When I Say Yes (Necklace Trilogy 3)

“What happened?”

“His father cornered us and all but called Dash a killer. He even said something to the effect of Dash eventually killing me, too.”

Tyler grunts. “That son of a bitch. Yeah, Dash is going to fight tonight. No question about it.”

“Where?” I ask. “I need to know where so I can stop him.”

“I don’t know where and even if I did, you can’t go to an underground fight club alone. But I might be able to payoff the right people to freeze him out. Let me make some phone calls.”

“Don’t tell Bella. Not yet. Not if we don’t have to tell her.”

“I didn’t plan on telling Bella. She’ll lose her shit, but Bella should have told me what was going down with this signing. We should have had them sign separately at different times or in different rooms.”

He’s not wrong, but it all happened so fast, I don’t think anyone could even get their head around the best next move. For now, I focus on avoiding another time bomb. “Don’t call Dash,” I say. “Please. I beg of you. If he knows I went to you—”

“Maybe that would wake his ass up and bring him back to your side.”

My heart jackhammers. “Don’t. No.”

“I got it, I won’t call Dash. I’ll get back to you soon.” He disconnects.

I try Dash again and another call comes through. I quickly switch over. “Hello.”

“Allie, this is Neil Ledger.”

Neil isn’t just some guy. He worked with Dash while they were both in the FBI, and now does private hire work. I’m not sure if he’s Dash’s friend, but he’s sure not his enemy. He wants me to leave New York which means he could be mine.

“Where are you?” Neil asks.

“Home,” I say. “Why?”

“I’m sending a car for you. There’s a private plane waiting.”

Hope fills me as I ask, “Will Dash be there?”

“No,” he says solemnly. “No, he’s not going to be there.”

“Where will he be?”

“He’s leaving town.”

“Back to Nashville?” I ask, even when I already know that’s not going to be Neil’s answer.

“No, Allie,” Neil says. “Not to Nashville.”

Of course not, I think. He wants me in Nashville, and far, far away from him. “Where?”

“I don’t know.”

“Liar,” I accuse, and I don’t give him time to lie again with his denial. “I’m not leaving,” I say. “I have a job and a home here.”

“Dash wants—”

“For me to go home? I am home. And I’m staying here.”

“He wants you to go back to Nashville.”

And when I’m gone, Dash is going to find the nearest fight club and bury his face in someone’s fist and that’s essentially what he does. He taunts his opponent into punching him, hurting him, punishing him. And he wants me far away when he does it. Because he needs to fight more than he needs me. Dash threw me away with the ease of a boy throwing a ball, and that hurts, it downright guts me, but that doesn’t change the fact that I love him. Nor does it wash away my determination to save him from himself. I can’t do that by alerting Dash that I’m coming for him. Neil is still on the phone, determined to get me back to Nashville.

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m not getting on that plane. I’m not going back. Not now. Maybe never.”

I disconnect and I dial Tyler. He answers on the first ring. “I need thirty seconds, Allie. I’ll call you back.”

Well, at least he called me Allie. If he’d have called me Ms. Wright, I might have screamed at him. “His buddy Neil says he’s headed out of town. I think that means he’s really staying here. Where will he go if he wants to fight?”

“I told you. I have no idea. I’m working on it now.” His phone must beep with another call. “I’ve got a PI I use on occasion digging around. I need to take this.” He disconnects.

I pace again, trying to think what to do. Dash is hungry to fight. He’s going to fight. I need help and it has to be from someone that won’t burn Dash. One name comes to my mind. God, I can’t believe I’m going to do this, but I am. I punch the number into my cellphone and listen to the line ring. One time. Two times. Then, “I trust this is important, Ms. Wright.”

“Mr. Compton,” I say, and then just as I did with Tyler, I add his first name, “Mark. This is a personal call. I need help. I really need help.”

“What kind of help?”

His voice is hard, but then it’s always hard. “The kind that could destroy a very high-profile, good man, if I trust the wrong person.”

“And you came to me?” I can almost hear his eyebrows lift.

“Yes. You’re the most private, well-connected person I know.”

“Talk,” he orders.

“Do you know who Dash Black is?”