Page 132 of Play Dirty (Brooklyn Dawn 1)

“What?” The question was hollow.

After imagining Lindsey threatened at the very least, the destruction of a poster seemed anti-climactic. But burning out her face? That was different.

Beyond the level of a quick prank.

“Yeah, real juvenile shit. But she was rattled. They got too close to her. And we’d all scattered already, so she was there basically alone—”

“What kind of asinine security do you have? She’s a world-famous star. She should never be alone, let alone at a venue right after a show.”

“Slow your roll, Romeo. She’s had a bodyguard since she was a kid. Haven’t you seen George? That dude is a literal tank.”

“Was he in there with her? I’m guessing not. And if not, that makes him worthless. I’m going to call Donovan Lewis.”

“Excuse me? You’re going to do what now when it comes to our fucking band? You don’t have a say over her life.”

Just like that, she put me back in my place—on the sidelines.

“And excuse me if I’m being rude, but you haven’t even bothered to fly out once to meet her in the last couple of weeks. She practically gave you an engraved invitation, but you were too busy working. Yet now you think you have the right to criticize her setup when it’s worked a hell of a lot longer than you’ve been around?”

The vise around my vocal cords tightened for a whole new reason. “I’ll come to her tonight.”

“First intelligent thing you’ve said so far this entire conversation. Never would’ve assumed Lindz would go for a stealth dick and a pretty face over brains.”

I didn’t want to pay any attention to her blathering. It was obvious I was being baited. But she had mentioned my cock, and I was, unfortunately, male. If there was a piece of catnip I would find irresistible, that was it.

“What did she say about my dick?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? By the way, she’s on her way back to New York. Getting a flight out now. Maybe you can tie up your work and actually, I don’t know, make yourself useful for a change.” Without saying goodbye, Jamie hung up.

Shaking my head, I went into the bedroom to grab an overnight bag, then haphazardly started tossing in clothes.

When Lindsey arrived in town, I would be ready. She wasn’t going to be alone tonight.

I still didn’t feel like I had the full picture of what had happened, especially in light of all the odd things occurring with me. I hadn’t yet connected all the dots. But I would. That was a certainty.

One thing, however, was crystal clear.

I hadn’t met the parents yet—nor would I ever, most likely—but I could say without a doubt that meeting the best friend had been equivalent to the seventh realm of hell.

Twenty-Six

George pulled up to my brownstone. It was indulgent and stupid for me to take the trip to New York, but as usual George never complained. Even when I killed the plans with his niece. I just really needed to not be Lindsey York, rockstar for a few days.

I needed my space, my scents, my clothes, for God’s sake.

I hadn’t bothered with anything other than my small travel bag for the trip back. Everything I needed was inside my home.

I owned all four floors of the brownstone as well as the building next door, which George lived in. It kept him close enough for his piece of mind as well as my own. And because I owned both buildings, we had a garage between them for George’s baby—aka the tricked out Mercedes he used when we were in town. One of his buddies had dropped it in temporary parking for us so we didn’t have to try to find a cab or Uber at the airport.

Another car was parked in front of my house. While not completely out of the ordinary, off-street parking was almost nonexistent in Brooklyn. Not to mention, I knew that Jeep intimately.

“What the hell is he doing here?”

George perked up. “Who?”

I pushed open my door without answering him. George hurried out and stalked toward the wide stone steps where a man sat on the third step. “Can I help you?”

Nash stood. He was wearing a hip-length leather jacket against the brisk October wind. His inky hair was hidden under another beanie, adding to the skulking intruder factor.

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