She peeked out from the side of the stage where dancers tumbled and swirled and the lights twirled in a manic blend of colors. She scanned the sea of faces to find Ryan’s table.

Her heart was still racing from her run through the lobby and past the guard. Hell, it had been racing since she’d put down her pen after Marco made her write that bullshit letter.

He’d led her downstairs, presumably to the exits, but she’d broken free and zipped into the Event Center. Thank God the guard had been distracted by Cyndi Lauper’s wardrobe malfunction. It had given her just enough time to get backstage and out of Marco’s crosshairs.

Now all she had to do was worry about Ryan. And hope he forgave her for that truly hideous note.

She fisted her hands and edged her way closer to the stage as the lights and guitars pulsed and soared. The Grunge.

The familiar gravelly flavor of Luc Moreau’s voice triggered a memory. Ryan’s award was next. God. She peeked out as the music faded. Little bowls of candlelight glowed in the darkness. Centerpieces on each table illuminated faces, but it was too dark for her to see anyone clearly.

Denver swiveled her head around.

Whisky burned her nostrils. Marco always smelled like whisky and expensive cologne. It had been alluring at first, but now it made her stomach roil. It was as if she couldn’t get it out of her lungs and nostrils.

Was he behind her? Was that why she could still smell him?

She couldn’t wipe away the oily residue of his hands on her. There weren’t enough showers in the world to scrub him away tonight.

But no, it was just her jumping at shadows. No Marco. Just the men and women in dark clothing policing the edges of the stage. They ushered people in glittery gowns to interviews, and others to their markers to go onstage.

Little pieces of tape glowed on the floor. An idea formed. She squashed it until The Grunge came offstage and chaos collided with laughter and backslapping. The idea got louder and warred with her need to protect everyone she loved.

But she was tired of running.

Tired of being the one who cowered under Marco’s boot.

No matter what he said about Ryan’s gambling, she wouldn’t believe she was making a mistake. He was it for her. The one who had made her believe that love was possible after all she’d seen.

She wasn’t ready to let that go.

She slipped between the bustling staff, trying to stay out of the way, but within the crush of people where she was safe. She bumped into a reporter with shrewd blue eyes.

Please don’t notice me. Please.

Denver made her way back around to the voices and lights. She forced herself to come out of the darkness. Away from the places where Marco would be able to suck her into the shadows again.

She wouldn’t go quietly.

Never again.

She had to find Ryan in the crowd. Had to know he was okay. She itched to go to the nearest security person, but not if she put Ryan in danger. She’d die first. Marco had men and influence everywhere. Now more so than ever.

Goddammit.

She didn’t want to bring this to them. Her darkness and shame didn’t deserve to be part of their special night.

Voices caught her attention.

“If you’d stand here, Mr. Moreau will be along momentarily.” The security guy left to help with The Grunge, who were being interviewed by Music Life.

Denver pivoted on her heel and found a blond woman with a diaphanous gown with sheer panels showing off her long legs. She glittered and smiled as Denver walked up to her.

No one was around and she had to take her chance now. She needed to get on that stage. “I’m really sorry.”

The woman frowned. “What?”

Denver pulled back and let her fist fly at exactly the correct angle to take someone out, thanks to a few lessons by roadies in her time.

The woman went down in a pile of gold. Denver squeaked as she caught her before the woman’s head hit the floor. She looked around before dragging her toward the dark curtains and settling her against the folding door hidden behind the miles of fabric.

She turned to find Luc Moreau staring down at her. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

He rushed forward and crouched beside them both. “It looks like you just knocked out Lindsey York.”

“Crap. Okay, so some of it is what it looks like. Damn, I thought she looked familiar.” Denver glanced over her shoulder but the coast was still clear. “I didn’t hurt her. Well, not a lot. She’ll just be really pissed at me and maybe have a bruise along her jawline. Other than that, nothing really bad.” She grabbed Luc’s arm—a very muscular one—as he turned. “Wait! You have to help me. Please.”

