how easy it is to run into a job like this to hide.”
“So what changed for you?” I asked.
“Rogue. It took time, but she showed me that it was possible to still love the memory of my wife and son while loving her. She gave me a reason to stop hiding.”
Pushing my fingers through my hair, my foot bounced under the table with nervous energy. “I’m so sorry for your loss, Matt. I can’t imagine how hard that must be and I’m glad you found your happy ever after, but that’s not my story. I didn’t lose anyone I loved like that.”
“I know, but there are different types of love and different types of loss, and they’re all just as painful.”
Memories began hammering at the box I’d locked them inside, demanding that I pay them some attention, but I couldn’t. It had taken two years for the nightmares to stop and to be able to stop taking the anti-anxiety meds the doctor prescribed.
“Look, I don’t want to open old trauma. I just want you to know that I get it. I get why you’re here. I get the baggage you might be dragging with you and how it’s probably affecting you, and first of all, I wanted to tell you that I’m around. If you need an ear to bend or a friend to listen.”
“We’re not friends.”
He winked. “Not yet, but that’s the other thing I wanted to talk about.”
“You going to ask to braid my hair because you don’t have any?”
The laugh that spilled from Matt was loud, drawing the attention of the people around us. “I can tell I’m going to like you, Marshall. Look, we have fifty-seven bands on our books. We have the odd solo artist but most of them are bands of three to five people, so that’s on average six to ten bodyguards, drivers, not to mention crew for each one. That’s a lot of people that work for us. When I started with the Gods, I implemented some changes and now we like anyone that joins us to be trained in certain ways so we can expect them to know how to protect the bands they’re working for properly.”
“Seems fair.”
“They all go through a rigorous programme—how to deal with weapons, work in crowds, close protection. Your background could be the perfect addition to that. Come and work at the label’s head office and do what you do best.”
I froze. “I’ve not done that for three years.”
“So, we’ll send you on a refresher course, but you don’t have a history like yours and forget. It’s inbuilt in you. I’ve seen your record, and I know what you’re capable of.”
Frowning, I stared at my coffee, my past blowing hot air onto my neck, making me shiver. “If you’ve seen my record, you know what I did. You know exactly why I quit.”
He nodded. “I was hoping you’d open up… tell me yourself. What I also know is what happened was an accident.”
I shook my head, not wanting to talk about it. “I’m not that man anymore, but I appreciate the offer.”
“Look, think about it, but the alternative is I move you to work with another band.”
“Why can’t I just work for Archer or Charlie?”
“Because they already have their team, plus, your loyalty would always be to Fox.”
“I’m not in a relationship with Fox. How many times?” I huffed.
“Fucking him or not, the words on your arm tell me otherwise. So, once we’re back in the UK, you need to decide whether you want to take me up on my offer or I find you another band.”
I drank down the rest of my coffee. “Fine. Let me think about it.”
A nod signaled the end of our conversation, and we headed back to the hospital.
