by Sybil Bartel
MY JAW TIGHT, I DIALED Luna.
He picked up on the first ring. “Luna.”
“Remind me to kill Vance when this is all over. Did you find anything new?” I’d been asking him a variation of the same damn question for two days. We were missing something.
“Hold.” A door opened in the background, then closed before Luna spoke again. “You someplace we can talk?”
I glanced around the empty suite a floor below the two penthouse suites where Vance and Sanaa were staying. Me, Harm, Ty and Tyler were using it as a base, and suddenly I wondered if Trefor, Vance or anyone on their team had bugged the place. “Yeah.”
“Did you know Vance has been making rounds through the lobby, outside grounds and parking garage for the past thirty-six hours?”
“Yeah.” We were all doing perimeter checks. Even Luna.
“Dressed in black,” he added.
“What the hell do I care what he wears?” But the second I said it, understanding hit. “Fuck.” I glanced down at my L&A black logo polo and black cargo pants. “Fuck.”
“My sentiment exactly,” Luna agreed.
“Every perimeter check he’s been dressed as me?” How the fuck had I not noticed this?
“No. He’s alternating. Hang on.” Luna clicked on a keyboard. “I hacked into the hotel’s security feeds two days ago, and I’ve been keeping an eye on things, but I should’ve noticed this yesterday. He’s not only alternating his outfit, he’s altering the path he takes each time. When he’s in all black, he takes one route, and when he’s in a suit, another. Systematic each time.”
I should’ve caught it too, but my head was so wrapped up in a five-and-a-half-foot woman with the voice of an angel and the temperament of a lion that I missed it too. “He’s pretending to be me.” Anger at my own stupidity flared.
“Yeah, but you’re not visible when you do perimeter checks.”
“On purpose.” We were not only useless as security if our patterns could be tracked, but we were endangering Sanaa.
“As it should be,” Luna agreed before asking the real question. “So who’s in your past that’s also in hers?”
I didn’t answer.
Two days too late, I was putting the pieces together.
“Ronan?”
Goddamn it. “What?”
“If they brought her back to the States and now Vance is pulling this bullshit…” Luna drew in a deep breath, then exhaled audibly. “There’s only one reason, amigo.”
Fucking Vance had lied to me ten years ago.
“You’re the bait,” Luna clarified.
I silently cursed my own damn stupidity. “I know who it is.”
The door to the suite opened, and Tyler stuck his head in. “Vance and Sanaa are on the move. Go time.”
STEPPING OUT OF THE SERVICE elevator, I turned my comm on as I strode toward the lobby. “Position one, check.”
“Front secure,” Tyler returned through the comm. “All clear.”
“Position two?” I asked.
“Back secure,” Harm answered.
Entering the lobby, I scanned left to right as I headed to the bank of elevators for the hotel guests. “Position three?”
Ty grunted. “The suited fucks are searched, briefed and stowed in the meeting space. Some crazy-ass chick with them tried to grab my junk as I checked her purse for weapons because the useless hotel security took one look at her tits and gave her a pass. You’re welcome for not shooting her.”
Tyler chuckled through the comms. “You sure you’re secure over there, Trigger, or do you need one of us to come hold your hand?”
“Fuck you,” Ty clipped before muttering, “I picked the wrong goddamn decade to stop smoking.”
I glanced at my cell to see if Luna had texted back yet.
He hadn’t.
“Stay alert everyone.” Until Luna could dig up some background, I didn’t know exactly what we were dealing with.
“Did you hear that, Trigger?” Tyler hazed Ty. “Quit flirting with the ladies.”
“Flirting, my ass,” Ty bitched. “I’d rather suck start a pistol.”
Tyler laughed.
The elevator doors opened, and Vance came online a split second before I saw him step out with Sanaa. “Gentlemen, what did I miss?”
“All positions clear,” I answered, hating how his fucking hand was on her back.
In a different dress, her hair now loose, her eyes met mine and she faltered in her high heels.
