23. Twenty-Three

The drive back was full of awkward silence. Dante was angry, or maybe scared. I couldn't tell which because he wouldn't talk to me. He sat in the front seat with his arms crossed, staring out the window. He hadn't said a word to me since Boone handed down the order for us to go pack and vacate the cabin, and I couldn't figure out what I'd done wrong.

Maybe he doesn't want to stay in the bunker . He hadn't seemed all that keen on the cabin at first either, but the bunker meant he'd be even more trapped than before. At least the cabin still gave him the illusion of freedom. It must've felt like we were forcing him into a prison.

"The bunker's not that bad," I said, hoping to soothe him. He glanced over at me. "It's got Netflix and Wi-Fi. Of course, you probably won't be allowed on that…But you'll hardly notice that you're underground. You'll have all of us at your beck and call, like room service. Think of it as a five-star hotel. Just one without any windows."

"I don't want everyone else at my beck and call, Christian."

I liked the way he said my name entirely too much, especially considering we'd only known each other for a few weeks. Was I mad for being so attached to him after so little time? Maybe. I should've been taken off the case entirely. If Boone knew what was really going on, that was exactly what he'd do. My judgment was compromised when it came to Dante. I could no longer be objective, and a good bodyguard would be.

I stared at the mud caked bumper of Bowie's ugly Ford Ranger. The bright red dirt bike strapped down in the bed was the only thing clean on the whole truck.

I should break things off with him before I get even more attached . The thought made my chest ache, and I reached up to rub it. I didn't want this to end, but what choice did we have? We'd have two weeks at best before he had to go back to his life, and even then, it was unlikely we'd ever be alone again. Boone would keep two of us on shift at all times while he was in the bunker, and there were cameras everywhere.

"We should stop this," I said, and winced at my own words.

"Stop what?"

"Me. You. Us. This." I gestured between us. "Whatever this is."

We went over a rough patch of road, jostling us in our seats.

"I don't want it to end," Dante said. "Do you?"

I sighed. "No, but…Let's be honest. There's no way this ends well. If Boone finds out, I lose my job, and if your label finds out, they'll make sure I never see you again. Even if neither of those things was true, you're a famous rockstar from L.A. and I'm a nobody who lives in Ohio."

"You're not nobody." Dante's hand closed over mine. He threaded our fingers together and squeezed. "Not to me."

"We barely know each other, Dante."

"We can get to know each other. It's not like I don't have my own private jet. I can fly out here to see you, and you can come visit me. Hell, if you wanted, I could probably get you a spot on my security team."

I frowned and let go of his hand.

"You don't want to quit," Dante said.

"The Junkyard Dogs are my brothers, Dante. I love my job. And you love yours." I looked over at him. He was back to peering out the window again. "I just don't see how this can work."

God, I'm pathetic. I've known him for weeks. It's a little soon to be talking about any of this, let alone considering leaving a job I love to be with him.

But that was exactly what I was imagining looking over at him. I imagined a future where it did work out, where we held hands all the time, and had tea in the afternoons. We could travel—together—all over the world. Maybe I'd never be able to sit through one of his concerts in the audience, but maybe from backstage, it wouldn't be too bad. I imagined him coming off the stage after a long performance, exhausted and sweaty from playing for thousands, and getting to see that private smile he had only for me.

I'd never looked at anyone and thought, This is who I want forever , but I was thinking about it now. It felt too soon, too fast, but maybe…Maybe sometimes, you just know .

We turned into the driveway, pulling to a stop behind Bowie's truck. Bowie got out of the truck, keys in hand, and went into the house. I let him check the place out while we waited for him to give us the all clear.

"I know you probably think this is just some fling for me," Dante said, fidgeting with his fingers. "And maybe it started out that way, but…I don't know. I really like you, Church, and I feel like this could be the start of something more. And I want more. I know you can't see how it'll work, but maybe… "

"Maybe what?" I leaned forward, pleading that he had an answer. I'd take anything.

Bowie came out and gestured that it was safe inside. Dante smiled at me apologetically and got out of the Tahoe without answering. He trudged up the stairs to the porch, where he paused on the porch to give me a strange look before backing through the door.

"You should go with him," Bowie said when I got out. "That was definitely a come fuck me look."

"We're not—"

"Oh, bullshit." He rolled his eyes. "I might not be the sharpest tool in the shed, but I ain't dumb. You like him. He likes you."

I sighed and leaned against the front of my SUV. "Doesn't matter, does it? He's still a client, and he's got his own life to get back to. In a few weeks, he'll have forgotten all about me."

