Desires' Guardian (2 page)

What business could there be between the three of us?

“Business first is fine, James,” Rhys rumbled. “Though I’m still not sure how you think Mr. Manning can help.”

“What are you two needing help with?” Chase’s eyes flitted between his best friend and the man he simultaneously wanted to throttle and devour. He cursed his dick as it stood up and took notice of Rhys’s closeness.

“Not us, Chase. Rhys needs the services of a tech god. One that is good, discreet, and,” James paused and shared a look with Rhys, “creative? But he doesn’t believe you would agree to work for him, even temporarily.”

“Tech god? Really?” Chase giggled before the rest of what James said sank in. “Wait, you want me to help Rhys with some computer problem? Why not just call the Geek Squad and have them fix it?”

“Chase.”

“Why me?”

“I told you he wouldn’t agree, James. I need a hacker or cracker or what-the-hell-ever they want to be called, not some wannabe desk jockey who thinks he’s too good for anyone,” Rhys grumbled. The look of disgust irritated Chase more than the words, though they didn’t go unnoticed either.

“If anyone thinks he’s too good, it’s you, you pom—”

“Chase!”

“Fine,” he snapped. He waved one long, slender hand toward Rhys as he continued. “What possible help could I be to
him
?” He couldn’t bring himself to willingly address Rhys directly—snapping at Rhys didn’t count. “Desk jockey?” “Wannabe?” The insufferable man might be nearly a foot taller than him, but he itched to teach him some manners.

“Chill for a minute, please. Rhys, as you know, is a PI and a bodyguard.” When Chase nodded, James continued. “He’s doing some work, though I don’t know the details, and needs someone with serious computer skills but can’t use his usual person. I was hoping you would help him.”

James, the traitor, motioned Rhys to speak.

“Mr. Manning, James said you left Skye Designs and do consulting and freelance work now. He and Seth claim you’re the best, so I am here to hire you. If you agree, you will be paid for any and all work. I’m not asking a favor, I’m offering you a business proposition.”

Chase listened as Rhys spoke and watched as emotions played across his face. Irritation, curiosity, worry…. Chase pursed his lips, glancing between James and Rhys.
Work with Rhys? Is James nuts?
He dropped his gaze to his wine glass and shook his head as he thought about working with Rhys Sayer—egomaniac, ass hat, sex god. If it was for Mark Gentry, Rhys’s business partner, he would say yes right way, but could he deal with Rhys that much?

Rhys crossed his powerful arms. “I should go, Jay. I don’t want to mess with your buddy-date thing or stress you before your show tonight. I retract my request, Mr. Manning.” He raised one huge hand, motioning their server over. “Can you box mine, please?”

James sighed and frowned, a look Chase hated to see.

“Wait,” Chase countered. “Do you really need IT help with your company? And why can’t your normal guy work it? Surely you have one on staff.”

James’s lips twitched, and Chase knew he’d been had, but then, he never said no to James anyway, so why start now?

“Pouting won’t help, Chase. Be good.”

Chase rolled his eyes but couldn’t help smiling. “Brat.”

“My normal
guy
would be pissed at being called a guy,” Rhys explained and smirked. “Kailee just got married and moved, with her new husband, across the country. She could still do part of what I need, but I would rather have someone local, especially for this sort of work. She agrees with James about your tech skills, so I’m willing to try you.” Rhys flushed red, his eyes going round and wide. “I mean…. Oh, never mind. Will you help or not?” he grumbled.

D
ANNI
B
URNS
,
James’s seven-year-old stepdaughter, and Rhys sat on a blanket in a glade dotted with small flowers near a gently winding brook, having tea, Rhys in his biker leather and Danni in one of her lavender princess dresses. Mrs. Rainbow—her beloved pastel, tie-dyed bunny in a tiny white-and-green Irish dancing dress with miniature black Mary Janes—rested between the two.

