Guarding January Read online

  Readers love Cupcakes

  by SEAN MICHAEL

  “Over the years, I have read several of Sean Michael’s books and this is the best one yet.”

  —Hearts on Fire

  “Cupcakes is a tender and sweet Love story that I thoroughly enjoyed.”

  —Top 2 Bottom Reviews

  “This book took me on an emotional ride, it made me sad, and angry and happy. Not to mention flushed because when these two men come together they melt the frosting right off the cupcakes!”

  —Guilty Indulgence Romance Reviews

  “Sean Michael is such a versatile author you never quite know what you are going to get… This book was more of a heartwarming love story with plenty of hot sex thrown in to keep you on your toes.”

  —The Novel Approach

  “I found myself in love with this novel from the start. It was amazing, sexy, and dynamite. The more I read it, the more I loved it.”

  —MM Good Book Reviews

  By SEAN MICHAEL

  Guarding January

  The Swag Man Delivers

  Cupcakes

  Two Tickets to Paradise (Dreamspinner Anthology)

  Published By DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

  Copyright

  Published by

  DREAMSPINNER PRESS

  5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886 USA

  http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of author imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Guarding January

  © 2015 Sean Michael.

  Cover Art

  © 2015 Brooke Albrecht.

  http://brookealbrechtstudio.com

  Cover content is for illustrative purposes only and any person depicted on the cover is a model.

  All rights reserved. This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is illegal and a violation of international copyright law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. Any eBook format cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. To request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press, 5032 Capital Circle SW, Suite 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA, or http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/.

  ISBN: 978-1-63216-816-0

  Digital ISBN: 978-1-63216-817-7

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2014920697

  First Edition March 2015

  Printed in the United States of America

  This paper meets the requirements of

  ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992 (Permanence of Paper).

  PROLOGUE

  RYE SAT on the little chair in the waiting room, feeling like some sort of oversized gorilla.

  There’d been three other bodyguards waiting when he’d arrived, but two had gone in and come back out in short order. The last guy ahead of him had lasted a minute or two longer. A tired-looking blonde had poked her head out as well, telling him she needed a couple minutes.

  He glanced at his watch. He was between jobs and didn’t have anywhere to be, so it wasn’t like he minded waiting. This chair, though, was a little on the uncomfortable side. He shifted, the whole thing creaking ominously. It was small, and he was worried it wasn’t going to hold his weight.

  You could say a lot of things about him—he was a solid guy, trustworthy, surefooted, and reliable. One thing you couldn’t say? He was small.

  He debated getting up and standing over by the window or something, but he didn’t want Donna Heard to think he was antsy or getting cold feet. Reg Storm, who’d given him the heads-up on the job after he’d finished a stint keeping the rock star safe from a stalker, had told him Donna was a real stickler.

  A ballbuster, even.

  And obsessed with keeping her pseudovampire, crazy-assed-fans-sending-blood-in-the-mail singer alive.

  It was a good thing he liked a challenge and didn’t judge.

  He shifted, and the chair creaked alarmingly again. Okay, he was standing. Looking like he was restless had to be better than breaking the damn chair.

  The door opened about the same time his ass left the chair. “Sorry for the delay. I had a phone call. Please, come in.”

  “No worries. I’m sure you’re very busy.” He held out his hand. “I’m Rye Sommers.”

  “Donna Heard. Pleased.” The office was classy, furnished with heavy, overstuffed furniture, way more solid than the stuff in the waiting area. “Have a seat.”

  “Thank you.” He sat, nothing creaking or shifting in warning. Oh thank God. That was just… ridiculous.

  “Sorry about the tiny chairs out there. You’re… a big guy.”

  That had him chuckling. “You did nearly have firewood there. Big is what you need, though, right?” Little guys weren’t bodyguards.

  “Absolutely. And LJ is… challenging.” She leaned back, steepled her fingers, and was completely in control.

  “Challenging? I’m good with challenges. Can you be more specific?” He knew LJ stood for Lord January. Lord. January. He’d seen pictures of the guy too. Skinny, tattoos, piercings, and makeup. Lots of makeup.

  “First, tell me about you. About your specialties.”

  “I’ve been bodyguarding for six years. I’ve never lost a client. I specialize in twenty-four/seven care.”

  “And you’re comfortable with travel? This is a long-term position.”

  Long term was good. It would be nice to have something a little more permanent. He was tired of bouncing from job to job.

  “I don’t even have a goldfish for someone to feed while I’m away.”

  “I’ve checked your references. You come highly recommended. LJ needs round-the-clock attention. And I want you working solo. The last thing he needs is two or three strangers coming into his life full-time. As you can imagine, his persona is… not conducive to normal life.”

  “I googled him. I imagine not everything I read was true, but it seems very, uh, colorful.”

  The man was apparently in rehab. Of course he also apparently ate live rats every Friday night before having a massive orgy.

