Page 102 of Tate
“With Tate as your date?”
She smiled, turned to Kelsey. “He did say he’d be there to keep me safe.”
“If that’s what you want to call it.” Kelsey winked.
Glo laughed. Because she was right. It was time to stop living in fear. To give away her heart.
And to let her light shine.
She got up and grabbed her toothbrush, opened the door, and headed into the hallway.
The hall opened up into a balcony that overlooked the great room. The kitchen was dark, Gerri having gone to bed, but Glo spotted Ford and Tate sitting in the leather chairs.
Ford’s voice drifted upstairs. “She’s going to get herself killed, and I have to stand on the sidelines and watch. And it’ll kill me, bro. I can’t believe I let myself get in this far.”
She turned, was walking to the bathroom when she heard Tate’s voice. “Yeah, I get that, bro. I fell for the wrong girl once and it blew up in my face. I got sucked in to her world, and pretty soon I was in over my head, with no way out.”
“I guess I should be glad it died before it really got started because we could have had a real mess.” But Ford leanedforward in his chair, his face in his hands like he wasn’t glad in the least.
“I hear you. It’s like I can’t get my footing. I want her—but I’m so afraid of making a mistake too. Of walking into an ambush or doing something stupid. She’s amazing, but…yeah, she could be the death of me.”
Tate ended with a laugh but Glo froze, the words a hot ball in her stomach.
Yeah, well, she’d see about that.
10
Tate could feel it, the niggle, the itch creeping up his spine that this night could go very, very badly.
He’d even alerted Sly, who stood opposite him up in front of the massive stage, tucked into the discreet shadows of the Bridgestone Arena in Nashville.
In front of him, twenty thousand country music stars, celebrities, and fans filled the arena, the glittering spotlights glaring down into the audience. He could only see the first thirty or so rows, but Glo and her entourage were sitting just ten feet away, and that’s what counted. Besides, Sly had worked with the crew of the stadium and not a few other personal security teams.
Still, something stirred in his gut.
Please, he just wanted to get Glo home safely.
Maybe then she’d shake out of the strange arm’s length freeze going on between them. It might be his imagination, because sure, they’d stepped out of never-never land and right back into the scrutiny of Senator Jackson and her henchmen, but Glo, too, seemed off.
She’d gone back to calling him by her nicknames. Champ. Rocky. The Rock. And a few strange ones like Bullwinkle, Tiger, and yesterday evening’s Bono.
Of course, he’d been trying on the strange glasses Sly had procured for them, something to stop the glare of the spotlights. Orange wraparounds and yeah, maybe he looked a little like Bono.
She’d walked out to the estate’s security booth and told the team she was going riding.
He’d volunteered to ride with her, but Rags got up and grabbed the keys to a four-wheeler.
Meanwhile, he and Sly had gone over tonight’s plan. Again.
And while he hadn’t expected to be her date—he could hardly keep an eye on her while sitting beside her—he wasn’t exactly sure why she’d chosen Sloan to sit with her.
Maybe that accounted for the roil in his gut.
Cole Swindell finished playing, and the audience cheered as he ran down the thrust to the main stage. The spotlight flashed to Carrie Underwood, dressed in yet another outfit, and suddenly the worry in his gut ignited.
“And to present the award for New Group of the Year, please welcome Senator Reba Jackson.”
“What?” The voice came through Tate’s headpiece and he nearly winced at Sly’s shout.
