Upper Manhattan, New York, three sixteen p.m.

“Okay, let’s start from the top. A one, and a two, and a one, two, three, four.” Darien Moseley, the drummer for the band Phuze, counted in rhythm and his bandmates Salvi Johann and Ira Passe followed his lead on bass and keyboards. They were a bare bones band who’d made their name on the local and national scene. They refused to compromise with record companies, so they’d created their own label, Musictyme, only using a bigger label for distribution.

Darien Mosely, aka BA Pointe, was largely part of their desire to stay virtually unknown, besides the band’s basic stubbornness. As a control freak, he ran the social media pages, negotiated contracts for distribution and sent the music to traditional and Internet radio stations. He took over the bulk of the work because, in his mind, it couldn’t be done right unless he was behind it. But he controlled everything to keep his cover secret for PROTEKT.

To Johann and Ira, he was just Darien—their drummer, manager and financial provider, willing to take over all tasks if needed. To PROTEKT, he was a top agent, working undercover on missions the authorities couldn’t complete. As of late, his directions from Chief Wes Moreland had been to lie low while they continued the search for Pablo Ora. But, as with all agents, they never worked on one solitary mission, because the need was too great.

“Darien. Hey, man, did you get lost in the music again?” Ira laughed and threw a guitar pick at him.

Darien stopped hitting his drum and dodged the small object flying in his direction. “For a minute,” he lied. “Hey, I’m not sure I like this part. Can we go over it one more time?”

Johann grimaced. “Man, we went through it like six times already. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s almost seven. I’d really like to get home before nine. The game’s on television, and I don’t wanna miss it.”

“Pssh, haven’t you ever heard of a DVR? Johann, we’re not leaving this place until we’re fully happy with this album. I’m not paying this studio money to put out a shitty-ass product, all right? I wanna watch the Giants, too, but this isn’t the time to fool around. This album’s gotta be done so I can leave at the end of the month.”

“You still haven’t told us where you’re going, man. In fact, you never do. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were an undercover spy working for the government or something,” Ira chided him.

Darien sighed, not saying anything in answer to that. If he did, it would open the door to suspicion from his bandmates and possibly put their lives in danger. “Forever the joker. I told you I need to go see my lover. You know, the one that finances my place and everything this band does? I promised to visit him abroad for a couple of months once the disc was done.”

“Abroad where?” Johann inquired. “And, why don’t you ever mention the cat’s name? Do ya think we’d go after the sap and look for him?”

“I told you. His name is Wesley.” That lie was almost true. Darien was going to see Wes but not for romance.

“And you and Wes are going…” Ira asked.

“I don’t know yet. I’m meeting him in Italy.” Another lie. He’d gotten used to telling them now.

“Ooh, Italy.” Johann swooned and walked over to Ira. “Look, babe, our Darien is going off to Roma to have a romantic rendezvous with his secret lover.”

“How come we haven’t been anywhere outside of the States? Why are you so dead set on keeping us here? We’re big, and people outside the USA wanna see us tour.”

“I told you. We don’t have enough popularity to waste money going to Europe,” he quipped.

“But you have the money to see your lovah boy,” Johann answered in a high-pitched tone.

“He’s paying for it, but I refuse to have the band travel to a country when we won’t sell out the venue. Anyway, this isn’t about me. It’s about this band and what we need to do to succeed. It’s worked for us so far. Why should we change things up now?” Darien looked at the couple who had been his friends for the last ten years.

Ira and Johann eyed one another then Darien. Neither appeared to be thoroughly convinced with his half-assed answer.

“I suppose you’re right, Darien. Things are good, and since you’ve got all the business sense, we let you run it. I can’t take care of our household money, let alone the band’s finances. Still, I think we should look to explore going overseas. The record sales have been good enough to at least go to Canada and do a short stint in Europe.”

Just as Darien was about to speak, his phone rang on his hip.

Saved by the bell!

Darien plucked the second phone from his holder, seeing Goofy Goober on the caller identification. The number was masked so that in the event he ever lost his phone, no one would know the contact digits or the person from PROTEKT who called him.

“Hang on, guys. I gotta take this. Work on that note a moment while I talk to my man.” He quickly got up from his drum kit.

“Ooh, oh, oh, kissy, kissy.” Johann laughed, along with his boyfriend Ira.

Darien harrumphed and sprinted out of their practice area to the side room he kept for conversations with Wes. After looking to make sure the coast was clear, he pushed the makeshift wall, revealing a tiny space for him to step into. Once he made it in, he shoved it back in place until it was locked tight. Good thing he was still skinny enough to fit inside this small space.

“Bonjour, mon ami.” Darien spoke low and in French, on the off chance the guys were in earshot.

“Well, I guess I’ve interrupted another brilliant jam session from the Phuze outfit, hmm?”

Darien smirked and slid down the wall until his butt hit the floor. “You did, but no worries. They’re in the next room, thinking I’m talking to my boyfriend. I’m pretty sure they can’t hear. We are in the middle of finishing this latest project, so I can’t talk long.”

