Chapter 9

Chayce rememberedthat he was going home about three hours away from the cabin, and his tension went from ten to three.

He had guitars there. Music. Clothes. A good bed and shower. He wasn't sure how Waylon knew where it was, but he didn't really care. He was gonna be fine there, and if whoever was doing this knew about it too, his money in any fight was on Waylon.

The man was hell on wheels. Hell on wheels who was singing with the Eagles on the radio.

Chayce loved the low timbre of Waylon's voice, rumbling softly through the car while Chayce pretended to sleep. He could listen to the man sing for hours. It wasn't even that he was all that good; he was just sexy as hell.

Maybe he was biased. Again, what did it matter? All that mattered was Waylon was with him, and he got to spend two weeks with the man before he had to keep on out on the road for another month.

Then he was done, and he was seriously going to rethink doing a tour every year. Maybe the next few years he would just do rodeo concerts. One night each, fly in, fly out, do an hour show and make a ton of money.

That could work for a while.

Then again, maybe that was just the "someone is shooting at me" talking.

"You mind if we pull off, baby?" Waylon asked. Shit, he should have known he wasn't fooling anyone with his pretending to be asleep.

"Where are we?"

"Colorado border-ish. But it's a big truck stop, so we should be able to get in and out without being seen."

"I hate all this hiding."

"Yeah, I know. But I would rather we get where we're going without the tabloids finding out."

"I'll wear my hat and glasses and look like a local yokel." His Wally world clothes reinforced that idea, with the Wranglers and snap-front shirt that cost less than the underwear he usually wore. His mom liked him to represent the more affluent rancher set.

Chayce didn't much care unless it was a sponsor who provided the boots or the hat.

He needed a drink and some beef jerky. Maybe some pecans.

A chocolate bar.

"Cool." Waylon grinned. "No singing, and no chatting about rodeo."

"You're no fun." Chayce stuck his tongue out at Waylon, playing along. "Can I sign my CDs?"

"Nope. Sign the Boxcar Willie ones."

Chayce hooted. "This is just the kind of place that would still have his CDs." The truck stop was big and well-lit, but not exactly new. The restaurant still had one of those neon signs with the hanging coffeepot on it.

"Did you want to have a meal, or just shop, babe?" He could eat. He needed to do crunches. Thousands of them.

"Let's see what it looks like in there. If we have to, we can get it to go."

"Sure." Though he hoped it wasn't crazy. He and Waylon had never gotten to just sit and have a real meal together. This was the middle of nowhere and most everyone seemed to be minding their own business. Plus it was an off time for folks to eat.

"Hey, we'll try." Waylon grinned, waggling his eyebrows, but he could see the tired lines around the corners of Waylon's eyes and mouth.

"I can drive the rest of the way. I know how." And he was capable. He hadn't been acting like it, but he was.

"I know, baby. I'm all right. But I think you have a point. If we can stop and have a meal…" Waylon pulled in, parking just off to one side of the entrance.

He clapped his gimme cap on his head, putting on his sunglasses. With his two-day scruff and the Walmart shirt and jeans, he figured he looked just like another traveler. Waylon wasn't gonna blend, as big and intimidating as he was, but everyone would just assume they were a couple of rednecks.

Or maybe a daddy and his boy…

God, he would bet Waylon would lose his mind at that thought. He chuckled, making Waylon glance his way.

"No being evil, baby. This is very small town."

"You a mind reader or something?" He never got to have fun.

"No, but I am getting to know you pretty well."

"Mmm." He took a deep breath as they got out of the car. Diesel layered with hamburgers. Yum. "I wasn't going to be too terrible…"

Really.

Mostly.

"Uh-huh." He got a sideways look and a caress to his ass as he passed in front of Waylon. Oh, naughty man.

"Don't make me call you daddy," he teased.

"I will beat you within an inch of your life. I'm all about an equal power dynamic."

He pondered that, and it made him glad. "Me too. Though you do take good care of me."

"Well, yeah, but you know, someone is trying to kill you."

They hit the head, washing up before heading to the cafe, which was just deserted enough to hide in a corner booth.

"I want a club with fries and a chocolate milkshake." He didn't even really have to look.

"Okay, baby." Waylon ordered for him, then got a blue plate breakfast special with coffee and a glass of milk. The man could put away food.

They didn't talk much. He thought maybe Waylon needed to just quietly rest. Or maybe the man was worried his voice would be too distinct. It wasn't weird or awkward, though. Just— Waylon was the one person who didn't want anything from him. Like in a pressure-y way.

He thought Waylon wanted at least a little something from him.

"Here you go, guys." The food came, the bored dude serving them clearly not a country fan, thank goodness.

"Thanks." Waylon grinned, and started buttering and syruping and otherwise condimenting.

They were eating hard, when Chayce overheard one of the little waitresses talking to her friends at the bar. "They say he just ran out of the venue. That maybe he was kidnapped."

