The plush hotel carpet absorbs my steps as I move from one narrow escalator to another before finally landing on the right floor. Outside the room, I run into Dawson.
“Logan! Lots to celebrate tonight.” He holds out his hand and I shake it quickly, eager to find Shelby. “Your buddy’s watching over Shelby and her mom.”
I shoot a questioning eyebrow at him.
“The scary one who looks like he’s thinking about slicing and dicing my nuts off any time I get too close to Shelby,” he adds.
I snort. “That’s Jigsaw.”
He turns his head from side to side, searching the surrounding area. “Can we talk for a minute?”
“Nothing would make me happier, Dawson.”
He ignores the sarcasm and pulls me into a quieter corner of the wide corridor running between the different meeting rooms. “I don’t want to bother Shelby with any of this stuff. I talked to Greg and he wanted me to address it with you.”
Interesting. “What is it?”
“Well, I had to let Bane go. I know he thought he was doing the right thing, but Shelby got taken on his watch and I—”
“No complaints from me. If he hadn’t been off playing fireman, he might have stopped Suggs from getting her out of the arena.”
“Exactly. He understood.”
As if I give a shit about Bane’s feelings on the matter.
“I gotta hire someone else. I’m having an expert come in to do a risk assessment. The fire was started by the guy who nabbed Shelby, from what I’ve gathered.”
My, Martin Suggs was busy.
“But he never shoulda been able to get that close to my bus. This whole thing’s costing me a fortune. We’re losing money every damn day we’re stuck here.” He holds up his hands. “I ain’t complaining or blaming Shelby. Had to get my bus repaired and two of my guys were in the hospital. Got injured in the fire.”
“Shit. I didn’t realize it had been so bad.”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal with everything Shelby went through. Don’t bother telling her, either. It’s not something she needs to worry about.”
Well, at least halting the tour makes more sense now. And my respect for him grows.
“I’ve got a guy from California who handles security. He and his team come highly recommended. He’s, like, written the book on celebrity safety or something.”
“Okay.” I’m still waiting for him to get to the point.
“He’s going to do a complete risk assessment for me. But he also offers security training. I’m having all my guys take it. I thought you and”—he waves his hand toward the conference room— “the scary one might want to join in.”
The biker in me wants to scoff and ask if he really thinks I need to learn how to kick someone’s ass. The man who wants to protect his girlfriend at all costs is the one who answers. “Yeah. We’ll do that. Thanks.”
“All right.” He slaps my shoulder. “Whoever else you got coming on the road with you can join too. We can talk more about it later. Let’s go eat.”
Apparently, Dawson has been busy. The hotel has a buffet set up for our party. I recognize members of his band and road crew. A few nod to me or stop and shake my hand.
I spot Jigsaw sitting at a round table way in the back of the room. He’s keeping his eye on Shelby and her mom but stands as I approach. “Startin’ to wonder what happened to you, brother.” He slaps my hand and pulls me in quick, thumping my back.
“Stopped to talk to Dawson.” My gaze shifts to Shelby. “You all right?”
She barely glances up from the slab of prime rib she’s demolishing. “Happier than a possum eatin’ a sweet potato pie.”
“Do possums like sweet potato pie?” Jigsaw asks.
Shelby side-eyes him but doesn’t bother answering.
Lynn pats her daughter’s back.
Laughing, I nudge Jigsaw. “Why aren’t you eating?”
“Made sure the girls were content first.” He glances at Lynn and the two of them share a smile that’s unsettling as hell.
“All right then.” I point myself in the direction of the buffet and pick up a plate.
By the time I return to the table, Greg’s planted himself in the chair next to Shelby’s mother. I take the one next to Shelby, and Jiggy drops into the one next to me.
Greg leans over the table to focus on Shelby while I eat. “Are you ready to talk about the CMAs a little?”
She flicks a glance at her mother and sets her fork down. “Yeah.”
He rubs his hands together. “A few designers have expressed interest in dressing you for the awards.”
Shelby lifts an eyebrow. “You don’t say?”
“Nothing crazy, Greg.” Lynn’s worried gaze lands on the haggard manager. “She should look like a princess not an experiment. And some of the designers these days…”
“Shelby has a good sense of what she likes and doesn’t,” Greg answers in a neutral tone.