Page 72 of Back in Black

“That’s none of your damned business, but no, not yet he isn’t.”

Skepticism pinched Dickey’s brows. “I don’t believe you.”

That was the wrong thing to say; it smacked of calling Drew a liar and snapped his barely contained temper. “And I don’t give a flying fuck what you believe! Now get the hell out of my fucking house!”

He didn’t. Instead, he looked over his shoulder at the street, then back to Drew again. Low, so low that Gillian barely heard him, Dickey said, “Listen, Drew, I didn’t just come for that. Some women were talking to me earlier, asking me all kinds of questions about you. I dunno, but I think they expected me to . . . rat you out somehow.”

Unconcerned, Drew snorted. “About what?”

“That’s just it. I have no idea. But they hinted something about your position being in jeopardy.”

Uh-oh, Gillian thought. Had news gotten out about her assignment to pretty up Drew’s reputation? Not that she was surprised. Nothing really stayed hidden for long.

“That’s bullshit,” Drew said.

“I figured. But when I got here, I saw someone across the street taking pictures of the cars in your driveway.” Dickey scratched the side of his head. “I’m guessing most know that little compact isn’t your car, right?”

Drew ignored the reference to her small rental car. “What are you talking about? Who was taking pictures?”

“I dunno. He took off when I got here. At least, I think he did.”

“You’re shitting me. Someone was on my property?” Drew shoved Dickey aside and stepped out the door.

“He was across the street, hanging behind those shrubs,” Dickey told him as he stormed out.

“Drew!” Forgetting her modesty for the moment, Gillian dashed after him. The idea of anyone snooping around his house left her shaken.

The second Dickey saw her, he said, “Whoa,” in surprise, then quickly got out of her way.

“Drew, get in here! Are you out of your mind?” She reached out the door until she could snag the back of his jeans, then she tugged, hard.

He didn’t budge.

She looked to Dickey for help, but he held up his hands, and Gillian realized that Drew was never in any danger from this particular fighter. Dickey had no intention of getting physical with Drew inanyway.

“Drew,” she implored without results. “There was a bomb threat against you, you idiot.Get in the house.”

“Bomb threat?” Dickey went on the alert.

At her screeched order, she finally had Drew’s attention. Glancing at her, he frowned and pried her hand from the waistband of his jeans. With a sound of disgust directed at her concern, he left the porch and went down the walkway to investigate.

“Oh. My. God.” Gillian couldn’t believe his lack of caution. “Call the police,” she told Dickey.

“No,” Drew countermanded. “We don’t need the cops sniffing around here again.”

“Um . . .” Dickey looked back and forth between them. He ran a hand over his head and then asked, “Again?”

THE perfect photograph presented itself as Drew Black himself stood outside in opened jeans. That meddling woman was behind him, wearing only Drew’s shirt, proof positive of what they’d been up to. Better yet, next to her stood a disgruntled fighter with plenty of reason to hate Drew.

If the flash went off, escape would be almost impossible.

Was it worth the risk? His heart thundered in indecision. The bomb scare had missed Drew Black entirely, so it was a bust. But this wouldn’t be. This would be the perfect picture. It would bring immeasurable appreciation, and good money to boot.

Hehadto do it.

Trying not to make a sound behind the bushes where he cowered, he positioned himself on his knees and aimed the camera.

He had them all three in the shot.

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