On Tour

By Susan Horsnell

Jordan Phillips, ex-military, he now co-owns a security company with his ex-team leader.

He works covert operations, removing marks from foreign countries where government forces cannot go.

The last thing he wants to do is babysit an opinionated rock star.

Dallas Munroe is the opinionated rock star.

After a death threat, his manager beefs up security, by hiring Jordan's company.

Dallas is not impressed. He feels the threat is a hoax and the last thing he wants is a guard shadowing his every move.

Will these two ever get along and develop a relationship?

Who is behind the death threat, and is it for real?

Travel the cities of Australia as the band tours.

Meet up with the team from the Outback Australia Series when the band performs at a charity concert in Bourke, and learn what part they play in events as they unfold

• Language: English
• Publisher: Susan Horsnell
• Release date: Aug 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223900375

Susan Horsnell

I’m an Australian author who lives in Queensland when not travelling and I write in a variety of Romantic sub-genres, including Western,  Historical, Gay, Mafia, and Contemporary Romance.  I have published over 60 books and novellas, many of which feature strong, independent heroines and rugged, alpha male heroes. Some of my popular series include the Outback Australia series and The Carter Brothers series. My books are known for their well-researched historical details, vivid descriptions of the Australian landscape and real life experiences. My work has garnered praise from readers and critics alike, and I have been a Finalist in both the Rone Awards and Laramie Awards as well as being a multiple times International Bestselling Author and USA Today Bestselling Author. If you're interested in learning more about my books:  Linktree https://linktr.ee/SusanHorsnell   

Book preview

Copyright © 2021 by Susan Horsnell

The right of Susan Horsnell to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed, or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical or mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the author.

This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

Set in Australia and written in Australian English.

Written by Susan Horsnell

Edited by Redline Editing

Line Edit – Robyn Corcoran

Proofread – Leanne Rogers

Cover by Leah C. Taylor

Warning

This book contains sexual content and language suitable only for those 18+

Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental or historical. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously.

Chapter One

A close up of a guitar Description automatically generated

Present Day

International Convention Centre

Sydney, NSW, Australia

JORDAN

I stood in the centre of the nose-bleed section at the top of the arena. From here I had a good view of the stage and crowd.

Glancing first off to one side, then the other, I confirmed the requested arena security were in place. Two men at the back with me, two women positioned at the front of the stage watching the audience closely.

I hated gigs like this, and Allison – my boss, knew it. The last thing I wanted to do was babysit a diva rock star who was full of self-importance with his head stuck in the clouds.

Six weeks. Six fucking weeks of strobe lights, deafening music and screaming, unpredictable fans. How the fuck were we supposed to detect any threats and prevent someone from being killed?

When I’d met Dallas Munroe yesterday, my judgement about people in show business hadn’t been wrong. To say he was full of himself was an understatement. So why was I so fucking attracted to him? He wasn’t my type and one only had to pick up any tabloid to find pictures of him being drooled over by some woman. Women I had no doubt he sweet-talked into his bed at every opportunity. Yep, he was as straight as a fucking arrow.

When the crowd began chanting his name, screaming and shouting, there was no doubt the band had just walked on stage. The noise in the arena was deafening. Straightening my stance, I snapped my attention back on the job.

Dallas had a presence on stage which the other band members didn’t have. He oozed sexiness and charisma, dressed in ripped jeans and a white wifebeater which clung to him like a glove, showing off his broad chest and muscular arms.

Ha! If only his fans knew what an arrogant prick the man really could be. Wearing a huge grin on his face, he waved to his adoring fans before performing moves which sent them wild as he moved to centre stage.

The other band members, who I’d been introduced to earlier in the evening, took up their positions.

Lex Turner, a young man I guessed was in his mid-twenties, slim with shoulder length black hair, played bass guitar.

Carter Smyth, a grizzled man in his forties played piano, and a tiny slip of a girl – Kerry Adams, played drums.

Dallas glanced over one shoulder then the other, nodded his head and the classic AC/DC song Highway to Hell boomed through the speakers.

Screaming erupted from the crowd. I had to admit, the band was good. Very good.

Dallas strutted back and forth across the stage as he sang. When he turned and wriggled his arse at the audience, my cock fought the confines of the jeans I wore. The man certainly had moves and one of the cutest arses I’d ever laid eyes on.

