Page 1 of Unseen Danger

One

The building quaked, helpless against the pounding onslaught. D-Chop was famous for his ear-blasting hip-hop concerts, but Nevaeh Williams was glad she wasn’t backstage at the moment. She could do her job of security specialist a lot easier with some hearing left.

Alvarez followed by her side as she turned the corner into the hallway that housed the dressing rooms. The K-9’s heavy panting was a welcome, softer sound as they continued their patrol through the limited-access sections of the PowerSource Center.

One of D-Chop’s bodyguards stood outside the rapper’s dressing room just ahead. The guy was about six feet and buff but a mere mortal compared to the two dudes who had flanked the star when he’d arrived at the venue.

D-Chop hadn’t spotted her when he’d made his entrance amid a mob of raving fans, kept at bay behind barriers. Would he have recognized her if he had? Probably not now that he was a world-famous hip-hop headliner. And the last time he’d seen her, she’d been a kid.

Didn’t matter. She was just glad to be helping him out in some small way after all these years.

The bodyguard by the empty dressing room gave her a curt nod as she passed, leaving plenty of space between them.

“This is PT3, east wing clear.”

Nevaeh smiled at the sound of Jazz Lamont’s full voice coming through her earpiece. Didn’t think she’d ever tire of hearing her best girlfriend back at work with the Phoenix K-9 team, healthy and strong. Though the worry something could happen to Jazz might never go away since she’d nearly died in the explosion during their big job three months ago.

A kid probably no more than nineteen with a stage crew ID around his neck smiled broadly as he approached, going the opposite way up the hallway as she and Alvarez.

She straightened her lips and met his appraisal with a cool it stare.

Down, boy. I ain’t smilin’ at you.

His gaze dropped as he neared. Message received. And then some, judging from the way he paled as he darted a glance at the thick rottweiler mix at her side.

Checking over her shoulder to be sure the teen kept walking, she paused at the door that led to the stage. “Here goes, buddy.” She glanced down at Alvarez, earning a look from his big brown eyes. “Sorry about the noise.”

The music would be even harder on the dog’s sensitive ears. But Phoenix Gray and Marion Moore had trained Alvarez to be cool around gunshots, so he should be able to handle the measly noise of a hip-hop concert.

Nevaeh pushed through the door into the dark, black-walled world of the immediate backstage area.

The steady beats from the DJ’s turntables on stage, backed up by the guitars and whatever else D-Chop had brought with him, slammed into Nevaeh’s ears.

Her wince shifted into a wry grin. She must be getting old. Used to be she couldn’t get enough of hip-hop and especially D-Chop’s beats.

Several people in black clothing rushed around, weaving in and out of the thick curtains that created a maze behind the stage. She kept her eyes on them just long enough to verify they all wore crew IDs.

Nevaeh and Alvarez veered between the gigantic curtain closest to the stage and the set pieces that formed an elaborate backdrop for D-Chop’s show. The music was nearly deafening from so close, but this would also be the most likely place for a would-be attacker or trespasser to lurk.

As she came out the other end, movement caught her gaze.

A huge man stood at the entrance onto the stage, watching the performers.

She froze.

Buzz-cut black hair and coffee-colored skin. D-Chop’s bodyguard.

She let out a breath.

He turned his head her direction, like he knew he was being watched. Good instincts.

She pushed her feet forward and looked away, clasping Al’s leash a little harder to hide the tremor that tumbled through her fingers. Lucky he wasn’t a hostile. Wouldn’t want to have to tangle with that dude.

Or the other one she’d seen escort D-Chop into the building. He’d stood out even more than this guy, maybe because he was unexpectedly blond and light skinned. Or could’ve been because he had another couple inches in height over the Brutus guy she’d just passed and a similar measure of extra muscles. She’d better not bump into him suddenly backstage.

Her pulse sped up as an alarming image flashed in her mind. The big guy, jumping out of the shadows and—

She shook her head as she stalked toward the stage exit opposite the one she’d entered through. “Just give me a good smack, will you, boy?” She muttered the suggestion to Alvarez, half hoping he’d figure out how to follow through with it.

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