"So?" Bowie crossed his arms and shrugged.

I stared at him. "So I want more than a few weeks of sex."

"Is it good sex?"

"I'm not talking about this with you." I waved him off and started walking toward the cabin.

Bowie was quickly in my way, walking backwards. He put his hands out to stop me. "Okay, but seriously… Sometimes more starts with a few weeks of good sex. The only way to know is to give it a chance, which you aren't doing. You're shootin' the bull before he ever gets out of the pen, and that ain't fair. To either of you."

"Why should I take relationship advice from you? Have you even ever had a serious romantic relationship, Bowie?"

He lifted his hat and glanced away. "Let's just say I know enough to have regrets. Give him a chance. Just ‘cause you can't see where the road comes out on the other side of the mountain doesn't mean it's not worth the drive to find out. "

I laced my fingers together behind my head and paced back and forth. "Not that it matters. If Boone finds out…"

"Like he has any right to bitch about someone falling for a client," Bowie said with a snort. "He married his last job. Besides, he can't fire you if he don't catch you."

"And how's that supposed to work? After what happened, he's never going to leave me alone with Dante again. He sent you to babysit, and all we're doing is packing ."

"All you need is a good wingman to watch the door." He pointed both thumbs at his chest. "I got you, bro."

"But…"

"Brother, I said I got this." Bowie adjusted his hat before clapping a hand on my shoulder. "Now, do yourself a favor and go hit that."

"What? Now ?"

"That boy wasn't giving you the bedroom eyes for no reason. Go." He pushed me toward the door. "And don't come back out until one of you's walking bow-legged!"

I stopped on the porch to frown back at Bowie, who waved me on. He was crude, rude, and easily one of the biggest pains in my ass at work, but he was still my brother. Sometimes, he came through despite all that.

I paused inside the door and listened, but there were no footsteps above. Whatever Dante was doing up there, it wasn't packing. Part of me had been hoping Bowie was wrong. Not because I didn't want Dante—I did—but because things would be easier if I didn't. It would be easy to walk away, easy to forget, easy to move on and pretend none of this had ever happened.

I couldn't see how things would work out long-term between us, but maybe they would. Maybe Bowie was right and there was a way I just hadn't seen yet. Either way, he was right about that first part. The only way to know is to give it a chance.

I climbed the steps to the loft and paused at the top. Dante was lying on the bed, his arms spread out wide, staring at the ceiling.

"Dante?" The floor creaked as I moved away from the stairs.

He sighed and folded his hands on his stomach. "You know I want more than sex, right?"

I frowned. "Are you all right?"

He sat up, supporting himself on his elbows. "I mean, I do want that. I want to fuck you six ways to Sunday, kitten. But I want the other stuff, too."

I swallowed. "What other stuff?"

Dante turned his head, a slight smile touching his lips. "Sleeping in on rainy mornings. Tea in the afternoon. Staying up late watching movies and eating junk food in our pajamas. Boring dinner parties and driveway kisses goodbye. I even want to argue with you."

"Now I know you've lost the plot. Nobody likes arguing." I crossed the room and sat down on the end of the bed next to him.

"I didn't say I liked it. Just that I wanted to do it. With you. But you know, there is one good thing about arguing." Dante looped an arm around my neck and swung one leg over me to sit in my lap, facing me.

I took full advantage of the opportunity to be a little cheeky and grabbed his ass with both hands. "Let me guess. Make up sex?"

He grinned. "See? You're already reading my mind."

"Hm. Are you sure? We haven't even had regular sex yet. What if you're disappointed?"

"First of all," he said, tapping my nose, "there is nothing disappointing about you. Second, we have too had sex. What do you think we've been doing the last few days? "

I frowned, and he traced my lips with his finger. "That stuff doesn't count…does it?"

"I hate to break it to you, kitten, but blowjobs and frotting totally count as sex. The hand job through the clothes is a little iffy. There're definitely other, more fun ways to fuck that don't include penetration, although that's great too if you're into it." He leaned back slightly, his expression growing slightly serious. " Are you into it? Because it's ok if you're not."

My face burned. But this was a conversation we needed to have. I was woefully inexperienced, especially compared to him. He must've known. It was obvious. "I don't know," I answered quietly. "Dante, when I said I hadn't done anything in years, I meant anything and there's a reason for that. My experience wasn't good."