Glancing down at her as his arm went around her shoulders, Vance dropped his voice, but it still came through the comms. “You all right, darling?”
Barely nodding, her eyes on me, she didn’t give him a verbal response.
I took in the new bruise forming on her neck, and I didn’t think. I reached for my Sig in the holster on my hip.
Sanaa sucked in a sharp breath, Vance looked up, and a hand landed on my shoulder.
“Audience,” Harm quietly warned from behind me, his voice not carrying through the comms.
Brother or not, I wanted to finish what I’d started and pound Vance’s face in. Then shoot him.
“Problem?” Tyler asked through the comms.
“No problem,” Vance answered before glancing at her. “Darling, may I suggest you give my brother a little wave and let him know you’re all right before he shoots me? It’d make for terrible headlines if we step out in the lobby with guns drawn.”
Dropping his hand, Harm moved to my right and spoke only loud enough for me to hear. “Doesn’t matter if she waves or not, she’s already exposed. Focus. Mission objective.” Touching his comm, he turned it back on.
Harm was right, but I still had to force myself to drop my hand from my weapon. The second they’d stepped off that elevator, Sanaa was exposed. We had to keep her moving or get her back on the top floor. Glaring at my own blood, I wondered how the fuck he slept at night.
“Keep it moving, Conlon. Save the tea party for later,” Tyler ordered through the comms. “Harm, party of six coming in from the garage.”
Harm nodded at me, then retreated as he answered Tyler. “Copy.”
Urging Sanaa forward, Vance glanced over my shoulder. “Lobby clear?” he asked through comms.
I didn’t answer him. If it wasn’t, she wouldn’t be here.
“All clear in front,” Tyler answered.
“Back clear,” Harm added.
“Then what the fuck’s the holdup?” Ty asked.
“Approaching,” Vance warned as he walked her out of the hallway and into the lobby proper.
I fell in on their six, Tyler moved in front, and Harm covered our backs.
All of us scanning, we started to walk her across the lobby.
It took exactly three paces.
Hushed whispers turned to blatant stares, then hours of recon, planning and timed drills for a seventeen-second, twenty-one-meter walk across the lobby went to shit.
Her name was called once, twice, then it was a cacophony of frenzied fans coming out of the fucking woodwork with phone cameras pointed.
Every one of them almost manic in their fevered rush to get close to her made me want to pull my weapon. My muscles tensed, I braced for the fans rushing us, ready to shove any asshole away who got too close, but I didn’t have to.
The girl I knew growing up turned into the Songbird who sold out arenas. As if she didn’t need security at all, she touched Vance’s chest, then pasted on a screen-worthy smile.
Like a choreographed maneuver performed a hundred times, my twin dropped his arm. Then at the same time as Sanaa, he pivoted to face the oncoming crowd before his opposite hand went to the small of her back.
Her fingertips touched her lips, and Sanaa blew an air kiss to the rapidly growing crowd. “Thank you all so much for your support! I wish I could stay, but I’m late for a meeting.”
A collective sound of regret passed through the fans, but they didn’t crowd her or push.
A young woman called out with a p
en in her outstretched hand. “Sanaa, can I have your autograph, please, please?”
“Yes, of course.” Sanaa reached for the pen.
I stepped in front of her and took the pen and wrinkled piece of paper the woman was holding and quickly scanned it before handed it to Sanaa.
The woman squealed with excitement, but then she looked between me and Vance. “Oh my God, her bodyguard has a twin!”
Vance chuckled as Sanaa signed the paper and handed it back to me. “Yes, but I’m the better-looking one, love. Don’t you think?” He grinned.
Laughter erupted from the crowd.
Pissed at Vance for drawing attention to us, I handed the paper and pen back to the woman.
Pulling Sanaa away from her fans who were already asking for more autographs and pictures, Vance waved at the crowd. “Sorry, but that’s all Miss Narine has time for today.”
“Why do you have four bodyguards, Sanaa?” a man’s voice yelled from somewhere in the crowd. “Do you think you’re in danger from your fans?”
