Tuesday Tits had a line out the door. Channing was right. He was starting to get our old clientele. I recognized a bunch of college students that were regulars at Manny’s. He’d said his karaoke nights were doing well, but tonight was the martini night.

A few people recognized me as I passed.

A guy called out, “Hey, Heather!”

“Hey, guys. You here to enjoy Thursday Night Titinis?”

The name was ridiculous, but it got the buzz going. I had to give Channing credit where it was due, and yeah, there might’ve been some business envy attached to it. I was human.

One of the girls laughed, flipping her hair over her shoulder. “Five bucks a martini? We’d be nuts not to grab that deal.”

Note to self: steal his idea.

The sale only lasted an hour, but it was enough to get people lit and keep them around.

Another girl linked her elbow with the first. “Besides, there are hotties to look at.”

There was that too.

I grunted. “Maybe I’ll see you in there.”

They waved as I headed for the door. A few grumbled that I was cutting, but they were hushed.

Congo and Chad were manning the door, and both grinned in greeting.

“How’s my woman?” Congo asked.

“Still nuts. I don’t know who she thinks she’s protecting me from, but she’s still at Manny’s, and I’m here.”

Chad burst out laughing before pointing over my shoulder. “You sure about that?”

A glaze of pride and lust showed in Congo’s eyes as he looked too.

Stalker strolled up around me, almost sauntering. She ran a hand down Congo’s arm, leaning in for a kiss. “Hello, lover.”

I didn’t need to see that.

No one did.

When tongue got involved, I held my hands up. “Okay. Stop. Even your future children are scarred.”

Shit. The words slipped out before I knew what I was saying, but I was the only one who froze.

Chad and Congo laughed.

Rebecca (I couldn’t bring myself to call her Becca like the others were, and it felt a little mean to keep referring to her as Stalker) huffed, turning to face me. “Respect the Becs. I’m here to protect you, whether you like me or not.”

Congo wrapped his arm around her. “She promised Channing she’d watch out for you.”

I raised an eyebrow. “You promised Channing?”

Congo’s arm slipped to drape over her front. She held onto it at her waist. “I did. I fulfill my promises.”

She was still a stalker. I wasn’t going to thank her. Instead, I twisted to Chad. “Is he here?”

“He’s in the next building.” He pointed past the line. “Door’s around the corner.”

“Thanks.”

I’d started off when Becca called after me, “Do you need backup?”

I flicked some of my hair over my shoulder. Yes. I’d become that girl in this situation. I still didn’t trust her, and I didn’t know if I ever would. Why Channing put her on me was something I’d have to take up with him. “I’m going around the corner. Pretty sure I’ll be fine.”

Chad had gone back to checking out the girls in line.

Rebecca detached herself from Congo and came over, digging into her large white leather purse. “Here.” She shoved a brooch into my hand. “Put it on your purse.”

“I don’t use purses.”

She looked down my body, her nose wrinkling. “Where do you keep all your stuff? Your keys, phone? Your password receptor. Your clothes are a second skin all the time.”

I fought against rolling my eyes, chiding softly, “I don’t think that’s proper etiquette.”

I left the password receptor comment alone. Stalker. Her. There you have it.

She flushed. “No, you’re right, but pin this to your jeans or something. If you need me, just press it. It sends an alert to my phone, and I’ll know exactly where you are.”

Oh my God. This took stalking to another level.

“No. No.” I gave her back the brooch. “If I need help, I’ll text Channing.”

“Come on. Don’t be like that,” she cooed as she took the brooch and started to look for a place to pin it. She reached for my jean jacket, but I evaded her, stepping back. “Come now, Heather. We all need help. You too.” She went for my jeans pocket, bending down to my waist.

“Stop!”

I took two steps back. She followed me.

“Seriously. Stop.”

“Just hold still.” She was going for my shirt now, where it was peeking out from my jacket. “Oh, right there would be perfect.”

I began backing away, through the line and around the corner. Becca trailed after me, still trying to pin the brooch on.

“Stop.” I plucked the brooch out of her hand and turned to throw it.

“Wait—”

“Ms. Heather Jax?” A guy approached, stepping out of a black SUV. He smoothed a hand over his tie and inclined his head forward. “You’re Heather Jax, correct?”

I squared off against him. “Yeah?”

We had stepped fully around the corner, and this side of the street had minimal lighting. Cars were parked up and down the road, but the line had snaked the other way. We could hear the people around the other side, but that was it. We were almost isolated.

