My stomach clenches in fear. “What’s going on, Ross?” I lean to the side to glance around him and see a uniformed officer exit my dressing room. “Where’s Mitch?” My voice rises as my heartbeat accelerates.
Ross is so shook up he can barely speak. “H-he’s fine. He’s in the room. Y-you don’t need to go in there, Gavin. We can wait—”
“Fuck that.” I shove past a babbling Ross, intent on seeing Mitch with my own eyes.
A concert venue security guard blocks the door, probably waiting for the police to arr
ive. “Sorry. This is a crime scene. You can’t go in.”
“The hell I can’t! That’s my room. I’m the fucking victim!” My agitation level is through the roof. “You can’t keep me out!”
“Sir, I can and I will,” he growls, putting a hand on my shoulder.
Acting on instinct, my hand darts out and sinks into the soft tissue at the man’s wrist, pressing between muscles and bones and tendons to the delicate nerves beneath.
“Jesus Christ! Fuck!” The large man falls to his knees, trying to dislodge my ironclad grip with his free hand.
“Gavin!” Mitch comes to the doorway, eyes wide as he takes in the downed guard and my frantic state. He skirts around the howling man, putting his hands over mine. “Let go,” he murmurs.
“Holy fuck, Utah! You’re okay?” I manage to choke out.
“Yes. Now let the man go.”
I release the guard who cries with relief. Mitch hustles me away, into Hawke’s dressing room next to mine and shutting the door behind us.
“What’s going on?” Hawke emerges from the bathroom, already showered and changed to head out. He rubs a towel over his wet hair before tossing it back into the bathroom behind him.
Mitch glances over at Hawke, then back at me.
“Mitch?” I ask.
He sighs. “Another note.”
I shudder. “Just a note?”
Hawke comes closer, concern written on his face. His multi-colored eyes dart down to my hand, which I have shoved into my pocket, fingering the smooth stone nervously.
Mitch’s skin goes white. “No. There’s a… gift as well.”
“That’s good, right?” Hawke interjects. “You said you wanted him to make a move.”
“Yes and no. We want the guy to take risks, and to catch him he needs to get close.” Mitch says this so calmly I want to scream, as if luring in a sociopath is a good idea. “But the idea that he got past all of this security to get backstage is very… upsetting.”
It’s then I see that Mitch isn’t as calm as he appears. Like Ross, beads of sweat dot his temples and he has that same unsettled look. A slight twitch in one of his eyes let’s me know that Mitch is holding in a lot of anxiety.
What is it about this one that got to him?
I swallow down my fear, letting it churn inside my stomach until the burning sensation quells. “W-what now?”
Mitch grabs my arm, leading me out of Hawke’s dressing room. “Now, we get out of here.”
***
“Why don’t you go lie down?” Mitch watches me warily, concern etched into every handsome feature of his face.
Exhausted but antsy, I continue pacing the suite. “I can’t. This guy, he’s eventually going to hurt one of us, isn’t he?”
“Gavin, no. I’m not going to let that happen. Please, let me worry about it. Let the police do their thing.”