Me, Tyler and Harm closed in on Vance and Sanaa at the same time as we all scanned.
I spotted him first. “Back of the crowd,” I warned. “Brown hair, white T-shirt.”
“Got him,” Tyler answered.
“Well?” the asshole yelled again as people began to step out of his way. “Is there something we should know about? We can’t even get an autograph without going through one of your bodyguards?” He waved an envelope in his hand. “Just one autograph?”
“I’m closer.” Harm moved.
“Get her out of here,” I ordered Vance. “Keep moving.”
“Right. Come on, love. Let’s go.” Vance led Sanaa forward, and I closed in.
“Oh, hey, whoa,” the asshole from the crowd yelled. “Now you’re siccing one of your bodyguards on me?” He laughed without humor. “I just want an autograph.” Fucker waved the envelope again.
“On your six, Pyro,” Tyler quipped through the comms. “But holding two meters out for crowd control. Harm, approach and contain.”
“Copy,” Harm answered before addressing the asshole. “Sir, I’m going to need you to come this way.”
“Fuck you, man!”
A shuffle sounded through the comm a second before the sound of women screaming erupted, both in the lobby and in my ear. Then Harm’s comm cut out.
“Well, that’s one way to draw attention,” Vance quipped before we rounded the corner toward the meeting spaces.
“Harm will handle it,” I ground out.
“In my sights,” Ty cut in, stepping out from the meeting room. “You’re clear.”
“All right, darling, you’re safe.” Vance rubbed Sanaa’s shoulder. “Ronan and I will be in the meeting with you. If at any time you’re uncomfortable or need to leave, just glance at either of us, and we’ll get you out of there. Ready?”
She glanced over her shoulder but didn’t make eye contact with me. “What about the man in the crowd?”
“He’s handled.” Ten minutes ago, I didn’t want her looking at me, and now I fucking hated that she wouldn’t. “You don’t have to go through with the meeting.”
Her dark amber gaze finally met mine, and the girl I knew, not the woman who’d become a megastar, stared at me a beat. “Yes, I do.”
I hated the fear in her eyes. Another lifetime, I wouldn’t have let her walk through that door. I also would’ve already taken my brother down.
Tyler glanced over his shoulder toward the lobby. “Let’s keep it moving.”
“Come on, love. Time to go in.” Vance walked her through the door.
Turning my comm off, I looked at Tyler. “Text me the second you hear from Harm. I want to know what was in that envelope.”
Serious when he needed to be, Tyler nodded. “Copy that.”
I turned my comm back on and walked into the room.
THE MEETING WAS A DISASTER.
I couldn’t hold my attention to what everyone was proposing, and I realized just how little I’d actually had a hand in my own career over the years. I never took meetings like this without my agent, manager, and label present. I never even went anywhere without security and my personal assistant being within arm’s reach. As long as I could sing to my fans, I trusted the people around me to take care of everything else. They weren’t people I ever would’ve had in my life under normal circumstances, but I wasn’t here to make friends.
My job, my purpose, was to sing.
But three months ago, when I got the first bomb threat, everything changed.
I didn’t trust anyone anymore, not my label, Trinity Media Group, and especially not the owner, Leo Amherst—not that I ever had. I didn’t even trust Vance or Adam, or even Ronan now that he was here.
But those three men weren’t in my life when the first threat materialized, and I trusted that more than I trusted myself to listen to this meeting.
“Miss Narine, do you agree that it would be beneficial to get the venue locked in before we approached other artists?” the irritating women asked. “A selling point in booking the lineup is most certainly the location.”
A man whose name I couldn’t remember snorted. “Sanaa is headlining. It doesn’t matter where the hell it is.” He glanced at me and gave me a fake sheepish smile. “Pardon the language, but my point is that the sooner we get names added to the lineup, the sooner we can get a handle on dates and narrow down a window. Location is secondary.”
I didn’t know who was right, but I hated the woman who kept glancing at Ronan and Vance behind me. I didn’t know which one she was looking at, but it didn’t matter. She was obvious each time she smiled their way, and that alone made me distrust every word out of her mouth.
