Under the Surface (Alpha Ops #4)

“I just wanted to talk to her,” the drunk slurred. “I love her. We’re going to make music together.”


Shoulders clicked the other cuff around the second wrist, then nodded at the taller cop. Together they hoisted the guy up and set him on his feet. It was an impressive display of strength, given that Drunk Guy had a significant beer-and-wings gut spilling over his belt. All Cady could think about was the way the band around the sleeve of his polo choked his biceps, the way the muscles in his forearms shifted as he easily controlled the prisoner. Just like that, her brain shifted from tour mode, when sex was easily forgotten, to rest mode, when it was all she could think about.

“How about you write her a nice letter from jail?” Shoulders said. “No, I’ve got this,” he said to the other cop. “You stay with Eve. Come on, Romeo. You can serenade the rest of the drunk-and-disorderlies in the van.”

Everyone watched him guide Drunk Guy through the maze of equipment, including Cady’s suitcases. She cast them a loathing look. Tonight was the last night she’d live out of her suitcase. Tomorrow she would unpack in her own house, eat food from her own fridge, sleep in her own bed.

“Cady, darling, the only reason we let Evan go was you saying Lancaster was safe. That nothing ever happened here. That you were no big deal here,” Chris muttered.

Evan had been her bodyguard on the tour. An obsessive workout that required two hours a day in the gym meant he had the strong half of strong silent type down, but he talked almost incessantly, a running commentary mostly on his workout and diet that, over the course of the tour, drove Cady nuts. “It is. It was,” Cady replied, fingering the bracelet in a habitual nervous gesture before she caught herself. “And you know Evan had to go. I was ready to kill him in Topeka.”

“Barbecued beef tongue is delicious,” Chris said, back on his phone.

“It’s tongue. It’s gross. I didn’t care that he ate it. I cared that he wouldn’t freaking shut up about it.”

The chestnut-haired cop strode over to the small, frozen group. “You all right, Ms. Ward?” he asked, his gaze skimming the group before settling on Eve.

“I’m fine,” Cady said. Her voice sounded almost giddy. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved the guy was gone, or that this was obviously Eve’s Matt. “Thank you for handling that so quickly. Please tell the other officer…”

“McCormick.”

“Please give Officer McCormick my thanks.”

“I will,” he said.

“Cady, this is Matt,” Eve said, as if the smile on her face and the delight in her eyes didn’t give it away. “Matt, meet Cady.”

“Nice to officially meet you,” Matt said with a nod. “I’m a big fan.”

“Thank you. I’ve heard so much about you from Eve,” she said.

“That’s not good,” Matt said easily.

“It wasn’t all bad,” Cady said, to laughter.

“He’s been a fan almost as long as I have,” Eve said. “Your first Maud concert was when?”

“The Slowdown, five, no, six years ago,” Matt said.

“Wow, that is a long time,” Cady agreed. She’d been nineteen, on her father’s shit list for refusing to go to college, singing wherever she could get a gig and eating ramen noodles out of styrofoam cups. “I was still singing covers at that point.”

“Yeah, but you had something,” Eve said. “We all knew it.”

“Thanks,” Cady said again. She was too tired to think of something more creative to say, but with Eve she didn’t have to. “I really need to get going. Emily has school tomorrow.”

“Of course,” Eve said. “Get some rest, then come see me. I’d love to have you at Eye Candy when you’re ready.”

“Ms. Ward won’t be taking any engagements for the next few weeks,” Chris said smoothly.

“It’s not an engagement,” Cady said. “It’s a favor for a friend. A very dear friend.”

He gave her a look reminding her that she needed to rest her voice. Only a few people knew about the upcoming album for which the label planned a surprise Beyonce-style drop around Valentine’s Day, less than three months away. The thought made her stomach turn a slow loop. Chris chalked it up to nerves, to exhaustion, to creative fatigue, to anything but Cady’s growing uncertainty that the album was the right thing to release now.

Chris broke the silence. “We can talk about it tomorrow, when you’ve had a chance to rest up. I’ve booked a car for you.”

“Hello, remember me? I’m taking her home,” Emily said.

“I remembered,” Cady said. “Let’s grab my suitcases and we can head out.”