“And why is this my problem?”
Reeves rolled his eyes. “Right.”
“Danni will never accept my help.”
“You’re right. She won’t.” Reeves grinned.
And why did Danni’s stubborn resistance make him happy for the first time since she left him?
“That’s why I’ve come up with the perfect cover. You’re having lunch with Sophie tomorrow.”
Jenkins Security’s main client was billionaire Richard Dean and his two daughters, Jordan and Sophie. Richard’s uncle had started the security company when he became guardian to his nephews after his younger brother had been killed in action.
“You can suggest that you both head to LA for the weekend. Sophie is so bored while Finn is deployed, she’ll jump at the chance. And if you don’t get out of the office, I’m going to have to shoot you.”
Lars leaned against the wall. Reeves’s plan had merits…but what if he got down there and found Hardy and Danni were together? He was a spec ops marine—he could handle the pain. And maybe if he saw Danni with Hardy, he’d finally be over the woman. Finally give up on the challenge this woman represented.
“I can’t exactly say, ‘Hey, Soph, want to head to LA to see Danni?’ Soph is no slouch; she’ll know somethings up.”
“If you tell Sophie that you need to interview a new recruit in LA for the business, you could ask her if she would want to tag along since it would give her a chance to spend time with Danni.”
“Finn will kick my ass when he hears that I took Sophie to Hardy’s concert. Hardy had a thing for Sophie. Finn won’t like me taking her to LA to spend time with Hardy while Finn’s in Somalia or God knows where.” His brother, a SEAL, was on his last deployment.
Reeves shrugged. “Finn trusts Sophie. He’ll be happy that she’s with Danni.”
“Are you sure about the part about Danni? Those two women are known as troublemakers for damn good reasons.”
“That’s why I don’t think you should share anything with Sophie about the stalker… If Sophie is in danger, Finn will kick both of our asses.”
Chapter Three
Danni rushed into Alex’s dressing room to check for a note. There hadn’t been one before she went on her little scouting excursion. Like tonight, Frank definitely had the opportunity to deliver the notes at every city, including Portland.
She immediately headed to the scotch and Dom Perignon on the table in the middle of the seating area. The tray with Alex’s drink requests had been the spot where the stalker had left the previous menacing letters. Nothing. Danni moved to the changing area. The long table in front of the mirror was filled with deodorant, expensive hair products, several brushes, and a hair dryer. Alex was very particular about his hair and the hair products he used to keep its shine, but nothing was out of the ordinary.
The expansive change space held a rack of Alex’s clothes against one wall. Ironed T-shirts hung next to at least ten pairs of torn black jeans. Designer Converse runners and black boots of all sorts were under the clothing rack. At every concert, Alex had an entire wardrobe brought backstage. He always chose his shirt, jeans, and shoes to match his mood at the beginning of each concert. He had a highly honed brand, and he was careful to choose what met the different expectations of each city’s crowd.
Danni dropped into a chair and reached for the Dom Perignon. Her adrenaline bounce was bottoming, and she was headed toward a crash. All she had accomplished was acting paranoid and tiring herself out by her search. She wanted to help Alex, and she wanted to solve this problem. She excelled at deductive reasoning and thrived on being challenged. Besides, sleuthing gave her a damn good excuse to be away from Seattle and Lars Jenkins, the man who risked his life by diving in the line of fire to protect her.
Who took such risks?
Insane alpha male protectors. She wouldn’t allow herself to think about Lars, bleeding and vulnerable, lying on the floor. She had made her decision. Like any self-actualized woman, she assessed the threat to her well-being and ran away as soon as Lars was discharged from the hospital. Ran away from the only man who could make her repeat the same stupid mistake of caring too much. A man who wasn’t interested in anything more than fun in bed. She was sure that he had left a record-breaking number of women wanting more.
Alex, his long black hair down around his shoulders and his skin glistening in sweat, sauntered into the dressing room after finishing his set. His open shirt revealed a sculpted chest. His tight jeans hugged his muscular thighs. He was the living, breathing sex god image that he had promoted for years to keep his thousands of women fans panting.
Why couldn’t she get a bolt of animal magnetism? He was a perfect specimen of male virility. Where was the overwhelming craving to undress him and lick every inch of his chiseled chest as she experienced with a mere glance from Lars Jenkins?
Alex’s narrowed eyes searched hers. Relief floated across his face when Danni shook her head.
“Thank God. She didn’t follow me to LA.” Alex poured a small amount of Balvenie into a glass and threw it back.
Danni sipped her champagne, letting the cool liquid soothe her frazzled nerves.
“Or she hasn’t arrived yet—four more days here.” He poured himself another shot.
Danni hated that Alex had started drinking heavily. Alex wasn’t the typical rock musician cliché. He didn’t drink or get high when he performed. He was an athlete and an artist. He worked out and did intermittent fasting and ate a healthy diet. He was way better disciplined than Danni, who was a sucker for fried food and bubbly.
“We’re going to get her, Alex.” Danni tried to sound enthusiastic but