  “Colorful is one word for it.” Donna rolled her eyes. “He’s been in rehab—willingly, I might add—and from all reports, he’s done well. The doctors say he’s stronger than he was when he went in. He’s gained thirty-five pounds. He’s clean. It’ll take seven seconds on the road with all those assholes for it to be ripped apart.”

  “So you want me to run interference with the groupies, the band, anyone who tries to get him hooked again?”

  “I need someone to keep him safe, fed, clean. Keep the pushers away from him, as best you can. Temptations are everywhere, and LJ is… easily tempted. He gets bored, stressed, worried. You have eight weeks before he goes on the road, then a thirty-week world tour.”

  “How far do I go to keep him clean?”

  “His heart stopped twice the night before we admitted him. Twice.” Suddenly Donna seemed like an avenging fucking angel. “I’ll pull him off the road forever if it saves his life.”

  “So I won’t be fired for sitting on him to keep him from going out and getting a hit?”

  “He can’t fire you. I do ask that we keep this as private as possible. His image is one thing, his real life another. You work for me, personally.”


  “I’m not sure what you’re saying. Do you mean he won’t know you hired me or what for?” Rye wasn’t sure about that. The best way to protect a client was to be up front with them.

  “No, sir. I mean he can’t fire you. He can fuss and bluster, but only I can fire you.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “I take it his public image is to remain….” He waved his hand.

  “January the Vampire Lord.” Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

  How did something like that start?

  “As long as I don’t have to call him ‘my lord,’ I think this will work.”

  “LJ is fine.”

  “I’m licensed to carry a firearm. Do you want me to?” Some clients felt more comfortable if he was armed; others felt just the opposite.

  She stopped and gave the matter some thought. “Perhaps keep one locked away. He might… I don’t know.”

  Lord January was rich, famous, with millions of screaming fans, yet it sounded like he wasn’t very happy. Hell, her fear of suicide added to the addictions told that story. “You don’t want him to have access. I have a lockbox for it. That way it’ll be fairly easy for me, but only me, to get to.”

  “Yes. Oh yes. Please.” She looked so relieved.

  “How closely do I need to watch him for… self-destructive behavior?”

  “I think the only not-destructive thing he’s ever done is agree to rehab.”

  “So at some point this stopped being an interview and started being a game plan. I take it I have the job?” Thinking back to how quickly the other interviews had ended, he had to wonder if he was the only one who hadn’t run off screaming. January sounded like a handful, and it was a huge responsibility, taking it on without backup.

  “I take it you do.”

  “I gather from what I’ve read that… LJ is still in rehab. I’d like to go through the house before he gets out, make sure any threats have been removed, and become familiar with it. I’ll also need a list of who else has access to LJ, who I can expect to be in his life on a regular basis. I assume you’ve kept a file of threats made on his life.” He went into work mode, running through a checklist in his head.

  “Yes. Yes, he’s out on Friday afternoon.”

  “I can meet him at the door to the rehab center and stay by his side from then on.” He’d spend tomorrow wrapping up any loose ends: shut up his apartment, let his sister and mother know he might be slow to answer communication, all that stuff. That would free him up to do the walk-through of LJ’s place on Thursday.

  “I can get you all the background stuff you need. How much are you asking for your wage?”

  “I realize I’ll be getting room and board, but I’ll be on duty twenty-four/seven, so that also has to be taken into account. A thousand a day.”

  To her credit, she didn’t even blink. “Fine. He uses once, and you’re out. No second chances.”

  “Understood.” He came to his feet and held out his hand. “I’ll keep him safe, Ms. Heard. Even from himself.”

  “That’s your job. Talk to my secretary about the details. She’ll get you what you need.”

  “Will you let LJ know I’m picking him up, or am I meeting him cold?”

  “I’ll let him know. He isn’t good with surprises at the best of times.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. Thank you. You won’t be disappointed.” He gave her a tight smile and headed out.

  He was going to have to drop Reg Storm a thank you note for suggesting the job to him and giving him a reference. Looked like this one was going to be a challenge, which was how he liked it.

  CHAPTER ONE

  “DO I have to go?” Jeff stood at the door of the room he’d been living in for eight months. Eight months he’d been safe and happy in there. Eight months he’d been able to be just Jeff, instead of Lord January. “Jim, can’t I just stay?”

  “Oh, honey, you know you can’t. You have all the tools to do this. You do.” His sponsor and the man who had become a friend stared at him, smiled.

  “You look like Santa Claus when you do that.”

  “Shut up.”

  They looked at each other, and then they cracked up, leaning together, and if he cried a bit, Jim didn’t say a word.

  “Come on. Donna sent a car for you, to take you home.”

  “She sent a babysitter.”

  He couldn’t even complain—he probably needed one—but couldn’t it be Jim? Couldn’t he stay there where he was safe?

  “You have my number, Jeff. Use it if you need it, okay? I mean that.”