Becca popped out from behind me. “Who are you?” She grabbed the brooch from my hand, palming it.

He was a tall son of a bitch, maybe over six foot and four inches, but the slicked-back hair and shifty eyes gave him a sleazy vibe—that and the whole approaching us on a dark street thing. The one light that worked on this road was halfway down the block. It cast a long shadow, and this guy stepped into it, coming toward us.

He held a hand out. “I’m Eric McDougall. I represent an associate of your significant other.”

This guy had to do with Channing. I folded my arms over my chest. “What do you want with me?”

“Us,” Rebecca clarified, also folding her arms.

I rolled my eyes.

“Uh…” He looked between us. He started to pull his hand back, but Rebecca moved forward and grabbed it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McDougall.” She smiled up at him, and when he frowned at her, then transferred his attention to me, her hand darted out. She dropped the brooch into his pocket, bumping into him slightly. “Oh, sorry! I had some wine earlier. It must’ve gone straight to my head.” She fluffed her frizzy blond hair, shaking it out before moving back to stand next to me. She caught my gaze, and I arched an eyebrow. She moved her head back and forth, a discreet shake before clearing her throat and smiling at the guy.

He coughed, his hand out to me again. “As I was saying, Brett Marsch is one of my clients. I recently had an interaction with Mr. Monroe and was wondering if you knew where I could find him?”

Nope. I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t care to know him. I didn’t trust him.

“I have no clue.”

He blinked a few times. “What?”

“No clue. You want to know where Channing is? I have no clue.”

He narrowed his eyes, sweeping over us. “Ma’am?”

“Oh.” Her head went from left to right. “Nope. I don’t know either.”

“I was told that if anyone would know, it would be his ‘woman.’” His gaze rested on me.

He fell silent after that.

So did I.

So did Rebecca.

A full twenty seconds of silence passed.

It was obvious this guy expected us to help him, and for the love of me, I had no clue why.

“Miss Jax.” He was all authoritative, coming to stand on the sidewalk with us. “I would like your help with this matter. It’s very important for me to find Mr. Monroe.”

“Oh!” My arms dropped from over my chest, and I turned to Rebecca. “When he says it like that? You know? It must be important.”

She didn’t get the sarcasm, her eyes darting right back to him and narrowing.

“I mean, it must be something vital for you to find me and ask me. Right?” I didn’t wait for his response, rushing on. “You need help locating Channing. That’s what you need?”

“Yes.” His eyes gleamed.

“Well, then…” I stalled. “I probably should tell you…“

He leaned closer. “Yes?”

“…that… ”

“Yeah?” He began grinning.

Game was up. I didn’t have the patience. “You need to decipher sarcasm better.”

He snapped back, and the grin dropped abruptly.

Stalker started laughing. Her elbow nudged my arm. “That was good, Heather.”

I ignored her, jerking my head toward the corner. “If you don’t have balls enough to try to get into his bar, why the fuck do you think I would help you?” I snorted, starting around him. “Get out of here, jackoff.”

“Miss Jax, I—”

The door opened farther down, a bell jingling, and we heard, “It’s the Peter.”

Channing left the store with his sister and her crew members, as well as another guy, behind him.

“What are you doing talking to my woman?” He passed me, going up to the guy and standing close enough to violate his personal boundary bubble.

His tone was cold. His smile was uninviting.

The guy tugged at his collar, straightening his shirt before moving back a step. “It’s Eric McDougall, Mr. Monroe.” He softened his voice too. “But you’re quite aware of my name, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Just like you know going up to Heather would be the first way to piss me off.” Channing chuckled under his breath. “So, good job there. Did your boss send you my way? Does he want to get rid of you and I’m supposed to do it for him?”

The guy didn’t respond, instead scanning the group. He paused on me, then Rebecca. His gaze moved behind us to Bren and her crew. I didn’t need to look to know that no one was breaking. Not one of us was shocked at Channing’s threats.

This guy was the outsider. Outsiders weren’t welcome.

“I see. And no, Mr. Monroe, my employer did not send me. I actually came as an act of good faith. We’d previously discussed doing business together.”

The second he stopped talking, Channing began.

“Yeah. No. Not anymore. You need to learn the rules, and finding her first broke them all.”

“I wasn’t aware. I am now.”

“You are now.”

Channing wasn’t backing off, a hard glint to his tone.

“Well, then.” The Peter coughed. “Maybe I could speak with you in private?”