“So what do you think?” James asked, startling Chase out of his musing as he stood before what was secretly one of his favorite paintings of the collection. The gallery show had opened about an hour earlier, but the two men hadn’t had much time together to discuss what images would be shown. Honestly, the fact there was such a family feel to part of the images, as opposed to James’s usual erotic content, surprised Chase.

“I think you caught the mischief and sweetness of Danni beautifully.” In truth, he was in awe of how James managed to capture both of their inner selves so perfectly. In his opinion, it was one of James’s best paintings. The gentle giant and his precious little sprite. “But why did you pair her with Rhys of all people? He’s so….” Chase trailed off, caught again by the striking masculinity before him.

“Powerful? Handsome? Gentle?” James raised an eyebrow at Chase and smiled. “I honestly wish you would tell me why all the animosity between you two,” he added, voice soft.

“It doesn’t matter, Jamie.” He wrapped one arm around James’s shoulders. “Come on, show me around some. I hear the artist is supposed to be pretty good, after all,” Chase teased.

“Oh, you think he might be better than me?”

Chase would do anything to keep the huge grin gracing his best friend’s face right then. “Maybe,” he singsonged. Considering him for a moment, Chase took James’s hand. “Seriously, you’ve outdone yourself. I’m so proud of you.”

James blinked and looked up, smiling, his cheeks pink. “Thank you, Chase.”

“James, it’s time.” Seth’s voice broke their moment, startling both men. “Gather up your Chase and hurry, please.”

Chase looked over to Seth, confused about what he was referring to.
The show isn’t over, so where is he taking Jamie, and what does that have to do with me?

“Oh! Oh, good. Come on, dear.” James pushed him toward Seth and then maneuvered on his forearm crutches to follow behind.

Chase followed obediently, confused but moving with the flow of bodies around him. “What’s going on, guys?” he asked once they were at the front of the gallery. He looked around and noticed there was a large covered frame that hadn’t been there earlier.

Rhys’s brother, Dal, sidled up beside Chase, bending to whisper into his ear, “He’s got one last painting to reveal, but it’s a special one. I heard not even Britt”—the owner of the gallery—“has seen this one.”

“Really?” He peered up at Dal, again noticing how much he looked like Rhys, only a couple of inches shorter and a few pounds lighter.

“Shh… he’s getting ready to speak.”

Chase realized James now stood in front of the painting, smiling again.

“First, let me thank everyone for your warm reception and the wonderful turnout. As some of you know, I don’t really do speeches, but this last painting is special. I debated showing
Inner Light,
but in the end decided others needed to see the subject as I do.” James moved to the side, releasing his grip on one forearm crutch. He touched the sheet but didn’t move it yet. “You see, sometimes when people reveal who they truly are inside, we find a vile, rotting corpse, but other times, what we find….” He trailed off and touched a recessed panel.

The sheet, which Chase realized was actually a curtain, slid aside to reveal a painting of… him! Well, it was him, but not him at the same time. The artistry was magnificent, but over half his face a lion was superimposed. The lion part even had his ear cuff clipped to the furry ear. Chase gaped, barely noting the gasps and clapping that burst all around him.

Chase moved to the side, trying not to attract attention as questions and praise swarmed James. He couldn’t stop staring at the painting, trying to see how it could possibly be a representation of himself, but couldn’t. He wasn’t powerful or strong like a lion. And while he knew he was decent looking, the man in the painting had an ethereal beauty that dumbfounded him. It was both humbling and uncomfortable to look upon and hear Jamie’s voice in his head saying that was how he saw him.

Chase was startled out of his thoughts when two of his friends, Simon Tyler and Dale Miller, nudged him. “Chase! Did you know about the painting? It’s amazing,” Simon gushed.

Chase shook his head. “I didn’t. He can’t really see me that way, can he?”

“With as much as you’ve done over the years to help and protect him, yeah, I think that’s exactly how he sees you,” Dale replied. “Of course, he’s obviously blind. But then, if he showed you as you really are, no one would buy his artwork.” Dale and Simon cackled, and Chase glowered at the both of them.

