He snatched up his cellphone. No messages. Oh shit, oh shit. This wasn’t like Elliot. He wouldn’t have left…
Killy grabbed Rob by the neck and slung him against the wall, pinning him in place with anger, hatred, and one hell of a load of adrenaline. “What the fuck did you do to him?”
“What?” Rob stared, wide-eyed, and choked out the words from a constricted windpipe. “I didn’t do anything to him. He was just being a pussy…”
What the ever-loving fuck? Killian tightened his grip on the bastard’s throat and shook him again, banging his head against the wall. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of skin disappearing beneath cotton and a blur fleeing the room as Anonymous Fuck found better places to be. With any luck he hadn’t filmed anything he’d later upload to the Internet.
With no witnesses, Killy put his nose close to Rob’s. The chemical fumes of what he’d been smoking made Killy’s eyes water. “El wouldn’t have left you willingly, though God knows he should. You had to have done something. Now, tell me or I’ll beat the truth out of you.” If Rob even knew the truth. He’d lied to himself and everyone else for so long…
Just because the only reason Rob didn’t answer was Killy’s chokehold didn’t excuse him. Killy drew back his arm for a punch.
“Don’t! He’s not worth it,” came from the open doorway. Elliot grabbed Killy’s wrist, stopping him from letting fly.
Killy froze, taking in the haunted eyes, Elliot tightly holding his ribs. El had never been strong, could never be half the son of a bitch Killy could.
Younger brother Killy always took control.
Rob gave a weak cough, reminding Killy breathing might be a good thing—though not for this shithead. He shoved Rob toward the door. “Consider yourself fired.”
Rob, bravado returning, stepped back, rubbing his throat and making puppy dog eyes at Elliot. “Babe, you gonna let him talk to me like that?” The smirk on the bastard’s face indicated whose side he thought Elliot would take.
“I’ll talk to you any damned way I please,” Killy snapped. “Now pack your bags. This was your last night playing with the band.”
“No. We need him for the tour.” Though Elliot defended his piece of shit lover, he didn’t put himself between the two growling tomcats about to wage a dominance war.
Rob grinned his victory. “Yeah, Killy. You heard the man.”
His smile fell at El’s, “The tour ends in two weeks. We’ll go back to L.A. Find a new drummer.” His voice wavered and he avoided Rob’s eyes, but for once he didn’t back down.
Killy pushed his smaller brother behind him. “Two weeks. That’s all. Now, get out of my sight before I change my mind and kill you here and now.” He slammed the door in the asshole’s face and turned, catching his brother by both shoulders. Elliot winced. Killy removed his hands. “You okay?”
Elliot’s soft voice barely registered. “I’m fine.”
He certainly didn’t appear fine. “Where were you?”
“I texted, but you didn’t answer, so I went to Ace’s room.”
Texted? Killy didn’t see a text. Not that it mattered. He snatched up his phone again. Oh. Not his phone. Where the hell was his phone?
Now came Killy’s turn to wince. His brother needed him and he’d been involved. He should’ve stayed in his room alone, or taken Ace up on his offer of Netflix and beer.
He studied his brother’s face, wanting to ask, needing to ask, but he’d not get an answer to “What happened?”
“Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked instead.
Elliot nodded after a heart-stoppingly long pause. “I will be.”
The anxious look in his eyes when he finally glanced up made Killy want to chase Rob down. “It’s not too late, you know. He can be gone by morning.”
Elliot blew out a breath and ran a hand through unruly brown hair so like their mother’s. “No. We can’t do that to him. At least if he has warning he can find another job. We probably need to discuss contracts with Gus too.”
Poor, soft-hearted Elliot. If Killy had his way their no-account drummer would never work again. “Are you hungry?”
Besides, he was quite sure he’d insisted on a “no assholes” clause in any written agreements.
Elliot stood stock-still in the middle of the room, unmoving. “No.”
“You look tired. Take my bed.” As an afterthought, changing the sheets first might be a good idea. He and his nameless fuck had given the mattress a pretty good workout.
