Beyond the Stix (Warrior Black #2)

Chapter 11

ELEVEN

John

Soon after we board the jet and it takes off, Dom waves the team to the back corner of the plane. “Now what the hell is going on? The band is too quiet for my liking,” he grates from under his breath, so only we can hear. His frustration is evident from the way he’s gnashing his teeth and glaring at the group. All the whispering amongst the band members has our security team on edge.

“I don’t know. Why don’t you go ask one of them?” Cal suggests, pointing to the band members. “They’re the ones who have the answer.”

First the band takes a hit with Mr. Wild’s death. And now they’re on the brink of losing it from the sad news about their manager. They don’t need us bothering them, so I volunteer the information.

“Ron found out he has colon cancer,” I say softly, as I continue to watch Connor, who has his arms wrapped tightly around himself. “We were told about it this morning.”

“Shit,” Cal bites out before clamping his jaw shut.

“Jesus,” Dom utters. “That’s hard news to hear, especially after burying Markus Wild.”

“This won’t be good,” Pen replies as he focuses on the band.

“Dean has to be worried,” Dom adds with a deeper frown before staring at Warrior Black’s bassist.

I’m not quite sure why Dom would bring up Dean—I didn’t know he was aware of what is going on between the owner of Harper Security and the band manager. And why is Dom looking so intensely at Callum?

“Focus,” Tobias strains out, eyeballing each of us. “One way or another, we’re here to do a job.”

“You know more than you’re saying. Spill it,” Pen says, with a note of demand in his voice. He folds his muscled arms across his broad chest and waits for our lead to speak.

Tobias’s throat bobs as he swallows hard. “Dean called me this morning while Danny was in the shower. He wanted to give me a heads up.” Tobias glances at his guy, and a shade of worry shadows his eyes before he returns his attention back to us. “He says Ron told Danny that it’s colon cancer and to not worry about it. But the truth is that it’s in the metastatic stage.”

“English,” Pen counters thin lipped.

“Stage four. Terminal,” I reply gruffly.

“I guess he’s known this diagnosis for a while, but hasn’t said anything until now.”

“What has he been waiting for?” Dom asks Tobias, who’s eyes revert back to Danny.

“Ron has been looking for a replacement to take over his clients. And from what Dean explained to me, Ron found someone. And they will be waiting for us at the airport.”

“Who is it?” I ask, but it really doesn’t matter. If I know Dean, he will have done a full background check on the person before giving Ron the okay to hire him.

Tobias runs a hand along the bald part of his scalp. “I don’t know how the band is going to handle seeing someone new taking over.”

“No doubt,” Pen agrees.

“Yeah. It’s going to be a shit-storm, boys, when the band finds out just how bad Ron is. I want us to be prepared when hellfire rains down. Knowing Danny, when he finds out the truth…” Tobias doesn’t need to further explain how the lead singer will react. We all know and have seen how passionate the man can be, especially when it comes down to his inner circle. All of them are.

Each member of the band gives Ron the credit for taking Warrior Black into the spotlight. He’s been there for every major milestone the band has hit. Ron has pushed, bitched, and, some say, lied—which hasn’t been proven, to get the band to the top.

“When will Ron tell them the truth?” Dom drops into a seat, a grim determination across his face.

“I don’t know, but when he does, we have to be present. Right, Cal?” Our lead lasers his attention on the youngest of our security group.

“Why are you picking on me, damn it? I’m here—I’m fucking present.”

“What he means, Cal, is that your excuses to take off on us like you did last year won’t work,” Pen jibes, looping a beefy arm over Cal’s shoulders.

“That was one fucking time, and now I’m being grilled for it,” Cal huffs, pushing off the man’s arm. “I’m not going nowhere, Tobias.” He strides toward the front of the plane and sits next to Raef.

Tobias sighs. “I hope so.”

“Is that it?” I’m afraid to ask, but need to.

“Yes,” Tobias says with resolve.

Dom, Fig, and Pen disburse, each of them taking positions around the band. I stay back with Tobias, another question forming in my head, but not wanting to share it with the rest of the team.

“Ask it,” Tobias whispers.

“I’m assuming that with the news, the schedule will shift.” Okay, it’s not a question, but I definitely need a confirmation from my friend.

“You know it. Danny will do what Ron asks, but I know my guy. After Rocktoberfest, there might not be a tour.” He confirms what I’ve been thinking.