He frowned and started pulling away. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize…"

"No, no." I grabbed his arms to keep him from climbing off of me. "It's nothing like that. I wasn't assaulted or anything. I was just an idiot, and so was he. We had no idea what we were doing, and I got hurt. Bad enough that I had to go see the school nurse who phoned my mother. She made me change schools…" I sighed and closed my eyes. "The way my mother looked at me when she came to pick me up… I'd take any of the beatings or the shouted lectures my father gave me over ever seeing that look on someone's face again. She was so disappointed . After all that, I just thought it wasn't worth going through again, especially if all I got in the end was more pain."

"Listen to me, Christian." Dante took my face in his hands. "It's not supposed to be like that. It's supposed to be fun, and to feel good. I'm sorry your experience wasn't that way, but I'm glad you told me. I don't want to ask you to do anything you don't want to do."

"I do." I swallowed and squeezed his arm. "Want it, I mean. But…"

But I' m afraid.

Why couldn't I just say that? I'd survived being a prisoner in some of the worst possible conditions, been through torture, seen the horrors of war firsthand and barely felt any fear. Yet I was terrified of this pain. Why? How could I be so brave in the face of all those things but a coward when it came to sex?

Dante combed his fingers gently through my hair. "Would you rather top? It's not my preference to bottom, but if it helps…"

I shook my head. "No."

"Really, it's okay."

"No, I don't…" I shook my head again. "I just don't want it to hurt."

He put his hand over mine. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." I was surprised at how fast and easy the answer came.

"Then trust me to take care of you the way you deserve."

"I trust you," I repeated and pulled his lips down to mine.

I'd intended for it to just be a quick kiss in case he wanted to keep talking, but one kiss wasn't enough for that. I kissed him again, and again, until the kisses blended into something long, soft, and deep. Not like any other kiss I'd ever given him. Those had all seemed either awkward and desperate, or hurried by lust. There was a spark of that in this kiss, but it was different. It was the kind of kiss real lovers shared, one that meant something.

We were breathless by the time we parted, but Dante stayed right there, his mouth hovering over mine like he just wanted to breathe the same air. His fingers slid down to the tie around my neck and my breath caught as he slowly tugged it loose. I tried to kiss him again, but he put his hand on my chest and pushed. I fell back, my shoulders hitting the mattress, and then he was on top of me, his hips straddling mine, his tongue in my mouth. His fingers slowly worked their way down, unbuttoning my shirt at a maddeningly slow pace until I couldn't take it anymore. I pushed his hands away and started unbuttoning it myself, kissing him between each button.

I sat up to shrug the shirt off, but he pushed me back down. Before I could protest, he dragged his tongue down my chest and closed his lips over my nipple. I hissed at the scrape of his teeth, back arching into him. I couldn't decide if I loved or hated that because it made my brain shut down and my body react. It was as if he'd found some secret button to make me lose control.

Oh, no. Wait. I definitely loved it. I let out an involuntary low whine as he moved to the other nipple, sucking and licking it before he came back to claim my lips again.

He sat up to pull off his shirt before asking. "Good?"

"So far," I said with a nod, and ran my hands over his chest.

Dante's body was beautiful, lithe perfection. I almost couldn't believe he'd be interested in someone like me whose skin was riddled with scars, but he kissed them without fear, and didn't ask me to relive how I'd gotten them. He didn't treat me like I was made of glass, either. There was a balance, one even I hadn't been able to get right, and yet Dante had done it instinctually.

As Dante kissed his way down my body, I undid my pants and helped him take the rest of his clothes off, too. Being naked with him felt natural too, in a way I hadn't thought I'd ever feel with someone. Ever since my imprisonment, it was difficult to even consider being so vulnerable again. My captors had taken away my clothes, and with them, any shred of dignity and humanity. They made me feel like an animal waiting for slaughter, but Dante made me feel human and alive.

Dante ran his tongue slowly over my hard cock, making me groan louder than I meant to, but I was starting not to care. Bowie knew what we were up here doing. He'd sent me there to do it so he'd have to live with that decision.

But he apparently wasn't above a little payback. Dante was kissing his way over my hips and thighs when the opening notes of "Unchained Melody" blared downstairs.

"I'm going to kill him," I growled through gritted teeth.

Dante laughed, his shoulders shaking as he pressed his nose to my hip. "It could be worse. He could've picked ‘Mmmbop'."

"Don't give him any ideas."

"Relax, baby," he said, reaching to pull open the bedside table. "If you can't handle a little music, how are we ever going to have sex with a houseful of kids?"

"Kids?" I lifted my head, suddenly feeling dizzy.