I reminded myself—again…The man was straight. That small fact hadn’t stopped me from picturing his mouth wrapped around my cock in vivid dreams as I’d slept the previous night.

I sighed and scanned the jumping bean masses below me.

When the earphone I wore began crackling, and a string of ‘clear’ came through from each of the others, I breathed a little easier knowing they were staying alert. Six weeks of being on edge like this would turn me into a basket case.

~*~

Previous Morning

Office of Protector Security

Sydney, Australia

I was back home, in my city where the iconic and world recognised, Sydney Harbour Bridge spanned the sparkling harbour beneath. skyscrapers reached into the expanse of blue sky above. The Sydney Opera House, with its unique architecture resembling sails, welcomed passing ships, both small and large.

There were areas I never tired of visiting – The Rocks, with history tracing as far back as the city itself. Fort Dennison, a short boat ride away, keeping watch over the city. Darling Harbour with a plethora of interesting shops and cafés where adults and children came to gather and play. Chinatown, a cacophony of colour and Chinese tradition and my favourite – The Queen Victoria Building situated near Town Hall Station.

I adored the city, but not the ever-increasing smog or crowds. I pondered at how much I missed the place whenever I was away as I sauntered into the office and crossed to the coffee machine to grab myself a much-needed brew. I needed to speak with my boss about the job I’d just completed. There wasn’t a lot to be said, I’d sent her a detailed email from the plane on the way home.

Peter and Xavier were in conversations on their phones, but both lifted their hands to acknowledge my presence before I crossed to my boss’ office.

Allison’s door was open, she was on the phone and indicated for me to enter and take a seat.  I stepped into the office and closed the door before sitting in the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

While she wrapped up her conversation, I relaxed back in the chair, crossed one booted foot over the knee of my other leg and sipped at the coffee. The hot liquid burned a path down my throat but was welcomed. It was the first decent coffee I’d had since returning from the desert in Afghanistan a few hours earlier.

I hadn’t yet been back to my apartment, instead coming here straight from the plane. I’d wanted to speak with Allison before taking a couple of well-earned days off. I was so fucking tired after no sleep for a couple of days. I had no interest in touching base with any of my regular hook-ups, despite the fact I hadn’t had a decent fuck for more than a month. I doubted my dick would rise to the occasion.

My current agenda was to go home, shower, crash into bed and sleep non-stop for the next twenty-four hours. When had I become such a pussy?

I’d been a member of the military until two years earlier. A special forces member who had been able to go for three days with no sleep. The job I had just completed had barely taken thirty-six hours.

Allison disconnected her call, leaned back in her chair and studied me closely. She was a beautiful redhead with arresting green eyes. The way she pierced me with those eyes was rather unnerving.

I shifted in my seat. What?

I could read my friend like a book. I’d been friends with her for ten years while in the military. She had been my team leader. When she’d taken me aside on our last mission to Afghanistan and explained how she was starting a security company and wanted me to come onboard, I’d been interested.

When we’d returned to Aus., Allison and I had met several times over dinner, and I’d agreed to join her. She’d offered to make it a partnership and I bought in. I’d saved a shitload of money while in service. Allison and her husband owned 60%, I owned 40%. As Allison was the majority investor in our business, I continued to consider her my boss.

The four of us working the agency were ex-special forces. Our services were in high demand and the business was bringing in a large and steady cash flow. In two years, I’d managed to buy, and own outright, an apartment in the high end of town. The irony of our work? We continued to perform identical missions to what we’d been doing in the Army. We were sent into where the military couldn’t go for political reasons.

Allison shook her head. The mark was delivered?

Yep. I handed him onto the waiting ASIO agents as soon as the plane landed in country. You got the report from the air?

Yes, thanks. I forwarded it on to the client.

Allison fiddled with a stapler on the desk in front of her. Her eyes were focused on the machine, a nerve in her cheek pulsed and her jaw was clenched. Placing the coffee mug on the desk, I sat forward and leaned toward her.

What the fuck is going on? The gruffness of my demand had her eyes snapping to mine.

You’re not going to like this.

A chill ran down my spine. Go on.

Have you heard of the rock sensation – Dallas Munroe?

I shook my head. Never heard of him or her.

Glad I’m not the only one who wouldn’t know him from a bar of soap, but rock music isn’t my thing.

Nor mine.

He’s the guitarist and lead singer of The Yawning Maniacs. They’re huge and have had a dozen smash hits. They have millions of fans worldwide.