That pricked his ears right up, and he thought it did Waylon's too. They didn't dare look, though.

"Damn. I hope not. I have tickets to see him in Kansas City."

"Shit. That would suck, huh? My great-granny had tickets to see Elvis the day after he died."

"What do they say on TikTok? Anything?"

"That someone took him to the hospital. That he was super sick."

He wanted to sink down under the table, but he knew that would just draw attention. So he sipped his shake and ignored the chitchat, at least in theory. But he would keep his mouth shut, because if one of those ladies was a fan, she would recognize his voice possibly.

Waylon seemed to think the same, giving him a slight warning look.

He nodded in response. He got it. No jabbering.

He waited until Waylon was done eating, then left two twenties and a ten on the table. "Going to the car. Give me the keys."

Waylon handed over the fob, and he rose, sauntering in a casual way. He heard Waylon strike up a conversation with the server as he paid, asking about someplace down south, which would serve to throw anyone off the scent.

He slipped in the driver's side, turning the engine over before heading to fill up with gas. He kept his head down, not wanting to get on cameras and have that get sold to the tabloids.

Waylon joined him a few minutes later. "We need to get your team on PR. We need to think how to spin this to draw out your stalker."

"Okay. I'll call… Mom? She's the one most likely to know who to get hold of fastest." He let her deal with a lot of the business part.

"You got it. Let's get on the move first. I set up a burner phone on the Wi-Fi in the truck stop while you were in the bathroom. You can use that."

"Wow. This is super-spy stuff." He started heading them toward his cabin, not keeping off the gas.

"It is. Just don't get us flung off the mountain." Waylon didn't look worried though. Not a bit.

"I've done this a couple times. I won't. Promise."

"I trust you, baby. I've seen you ride a bull. You're a thrill seeker, but not a deathly one."

"Nope. And I like all my parts." He pushed it to the edge, but he wasn't stupid, no matter what his mother said.

"I love your parts, baby." Waylon's wicked little growl made the bad restaurant experience better. He should have gotten pie to go.

"Love, huh? I can handle that." He navigated some hairpin turns easily.

"Yeah. I'm into them. And you as the sum of them." Waylon sat back, eyes on the horizon. "This whole running-away thing I don't like though."

"You mean not having the upper hand?"

"Exactly. I want to know what I'm up against, and you mean a hell of a lot to me already." Waylon's hand slid over his thigh, sweet as pie.

"Are you gonna decide to find another job once this whole hunting-me thing is over?" He hadn't meant to ask that, but he did it, didn't he?

Waylon looked at him, that little grin coming back. "Depends on how busy you keep me."

"I know how to find trouble. You need reasons, I'll invent some." That was easy and gratifying.

"Now, I just said you weren't that reckless." But Waylon's hand kept moving on his leg, warm and firm but not too distracting.

"I'd do a lot to be with you," he admitted, and then felt dumb again. God, this was weird. Usually he just had a fling.

"I know just what you mean. I'm gonna go with it, Chayce. See where it takes us."

"Well, right now, toward Western Colorado…" His place was on the other side of Vail pass.

"Butthead."

"I know. It's a great condo. I love it." There was an infinity pool, a hot tub, and a sauna.

"Cool. Why did I think it would be a cabin-cabin?" Waylon's wry tone had him grinning.

"I am not staying anywhere I have to be on septic."

"No? Damn. There goes inviting you to invest in that little place I want to buy in Northern New Mexico."

"You got it. I love little places. I love the mountains. I love artsy towns where the musicians are thick on the streets."

"Cool. You'll like this then. What do you want to listen to?" Waylon's fingers hovered over the touchscreen. "Driver's choice."

"Let me call my mom first."

Waylon dialed her number in, then put it on speaker when she answered.

"Who is this?"

Oh, she was pissed.

"Me, Momma. My phone is offline right now. Sorry." He hated that she was worried about him.

"What the hell is going on? Where are you? Where is that bodyguard?"

"I'm fine. I'm with him. We're heading… to a safe house."

"But you haven't been kidnapped or injured?" She was sounding suspicious now.

So he gave her some sass so she would believe him. "No, Momma. I'm not that much of a screw-up."

"Don't you talk back to me."

"Then quit being evil and listen to me, Momma." God, how often did they have to go over this?

"Son, I am trying, but so are you. Trying my patience to the thinnest line." She took a deep, audible breath. "Are you all right? Really?"

"I am. Really." He winked at Waylon. "A little wigged out, but safe."

"Okay. Well, you get somewhere secure. How do you want me to spin this?"

Now he looked to Waylon again.

"That he has a stalker. That the threat has forced him to take a break while he's on his short tour hiatus. Thank you for your concern, yadda yadda." Waylon's drawl was so pronounced.

"You're not serious. You don't want people to know about this." She actually sounded shocked.