Dante pushed me back down with a laugh. "I'm joking. Or am I?"

I honestly couldn't tell, and the wink didn't help.

"Seriously. Relax ."

That was easier said than done, especially with the appearance of the lube bottle and a rubber. I felt like there was a band tightening around my lungs, even after he tossed both items aside on the comforter. But when he moved up my body to kiss me again, all my nerves gradually began to fade. I just had to force myself not to think about being too loud, or taking too long, or clenching up too much or—

"Stop it." Dante nipped at my bottom lip. "Don't time travel on me."

"Time travel?" I asked.

"You're jumping ahead into a future of what-ifs. Stay here. With me. I promise I'll make right now worth it." He dropped back down my body to take my cock in his mouth .

I let my head fall back and tried to calm all the racing thoughts in my head so I could focus on what he was doing. It felt good, and right, and it was what I wanted, except I didn't want it to be over as quickly as the last few times. I had to have better control, no matter how good it felt, because dammit, I wanted this.

Dante's pace increased, and I whimpered, biting my lip hard, hoping the pain would keep me from coming. There was a loud, wet pop, and I thought I was getting a reprieve until he said, "Look at me."

I let out a groan and covered my face, shaking my head. "I can't. I don't want to come yet."

"Christian…Look. At. Me." Dante's tone sent a shudder through me, and I couldn't help but obey.

I lowered my hands and lifted my head, supporting myself with my forearms.

He made sure I was looking at him before pushing his hair back away from his face. "Don't look away," he instructed and closed his lips around me.

I had no choice but to watch as he swallowed me to the back of his throat and retreated. Even if I'd tried to think of something else, it wouldn't have worked. His lips looked too perfect stretched around my cock, enough that it almost didn't seem real. I couldn't look away, and yet, if I didn't, this would all be over too soon.

"Dante…" I didn't know which was worse, the slow, blissful torture of his mouth or when he stopped. I tipped my head back with a whine. "You're killing me."

"Don't worry. I won't let you come. Not yet." He picked up the package containing the rubber and ripped it open. My chest tightened as he slid it on before giving his fingers a generous coating of lube. "You don't get to come until my cock is buried inside you. Until then, you have to be patient. Understand? "

I nodded, even though I didn't want to be patient. I didn't want to be hurt more, though, and I had to trust that Dante knew what he was doing better than me.

I tensed when he pushed my cheeks apart, but he didn't shove his finger inside me like I thought he was going to. Instead, he just lightly rubbed his thumb against my entrance, massaging the area and god, did that feel good. Dante peppered the insides of my thighs with kisses, whispering small praises into my skin.

"I love the way you smell," he murmured and kissed me again. "And how you taste. The little grunting sounds you make. The way your breath catches, and you get goose bumps on your arms and the back of your neck."

He moved to the other leg, planting another kiss before retreating briefly to add more lube to his fingers. I barely noticed.

"I love the way you can somehow get lost in a book and still know exactly where I am and what I'm up to," he continued.

I smiled because it was true. A special skill of mine. Of course, it wasn't exactly like he was quiet or nearly as sneaky as he thought he was.

I tensed as he pressed his finger against my entrance, this time with some pressure, but when he kissed my thigh, it was like flipping a switch. I instantly relaxed. The feel of him inside of me was foreign, yet not uncomfortable, and not painful, but when he started to move, sparks of pleasure raced over my nerve endings. I moved my hips and bit out a low curse, my cock throbbing where it rested against my abs. I lifted my legs to give him better access.

"That's it," Dante crooned as he added a second finger. "You're a natural. "

I let out a shameless moan. I'd never considered myself to be someone with a praise kink, but maybe there was something to that, at least when it came to Dante. I liked pleasing him.

"You know what else I really like, kitten?" From Dante's tone, I thought it might be the set up for another joke. Instead, he scissored his fingers wider and added a third.

I spat a curse and arched my back slightly, annoyed that the slight burn suddenly felt good . I definitely wasn't a masochist. I wasn't even kinky…was I?

"I like the way you look with this needy little hole stuffed full," he said smugly.

And goddamn if that wasn't the sexiest thing a man had ever said to me. It was a wonder I didn't come right then.

"Easy, kitten. I didn't say you could come yet."

"Come on," I whined, barely recognizing my own voice. "Put your cock in me already."

"Somebody's impatient." Dante grinned and pumped his fingers faster. "I thought you said you didn't want me to hurt you? That means I've got to make sure you're all nice and stretched out for me because if you can't take three fingers, my giant cock is going to destroy you."

