“Here it is. I knew I’d written it down. So, you didn’t tell Killian Desmond to call here?”
What the… “Killian?” Mike hung up the call. Killian? Killian called Mike’s folks?
* * *
Killian returned from his errand and placed a pizza box on the dresser. “You…”
Mike stood by the window, back turned. “Why, Killian? Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” He crossed the floor and put a hand on Mike’s shoulder.
Mike shrugged it off. “Have the reporter ask those questions about my family.”
What the fuck? “I didn’t. I swear to God, I had nothing to do with that, and I’d like to find who did and kick the shit out of them.” How in the world had Mike reached such a ridiculous conclusion?
Mike turned, eyes closed. “I called home. The preacher said you called, told him to watch the interview.”
Oh, fuck. Killy’s heart dropped to his stomach. He’d not meant to betray Mike’s trust. Had he? “It’s not what you think. I did call, but only because I wanted that jerk who stole your family to see what you’ve made of yourself. I’d never put you on the spot like that in the interview.”
Mike opened red eyes. His lip trembled, but he won the battle, wiping at his face with the back of his hand. Only a few teardrops fell. Each one added a lead weight to Killy’s heart. “Don’t you think it’s a coincidence?”
At once time Killy never cared about actions and reactions. He’d done as he’d damned well pleased and to hell with consequences. “I’ve been an idiot. Three years ago I stayed too wasted to know or care what people thought. Hell, half the time I never even showed up at press conferences.”
“You said you wanted my family to know what I made of myself. I haven’t done anything. The only thing I did was meet you.” Mike lay down on one side of the bed, deflating like a stuck balloon.
Killy sat beside him. No matter how much he wanted to, Killy couldn’t breach the gap. “Look, I’ve been in this business a long time. Nothing is ever off limits. Reporters make their living digging up dirt. I’m sorry, but they’re probably swarming your parents’ house now, asking why you were declared dead. It’s the nature of the beast. Scandals sell. I never meant for that to happen.”
He’d find out why Gus didn’t stop that bastard reporter.
Nobody hurt his man.
The pizza sat forgotten and cold on the dresser while they climbed beneath the sheets. At least Mike allowed Killy to spoon against his back. “I’d do anything to make this better. You have to know that.”
Mike answered with a sigh. The moment he stopped thrashing and went to sleep, Killian crept from the bed and out onto the balcony and searched “Michael Rose” on his phone.
He found a few videos of a much younger Mike, but to be honest, if he’d stumbled over them without prior knowledge, he’d never have connected his Texas cowboy with the clean-cut young man in a tie.
He made a phone call.
Gus answered on the first ring. “Killy? Where the fuck are you? I went to your room looking for you.”
Killian barely restrained a growl. “Why did you let that reporter attack Mike?”
“I had nothing to do with what that man asked, but your fans want to know. It’s not like a quick Internet search won’t show his past.”
“Yes, but an Internet search isn’t a personal attack to his face. No matter what they’ve done to him, he loves his family. Doesn’t want them hurt.” Killian scrubbed a hand through his hair, fingers catching on the irregular scars on his scalp. “He thinks I had something to do with it.”
“Did you?”
What the fuck? Was this jerk for real? “Oh, hell no. But you could’ve stopped it.”
Silence, then, “Look, you’re recording, writing, performing, but you still haven’t signed a label. We have to get your name back out there, have people talking about Trickster, to get the big dogs to make an offer.”
And yet Gus objected to the podcasts. What better way to get his name out to the world?
Cold to beat Michigan in the dead of winter swept through Killian’s insides. Had Gus planned this? For publicity. Apparently, there was no bad publicity unless orchestrated by anyone other than Gus himself. “Not by throwing one of the band under a bus.”
He ended the call, knowing what he needed to do next.