“I had a feeling,” I admit.

“We’ll see who wins though. Danny’s stubborn, but Ron has been unbending.” He shrugs. “And now we know why.”

I’ve seen firsthand how tenacious the manager can be. He doesn’t take no for an answer, and will do whatever it takes to make sure Warrior Black gets everything they deserve. Ron Darling took a risk with them, and it paid off in the end.

The band’s popularity is growing by leaps and bounds. Losing their manager will cut deep for each member, especially Connor, since his father’s death is still fresh in his head and heart.

In the plane, the atmosphere has become too quiet for my liking. Even the flight attendant doesn’t utter a word as she passes out drinks to most of the band members. Danny ends up with juice, while our security opts for water.

An hour passes, and my attention remains fixed on Connor. His usual bouncing around from seat to seat is absent. He’s not joking around with his friends. Instead, he’s planted in the seat he took when we boarded the plane and hasn’t moved. With his earbuds in his ears, a notebook in front of him and a pencil in his hand, he’s more focused on what he’s scribbling down than what’s around him.

I want to talk to him, but from the way his body’s hunched forward—like he’s in a protective bubble, it seems he doesn’t want to be bothered. And I don’t blame him. I will give Connor the space he needs until he comes to me again.

After landing, Dom, Pen and I leave the plane first and meet with the two delivery drivers from Harper Security. They brought us a black Lincoln stretch limo and a black GMC SUV. After signing for the vehicles, the rest of our group climbs out of the plane.

Tobias and Dom lead the band to the limo while the rest of us grab the bags and stow them in the SUV. However, what we aren’t met with, is the new manager Tobias mentioned.

Per instruction from Ron’s text to Tobias, we head straight to the studio. When we arrive, the band finds out that their manager won’t be in attendance like he usually is, but in his place, Ron has sent a substitute.

“I want to officially introduce myself. I’m Dante Ross. My pros are they and them. I’ll be taking over for Ron, until he gets back on his feet.” But the smile on their face doesn’t reach their dark brown eyes.

Them and they. Need to remember that.

Even I can see how flawless their makeup is. Dressed in a red suit, cut to perfection, the pants hemmed at the ankles. The black shirt that peeks from under the jacket is trimmed around the V neckline in gold yet doesn’t distract from their impeccable presentation.

They move fluidly in a pair of four-inch black heels like they are born to it. Dante’s androgynous look is a visual decadence anyone in the human species could appreciate.

“Wait. How do you know Ron?” Rafe narrows his eyes on Dante, mistrust radiating from them. A quick scan at the rest of the band shows they all have the same wary look on their faces.

Dante’s unflinching stare has Rafe squirming where he stands. “I’m his cousin—but that doesn’t matter. Ron told me about the band and the situation you are in. Warrior Black has three days to finish recording the last six songs before the higher ups—his words, blow a fucking fuse.” Dante raises their gaze to Danny. “He also instructed me to tell you, Raven?—”

“Danny,” the singer corrects.

“Danny, right. Ron says that the tour can’t be changed, and you will follow through to the end, no matter what happens.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Connor grates out. “No matter what happens.”

“Ron means exactly that,” Danny weighs in with resigned sigh. “He knows us all too well. We can’t change the schedule to stay and help him with chemo or whatever else he needs.”

The dour look on the singer’s face shifts to one of dejection. Tobias walks to his lover and envelopes Danny in his arms. “He’s going to be alright.”

I know that’s not true, but I keep my mouth shut.

Connor looks at me, before turning away and grabbing a water bottle from the fridge. “Then we don’t have a choice.” And he gulps the entire contents down.

After a long silent moment, Callum chimes in. “Let’s finish this, then.”

“I have one more thing.” Dante turns from the band members to us. “You need to remain here in the waiting area. I don’t want any distraction from any of you.” They jab the air with their long, red, pointed fingernail.

“That’s not happening,” Tobias grits out. “We are their protection.”

“What are you protecting them from?” Dante tilts their chin up, folds their arms across their chest and glares intently at our lead.

Damn. Dante and Ron are related.

But Dante’s question has merit. Why are we here? It’s not like any of the band has a stalker like how Danny did last year. And there haven’t been any threats or nasty letters sent to the band.

Reluctantly, Tobias agrees, and we six remain in the waiting area behind the sound room.