Get to the point. I didn’t like where this seemed to be going.

Dallas received a death threat last night and his manager called me to organise protection on him. They are just starting a six-week nationwide tour. I want you to take the job,

I shoved to my feet and paced in front of her. No. Fucking. Way.

Jordan.

I stopped the pacing, slammed my hands on the desk and lowered my nose to hers. I’m not playing fucking babysitter to some rock star diva. The answer is NO! Turning my back on her, I sucked in deep breaths and composed myself.

Jordan, Please.

Fuck. I hated it when she pleaded with me in that tone of voice. I sucked in a deep breath and silently chanted. I have to be strong. I have to be strong.

Soft hands settled on my biceps, and I gazed down into her pleading eyes. I was so fucked.

I told them we’d do it, Jordan. If you won’t do it, I will. It’s worth half a million dollars to us. I can’t pass that up.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Allison knew I would do anything to keep her out of the field, where her life could be threatened. She had a husband and two young children who needed her. She’d admitted, for the most part, she loved being behind a desk and out of the line of fire.

I’d promised her husband, Rick, I would do whatever it took to keep her out of the field and safe, not that we’d let her know about our agreement.

Jordan?

Fuck. Can’t one of the others do it?

No, they both have other assignments they need to be on in less than an hour.

I’ll swap.

Jordan, you know arrangements have already been made and any changes this late in the piece will stuff everything up.

I pointed a finger at her. You owe me big time. When do I have to meet with them?

Allison gave me a guilty look. Dallas and his manager, Gus Rice will be at the Waterview Hotel. Room 776. They’re expecting you there in an hour. Their first concert here in Sydney is at the International Convention Centre tomorrow night.

I’m glad I have plenty of notice. Guess I’d better get home and showered before I head to the hotel.

She stood on tiptoe and placed a kiss on my cheek. You have plenty of time.

Yeah. Yeah.

Love you. It’s such a pity you swing the other way. Some man will be extremely lucky to have you.

You only love me because you can bend me to your will in a pinch.

Allison smiled. I’d been had by the woman yet again. I kissed her forehead and left her office.

She get ya again? Xavier laughed.

You’re such a pussy when it comes to her, Peter taunted.

Fuck off. I gave them a two-finger salute before stepping onto the street and hailing a cab.

Chapter Two

A close up of a guitar Description automatically generated

DALLAS

One note, Gus. One fucking note scrawled in a kid’s handwriting and all of a sudden, I need protection? Give me a fucking break. Who would want to harm me? I have millions of adoring fans, give bucketloads of money to deserving causes and I’m happy to give performances free of charge for charity. I’m a nice guy, I have no fucking reason to worry. It’s someone trying to spook us, cause trouble. Get rid of the protection, ‘cause sure as shit, I’m not sharing my hotel room with anyone. I’m especially not sharing with some mentally challenged, strong-armed goon.

Mr Munroe?

My head snapped around on hearing an unfamiliar, husky male voice. Fuck me.

I dragged my eyes over every inch of the man’s body before fixing them on his ruggedly handsome face, his head topped with neatly styled blondish brown hair. The man was fucking huge. He must have been a good half foot taller than my six feet two inches and all muscle from what I could see. I ached for him to turn around, I wanted a view of his arse in those skin-tight jeans.

I licked my lips at the mere thought of having the man in my bed, wresting control and pounding him into the mattress until he roared in satisfaction.

His piercing blue eyes were locked on mine, his lips curled up in a smirk. Did he suspect my sexual persuasion?

Do I pass inspection, Mr Munroe, considering I’m a mentally challenged, strong-armed goon?

I felt my face heat with embarrassment on hearing him confirm, he’d overheard what I’d said. I shook my head to get my thinking back on track before I gave myself away. Yeah, my adoring fans would just love knowing the macho, rock singer they followed was gay.

I hated not being out, not being honest with the people closest to me, and I was sick to fucking death of having to bed women to keep my preference for men secret. I hated screwing women, even though it was only ever arse fucks. Just the mere thought of sticking my dick into a pussy was enough to make me barf.

Who are you? An irrelevant question, who he was had already been established.

"Jordan Phillips, your protection for the duration of your tour. Your unwanted protection if the conversation I overheard was any indication. The man thrust his hand toward Gus. You must be Mr Rice, the manager."