Luc pulled away. “Okay, psycho. We’ll get you some help.”

“I’m not a—ugh! There’s no way to sum this up.” She hooked her arm through his and pushed him forward a step. He was freakishly large, but she’d managed to get him going enough that he had to keep on moving out onto the stage. The spotlight blinded her. She pasted a smile onto her face and patted his arm. “I swear this isn’t what you think.”

“Hope you like handcuffs,” he said out of the side of his mouth.

She did, but that didn’t matter at this particular moment.

Her heart raced and the lights left her off-balance. How the hell did Ryan deal with the lights in his face for everything?

The announcer stumbled, as she obviously wasn’t Lindsey York next to Luc. Instead, the voice introduced Luc and left her unnamed.

The crowd murmured and voices blended. She couldn’t see a damn thing. When they got to the podium, Luc smiled. “I’d like to thank the Alternative, Rock, and Crossover Awards for putting on such a great shindig.”

Denver glanced at the teleprompter. Definitely not the words that were scrolling by. Then again, everything about tonight had gone off-book. She cleared her throat. “The Best New Artist category has a history of amazing performers. Such as bands like The Grunge, who won it last year.” The prompter told her to smile at Luc. She was so terrified she did it without even thinking.

Luc’s brows were down and a fake smile split his face. Not good.

She swallowed and went on. “To Oblivion, and even my—” She stumbled. She wasn’t Lindsey. “To Brooklyn Dawn, and so many other artists who have gone on to amazing heights of success.”

“It’s an honor for us to present this award tonight. And the nominees are…”

Denver tuned out as her eyes finally adjusted. From the sidelines, she caught a man pushing past tables and skirting around people who were standing to get a better look.

Ryan.

Oh, thank God.

She quickly scanned the tables and edges of the room, but still no sign of Marco.

She had to believe this was far too public for him. That she was safe until she could talk to someone in security.

All that mattered was Ryan’s safety right now.

And he was coming toward the stage. Holy crap. She ripped at the corner of the envelope she held. Her hands shook as she pulled out the foiled linen paper.

Luc leaned away from the mic. “Please don’t be a stalker.”

“No. I’m just…” She trailed off. Her attention zeroed in on Ryan as her system seemed to right itself. At least a little bit. He was fine. At least for now. She blew out a slow breath. “His.”

Luc’s attention strayed to the floor closest the stage, where Ryan was sprinting around the myriad guests and tables to get to her. Luc took the paper from her. “And the winner is Warning Sign!”

The crowd erupted into applause and various people stood in excitement. But it was the table just off the center who captured her attention. Every one of them stood and whooped. Her family.

Warning Sign.

Then Ryan was there. He had his arms around her and lifted her up so she could wrap her arms around his shoulders.

“If this is a publicity stunt, I swear…” Luc held up the statue, and Molly swept in to clutch it closer to her chest.

“No chance.” Molly’s eyes flashed. “That’s your game, not ours.” She spared Denver a glance, her sharp blue eyes assessing before she took her spot behind the podium. “Wow, guys! I mean just wow.” She looked down at the award, her eyes shining as she lifted her chin and smiled into all the flashbulbs.

“What the hell, Colorado?” Ryan whispered.

“I’ll explain in a minute,” Denver said into his ear. “Put me down before anyone makes a scene.”

He held on for another moment, but finally set her onto her feet. Donovan came up behind the band with his perfect smile in place and just enough crinkles at the corners of his eyes to make them twinkle. His tux was flawless and his hair had just the right amount of wave to make him look debonair, but when his gaze crashed into hers, there was only worry and a glittering anger.

She hoped not all the anger was because of her and what she’d brought to their door. Again.

Donovan stepped closer to her as Jules glanced over her shoulder at them before turning back to put her two cents into the thank-you speeches. Elle practically bounced between Jules and Molly. The band huddled together, arm in arm. West and Michael at the back, with Mal at a safe distance.

