Page 5 of Dangerous Rhythm

“Right. You drink tea,” Curtis remembered, glancing her way. She looked at him with parted lips, as if she was surprised that he knew her beverage preference. He surprised himself, but Lina Cheung wasn’t the type of woman one easily forgot.

“I might have tea somewhere here. I bought some for my grandma when she visited last,” he added.

“Don’t bother. I’m good,” she finally said.

Curtis pushed a button to grind the coffee beans, which filled the portafilter. He tamped the ground coffee and locked the portafilter into the machine and brewed a double-shot espresso. When it was ready, he downed it in one gulp.

He was grateful Lina was perceptive enough to wait until he got his first dose of caffeine before she approached.

“Sorry if I intruded into your morning with your girlfriend,” Lina said.

His brow knitted, puzzled at her words. Then it dawned on him. “Jill? She isn’t my girlfriend.”

“I see,” she simply said.

Checking his sudden need to explain himself, Curtis changed the subject. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. What are you doing here? I mean, I don’t usually hear or see you unless we’re on the road. And you didn’t come with us on our mini summer tour last year. I heard you handle big jobs now, not us lowly musicians.”

She pierced him with her direct, dark eyes and ignored most of his rant. “I just got back from an extended business trip last weekend.”

“And you had the overwhelming desire to see me?” he teased.

“I came to see if you’re all right.”

“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” He narrowed his eyes at her.

“I heard what happened last month,” she said. “Witnessing a murder takes a toll on a person.”

Curtis’ lips flattened into a thin line.I need more coffee.

He turned back to his coffee maker and got busy preparing another shot.

“Curtis,” Lina started again.

“I’m fine.” He flashed her a quick grin. She didn’t need to know he saw Sean Murphy’s face in his nightmares. “Here I am, thinking you miss my irresistible charm. But it’s an officialvisit, isn’t it? Marcus told me B&Y would arrange security for me during the trial, but I didn’t think they’d send you.”

With a refilled cup, Curtis finally faced Lina, standing across from him on the other side of the kitchen island. A small smile was on her lips, as if she was indulging a child.

“You’re sure you need that? You seem wired,” she said.

And like a stubborn brat, he sipped the espresso slowly while staring back at her over the rim of his cup.

“Nice place you got.” She backed off and made a show of looking around the space again, as if she hadn’t cased the whole joint in the first five minutes she’d stepped inside. “The exterior threw me for a loop, but this seems like you—a good mix of avant-garde and gloss.”

Curtis frowned at her assessment. He didn’t think she’d paid enough attention to him to make a judgment about his style. He’d always found her aloofness fascinating. There was always something about the straitlaced type that intrigued him. And Lina was the poster child of propriety—not necessarily on etiquette, but on protocol and professionalism. He’d flirted with her every chance he’d gotten during the tour, but she’d never given him an inch. In fact, the only time he’d ever seen her break from her bodyguard role had been the first time they’d met.

The memory brought an involuntary smile to his lips. It had something to do with a dimly lit room, sneaking around, and something fishy.

He smelled something fishy now. “You’re not here for a social call. I wish you were, but I doubted it. What’s going on?”

Lina contemplated him with a thoughtful look before saying, “The man you’re testifying against, Rocco Stiletto…”

“What about him?” Curtis couldn’t forget him either, even if he wanted to. The memory of Rocco’s panicked eyes as he’d realized what he’d just done wreaked havoc in Curtis’ head, as his testimony might put a young man in prison for life.

“He’s dead,” Lina said.

Curtis’ gaze sharpened on her. “What?”

“He was killed in jail last night, presumably a revenge kill for what he did to Sean Murphy, the victim you—”

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