Code blue, p.10
Code Blue, page 10
The door closed behind us and Riko was quick to get in the front passenger seat. “You okay, Riko?” I called out. He’d been out there on his own. It was harmless this time, but it might not have been. That loud bang could have been gunfire and he’d have been alone.
“Yeah, boss,” he said over the seat. “Though that guard might wanna check his briefs. I might’ve scared the shit out of him.”
The security guard had the good graces to lift the boom gate so we didn’t have to slow down. I guessed because he didn’t want another ass-chewing. He gave us another sorry wave as we drove through, making our way up to ground level.
Jeremy was quiet. I patted his leg. “You okay?”
He swallowed. “Hm, yeah.”
He clearly wasn’t. I slid my hand over his and squeezed. “Sorry.”
“What are you sorry for?”
“That shouldn’t have happened.”
“Which part?”
I looked at him then. “All of it. I shouldn’t have put you in a position that you were exposed like that.”
He made a face as he thought about that. “You didn’t put me in that position.”
But I did.
“Actually, the only position you put me in was up against the wall.”
My gaze went to his.
“One minute I was standing there. Then the next thing I knew you picked me up like a kid and pinned me to the opposite wall.”
I still held his hand, and I thought to move it until I realized his fingers were gripping mine.
He’s holding my hand . . .
It doesn’t mean anything. He’s just had a bit of a scare, that’s all.
“Sorry about that,” I said, my voice a little gruff. “Are you hurt?”
He gave a weak smile. “No. you’re surprisingly gentle for a tough guy.”
My cheeks grew warm. Jesus Christ.
I remembered how he’d looked at my mouth.
The van slowed again as we approached the ground level security. Not for ID checks or anything, but because of the crowd of papzz were blocking the exit. Even with the cops there. They yelled at the van, filmed, and clicked away.
Motherfuckers.
Jeremy squeezed my hand as we passed through them, and I did what felt natural. I threaded our fingers and held on tight.
He didn’t speak for a few blocks, but he also didn’t let go or make any attempt to move his hand.
I wanted to say something, anything, but knew if I did, he’d pull his hand away and this moment, whatever this was, would be over.
Then I realized I was using his vulnerability for my own stupid fantasy, and I pulled my hand back, tapping his hand as I did. “You’re okay,” I said. “We’ll get you home and we can—”
“Get really fucking drunk.”
“I was going to say cook an early dinner.”
“I’m leaning toward the getting really fucking drunk mood.”
I’d never really known Jeremy to drink much. Or any of the guys, for that matter. They certainly didn’t drink on tour, and it was their rule not to drink alone.
“Well, you can drink,” I said. “I’ll supervise.”
“Are you ever not on duty?”
His question threw me. “Uh, sure. When I’m not with you guys.”
“So you’re saying all I am is work?”
God, no. “Not at all.”
“What do you do for fun, Steve?” He shot me a look. We were sitting so close, our shoulders and knees were touching. “Got a girlfriend we don’t know about?”
I glanced at the back of Riko’s head. He either couldn’t hear us or was pretending he couldn’t. I replied softly. “No.”
Jeremy nodded slowly and was quiet for a bit. “Boyfriend?”
My heart skidded to a stop and my mouth went dry. I tried to keep my voice neutral. “No.”
His gaze burned into the side of my face, but I didn’t dare look at him. My heart was hammering now, my stomach in one giant, greasy knot.
He was going to say something else. I could feel it. He raised his hand as if he was just about to speak . . . Then, like a freaking miracle, my phone buzzed.
I’d never answered a call so quick. I didn’t even notice whose name it was on-screen, that’s how off my game I was. “Frost.”
“You guys okay?” It was Ambrose. “I just heard about the parking garage. Well, actually, I saw it on the news.”
“The news?”
“Yeah, all those cameras heard the bang. The cops at the gate thought it was gunfire. Until the guard called it through. Said it was just a table.”
“We’re fine,” I replied. “Sorry for not calling it in. I was going to call you when we got back to Jeremy’s.” That was a lie. I hadn’t given Ambrose one thought, but I would have once I got Jeremy back to the safety of his house.
I don’t know if Jeremy could hear Ambrose talking, but he had his phone out and was searching news sites.
“Did you find anything in the footage today?” Ambrose asked.
Jeremy shot me a look, so yes, he could hear.
“Maybe. I want to keep looking before I say anything for sure.” But that made me think. “Can you get me the CCTV footage of the parking garage and elevator from this afternoon?”
There was a pause of silence from Ambrose. “Sure. Do you think there’s more to it?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Ambrose said, and the line went dead.
“It was just the guard with a foldaway table,” Jeremy said. “Wasn’t it? That’s what Riko said.”
“I’m not doubting what Riko said,” I replied, knowing damn well Riko could hear. “Yes, it was a table that hit the concrete, and yes, the sound echoes in an underground parking garage. Maybe the guy was testing our reaction time.”
Jeremy stared at me. “Do you . . . do you think that?”
“I don’t know. That’s why I want to see the footage.”
He frowned. “How do you think like that? How do you know to think of that kind of shit?”