The two men shook hands and Gus confirmed that he was indeed my manager. I continued checking the big man out.

Six weeks in close proximity to this sexy hunk of a man? My big head said, fuck no. My little head encouraged, get rid of Gus and let’s take this into the bedroom.

Mr Munroe, are you still with us?

That deep, husky voice sent shivers straight to my willing cock and rapidly filling balls.

Yeah. I’m sorry your time has been wasted by coming here. I’ll make sure you’re well compensated, but as I was just telling my manager, I don’t need your, or anyone else’s protection. None of my fans would ever harm me.

Gus handed the note to Mr Sexy, and I watched him frown as he read what was written.

How was this delivered? He handed the paper back to Gus as he asked me the question.

I found it on the floor just inside the door when I got back from rehearsal around five. If Gus hadn’t been with me, I would have tossed it in the trash where it belongs.

He directed his next question to Gus. Why haven’t you turned it over to the police?

I answered before Gus had the opportunity to explain. I refused to let him. It’s clear from the handwriting, which is obviously a child’s, that it’s a hoax. The desk clerk downstairs said the note was delivered by a homeless man a little after four in the afternoon. The clerk sent it up with a porter who slid it under the door. Someone is trying to make us overreact. As I said, my fans wouldn’t harm me.

"Don’t be fooled, I have seen adults write threats like this before in childish writing. I’d say one of your adoring fans very much wants to see you hurt. The question is why? Who have you pissed off recently, because trust me when I tell you, whoever wrote this note wants you dead? Jordan faced Gus. I’ll be back at ten in the morning, and we’ll discuss this when I’m not out on my feet. Until then, Mr Munroe is not to leave the room, and no one comes in except you."

Bullshit! I have rehearsal and sound checks with the band in a couple of hours.

The man stepped close and got in my face.

"You have two options. Your band can rehearse and do sound check without you, or you cancel until tomorrow when I’ve had the chance to organize extra venue security. Starting now, you go nowhere without me glued to your side, and before you open your trap to say I’m not your minder, I’ll assure you, I am. Contracts have been signed with my company. Legally binding contracts. So, unless you want a lawsuit that will give you one hell of a headache, you will co-operate."

The man was pissing me off. I slammed my hands on my hips and took a step back.

And just how will you know if I’m following your orders tonight?

He dragged his hand over his scalp. Taking into consideration his stance, and muscular build, there was no doubt in my mind he was ex-military, used to giving orders and being obeyed. Jordan stepped forward again and I was forced to tilt my head back to look at his face. Fuck, the man had kissable lips—plump, tinged with pink, and at the moment, slightly parted. His minty breath wafted over me.

You’re gonna be a pain in my fucking arse, aren’t you?

I opened my mouth, closed it again.

There will be a security guard stationed outside the door. He’ll have my instructions and he’ll be armed.

Jordan spun on his heel and faced Gus. "If it were up to me, I wouldn’t be here, but as no one else was available, I drew the short straw. The only fucking straw. I just returned a few hours ago after two days in the desert in Afghanistan. During that time, I’ve had no sleep, one coffee about an hour ago and I’m feeling a mite pissed off at your client’s attitude. I should be on day’s off. Instead, I’m being forced to babysit a singer who has tickets on himself and is a legend in his own lunchbox. Sort his attitude out before I get back tomorrow."

My eyes dropped to his arse, encased in tight jeans. I swallowed the drool which formed as I watched the tight muscles rise and fall with each step he took.

With one hand on the handle of the door, he turned and faced me again. I suspected he had something more he wanted to say. Instead, he shook his head, left and slammed the door behind him.

Six weeks with this sexy, broody man was going to be the longest six weeks of my life.

~*~

The Following Morning

Day of First Concert

Sydney, Australia

As tempted as I had been to disobey the big man, go to rehearsal and then the nearest bar, I’d stayed put in the room. The man mountain stationed outside the door when I’d seen Gus out, had convinced me that my urge to defy the directive was not a smart move. The magnum visible on his hip proved Jordan hadn’t been lying when he’d said the man would be armed. So, I’d said goodnight to Gus, closed and locked the door and headed to bed.

I should have spent the rest of the evening penning words to the new music Carter and I had written, but I had too much going on in my head to think clearly.

Visions of Jordan played across my mind like a cinemascope film in technicolour. Sleep had been evasive for the same reason. The man had crept inside my head and taken up residence. Why? Why the fuck was