Mal’s arms were crossed over his chest. Instead of looking at the band, he kept glancing back at her, Donovan, and Ryan. Then his eyes swept the crowd. He was eerily efficient at taking in the entire room. So much more than a guy who was just a drummer.

Before she could analyze that further, they were all hustled off the stage. Security swarmed and there was a crowd around Lindsey off to the side. Music Life was trying to shove a microphone in her face, but Lindsey wasn’t having any of it.

It was just Denver’s luck to get away from Marco, only to be arrested for assault. Good day all around.

“Miss, you need to come with us.”

“Hell no.” Ryan blocked the tall man with wide shoulders in a dark suit. “She’s not going anywhere.”

The man’s face was expressionless as he took her arm to lead her deeper backstage.

“Back off, man.” Ryan tried to muscle between her and the security guy, but Donovan moved in and clamped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Enough, Mr. Waters.”

“You can’t let them take her.” Ryan bucked against Donovan’s hold.

Donovan tightened his grip. “She’s not going anywhere. I promise.” He lowered his voice. “There is press everywhere.”

Denver tried to break the meathead’s grip on her upper arm, but he didn’t budge. “Where do you think I’m going to go?” She peered up at the guy with his perfectly tailored jacket, but he didn’t look at her, nor did he answer.

Donovan maintained his grip until Ryan stopped struggling to get close to her. Ryan’s chest heaved and his shoulders rose and fell with his agitation.

Denver reached for Ryan’s hand, but the security dude obviously had some sort of super ultra-mega rule book that wouldn’t allow her to move an inch.

“Just let me check on Lindsey and I’ll clear this up.” Donovan looked from Lindsey back to Denver. “Do I want to know what you did? There’s an ice pack against her chin.”

“Probably not,” she said.

“Wonderful.” Donovan pointed at Ryan. “You. Stay with her and don’t cause any more trouble.”

Ryan’s jaw flexed, but for once, he opted for silence instead of arguing his point.

Donovan crossed to the reporters and paparazzi vying for attention. A moment later, half a dozen microphones was reduced to three before he quietly made a statement to the security people surrounding Lindsey.

The woman Denver had coldcocked.

She felt terrible, but at the time, she hadn’t really had a choice. Especially when Ryan was involved.

Donovan held his hand up to one group of people and they all shut up as he spoke with another. It was an amazing sight to see. She was pretty sure her uncle could bend the wind to his will if he really put his mind to it.

Denver scanned the faces backstage as their area got a little louder and more crowded. Her neck itched and the bands of tension between her shoulder blades tightened. Was he back here waiting for her?

She hugged herself tightly—well, as tightly as she could when one of her arms was currently tethered to a gorilla.

One of the reporters broke off from the pack and made a beeline for them. The same reporter who had spotted her earlier. The woman flicked her platinum blond hair away from her face and headed right for Ryan.

Crap.

“Ryan Waters?”

Ryan’s head swiveled and he swore.

“Hello, Ryan. I’m Kim Forrester from Music Life. Could you answer a few questions?” Her huge, China-blue eyes were outlined to make them seem even wider. Another two people came up behind her, one with a large camera on his shoulder.

Another handful of people followed the reporter and Denver was shoved back a step. Suddenly it was another step and she could barely see Ryan.

“Hey. We’re supposed to stay here.”

Gorilla guard didn’t speak. He simply hauled her farther backstage.

“Did you hear me?” She pounded on his arm. “Let me go!” Her fist glanced off the superfine Italian material and her chest locked.

Too nice to be a security guard for a hotel. Too well-tailored.

“Ryan!” Her throat constricted and Ryan’s name sounded far too thin and reedy to her own ears.

She pushed at the guy and dug in her heels, thankful for her sneakers. But her Chucks and one-hundred-twenty-pound self were no match for the breadth and size of him. He barely reacted to her struggle.

If he got her out of the building, she was as good as dead.