Wicked Torture (Stark World 3)

Celia caught Kiki's eye, and then looked back to Noah. "Do you really want to, or are you just trying to make sure things are right between us?"

"Both."

She pressed her lips together, then nodded slowly. "Gotta give the guy points for honesty. Okay, then. But when we ask for your opinion it has to be real. Empty platitudes don't help us sell records."

"I'll be a totally critical bastard," he promised, managing not to crack a smile.

"All right, then. That's the plan."

They didn't talk much once the food came. They were all eager to get out of there and get to the studio. Noah left cash, then slid out of the booth, extending his hand to help Kiki.

Which was why he was facing the wrong direction when Celia said, "Um, I think they're coming for you."

He frowned, then turned to see Damien Stark, Ryan Hunter, and Dallas Sykes walking toward him. Which made no sense. As far as Noah knew, Dallas was in London. If he'd returned early, he surely would have been at the wrap party last night, especially since Jane, his wife, had written the book and screenplay that was the basis of Lyle's first break-out role.

"Hey man," Dallas said, his usually GQ-ready face looking haggard. An heir to billions, Dallas was also the founder of Deliverance. He'd seen more than his share of tragedy and been run through the public gossip mill more times than Noah could count. So the fact that he looked so drawn and exhausted concerned Noah more than his unexpected and unexplained presence in the restaurant.

"How did you know we were here?"

"It's important," Dallas said. "I had Quincy trac

e your cell phone."

Noah was still holding Kiki's hand. Now, he tightened his grip, as if to ensure she was safe. Quincy was MI-6, and also part of the Deliverance team. If Dallas was pulling him in for an unauthorized trace, it was even more serious than he thought.

"You could have texted," he said, warily. "I wasn't hiding."

Then he realized he'd left his phone in the room. Which meant that whatever was going on, his friends didn't want to wait until he saw and returned the text.

"Who are you? And what's going on?" Kiki asked, voicing the question that Noah was avoiding. Because something deep in his gut told him that he didn't want to hear the answer. Because the answer would destroy everything.

"This is Dallas Sykes," Damien said, introducing him, and Noah knew from the way Kiki squeezed his hand that she recognized the name.

"Let's move to the patio," Noah said, feeling both on display and claustrophobic.

The main portion of the restaurant took up most of the top floor. But it also featured a small patio on the west side with no seating, and they all went there now, the view of the ocean a stunning counterpart to the ominous conversation.

"I asked Ryan to look into your green pickup last night," Damien continued, smoothly picking up the conversation. "And based on what he learned, I asked Dallas to come."

"You were in London."

"Yeah," Dallas said. "Well . . ."

"Tell me." Noah's throat felt thick. Behind him, he heard Celia move to Kiki's other side and take her hand.

Damien glanced at Kiki, then at Noah. "Do you want--"

"She stays," he says. "They both do," he added, not wanting to deny Kiki the support of her best friend, whatever this was about.

Damien nodded, then gestured to Ryan.

"I called a friend of mine in Austin, Pierce Blackwell," Ryan said. "He has a security company, and I asked him and his partners to see what they could learn about the pickup. I thought they'd have to pull traffic and security cam footage and do some serious looking, but it turns out it was parked right outside your building."

A wave of dread slammed against Noah. "This doesn't have anything to do with Red Brick, does it?"

"It doesn't." Dallas shoved his hands in his pockets, looking nervous. Another bad sign.

"Just tell me," Noah demanded.