I rolled my eyes, and not from pleasure that time. "Oh, come on! Your cock's not that impressive. Ow!" I winced and rubbed my poor, abused nipple, which he'd twisted in retaliation.

"Word to the wise, kitten. Don't insult the man who knows your every weakness."

"You don't know my…" Whatever I'd been about to say didn't matter because his fingers were suddenly massaging my prostate and nothing mattered .

Dante chuckled and withdrew his fingers completely, drawing a protesting groan from me that a shiver cut short. Without him inside me, I felt like my ass was a gaping hole, and I hated it. Thankfully, he only left me like that long enough to add a little more lube to the condom and get his cock lined up. Then his lips were on mine, his tongue fucking wildly into my mouth as he eased inside just a little.

I grunted and fought the urge to clench up, trying to keep my breathing steady. I wanted this. I'd practically begged him for it, so I wasn't going to back out now. I didn't want to.

He wasn't even halfway in when he paused with a shudder. "Fuck…"

"What? What's wrong?" I sounded panicked, even to me.

But Dante let out a small chuckle as sweat raced down the side of his nose. "I don't think I loosened you up enough. You're still tight as hell. Now I'm the one trying not to come thirty seconds in."

My face flamed red hot, though I didn't know why. Was that supposed to be a compliment, or did it mean I'd done something wrong?

Dante kissed me again before I could really consider it and moved his hips, slowly giving me more of him until he was all the way inside and I remembered how to breathe again. I put my arms around him, not in an embrace, but because I needed to hold on to something and he was all I had. For the first time in my life, I understood why people liked to be tied up during sex. I felt like I was going to fall or float away. It was almost like the dissociative states I experienced during a bad PTSD episode, except the crushing terror wasn't there. In its place was something new and good. Something I needed more of.

"Are you okay?" Dante ran a thumb over my cheek.

I buried my face in the crook of his neck and nodded. "Don't stop. I need this. "

"I know you do, but you also need me not to hurt you."

"Don't treat me like you'll break me." I gripped his biceps and squeezed. "I can handle anything except for that."

Dante seized my lips in a kiss, the rough sandpaper feel of his cheek scraping against mine its own sort of ecstasy. He rolled his hips once, thrusting slow and deep and wrenching an involuntary sound from me. Every trace of the burning pain that'd been there before disappeared, leaving only pleasure behind.

This was what I was afraid of all this time , I thought in wonder as he set a rhythm. I'd been missing out on this. But maybe it wouldn't be the same with someone else. I didn't want it to be the same, because I didn't want anyone else. There was something special about Dante, something that spoke to me in a way no one ever had before. I'd felt it even at the beginning. Back then, it had unnerved me, but now… Maybe we had only known each other a handful of days, but maybe that was long enough to know . Time wasn't everything. My parents dated for five years before getting married and now they slept in separate wings of the house, married in name only.

He made me happy. Wasn't that enough?

Dante built his pace faster, harder, until the sound of us coming together was a percussive beat that echoed off the rafters. I was sure Bowie was glad he'd turned on the music, but I barely heard it anymore. The only sounds that mattered to my ears were the ones Dante was making, the heavy breathing, the small grunts of pleasure, the rhythm of his body moving inside mine. My neglected cock throbbed against my stomach, and my knees ached from holding them up for so long, but I didn't dare make a move to fix either problem. I didn't want anything to change. If anything, I wanted that ache in my knees to be worse and the soreness in my hips to stay that way so that I could remember this was real.

"Fuck, you feel so good," Dante whispered and shifted to put his arms under my legs to hold them up for me. He shifted inside of me too and when he drove himself into me the next time, he was hitting that spot inside me.

I groaned and let my head fall back. Dante spat in his hand and closed a fist around my aching cock. "Come for me, kitten," he said and started pulling in time with his thrusts.

The words went straight from my ears to my balls. My cock thickened in his fist and I came hard with a shout, my hips jerking. Dante stroked me through it until it was too much and I had to push his hand away.

"Fuck." He groaned and swiped his fingers through the mess on my stomach. "That's so fucking hot." He lifted his cum-coated fingers, slipping them between his lips with a groan.

Bloody hell…my idiot cock was already trying to rally for another round.

Dante let out another low, growling curse, and gripped my side tighter, fingernails digging in. His hips jerked twice, and he shuddered.

The look on his face as he came inside me was beautiful. No, more than that. There wasn't a word for it, not in any language I knew, but I knew immediately that I wanted to see it again.

