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The band members were told that when they hooked up on a venue site, they needed to pick a place where security could be on standby, like a closed dressing room, but no.
Not Iain.
And I was done playing his fucking cat and mouse game.
“I put you in charge of him while I was doing the last rounds. Your job is ensuring he stays within the building and the rooms we set out! If you can’t handle being my secondary, I’ll assign someone new,” I snapped.
“Sorry, Daws. It won’t happen again.”
As irritated as I was at Lennie for losing Iain, I also knew how difficult the job was. Not to mention, I was worried. The thought of Iain getting hurt made all my protective instincts kick into overdrive.
Maybe it was also the single dad in me. Protectiveness came with the territory.
I was concerned about all my details but Iain most of all. Not every fan had good intentions. And he was taking unnecessary risks. One of these days, he was gonna find himself in a situation he couldn’t joke his way out of.
But even though Iain was always playful, I didn’t buy his flippant act for one minute. Sure, he loved what he did, and he enjoyed himself, a lot, but no one was that happy-go-lucky all the time.
I’d been around the boys in the band long enough to know that there was more to Iain Holloway than long blond hair, lightning-quick fingers, and salty quips.
“Scour every inch of the hallways behind the VIP room,” I directed. “I’ll check the exterior.”
“Will do.”
“Notify me as soon as you have an update.”
I tapped my earpiece again and hung up. Then, I made my way from the stage to the nearest exit.
I encountered several tech crew members, including our chief engineer, Ace. He was getting the last-minute technical glitches resolved.
Everyone stepped out of my way.
People usually did when they spotted me. It was a fact that most bodyguards were hired partly because of their size. It wasn’t the most important factor, but being a big guy (I was just shy of six-four) had its advantages. And everything about my manner told people to back off. Throw in the red fauxhawk, redder face (thank you, Iain), and the steam that was now coming out of my nose, and there was a reason my colleagues gave me the nickname ‘Rampaging Viking.’
I walked past the VIP room and spotted all the guys in the band—Brodie, Ronin, the bass player, and Faisel, the drummer—talking with Van and their invited guests. They were offering everyone celebratory shots and amping up the atmosphere.Nothing unusual there, but still fairly tame compared to how they used to party. I’d noticed a shift ever since their last concert on Halloween. With Faise’s brother in drug treatment and Brodie’s relationship with Van, they partied less but hung out with each other more.
The guys were growing up.
Everyone except you-know-who.
They’d been in the recording studio this past month, finalizing their next album, and tonight, they were hosting an LGBTQ+ community charity event in Nashville. And while the rest of the guys were doing their bit, Iain was nowhere to be found.
I headed down the hallway and spotted the exit sign to the back alley of the building. When I got up close, I noticed the door had been propped open—a breadcrumb leading me to my target.
“Jesus Christ!” I yelled out, then tapped my earpiece. “Xavier, Lennie, I’m on to him. He’s out back. He propped the exit door, and I don’t have to tell you how dangerous that is.”
“Shit, you need backup?”
“I can handle him.”
Oh, I was gonna handle him all right...
Stepping out into the alleyway, I spotted Iain not five yards down, leaning against the brick wall, a man kneeling at his feet. The guy was giving him a hand job and a piss poor one at that.
At least, that’s what I assumed. Iain looked bored as fuck, which was not like him at all.
“Holloway, get your ass in here!” I yelled out.
The man on the ground startled.
