“I was,” he said. No use in denying it. His role was a matter of public record.
Hannah stayed by his side while her photographer reviewed shots. “Why does she have police protection?”
Conn said nothing. Even without the confidentiality agreement, he wouldn’t give a reporter a single detail about Cady.
“Is this an official presence, or part of the off-duty work officers can do?”
“Any questions about the LPD’s role in Ms. Ward’s security detail can be directed to Lieutenant Hawthorn, East Side Precinct.”
“You’re just the muscle?”
“I’m just the muscle.”
Hannah all but rolled her eyes. “What’s she like when she’s not performing?”
“You just talked to her for thirty minutes,” Conn pointed out, keeping one eye on Cady.
“And she was performing every single second of those thirty minutes.” Hannah looked at him. Conn just stared back, expressionless. He was beginning to understand why Chris had him sign the confidentiality agreement. Twenty-four hours into this gig and he could blow Cady’s privacy all to hell, putting Cady in danger and making the department look like a bunch of unprofessional amateurs.
“Maybe none of us know,” Hannah said. She collected her photographer and left. Outside the door a line had already formed. He made a mental note to check in with the bouncer before he opened up, and see if Eve could spare another big guy in case the crowd got out of hand. Getting Cady to safety would be easy; the big gates on the far side of the patio were unlocked, simply barred with a bolt.
He walked through the double doors leading to the patio, where a crew was setting up a temporary bar and three big heaters were blasting away. Cady was unpacking equipment when he approached. “Don’t you have someone to do that for you?”
“It’s a single amp,” she said, uncoiling a cord. A glass of ice water and her mug of hot water and honey sat next to a stool. “I’ve done it myself literally thousands of times.”
“Are all interviews like that one?”
“That was pretty standard. Why?”
She was so small. So vulnerable. A powerful, protective urge swept through him, to keep her safe, bundle her away so she could get the quiet and privacy she obviously wanted. “Never mind,” he said.
That kind of tenderness was unfamiliar, a little scary. He needed space, so he fell back on what he knew, crossing the dance floor to talk to the big bouncer waiting by the door. The guy was Conn’s height and wider, but he shifted his weight and forced himself to make eye contact as Conn approached. He was a big, open-hearted puppy. This guy wouldn’t have lasted five minutes on the streets.
“What’s your name?” Conn asked. His mental database was coming up blank for a name or an arrest history, but gang ink doesn’t lie. If he was inked and didn’t have a record, he was the first in history.
“Cesar.”
“Worked here long?”
He straightened his shoulders and met Conn’s gaze, like he’d remembered a lesson in interpersonal communication skills. “Ever since Miss Eve opened.”
“You a friend of hers?”
Cesar nodded.
“I’m Ms. Ward’s security detail.”
Matt Dorchester strode in from the parking lot and nodded a greeting to Conn. Conn threw a quick glance at Cesar. Matt gave an almost imperceptible nod to indicate Cesar was okay.
“I’ve got the entrance to the patio,” Matt said. “See you in a few.”
“You tight with Dorchester?”
“Yeah,” Conn said, then remembered he wasn’t in uniform or wearing his name tag. If it would get him Cesar’s focus on the line now stretching down the block to see Cady sing, he’d play up the connection. “I was there when he took down Santiago,” he said, aligning himself with Eve, Matt, and everything they were doing to clean up the East Side’s drug and gang problem.
Recognition flickered in Cesar’s eyes. Good.
“You’ve got a handle on that line?” Conn said.
“Yessir,” Cesar said firmly. “I’ve got this.”
“Good.” He pulled out his phone and took Cesar’s number, then texted him. “That’s me. Text or call if you see any trouble.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I brought you fresh ice water, and refilled your Cady juice,” Eve said with a smile.
Eye Candy was a little island of Eve in the middle of the East Side, upscale, sassy, determined. She admired how thoroughly Eve had held on to her sense of self, how she could transform the space around her, own it. Cady knew how to do that on stage, the moments to approach the audience, when to hold back and linger behind the mic. Doing the same thing in her regular life wasn’t as easy. “Thanks,” she said, and sipped the Cady juice.
“How are things going with Conn?”
“He’s all cop, still. Just doing a job. Is he former military?”