He directed his question to Channing, but Channing nodded to Rebecca. She darted around the corner as Channing glanced back to us. “Bren? Why don’t you guys…”

“We’ll head out.” Bren’s best friend moved ahead. “Unless you need us?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

They moved past, one by one, going around the corner until it was only me, Channing, and the Peter.

“Heather?”

“Not a chance.” I wasn’t leaving. I’d come for a talk. I was going to have that talk, but I did lean back against the building. “I can wait.” I smiled at him, ignoring the small grin that appeared on the Peter’s face.

It didn’t matter anyway.

Moose, Chad, and Lincoln came around the corner. I waited, but no Rebecca.

As if reading my mind, Chad said, “She’s the other doorman now.”

I grunted. That sounded about right.

He handed something to me. “She told me to give you this.”

It was her phone, and I was surprised to find it unlocked with a red blinking light on the screen. I zeroed in and saw it was a map—of us. She was showing me the tracking on that brooch, and it was activated all the time.

She’d lied to me.

Bitch.

I stifled a growl, saw everyone watching me, and put her phone into my pocket. “I’m good. Carry on.”

Channing looked at the others, then indicated the store he’d left. “We can talk in there.”

The Peter and all Channing’s men filed in, but Channing stayed back. Once it was the two of us, he touched my hand. “Hold back?”

I did. Moose shut the door and moved to stand in front of it. He was giving us a bit of privacy.

Channing headed farther up the street so they couldn’t see us through the windows and stepped into the alley between this building and the next. We were completely isolated this time.

“What’s up?” He leaned back against one of the buildings.

I nodded to the one that now housed the guys. “Did you buy this place?”

He rubbed a hand over his forehead. “Yeah. I got it for the crews, or something else.”

Oh. He hadn’t been joking before when he said they were looking for a new place. “Are you going to create something for them?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. That’s not what it was about.”

“Okay.”

“What’s going on, though? You don’t normally come over here.”

I let out a soft sigh, leaning against the other side of the alley, feeling the brick behind me. “I came about us, but maybe now’s not the right time.”

“Us?”

I hated this. He was acting fine, polite even, but that wasn’t Channing. It wasn’t the guy who slid inside of me every other night or who had gotten in that guy’s face. That was my guy, not this one. He was talking to me like we were buds.

It set my teeth on edge.

“Channing, stop it.”

“Stop what?”

He goddamn well knew.

“I mean it.”

He didn’t reply, closing his eyes a moment.

“You know why I’m here.”

“Yeah.” He gripped the back of his neck, expelling a ragged breath. “I know.”

There it was. The nagging feeling in my stomach blossomed up, taking over my body, and I felt sick. “Is it because of Richter? Because I was there?”

He opened his mouth. “I—”

BOOM!

The wall behind me shook.

I jerked forward. Channing swept me behind him, a cement arm around my waist, and we felt more than heard a fast stomping coming toward us.

The side door shoved open and Moose yelled, “Get in here! Chad flipped his lid.”

Channing stifled a curse. I was about to follow him, but his arm tightened. “Not you.”

“What?”

We could hear shouting from inside.

“But—”

“I mean it.” He was firm. “Go home, Heather. I’ve already damaged you enough. Go.”

“Channing!”

He wasn’t waiting. He headed inside, slamming the door behind him, and I heard the deadbolt flip a second later.

If that wasn’t a perfect metaphor for our relationship, I don’t know what was.

I was beyond pissed. The timing wasn’t right, but I didn’t care. If I could hang through a gunfight, I could deal with whatever was happening in there, and I started to the front of the emptied store to tell Channing exactly that.

When I got there, it was empty. They’d moved to the back, the only light shining from underneath a door farther in. I reached for the front door.

It was locked.

If there was ever a need for Stalker, it was now. She’d have some way to get in. I was heading to the bar to get her when there was a rush of movement behind me. I rounded, hearing someone running up.

There was a blur before it went dark.

A bag or something was shoved over my head, and someone picked me up.

“Wha—No!” I started fighting, kicking, trying to punch, but it all happened so fast. I dropped Rebecca’s phone. It fell with a clatter to the ground.

“Fuck,” a guy grunted, arms tightening around me.

They tossed me into a vehicle.

“What was that?”

“It was her phone. It’s gone. Let’s go!”

Someone else jumped into the vehicle. The door slammed shut and a deep voice yelled, “GO, GO, GO!”

We sped away, tires squealing.