Tough Luck (A-List Security 1)

“Yeah?” The ominous tingle returned to my lower back.

“I…uh…take a lot of pictures,” he whispered, voice so low I had to step closer again. “Not ones I post on social media. Just for me.”

God help us. Now my brain was stuck on the image of him doing naked yoga, the stretch of his lean muscles the instant before he’d spotted me. Why in the hell was I suddenly curious about his dirty selfies? No, no, I did not need to confiscate his phone, did not need that kind of temptation, and really didn’t need some random police personnel seeing it either.

“Maybe we can start with some screenshots of the suspect messages, avoid turning over your phone, but don’t be surprised if they ask.”

“Cash?” Still whispering, he sounded way younger now, more like the kid he’d been in my head, not the grown man in front of me.

“Yeah?”

“Will you stay while the cops talk to me?” If he’d done that thing with his eyes again—the big, wide baby deer expression that seemed rather practiced—I might have put him off. But he didn’t. Simply kept staring at his hands, twisting his poor fingers, loneliness coming off him waves. Forget all his money. He was alone and vulnerable, and yeah, he needed some help.

“I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” Crouching closer to the bench, I touched his hands to try to save them before he seriously injured his skin. No way was I leaving until I could make my own thorough investigation of the property. Duncan wouldn’t forgive me for leaving, but more to the point, neither would I. This might not be an on-the-clock job, but I was still going to see it through. I kept my hand on his to make sure he was paying attention. “And this is also where I remind you that you have a right to have a lawyer present when you talk to law enforcement. Is there someone you need to call?”

“No. I’ve had enough of lawyers to last a lifetime.” His gaze turned distant. Ah. Yeah. That was right. This was the guy who’d had to sue his own mom. Duncan’s stepmom was a famously awful piece of work, and after that very public legal mess, I wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with lawyers either.

“I get it.” Moving my hand, I patted his forearm before I returned to standing. Safer.

“Sorry.” Danny continued to sound utterly miserable, and I had to fight the urge to touch him again. I had to rein that impulse the fuck in even if his thready voice seemed to hit me in long-forgotten places. “I didn’t mean to sound needy. I’m just nervous.”

“You’re not needy.” I kept my voice firm. He was like a skittish new recruit. He needed my confidence, not a lecture on bucking up. “I get being nervous. I’ll stay nearby, okay?”

“Thanks.” He smiled then, and not the practiced one in thousands of pictures, the one all of America had seen countless times, but a small, shy smile that made my chest ache in a way it hadn’t in years. I’d keep my word, but I had a feeling that sticking close to Danny Love was going to going to come at a price.

Chapter Four

Danny

My neck muscles were a stack of nautical knots even before the cops exited the car when they finally arrived on the scene. Sure, Cash, who didn’t really know me, had promised not to abandon me, but that didn’t stop my stomach from brewing up a batch of dread soup at the sight of two uniforms. My last police encounter had been…not good. Like everyone on the planet saw my reckless skateboarding and resisting arrest mug shot levels of bad.

“Hey! It’s Mikey Poindexter!” The first cop out of the car looked only slightly older than me, the perfect age to have grown up with Geek Chorus in the background of his life. “Dude. I still can’t get over you without glasses. Talk about a glow-up.”

Making a startled noise, I touched my cheek, my ever-present worry over losing a contact rising.

“Wayne. Be professional for once, please.” Cop Two was a long-suffering older woman with short silver hair. “Forgive our rookie. My kids were huge fans too. Before your…troubles, of course.”

“Of course,” I echoed hollowly because what choice did I have? Cop Two, Officer Montgomery, took charge of questioning us. Her what-did-you-do-now attitude only got worse as she listened to my bumbling explanation of why they’d been called and then to Autumn’s report of what she’d found.

“Rabid fans are part of the gig, right?” Officer Montgomery turned her attention back to me after telling Autumn she could leave. I was acutely aware of my thin robe and desperate for some real clothes. Hell, after this, I was all in on bulky sweaters and thick layers. Anything to avoid the creepy-crawly exposed feeling.