  He nodded, wrapped his hoodie around him, iPod in the pocket, put his sunglasses on, and hunched inside the fabric.

  Jim gave him a short, hard hug, then walked him out the front door. Out into the world.

  He winced away from the sunlight, tugging his hood down farther. “My things?”

  “Already in the car, sir.” A mountain of a man threw him into shadow, and a huge paw was held out. “I’m Rye.”

  “I don’t shake hands. Sorry.” Jesus, Donna had hired a giant. “I’ll call, Jim, okay? Soon?”

  “Anytime, Jeff. I promise.”

  The giant waited until he started down the walk, then paced him. “We’re the dark gray SUV to the right of the gate.”

  “Okay.” He kept his head down, making sure the light and the long-range lenses couldn’t get to him.

  He had to admit, having the Hulk walking next to him gave him some cover to hide behind, made him feel less exposed. Didn’t mean he suddenly wanted the babysitter, mind you.

  The walk down the path seemed to take for-fucking-ever, but at last they were at the car, his minder opening the door for him and bundling him in. The door shut with a very final sounding click, and in seconds they were driving away from the one place he knew was safe.

  Jeff put his earphones in and turned the music up loud, the noise pounding in his head.

  He stayed in his cocoon until the door opened, his new bodyguard’s hand touching his arm. Aside from really tall and really built, the guy had short brown hair, like military cut almost, and a square jaw you’d expect some tough bodyguard to have. His new bodyguard’s eyes were surprisingly blue, like bright and alive. Jeff slid his gaze from the guy to the house.

  Home sweet home. Goodie. He stood, the garage quiet and still. There were two doors down there—one to his rooms, one to the rest of the house where everyone else was. He grabbed his guitar, then headed to the door on the left, heading upstairs without a word.

  Rye—that was what the guy had said his name was, right?—kept up with him, right behind him on the stairs like a shadow.

  “These are my rooms.” He knew Donna would have had them searched, emptied of anything—uppers or downers.

  “I know. Hell, the whole house is yours, LJ.”

  He didn’t bother to argue, but he knew better. The guys in the band came and went, the groupies, people who called themselves friends. Technically his money had paid for the house, but it was a part of Lord January’s image and had very little to do with him.

  Following him right to his bedroom, Rye put his bag from rehab down at the end of his bed.

  “So…. Are you hungry?”

  “No.” He moved to sit in the huge overstuffed chair in the corner. “I think I’m just going to sleep. I’m not sure what Donna wants you to do, but I’m going to just rest for a couple of days. I don’t want company.”

  “I’m not company. I’m your bodyguard. Whither thou goest, there shall I go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” He was never leaving this room.

  Ever.

  And even though he knew that was a lie, it was the one he was sticking with right now.

  “Then neither am I.” Rye, the giant, smiled down at him. “Except maybe to make you a sandwich. Are you sure you’re not hungry?”

  “I’m not hungry. Make yourself at home. I assume someone got you a room?”

  “Somebody who? It’s just you and me.” Rye sat on his bed.

&
nbsp; “There’s staff—a cook, housekeeper, all the people. Someone let you in.”

  “The housekeeper comes in once a week now, and everyone else has been sent away. Ms. Heard didn’t feel you needed the distractions.” Rye dug into his pocket and pulled out a little ring of keys. “I let myself in.”

  “Oh.” Jeff pulled the hoodie down farther, found another playlist on his phone, and put the earphones in, the music battering him, drowning out the world.

  He wanted to go back to rehab.

  He wanted to be safe.

  “I’m going to make a sandwich and bring a chair in to sit with you. I won’t be long.”

  He nodded and waited for Rye to leave. Then he went to the closet, took his shoes off, and grabbed a blanket. His stashbox was in the safe, right there, and he didn’t look at it. He just needed to have it in case.

  He curled up in his chair, hid under his blanket, and went to sleep.

  Once today was over, he could work on tomorrow being over too. One day at a time, and all that bullshit. Still, it was all he had.

  GOD, RYE was bored.

  Fucking bored.

  Four days of bodyguarding January, lord of the fucking vampires, and all they’d done was sit in this room. There was only so much Candy Crush a man could play without feeling de-masculinized.

  LJ was still and silent. He’d eaten once in four days, had one huge bottle of water a day, taken a few bathroom breaks, and mostly stayed in that chair, hidden under a blanket.

  It was creepy.

  Hell, the kid was creepy. Big dark eyes, long dark hair, skin pale as milk except where the ink covered him.

  Rye wanted to feed him the world’s biggest ham and cheese sandwich, slather him in suntan lotion, and take him out into the sun. It was hard to believe this kid was the same bad boy rock star he’d seen in the YouTube vids. This guy was tiny and bruised and barely breathing.

  Phone light filtered out from under the blanket, so he knew LJ was awake. That was something.

  “So how about we go for a swim today? You’ve got that great pool out there, just… sitting.”