Chapter 3

“Shotgun? I don’t want much.”

At Brave’s request, Jesse Vaughn almost choked on the smoke he’d inhaled and dropped his joint in the dirt. He’d gotten most of the equipment loaded in the trailer and was taking a quick break. Brave wasn’t usually up this early—early being before noon. He still looked fucking good though. His long, black hair spilled wild down his back in soft waves, and the black liner he hadn’t bothered to wash off last night was smudged, making his golden brown eyes even more brilliant. He didn’t look tired though. More like a dirty, rugged angel that had just crawled out of the trenches. Hot and sweaty and ready for all kinds of trouble.

Trouble Jesse should avoid if he wanted to keep his job.

Crushing the joint under his boot, Jesse pulled out his cigarette pack to get some rolling paper. He had to roll a fresh joint now, so he’d keep it low on tobacco so it didn’t fuck with Brave’s voice.

“You sure this is a good idea?” Jesse couldn’t remember the last time Brave had smoked anything.

“No.” Brave let out a throaty laugh. “But we should do it anyway.”

Yeah. Trouble.

But he really loved his job. Even though he hadn’t been with the band the longest, Jesse pretty much ran the crew. Not the career path he’d originally planned on, he’d grown up with dreams of becoming a rock star. Or a professional wrestler. He’d gotten a wrestling scholarship for college, so his life had been set.

Until an assault charge against a rich kid and a year in jail royally fucked all his prospects. Jesse was lucky he had connections in the music world to fall back on. He’d worked as security at a venue in Detroit for a few years, where he’d met Brave and Alder at one of their first shows.

One of their roadies had fallen off the stage and broken his arm, so Jesse filled in. During the show he’d restrung Alder’s guitar and tuned it for him when the man’s stupid metal pick snapped a string. The band decided they needed him. And he’d been with them ever since.

Keeping his head low and doing his best not to piss off their manager, Cole. He didn’t give them shit about using their position to get as much pussy as they could, but they weren’t supposed to get too friendly with the band.

Fair enough, but Brave made it hard. Real fucking hard.

There’d been a time or two Jesse had come close to crossing the no-fucking-the-band line. With both brothers. What could he say, they were hot. Both tall, with black hair and similar features, but other than that, very different.

Brave was long and wiry, his hair reaching to the center of his back, his eyes a golden brown that practically glowed with anger or lust. He had a way of moving that made it impossible not to think of sex.

Alder had broad shoulders, a nice build, but not like a man who obsessively worked out. Or carried around band equipment every day. He wasn’t as muscular as Jesse, but he had the roundest fucking ass.

Off limits. Both of them. But after a few drinks, shit happened. He’d made out with Alder once when the bus broke down in the middle of nowhere in Kentucky and they had to walk to get cell reception to call for repairs. Alder had been plastered and Jesse was a little stoned. And they were tired and the side of the road looked like a good place to lie down for a few minutes.

Alder’s phone had rung just as Jesse began seriously considering fucking his best friend in the dirt. Thankfully, things weren’t weird between Jesse and Alder after. He’d have hated to fuck up their friendship because he’d been stupid.

But it was different with Brave. Whenever they were alone, Brave would do or say something that made it almost impossible to care what Cole thought.

Like right now.

Cole had gone ahead to the next venue in South Dakota, which had been a late add to the tour, to check out the place and make sure security was tight. With him out of the way, Jesse had one less reason to keep his distance.

He lit the tip of the fresh joint, drawing in the smoke as Brave braced his hands on either side of him against the metal siding of the bus. With the joint between his lips, Jesse smiled, then took the blunt away from his mouth, letting out the smoke slowly.

“You have to sing tomorrow.”

Brave shrugged. “That’s why I wanna share. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s not why you wanna share.”

“Maybe not.” Brave gave him a hooded look. “But you’re playing hard to get.”

Laughing, Jesse sucked on the joint, blowing the smoke off to the side. He hadn’t gotten high enough to dull the effect Brave had on him, but he wouldn’t let it show. Even though he could feel the length of Brave’s dick against his thigh. And the thick stench of weed couldn’t drown out the heady smell of sweat and faint cologne. Just having Brave close made him hard, but this wasn’t a game to him. Brave would respect him more if he didn’t give in.

“I’m not playing.” Jesse slid his hand to the side of Brave’s neck. He ran his thumb along Brave’s tense jaw. “Open your mouth.”

Brave’s eyes drifted shut, his tongue running over his lips as they parted.

Taking a deep haul on the joint, Jesse brought his mouth close to Brave and breathed out the smoke. His lips were practically touching Brave’s. Another inch and he could kiss the man. He wanted to, wanted to take all Brave could offer, but it wouldn’t last. The fans and the fame had spoiled Brave. He’d grown arrogant. And distant.

The closed off man he was to everyone else wasn’t good enough for Jesse. As he worked one hand into Brave’s hair, offering another exhale of smoke, he met Brave’s eyes.

Not a good idea.

Those fucking eyes had him ready to trash all the reasons his brain came up with to avoid becoming another of Brave’s playthings.

Until they stopped seeing him at all. Brave glanced over his shoulder as footsteps approached, his lips slanting in a cold smile. “Need something, bro?”

“No.” Alder looked ready to kill his brother. “Sorry to bother you.”

Another fight. Nothing new. Jesse sighed and nudged Brave aside, looking from Alder to Tate. “You’re not bothering me. What’s up?”

“Forget it.” Alder brushed Tate’s hand away when the drummer tried to grab his arm, then headed back the way he’d come.