“Like what?”
“To anyone else, it was just a falling table. But to you it could be a test of some kind of your reaction time.”
I met his gaze then, so impossibly blue. “I have to think like them. Like anyone who might want to hurt you. If I wanted to hurt someone famous, I’d need to know their weak spot. I’d want to see how their security reacted.”
Jeremy shook his head. “That’s fucked up.”
Ouch.
I looked up front. “Yeah.”
We sat in silence for a while and Jeremy went back to his phone. It didn’t take long before he found the footage Ambrose had mentioned.
He held his phone so I could see it as well. Filmed by one of the smaller news stations, it showed the parking garage entrance, the security booth, and the police who were still managing the crowd. There was general chitchat among the film crews and the paps who remained when a loud bang sounded from inside the parking garage.
It was muted but somehow amplified through the concrete levels. People ducked and scattered. The cops ducked and yelled at everyone to get down and move, move! A security guard from the booth bolted into the darkness of the garage, yelling into the receiver at his shoulder.
The footage cut.
“Fuck,” Jeremy breathed.
It looked like something out of a movie.
He scrolled to the next video. “Frightening footage from downtown LA today,” the reporter said, “outside the Krüper building, home to Platinum Entertainment, of what was believed to be a gunshot. This development is just hours after the revelation that the FBI is investigating alleged serious stalker claims against Atrous singer Jeremy Dalton.”
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Jeremy said. He scrolled to the next article.
“. . . singer Jeremy Dalton—”
The next one. “What was thought to be a gunshot in the Platinum Entertainment building—”
And the next. “. . . people scattering after what sounds like gunfire—”
Jeremy thumbed the screen and threw his phone at the door of the van. “Fuck.”
The offending phone bounced back and landed somewhere near my feet. I understood his frustration, but I refused to pander to temper tantrums. I picked it up, not even looking to see if the screen was damaged. “Call your mom. She would’ve seen the news.”
Jeremy growled and snatched the phone from me. “Fuuuck.”
I wanted to save him from this. I wanted to protect him in ways beyond just doing my job. I wanted to console him, to hug him, to hold him.
I couldn’t do any of that. So I did the next best thing I could think of. Or possibly the worst. I patted his thigh. “Did you still want me to teach you some self-defense?”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Will this involve you throwing me against the wall again?”
We were on his back patio, both of us now wearing running shorts and T-shirts. Granted, his clothes probably cost ten times what mine did, but we were both barefoot.
“No. Unless you want me to?” I joked. I hadn’t meant for it to sound like it did.
He didn’t answer so I risked looking at him and he was fixing the tie at his waistband. “Well,” he mumbled. “It was hotter than I expected. I didn’t know I might have a thing for being manhandled by another guy.” He looked at me then. “So it might be best if there’s no wall throwing.”
I stared at him.
Was he joking?
I don’t think he’s joking.
“Noted,” I said. “Wall throwing to a minimum.”
Jeremy just grinned. “So how do we do this?”
I couldn’t believe this was happening. But it was a good distraction from the shitty day he’d had.
I just had to keep reminding my dick that this was not time for that.
Jeremy faced me, squatted, his hands up. “How’s this?”
I grimaced. “If you need help with constipation, I can suggest some fiber rich food.”
Riko laughed and coughed to cover it up. Jeremy glared at him, then stood up to his full height and put his hands down.
“Oh, here, I forgot this,” he said, shoving his hand into his pocket and pulling out his middle finger.
I laughed and went to him. I tapped his foot with mine. “Bring your feet together. We’re going to practice some breathing and movements.”
Jeremy scowled at me. “If this is some Mr. Miyagi bullshit . . .”
I chuckled. “It’s not.”
“Tell me to say wax on, wax off and I’ll have new security within the hour. Guys who let me eat burgers and don’t make me cook.”
I grinned at him. “Breathe in, nice and deep. I know you do all these kinds of breathing and diaphragm exercises for singing.”
He rolled his eyes but he began to do some deep inhalations and slow, measured exhales. I needed him to clear his head and focus on his body, and breathing did that.
After a minute or so, I asked, “Did you do any wrestling in high school?”
He made a face. “Dude. I was on a freaking world tour when I was sixteen. Before that, I spent every high school minute in the music rooms.”
“Okay, fair enough.” I took his wrists and gave his arms a bit of a shake. “But you did dance.”
He glared at me. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
I laughed and shook his arms again. “It means you’re light on your feet and you can go from bouncing on the balls of your feet to being grounded in a beat.” I snapped my fingers. “You understand your center of gravity, and you have great spatial awareness. That’s important for what I do.”
“What is it you do? Apart from beating the shit out of people.”
“I don’t beat the shit out of people.”
“But you could.”
“Well, yeah. Sure. But that’s only ever the very last resort.”
“What’re all the trophies for? MMA, right?”
“Yep.”
“That’s a bunch of different kinds, isn’t it? What do you do? Like karate?”
“I never learned karate,” I said. “But I always liked the discipline.”
Jeremy’s eyes met mine. “Discipline, huh?”
