Nathan placed his hand over Charlee’s Bodyguard 380. The pistol was seated inside her waistband at the small of her back. She crawled inside the limo, the leather seat aiding her slide to the far side.
Nodding at Tony, Nathan followed her in with Laz at his heels. He settled beside her and pressed his phone to his ear. “Need a full run on the band The Burn…Yes…The musicians, promoters, managers, producers, security detail, everyone…Yes.” His arm tightened. “I’ve got her. And Crane? We’ve might’ve been exposed. Reassign someone to 24/7 facial searching.”
They didn’t have the recognition software Roy’s company was developing, so their effort was manual and inefficient, but they looked anyway. If they found her photo on the Internet, they’d rip it down with the hope they caught it before Roy did. Her gut clenched. What a royal fucking conundrum she’d steered them in.
Across the aisle, Laz eyed him, his lips flattened in a harsh line. He glanced at her, and an uncomfortable tension vibrated through the cabin.
“Sorry,” she mouthed.
“Yes…Keep me posted.” Nathan pocketed the phone and returned Laz’s glare. “Where are we going?”
“The Plaza Hotel.”
Nathan swung his head, looking out the windows. “Just drop us ten or twenty blocks up the road. We’ll take the subway back.”
The hotel would be a cluster of fan girls. Didn’t stop the too-curious-to-be-rational part of her from speaking up. “Is Jay there?”
“Depends.” Laz leaned into his arms bent on his spread knees.
“On?”
A battle of who-has-the-fiercest-glare launched between the men. She snapped her fingers in front of Laz. “On?”
He didn’t unlock the stare down. “On if this guy is FBI or DEA or any of the other acronyms that would cause a rash in my ass.”
Nathan blew out his cheeks and tapped his fingers on his knees.
“Also depends on how much more damage you plan on doing to my best friend.”
“Let us out.” Nathan thumped a fist on the divider behind the driver.
“I want to know what the fuck is going on.” Laz scowled at her. “You’re dead. Then you’re not dead. Do you have any idea what you did to him?”
Was she responsible for Jay’s damage? By leaving an unfinished tattoo him? Had she made his pain worse by giving him a design he didn’t want? She hadn’t meant to hurt anyone, but a wanting need to fix it pulled at her heart.
She clasped Nathan’s chin and made him look at her. “He just saved our asses from a media nightmare. A nightmare I led us into.”
His jaw hardened beneath her fingers.
“That’s right. I picked the restaurant knowing I might run into them. I will see this through.”
“No. No fucking way.” He shoved her hand away, twisting in the seat and eyes flicking over the surrounding buildings and streets.
She sucked in a breath. “You’re smothering me, Nathan. I didn’t ask you to be here. In fact, I’ve begged you to back off.”
His gaze swung to hers, and they shared a moment of unspoken communication. She knew he walked a razor’s edge between controlling her and protecting her. His obligation revolved around repaying his self-imposed debt to his brother, and in the process, he imprisoned himself as much as her.
Three years earlier, she’d put up with a paranoid life on the run. What did that get her? A dead boyfriend and two months in Roy’s penthouse. No more overbearing men.
She dug deep to not buckle under Nathan’s confining eyes and filled hers with a silent command. Stop controlling.
He closed the pregnant gap between them and patted her cheek. “Fine, but next time you’ll warn me before you parade us into the public eye.”
She nodded and turned to Laz, swaying toward him as if her nearness would convey the prudence of her words. “I think you’ve already worked out that I met Jay in St. Louis three years ago when I gave him his first tattoo.”
Laz leaned back and let out a long resolved breath. Then he jerked his chin at Nathan. “And him?”
“Nathan owns a private investigation firm, but he spends most of his time keeping us under the radar.”
The flicker of passing lights illuminated Laz’s sudden stiffness. “Private Investigation? Are you the asshole who—”
“Yes.” Nathan scooted closer, crowding her.
She tensed against him, preparing herself. “What is he talking about?”
An explosion of fists pummeled the driver’s seatback. Then Laz turned and pointed one of those fists at Nathan. “That bastard told Jay you were dead. Jay went to St. Louis more hopeful than he’d been in his life, only to find out you were fucking murdered.”
“Be careful, Mr. Bromwell.” Nathan’s voice was low, deadly. “The man who was murdered meant the world to us.”
His face paled. “The boyfriend?”
“And Nathan’s brother.” She squeezed Nathan’s hand as her words, and the guilt that came with them, pulsed in her chest.