“Maybe he’s trying to make up for conning you into working with Rhys,” Simon suggested.

“Harrumph! I still can’t believe I said yes, but you really think all this was planned? Seriously?”

“Eh, ignore Simon.”

“We’re going out tomorrow night to forget about the sexy ox, so don’t sweat it,” Simon said and winked. “Now, go congratulate James and smile. You look totally wrong with the scowl on your pretty face,” he instructed, turning Chase and pushing him toward the now advancing James.

D
ALE
M
ILLER
shook Chase awake when he pulled up to the curb in front of Chase’s apartment building. Chase realized, belatedly, that he probably should have stayed in the night before. The sleep deprivation was not going to make spending the next nine hours or so at work, dealing with Rhys, any easier. He’d regretted agreeing to the date the previous night about ten minutes after John, his blind date, arrived. He’d told Simon setting him up was a bad idea, but those big, brown puppy eyes always got him into trouble—
every damn time!
Of course, he regretted agreeing to work for Rhys Sayer too, but his ability to tell James “no” was worse.

“Come on, buddy. You have work to get to. So do I.” Dale didn’t look much more awake than Chase felt, but he dutifully nodded and managed to remember to unbuckle before he got out of Dale’s little green Toyota Yaris.

“Thanks,” Chase mumbled as he grabbed his jacket and shuffled off toward his apartment on the second floor.

He stopped in his kitchen long enough to start the coffeemaker before heading to his room to strip. Chase glanced at his alarm clock and winced at the time. It was a little after six, Monday morning. Once his clothes were off and in the hamper, he padded into the bathroom to take a hot shower. He firmly believed sweat and smoke on a body were
not
attractive the next day. He cleaned up and got dressed, only fumbling with his slacks twice. He took one last look in the mirror and grimaced at the somewhat haggard look in his eyes.
Bad date followed by friend crying over a broken heart…. Never again, please!

Chase made sure to put his leather cuff back on his left wrist, covering the scar there, and willfully ignoring the memories that always threatened to resurface when he was too tired. It and the silver spoon on a choker, he never left home without. He idly toyed with the double buckle as he thought about what John had said the night before, but wearing a leather cuff did not make him a sub or a bottom, no matter what anyone else thought.

Chase was thankful for the light traffic on his way to The Coiled Dragon Agency, the PI and bodyguard company Rhys and Mark owned. His mind wandered as he drove, reflecting on the changes in his life since he’d left Skye Designs. He’d only stayed so long in the first place to be there for James, but now that James only worked for them on a consulting basis and had dedicated himself to his art career, there was nothing to keep Chase there anymore. Starting his own consulting firm had terrified him at first, but he loved the freedom. Besides, it allowed him to still act as James’s assistant when needed.

He made it to the site right on time. He hoped his annoyance and exhaustion wouldn’t be too visible.

Shoving his keys into his pocket, Chase stepped out of his light blue Cruze, tilted his head back, and welcomed the crisp cool air and bright morning sun as it beat down on him. He knew he needed to wake up more and stop scowling before he met with Rhys, but his nerves had been on edge ever since he’d said yes two days ago.

He took a deep breath, then turned and headed toward the office. Chase’s phone rang as he reached for the door. “Manning,” he answered, no longer hiding the lilt he normally spoke with. He was his own boss now, and he refused to tone down or hide who he was ever again.

“Chase Manning?”

“Yes, this is Chase.”

“Good. I have the right number.” He recognized the voice but couldn’t put his finger on who it was, not with the loud, rumbling background noise.

“Yes, you have my number. Now, do I get to know who you are, or should I hang up?” he teased.

It kind of sounded like Dal, but the chuckle that came through the phone went straight to his gut. “I had you pegged for the studious type that always checks the screen before answering.” He knew that voice now: Rhys.