I nodded. “Yes. Karate is a great form of self-defense without a weapon.” I shrugged. “Did you know karate means empty hand?”
He grinned. “Did you know karaoke means empty orchestra?”
I found myself smiling at him. And that I was still holding his wrist. I let go of him and cleared my throat. “I learned Brazilian jujitsu and Mauy Thai. I’ve also been teaching myself Krav Maga.”
“Krav Maga? What is that?”
“It’s a defense technique used by the Israeli Defense Force. Also referred to as the Art of Staying Alive. It’s close combat, dirty, but realistic.”
“Jesus Christ. Who do you think you need to protect us from? Some foreign nationalist special forces unit?”
I laughed. “I hope not. The thing about most martial arts is that they are designed for self-protection. Which is great. But my job is not to protect myself. It’s to protect other people.”
“So you put yourself in between. And make yourself the target.”
“Correct.”
“As you did today. In the elevator. You put yourself between me and whatever was gonna come through the door.”
I nodded. “Exactly. What I do with you is personal protection. I get you away from danger. All my years of MMA training taught me to attack, not retreat. So that takes some training to change that instinct.”
“Defensive instead of offensive.”
“Exactly. So if someone comes at you, while I might want to take them down, I have to think of getting you out of harm’s way first.”
“Or throwing me against the wall.”
I smiled. “Yes. But you said you liked it.”
He shoved me, just playfully, but I grabbed his wrist and manipulated it inward, upward. He immediately turned with it, bending down to relieve the pressure. “Ah!” he cried out.
It was an easy maneuver to incapacitate someone. If they didn’t struggle, it didn’t hurt.
I let him go. “See? No pressure, no strength. Just using your opponent’s body and momentum against them.”
“Yeah, but you’re not supposed to use it on me.” He rubbed his wrist, then went to shove me again but stopped himself. “You have to teach me how to do that so I can do it to the guys.”
“You’re not to use these tactics on anyone. Least of all any of the guys. Okay?”
He grinned. “Sure.”
“Jeremy.”
He rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. I promise.”
I sighed. “Okay, so are you ready?”
He nodded, then shook his head. “You’re not going to hurt me, are you? I’m too pretty to be hurt.”
I laughed. “Pretty?”
“Shut up.”
I was still smiling. “Okay, so if someone comes at you from the front, you need to assess a few things first. One, are they armed? Two, what kind of weapon is it? Three, check your surroundings. Four—”
His eyes narrowed. “How long do I have to do all that? Like a few minutes?”
“Well, if you’re being attacked by a sloth, maybe.”
Riko laughed. I ignored him. “You have half a second, maybe.”
“Oh, okay, yeah no. I can’t do that.”
“You need to learn.”
“No, that’s what I have you for. I have my very own Steve for that exact reason.”
I snorted. “Okay, let’s assume the person coming for you is not armed.”
“I would prefer that. I guess. If I got to choose.”
“You won’t get to choose, but for the sake of this exercise, okay.” I stood back and raised my right arm as though I was about to swing for him.
Jeremy took a step back with his hands up. “Steve!”
Riko laughed again and I nodded to the door. “Can you go make a salad for dinner or something?”
Once Riko had finally laughed all the way inside, I turned back to Jeremy. “Okay, how about you come at me? Try a kick.”
“Are you crazy?”
“You won’t hurt me.”
So Jeremy kicked me. Right in the fucking knee. “Ow! What the hell?”
“You said I couldn’t hurt you!”
We could hear Riko laughing from in the house.
I stood up to my full height and sighed. “Okay, I should have specified.”
“Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I reset my feet. “Now, using your hands, come at me.”
Jeremy made a pained face but he closed his fist and swung at me. It was a pretty good hit, but I blocked him easily, pushing his hand away and down, causing him to lose some balance. “See how I use your center of gravity against you?”
Jeremy nodded.
“Again.”
So he did it again, and I blocked him again. And again, and a few more times, giving him an explanation of everything I did.
“Now you try,” I said. “I’ll just go slow. From the front.” I pretended to aim the heel of my hand at his nose. He deflected okay, pushing my hand down across my body.
“Good. Now from the side,” I said. “Turn your body this way, lower your center of gravity. You control the direction of your momentum, not your opponent.”
We practiced some more, nothing serious, of course, just some basics. I put my hands on his side, on his chest. I touched his arms, his wrists, his stomach, his hips.
God help me.
He was sweaty too, as the sun was getting low, casting an orange glow over the ocean in the distance, right up to his backyard. The light caressed his tan, giving him a glow that looked so good I wanted to taste the salt on his skin. His blond waves were damp with sweat, his cheeks were flushed.
He’d done well, but my mind was beginning to play tricks on me and I had to stop myself from doing something really stupid like sliding my hand along his neck and pulling him in for a kiss . . .
“Okay, I think we’re done for today,” I mumbled.
Get a grip, Steve.
“That was fun,” Jeremy said, smiling.
We both turned at the same time to a delicious scent wafting from the house.
Steak.
“Damn, I’m hungry,” he said.