I was also ashamed to admit that if I had to sit through any more meetings like this, I selfishly didn’t want to do this charity concert anymore. Making a mental note to text my agent and manager tomorrow, I decided on an alternative. I would ask them to set up a crowdfunding initiative on one of the social fundraising platforms with a promise that I would not only match every dollar donated, but make a donation myself.
Satisfied with my decision, I pasted on a smile and glanced over my shoulder.
As if he’d been watching me the whole time, Ronan’s gaze locked on mine and he stepped forward.
Vance, busy texting away on his phone, looked up. Quickly pocketing the thing, he also stepped forward.
The smile still glued on my face, I stood. Then I pieced together a few phrases I’d heard my manager and agent say over the years. “Thank you all for coming today, and under such short notice. We all have a lot to consider.”
Seamlessly picking up on my dismissal of everyone, Vance stepped to my side and his ever-present hand landed on my back. “Gentlemen, lady.” He smiled at the leering woman. “Miss Narine has another engagement and, unfortunately, our time is up. Have a good day.”
Whisking me away from the insufferable meeting as Ronan closed in on my other side, Vance led me to the door that magically opened as we approached.
Ty stepped back, but not before he nodded at Ronan. “Clear.”
“Copy,” Ronan quietly responded, careful not to touch me as Vance ushered me past him and through the door.
Harm and Tyler joined our entourage, and just like before, five overly muscled, overprotective, alpha men surrounded me like I was a queen.
With all of them constantly scanning our surroundings, and none of them speaking, I couldn’t take the suspense anymore.
“Who was the man in the crowd?” I asked no one in particular.
Vance’s hand made a small circle on my back as we walked at a brisk pace. “No one for you to worry about, love.”
Ronan looked over my head at his brother with a glare I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. His gaze then cut forward, and he scanned the lobby we were about to walk through. “We’ll brief you upstairs.”
Fear crawled up my spine and tightened every one of my already strained muscles. “There’s been ano
ther threat?” I’d seen the envelope in that man’s hand. All the other notes had come in a plain white envelope.
“Darling, you’re fine,” Vance appeased.
But Ronan did no such thing. “Not the place,” he warned in a quiet tone that belied the storm that lived just below the surface of him.
Feeling safer surrounded by four witnesses than when I was alone with Vance, I glanced at him. “Don’t patronize me again.”
Vance chuckled. “Never dream of it.”
“If there’s something new, I need to know. I’m not paying you to withhold information.”
Putting on a serious air, he nodded. “Of course not.”
In that moment, I hated him. I didn’t understand how someone could look exactly like Ronan and be so very different. I also didn’t understand how I had been putting up with it for three months, but something snapped. Maybe it was seeing the drastic difference in the two men side by side, or maybe it was too much alcohol earlier, or maybe I was just losing it, but suddenly I wanted to crawl out of my own skin just to get his hand off my back.
Not wanting to make a scene as the six of us stepped into the lobby proper, but not wanting to feel another second of Vance’s hand on me, I turned my head toward him and lowered my voice. “Remove your hand.”
His gaze sweeping across the lobby, he didn’t even look at me, but he dropped his hand and put the Vance persona back on again. “Yes, of course, darling.”
My jaw clenched. “I have a name.”
“Right,” he answered vaguely as my name was called out and a rushing tide of people came at us.
Forcing myself to smile with a perfectly calculated expression of demureness I’d learned years ago, I turned toward my fans and made eye contact with no one. Stretching my lips wide, projecting who everyone wanted me to be, I gave a graceful wave I’d been carefully taught and blew a kiss.
The chorus of my name called, cried, and yelled by countless people countless times all blended together, and it didn’t matter that we were in an enclosed building. It could have been Times Square, a sold-out arena, or a Sunday stroll in my old neighborhood in a poor community forgotten by urban sprawl—it all sounded the same to me, and anything more than one person saying my name was too much now.
