Page 35 of Rust of Control

Jaz Vail bought two tickets in the first thirty seconds, which Nate relayed to Jude with a look that contained significant amusement and zero surprise.

"Jaz as in-"

"Jaz as in Eros from Club Velvet. He's been a fan since the New Year’s show you guys did there last year. Dray's going to be miserable because it's going to be loud and he's going to stand there anyway."

"DPD homicide coming to a metalcore show?" He had met the man when he stopped by to talk to Zain one day.

"Dray goes wherever Jaz goes. That's just how it is."

Jude looked at him. "Is that going to be a problem? For the operation."

Nate's expression shifted into the one that meant he was doing the professional calculation separate from everything else. "Dray's DPD, past of his own thing, and currently classified as whatever Jaz needs. Having him in the room is an asset, not a liability. He reads threats before Ghost does." He paused. "And if things go sideways and we need someone to call in the department without it going through Marcus, Dray's got the contacts. And… the rest of Jasper’s boyfriends."

Jude thought about that. "You want DPD there."

"I want options," Nate said. "Rand in cuffs is better than the alternative. For you. For the trial. For the kids."

"For me," Jude said. Not a question. He knew what Nate was saying. He didn't want Rand dead on his conscience, had known that since he'd stood in front of the board and seen seven faces and understood that what this needed was law, not the other kind of ending.

"For you," Nate said.

"Okay." Jude looked at the show poster on his phone screen. The Majestic. Hollow Bright. Trevor Project Benefit. Friday. "Okay."

The morning of the show he stood in the bathroom of the safehouse and looked at his face in the mirror.

No makeup. He hadn't worn it in weeks. The bruises were gone, the last yellow-green fading weeks ago, and what was left was just his face, the one before Rand, the one after.

He picked up the eyeliner. Stage makeup, not concealer. Black at the waterline, a little smudged at the outer corners, the same as he'd worn it since he was seventeen and his first bar show. This was different from covering. This was putting on the thing that made him feel like himself.

He looked at his reflection.

You've got the brightest smile, baby.

He smiled. Not for Rand. Not for the camera. Just because he wanted to, because it was his and he could.

Then he put on his moto jacket and went downstairs to where the band was waiting.

Chapter 18

The Majestic held twelve hundred.

By eight o'clock it held eleven hundred and forty-three paying customers, one crew spread across six positions, four of Varga's people Ghost had counted coming through the main door, and Rand.

Rand had come in through the side entrance at seven-fifty, which meant he'd been watching the building first… which meant he was scared. Nate tracked him from his position near the sound board and watched Rand scan the room with the practiced ease of a man who'd spent two years reading venues for exits and useful strangers. His jaw tightened.

There you are.

He touched his earpiece. "Ghost. Rand's in. Stage-left bar, working toward the back."

"Copy." Ghost's voice, flat and even from the rafters. "Varga's four are split. Two at the main door, two near the merch table. They're not here for the show."

"No. They're here to collect."

"Zain's on the merch-table pair. Jack and Elijah are in position on the loading exit."

Nate looked at the stage. The lights were still up, the Hollow Bright set half-visible behind the curtain, and somewhere backstage Jude was standing in front of Rand for what Nate hoped was the last time. He'd wanted to be back there. Marcus had looked at him for exactly the length of time it took to communicate that wanting and being useful were two different things, and Nate had taken his position at the sound board.

He watched the stage curtain and waited.