“You wish I was.”

“No, actually you do, but I’m not the type that dates my boss.”

Wes cleared his throat. “Aren’t you in the soundproof room we had built for you?”

“Yeah, I am, but they’re asking too many questions. I’m really starting to wonder if they’re on to something.”

“I believe we’ve had this conversation before, BA. Your civilian job as a musician isn’t the smartest choice for this line of work. You’re a public figure—”

“As Darien Moseley, not any of my code names I use for the mission,” he interrupted.

“Still, you’re seen too much and you’re in a band with nosy friends. Cut the ties with the band and be a solo artist. I’d almost appreciate that better.”

“They’re my friends, Wes, and music is my second love,” he countered. “Making music is something I have to do to keep sane.” Darien gulped hard and rubbed the back of his neck. Sweat beaded under his hairline, making him feel gross. Uncomfortable. He desperately needed a shower.

“I get it. Believe me. You were a wreck when you came to us straight from NYPD. I know you’re suffering inside, and making that noise is your release.”

Darien almost appreciated the fatherly tone Wes took on, but he didn’t want to go into it.

“Yes, it is, but that’s not what you called me about, right?”

“No, it’s not. I’m fully aware that Bonnie Leighton and Clyde Huxley need your help, but right now, Justice Masters needs you more.”

Darien raised his head, staring straight ahead at the wood in front of him. Bonnie and Clyde were the code names for new agents Miranda Ashley and Devlin Crawford. They were busy trying to find Pablo Ora, son of fallen mobster Augustine.

Justice Masters, aka Kimball Emerson, was his closest friend other than Ira and Johann. He hoped the three would never meet because, if they did, it would mean only one thing—his own death.

“BA?”

“Yeah, sorry, sir. What’s wrong with Justice?”

“Nothing’s wrong with him, but he and Thalia will need your assistance with securing the Russian dignitary.”

Darien grimaced at that statement. Although that was part of the job, he hated being anyone’s bodyguard. “What? You really think he needs three of us to take care of him?”

“No, but there is a lot more to this than just protecting an important politician. We need to meet so I can give you the details. We’ll be at the headquarters close to Queens at ten p.m. sharp.”

“Will K—I mean Justice—be there, too?”

“Yes, as will Thalia.”

Thalia was the code name of BA’s other fellow agent. They hadn’t gotten along at all due to past history.

“Well, I guess one out of two ain’t bad,” he joked, trying his best to lighten the mood. Wes was so serious all the dang time, and he felt himself becoming a lot like him.

“Hmph. She’s a good agent, BA. I know you two aren’t friends.”

“Yeah, because she almost got me killed in Paris!”

“True, but Justice was there to save you.”

Darien shuddered at the thought of his best friend, who he’d always had more than a simple liking for, but Kimball was taken, damn near married. There was no chance his friend was leaving his partner Mike Jacoby.

“As he always is. All right then, so I’ll see you around ten,” BA said.

“Yes, and don’t be late.”

“I never am. See you then.”

“Right.”

The line went dead and Darien pushed the disconnect button. He raked his hand through his hair and shook his head, trying his best to get out of the haze.

Kimball needs me?

If only that were true, then he wouldn’t be alone. Darien’s double life as a PROTEKT agent and musician had become a welcome distraction—his way of forgetting about the hurt of being betrayed by NYPD and the loss of his parents at such an early age. This proved to be a blessing and a curse all at once because it numbed the feelings and took up so much time that he didn’t have to reflect on being by himself.

For the last four or so years, it had worked like a charm, but now, with his thirty-third birthday around the corner, Darien was tired of living the bachelor life and dating random men just to get the edge off. Perhaps it was best to forget about Kimball Emerson being his man and move on to find someone else to fill the void.

With much still on his mind, he forced himself up and slowly slid the paneling open. He looked both ways, making sure Ira and Johann weren’t in the vicinity, then stepped out, before quickly pushing the wall back together. He shoved the phone back on his belt clip and walked into the room. He hoped to mask the emotions of hearing about Kimball so his bandmates wouldn’t suspect.

“Hey, there you are. I think we found something we like a little better. You ready to hear it?” Johann called out to him, interrupting his train of thought.

“Yep. Let’s do it.” Darien smacked his sticks together and counted off again, waiting for his band members to follow. And this time the note did fit the tune they called Fainted a lot better than the last. Darien knew he could always count on his friends when he needed them most.

Though Darien was pleased at the outcome, his mind was miles away from the practice space. In less than a couple of hours he’d shed one personality and adopt another to prepare for a mission from his secret employer.

With every trip, he prepared himself for extreme danger, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Making music did sustain him, but living on the edge and executing justice was what kept him alive.

* * * *

“Another dangerous mission, Kim?” Mike Jacoby clicked his teeth and slammed the skillet into the sink.

The noise jolted Kimball out of his thoughts. He’d been going over special plans handed down to him from Chief Wes for the better part of an hour.

“Mike.”