"I do." Waylon's tone went hard. "I want to draw this asshole out and get him arrested before the tour resumes. I am sick to death of this bullshit." Waylon paused, then grinned. "Ma'am."

"Are you telling them where Chayce is then?" Oh, Mom was loving this.

Waylon nodded as if she could see him. "If it's someone in Chayce's camp, which I think it is, they'll know. But it's defensible, and the only two people who should show up there are me and Chayce. So, we'll get the bastard."

"I don't want my little boy in danger! Dammit, you're supposed to be protecting him."

Oh, for fuck's sake. "I'm not little, Momma. I got this. I swear."

"Chayce."

"Ma'am." Wyatt's voice was calm as a deep pond. "You know who I work for. I'm the best. I will keep him safe. I swear it."

"You work for me."

"Momma. I love you. I'm heading out of range. Gotta go. Put out that press release please!"

Waylon hung up. "Lord. She is a tornado, that woman. I can see where you get your charisma."

He waggled his eyebrows. "But not my charm."

"Baby, I'm sure your momma can be charming, but she's had no reason to show that to me."

Oh, that was diplomatic. Not "she's been a bitch" just "Circumstances haven't warranted it."

"She's a tiger. She's a strong tiger in a tank of sharks. I respect the fuck out of her."

"I bet. So do I." Waylon sighed, rolling his head on his neck. "Now let's just hope I got this right."

"If we did, we'll step back and punt." He wasn't a worthless tit. He could defend himself.

"We will. You're a smart cookie, and I have the brawn." Waylon chuckled, putting his head back. "Thanks for driving, baby."

"Of course. I know where I'm going." And he was getting a little grr about being babied.

"Are you pissed off?" Waylon asked. "I'm not trying to do that."

"Oh, not at you. Just in general. I want to bring you here to relax, not because I'm a giant target."

"We get to spend plenty of time together. I call that a win." Waylon was just determined not to let him be in a snit. "We can play twenty questions."

"We can. We can play strip poker. Strip Trivial Pursuit…" He had to grin. Had to.

"Oh, I warn you, I am a geography champion. I can also spell weird words if you decide strip Scrabble is more appropriate."

"I bet you also ride a mean mechanical bull."

"Only if I have tequila," Waylon shot back. "And that wouldn't be fair. I've seen you ride already."

"Yeah. My career there wasn't very long." His mother had been grumpy about it.

"It's not a long-term career sport. Unless you're Ednei Caminhas."

Chayce scoffed. "That Brazilian has nine lives and the picture of Dorian Gray in his closet."

"Yeah." Waylon shook his head. "We should have gotten pie to go."

"We totally should have." Okay, so he was still out of sorts, but being holed up with Waylon was never going to be boring. That he believed. "I bet there's a grocery store on the way. I usually have delivery."

"Then we'll get pie." Waylon's twinkling grin was perfect. "And whipped cream."

"And ice cream and maraschino cherries." He was starting to have a lot of cheat days…

But then Waylon gave him a good workout in addition to his weights and cardio. Hopefully soon he'd?—

He'd what? He wasn't settling into a rhythm, not really, not by any normal person's measure. He wasn't any normal person.

He was… Chayce.

"What's wrong, honey? Waylon asked.

"Why?"

"You got all closed off."

"Did I?" He nodded. He could see that. "I was thinking about how I'm not a normal person with a normal schedule, but since I have it all the time, it's normal. You get me?"

"I do. There's shit that's all in a day's work for me that would singe other people's nose hairs."

That tickled him. "Exactly."

"Looking forward to some downtime?" Waylon asked.

"Looking forward to hanging out, writing some, maybe just chilling. Enjoying you."

"Oh, good. I have plans." Waylon stretched long, his muscles sliding under the cloth of his shirt.

"Fun plans? You going to occupy my time?" He slowed down, looking for his turn.

"I am." Waylon sat up straight. "Almost there?"

"Yeah. I just need to get us to the church now. So to speak."

"Okay, cool." Waylon started watching the sides of the road. Maybe memorizing landmarks? He had no idea.

"It's a tiny complex. I own it, and I rent out the other three units." For the most part, he just let his people use them.

"Is there anyone in them right now?"

"Not that I know of. Chris would know if anyone is supposed to be there, but I guess he could lie if he's been doing this." He still hated that idea so bad.

"Yeah. Well, I'll just check in on them."

"Sure. Sure." He pulled around the back of the condos, keeping the car hidden as best he could. The place was private, luxurious, and his—all of which suited him.

"Hang out while I clear it?" Waylon said. "That way you can burn out if anything happens."

Like he would leave Waylon hanging like that. "I'll be right here."

"And I'll be right back."

Waylon punched in the door code, and went in, and Chayce started organizing all the random bags and sacks of crap they'd collected over the road trip. Lord have mercy. For such a short trip, they sure had packed in the weird stuff.

Good thing he liked that kind of thing.