“Shit.” Laz pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, then lowered them and looked at her. “They didn’t catch him, did they? The murderer? That’s who you’re hiding from?”
Her jaw was clenched so tightly, she had to focus to unlock it. “It’s more complicated than that, but yeah.” She shifted to face Nathan. “When did you talk to Jay?”
Nathan’s gaze was elsewhere, searching the passing streets. “I was at the tower when I got the call.”
So he was deep undercover within Roy’s ranks. “And you took the call?”
“Crane said Jay Mayard knew your name. I was afraid…” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, shifted his attention to her. “When one of our detectives discovered there was never a body for Sarah Teves, he dug in and connected your real name with Roy. He was hushed. At least, that’s what Roy thinks. The detective is in the witness protection program now.”
Her nod was taut with guilt. Roy would’ve put a hit on anyone looking for her.
Laz’s chest rose and fell, watching their exchange.
Regret over Jay’s involvement simmered through her. “Laz, if Jay was asking questions and using my real name, he would’ve become a target. Nathan shut that down the best way possible and saved his life.”
The air choked with his harsh laughter. “I assure you, you did not save him. He’s been in a three-year walking coma.”
“Why? He didn’t know me.” Her voice sounded as uneasy as the conversation.
“I don’t know.” Laz bent toward her. “Whatever you gave him made him look at things differently, made him want to get better. He wanted to explore it…the tattoo, you, I don’t know. But your death meant he would be forever incomplete…unfinished.”
She cleared her throat. “What’s his story? How did he get the scars?”
His eyebrows slammed together. “Scars?”
Just cover it. One big sheet of black.
Oh God. Jay had really wanted to keep his back covered, even from his friends. “Yeah.”
A wretched kind of silence fell between them. She tried to ride it out, but after an idle debate with her heart-shaped conscience, she couldn’t convince herself to walk away. “I want to talk to him.”
Nathan sighed, and Laz swung out an arm and pounded on the divider. “Come on, Tony. Can’t you make this thing go any faster?”
The smile he directed at her danced at the corners of his mouth, betraying his nervousness. “When we get there, try to see the man beneath the surface. Whatever you saw in him three years ago, look for that, okay?”
“I didn’t—”
“You did. The proof is permanently inked on his back, and he cherishes it more than life itself.”
20
The limo stopped in a private underground garage a few feet from the hotel’s service elevator. The ride to the top floor pulsated with impatience. Laz tapped the toe of his boot against the steel walls, sputtering Charlee’s heart more than it already was. Nathan clenched his fingers along with the Musak jingle trumpeting from a hidden speaker.
What would she say to Jay? The notion that he cherished his tattoo sung through her veins. Maybe he’d ask her to finish it.
The bell dinged, and they jerked in unison. The doors opened to an austere landing lined with more doors. She welcomed the stark privacy, but it surprised her. “Do you always take the sneaky way?”
Laz swiped his card key on a solid-looking door. “Jay prefers to be removed from the view and presence of strangers, and he hires the best security professionals in the business to ensure he gets that.”
“He chose the wrong damned lifestyle then.” Nathan held the door for her with a smirk on his face.
They walked through another service door, and…oh, wow. The entry engulfed them in another world. Marble pillars, gold-leafed mirrors and red velvet settees adorned the space. A heady reminder of how famous Jay was. Would he give a shit about a nobody like her? What if she’d misinterpreted his songs and she’d built up some ridiculous fantasy about him in her head? Her heart pounded and her hands trembled.
Laz led them down a hall. “Jay didn’t choose this life. It chose him. And to answer your question, Charlee…” He looked at her over his shoulder. “When our security personnel suggest we use the service elevator, we use the damned service elevator.”
Good to know. The lackluster elevator seemed like a small concession as she passed a junior suite, a grand elevator foyer, another long foyer, a second bedroom. The scale and quantity of the rooms floored her. “This is all part of your suite?”
An oval foyer opened to a powder room, a study, and a gym. He stopped them in the center. “For thirty thousand dollars a night, we should have our own fucking pool.” He smiled with a tinge of red in his cheeks. “And you’ve only seen the entrance.”