“I thought you were done with the tough jobs. Darien is good at this…and single. Why the hell can’t he do it?”

“Because he’s not qualified for it. Babe, listen. I got some skills Darien doesn’t.”

“Well, how the hell is he the top agent and you’re not?”

Kimball bit back a groan. “I am…just… Damn, babe, don’t go there. Don’t try to pit me against my best friend, okay? I’ve known Darien too long and I care for him too much.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. So much you allowed him to kiss you at the last PROTEKT Christmas party.”

Kimball sighed inwardly and rose from his chair. He’d never forget that kiss because Mike wouldn’t let him, and he couldn’t deny his attraction for the man he’d thought of like a brother. Darien Mosely, aka BA Pointe, always struck him as a man who liked his freedom, but the embrace they’d shared about seven months ago had given Kimball mixed signals. The kiss had been rough and passionate, lasting a couple of minutes, until Mike had come in the door, dropping his glass and disturbing the moment. It had taken weeks to convince his lover their embrace was a drunken mistake shared between two friends. Obviously, Mike was still hurt by what he’d seen.

Despite those feelings of longing, Kimball still loved Mike Jacoby. He’d suppressed the feelings he had for Darien in order to keep the peace. Bottom line, Darien had waited too late to show Kimball how he really felt. They’d been in PROTEKT long enough to do something about their infatuation with one another, but fear of compromising their friendship and mixing business with pleasure stood in the way.

To relax his man, Kimball walked behind Mike then wrapped both arms around his partner’s waist. While casually running his hands over his lover’s belly and chest, he kissed the side of his ear, nuzzling the space above his lobe.

“I thought you forgave me.”

“I-I did,” Mike managed through hampered breaths.

Kimball could feel Mike’s muscles contracting under his touch. He crouched down a little so his cock could line up with Mike’s covered buttocks.

“Doesn’t sound like it.”

Kimball lowered his voice an octave and rubbed the head of his erection against Mike’s ass. He gasped at the feeling, running his hand down to Mike’s crotch, cupping his balls in his palm.

“Oh God, Kimball Emerson, you’re gonna be the death of me.” Mike turned around and fell into his arms. “Every time I bring up that kiss, you got an answer that makes me forget it.”

Kimball cupped Mike’s chin and pressed a soft kiss on his lips.

“I have to. I wanna make sure you know you’re my man. I swear to you that Darien is a friend, a close pal, my fellow agent but nothing more.” Kimball sensed the twinge in his heart saying those words. Before Mike, he’d always wanted it to be more with Darien, but his buddy lived the life of a playboy and didn’t seem to value commitment like he did.

To distract himself, he lifted his boyfriend onto the kitchen counter. He placed both hands on either side of Mike’s hips and positioned himself between his legs. Thankfully, Mike looked to be under his spell as he hoped, which meant the mentions of the Christmas kiss would go away for now. If he didn’t have the meeting with Wes, Brenda and Darien, he’d strip Mike in the kitchen to make sure of that.

“You say that.”

“I mean it. We’re getting married on Christmas, in front of all our families and friends. We have rings. We’re almost ready to spend our lives together—”

“As civilians, right? You promised me.”

Kimball nibbled on his bottom lip and nodded hesitantly. “Yes. I’m gonna tell the chief that this is my last big mission for PROTEKT, then I’m retiring.”

Mike’s smile widened and he grabbed Kimball by the arms, bringing him in for a bear hug. “God, Kim, I can’t wait till then. If I had a time machine, I’d get us there now.”

“Me, too.” He suppressed a groan and kissed Mike squarely on the lips.

“Good. I’m worried about this one, though. You’re going back to Russia, dealing with the mob and rebels of the Freedom Party.”

“Yeah, and that makes it even more exciting. This is what I do—what I live for. I’ve been waiting for this kind of assignment for months.”

Mike’s smile turned upside down. “Really? Is that all?”

“Mike, come on. You know I mean professionally.”

“I know. I know. But I can’t handle you being a target, Kim. Just be careful. Promise me you’ll watch your ass.”

“I will.”

“And not Darien’s.”

Kimball laughed. “You are so jealous. You got nothing to be worried about, all right? I love you, only you, Mike Jacoby. You’re my life.”

“I love you too, Kimball Emerson.” Mike grabbed Kimball again.

While they embraced, Kimball thought over the words he’d just said, the promises he most likely would break at first chance. His last big assignment? He doubted it, because he and Darien were tops in PROTEKT. As long as he worked there, he’d be called upon for whatever Wes saw fit.

Retiring? Kimball couldn’t see it happening. The traveling, the money and the desire to uphold justice in his own way was too strong to give up. He didn’t think he could survive being just a normal civilian.

The promise to be careful? Kimball always took chances, and this one called for him to take a huge risk that could be deadly for him and his partners.

Watching Darien? He’d break that one as soon as he got to the warehouse.

Why?

Because the feelings were still there, and, although Kimball was getting married to Mike, those emotions for Darien Mosely would not be disappearing any time soon.