“Nothing is going on, Lacy.” She ducked her head and walked toward the back of the bar, where she lined up the liquor bottles. She moved on to restocking the fridge. Ryker stood at the bar, cleaning up the glasses while Damon picked up the bar stools. By the time Ella was done, Lacy and Ryker had finished the rest of the cleanup behind the bar.

Ryker called, “I’m out,” and left.

Lacy wiped her hands on her thighs before grabbing her purse from behind the cash register. “And we’re done for the night. C’mon, girl. Our guys are waiting.”

“Our guys?” She looked up, and Damon stood with the bouncer, Chris. He stood an inch above Damon, probably six-five. Dark, ebony skin. He wore a red T-shirt with the Cager logoon the back and looked like he could probably throw a car across the parking lot. “You’re with Chris?”

“Yes. I think we should double sometime.”

“Double?” What did that mean?

“Double date?” At her continued confusion, Lacy shook her head. “Let me put it more plainly. Damon’s single.” She skipped ahead, wrapping her arms around Chris’s neck and kissing him.

Chris palmed her butt. “Let’s go.” With his arm over her shoulder, he led Lacy outside.

“I didn’t know they were together. Does he have a problem with the guys at the bar hitting on her? It was a constant thing.”

Damon locked the front door and escorted her toward his car. “No. He’ll step in if she wants it, but Lacy handles them overall. Was it bad for you? I can stay at the bar if I need to.”

“Are you going to growl at all of them?”

He hummed. “Only the ones that won’t stop touching you.”

She shook her head. “If Lacy can handle it, I can, too.”

“Please know you don’t have to deal with it. I’d much rather sit and kick jerks out of our bar than listen to Slater ramble about his last date.” He smirked as he opened her car door. “Not sure they qualify as technical dates.”

“He seems like he’d be with a lot of people.”

“He’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Did you come up with a plan? You said you would talk to them tonight.” She lingered near the car door, but didn’t open it. The night would end once they made it back to the apartment.

Damon leaned his arm on the top of the door. “Yes. We have a starting point. We need a picture of the man stalking you. Ryker is setting up a sketch artist for you to give a description. The next step is Ryker searching for his identity.”

She closed her eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to see him again. But I see him every single night in my nightmares.”

“I hate to say that’s good, but the more detail you can give the artist, the better. Ryker will use it to try to find his identity. Hey”—he touched her elbow, and her eyes opened—“nothing about this is going to be easy, but I need the details to put it all together. There’s a reason he’s stalking you.”

“Will you be there?”

“For the sketch artist?” He shrugged. “Depends on when she’s available. But one of us will be there. Let’s get going.” He opened the car door. “It’s late.”

They drove home in near silence. At a red light, he looked over at her. He didn’t say anything.

He just looked.

The longer he did, the louder the blood thumped steadily in her ears. All she did was return his stare, seeing what he’d do next. She could come up with something to say and break the tension, but the longer it went, the more her body heated.

The light turned green, and he looked away, driving to the apartment and apparently oblivious to his effect on her nervous system.

Once there, she met him at the front of the car and held out her hand. “Do you want to give me my jewelry?”

He took her hand and led the way up to her apartment.

Her throat tightened with the contact. But once they arrived at her door, she reached into her purse for her key, only he slipped his into the lock first.

“You have a key?”