Dante pumped into me with a few more shallow thrusts before collapsing on top of me, head on my chest with a contented sigh. "Jesus Christ, that was the best fuck of my life, Church." He lifted his head, sporting a big, dopey grin. If I didn't know better, I would've thought he was drunk with the way he was slurring his words. "What's the verdict with you? Worth it, right?"

"Worth it," I agreed, and kissed him .

He pulled away and settled back in against my chest with another happy sigh. I put my arms around him and held him there, kissing the top of his head. I liked the way he smelled after sex, which was an odd thing to think about, but I did.

"How long do you think we have before Bowie loses his patience with us?" he mumbled.

I closed my eyes and listened. Music was still playing downstairs, but he'd moved onto music he actually liked, which was mostly contemporary country. "I'd say we have until the end of the next song."

He shifted on top of me, lifting his head to give me a concerned look. "It's not bothering you?"

"What?"

"The music."

It took me a minute to realize what he was asking me. After I did, I checked in with myself, but none of the usual buzzing tension was there. "I guess not. Maybe I can handle it in small doses. If I'm distracted enough."

"Hmm. Well, I'll have to remember that." He sat up and kissed my cheek. "I'll be right back."

Pure terror seized me as I realized the bathroom was downstairs—and that Bowie was also downstairs— and that might be where he was going, but he just went over by the window to toss the used rubber in the rubbish and grab some tissues. Dante came back and hopped onto the bed like a giant kid. A giant kid who'd brought tissues over to clean the cum off my belly.

"I can do that." I reached for the tissues to finish the job.

Dante sighed and handed them over.

"Does your boss give you vacation days?" he asked, pulling his knees up and wrapping his long arms around them .

I paused with a wadded tissue in my hand. "I think so. I don't really use mine, though."

"So you must have accumulated quite a lot over the years."

"Maybe." I tossed the tissues in a big ball across the room and most of them made it into the bin.

Dante raised his eyebrows, and I finally realized what he was really getting at. He wanted me to use my vacation days to spend time with him.

"Dante…" I took his hand. "As nice as that sounds, don't you have a big world tour kicking off in just a few weeks? One that'll last almost an entire year?"

He sighed and looked away. "Ninety-one shows in nine months from Vancouver to Osaka and back."

"And what, you expect me to just follow you around the world? And just because I can listen to Bowie's music right now doesn't mean I'll ever be able to stand in a packed arena to hear you play. You deserve someone who can be there to support you."

"I want you," he said sliding his hand away. "There has to be a way. Don't say there isn't. Other people make it work."

"Maybe I'm not like other people, Dante."

Dante deflated slightly, and I immediately felt guilty for saying it.

"Hey, lovebirds," Bowie shouted up the stairs. "We'd better get this show on the road before someone calls to ask what's taking so damn long."

Without a word, Dante swung his bare feet down and began to pull on his clothes.

"Dante. Hey, come on. I didn't mean it like that." I stood and grabbed his arm gently, holding onto it until he looked at me, his eyes all watery. "I want this," I assured him again, resting my forehead against his. "If there's a way, we'll find it, okay? But you're going to have to be patient with me."

"I'll do my best, Christian, but…" He frowned and cut himself off, pulling away.

"But what?"

Dante finished pulling on his pants and shook his head before grabbing his smart watch from the bedside table. "It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

That was the worst thing he could've said. By asking me not to worry, that just made me worry more, but I didn't press the issue. We still had the whole drive back to talk this out.

I helped him pack everything and carried some of his bags down to the living room, where Bowie was waiting with folded arms.

"Jesus, Church," he muttered and shook his head. "You look like you were outside when the twister hit."

I frowned. Sometimes talking to Bowie was like speaking a foreign language. "Huh?"

Dante cleared his throat and leaned in to whisper, "He means you have sex hair, kitten."

"Oh." I frantically ran my fingers through my hair trying to fix it.

"Here. Let me." Dante put the guitar case he was holding down and started running his fingers through my hair in a way that made me want to drag him right back upstairs.

"Well, ain't that sweeter than stolen honey." Bowie smacked my arm. "Come on, lover boy. Let's get this show on the road." He picked up two suitcases and headed for the front door.

I followed him with one of Dante's guitars in hand and stopped on the porch next to him. "I should thank you."

"Don't thank me yet. We've got a problem." He gestured forward toward the vehicles .

I frowned, not following his logic at first. Then I saw the tires.

Someone had slashed every last one.