With the music filtered through the sound system, we can hear when the band starts with Let the Dam Burst as a warmup . It’s one of the songs Danny wrote during last year’s tour about his experience, dealing with his ex and the stalker who almost killed him. The words are powerful, and the song holds a lot of secrets most listeners will not know. But we do. Then they play Choke It, followed by Free Fall .

Danny belts out words like he’s born to do it. But Connor, he’s lacking the fire I normally hear in his playing. His rhythm is off. And if I can tell, so can the band and the producer, because both Joe and Dante have stopped the recording session multiple times, redirected them, and had the band start over again.

Connor is off, and when I spy him through the sound room glass, his face doesn’t have the passion I’ve grown to care about. Then I meet his eyes, and a blaze of indignation ignites in those green irises. Something must have kicked in, because Joe grunts and says, “Fucking finally.”

They finish recording the first song. The whole band looks tired, but they continue on with the next track, Sink or Swim , which is also the title of the album. Danny and Connor co-wrote together. I know this because I sat near them, and listened to the words as they strung them together.

They run through the song once, like the powerhouse I know Warrior Black to be, and it’s perfect.

They move on to Can’t Have Just One —the song Callum wrote at one of his weekend retreats in Colorado, but it’s hitting eleven p.m. and Dante finally calls it quits for the first night.

As the guys stroll into the break room area, Dante steps toward Connor and asks, “May I have a word with you?” They point to a door, which happens to be a small office.

Connor glances at the manager with surprise, before grumbling, “Fine.”

He strides toward the room. I follow Connor and Dante, but Dante spins around and declares, “Alone.” Then they close the door nearly in my face when I try to enter anyway.

“John,” Tobias clips out.

I could have been a bastard and pushed my way in. Instead, I grit my teeth, stand there and wait.

This close, I can hear their murmured conversation, but don’t hear any clear-cut words. It doesn’t take long before Connor storms out and shouts in a growl, “I want to get the fuck out of here.”

“What did they say to you?” Danny asks Connor, but glares at Dante.

“How sorry they are for Dad’s death and some other bullshit,” Connor grates out. “Let’s go.”

“Where are we staying? In a hotel? On the tour bus? Because I know for damn sure we aren’t staying at Ron’s,” Callum states, before rubbing his hands over his face.

“You’re right,” Dante says, a set of three silver keys dangling from their fingers. “Since you can’t stay at Ron’s, he procured a place for the band to stay until you leave for Black Rock.”

“Where?” Danny questions.

“Text me the location.” Tobias raises his cell phone.

“The house is in the Pacific Heights area.” Dante sends the address to Tobias, and soon after my phone pings, along with the rest of the security team’s phones. I glance at the screen and a link to the place is visible.

“Apparently, this place has a sound studio with all the equipment you need in the basement. Use it before you head to Black Rock. And don’t worry about disturbing the neighbors, it’s sound proof. No one will hear you.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound ominous.” Rafe chuckles.

Dante purses their lips at the guitarist and shakes their head. “Anyway, use the time wisely.” They pass the keys to Tobias.

“Will you and Ron be joining us at Rocktoberfest?” Bobby asks as he drops a chewed-up pixie stick into the small garbage can.

“Not sure,” Dante says with hitch. “Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow.” With those parting words, they walk out the door.

I glance at Connor, who’s focused on his cell phone. He’s texting someone. His fingers are rapidly tapping, while his face holds a grim determination.

Jealousy creeps in, and I want to know who he’s talking to. His mother? A hookup? But I stay quiet and cemented in place, until Connor finally looks around and catches me watching him. He quickly looks away and shoves his cell in his jacket pocket.

Red floods his cheeks, and I don’t know if the blush is because of me, or what he texted.

Stay put. He’s not yours. I tell myself.

Right before the band walks out of the building, Tobias reaches my side. “Stay close to him,” he whispers to me in warning. I nod.

Tobias takes the lead, and we follow him outside. We pile into the same two vehicles and leave for the new house. The air in the vehicle feels heavier than a two-ton weight, but neither Tobias nor I break the silence in the limo.

I glance over my shoulder to the back seat and see that Danny is tearing up, but Connor has a blank look on his face—it’s like looking at a plain piece of paper. Until he glances down at his cell phone, where his expressionless face whips into one of frustration. Now more than ever I want to know who he was texting.