For two days after the lobby selfie hit social media, I holed up in my penthouse suite waiting for everything to blow over. The concierge helped out with a bit of subterfuge and the vultures finally started believing I’d moved on. But for those two days, it meant Noel was out there tooling around in Port Azrael all by himself. Though I didn’t mind the solitude, I knew solo Noel had a real chance of mucking everything up for us in this town for good.

Noel and I agreed to take dinner in my room. He’d called earlier in the day claiming he had news to report. When I heard a soft knock on my door at four o’clock, I assumed he’d come early. I swung the door open and found Noreen Nichols standing there instead.

Noreen had been my agent since I was eleven years old. She was responsible for getting me a part on Crosspointe. At one point, it had been the number one cable series, three years running. I’d played Heather Kinney, the sweet, all-American daughter of the show’s lead character, Reverend Tim Kinney. That show had made my career, but risked pigeonholing me in girl-next-door, wholesome, bland roles for the rest of my life. Now I had the opposite problem. The scream queen roles Noreen got me to help shed that squeaky-clean image were now getting me typecast in the opposite direction.

Noreen had her fist up, ready to knock again as the door opened. She was a tiny, delicate thing, standing only four foot ten, with a mass of dark hair. It was pure gray underneath and stuck out in wiry disarray that was kind of her trademark. That, and the large, owlish glasses she wore. Thick, round, black frames that were far too big for her face. She completed the caricature with siren-red lipstick. When I was a kid, I couldn’t figure out how she couldn’t realize how shocking she looked. Now I understood it. Noreen was memorable. Instantly recognizable. A household name in and of herself.

My heart dropped as I found a smile. Noreen slowly lowered her fist and crossed her arms in front of herself. She didn’t wait for an invitation. Instead, she barged right past me and headed for the living area at the center of my suite of rooms. She plopped down on the couch in front of the windows and swung her foot up and down over her knee, waiting for me.

“You could have called,” I said.

Noreen pulled a jeweled lighter out of her designer-pants pocket and twirled it between her fingers. She didn’t smoke anymore, but fingering the lighter was an old habit she couldn’t break.

“I did call,” she said. “Twenty times. You’ve been blowing me off for almost a week, Quinn. I’ve been making excuses all over town for you.”

“Well, you don’t have to. I’m doing exactly what I came here for. Producing.”

“Right,” she said, looking out the window. “Let’s cut the bullshit. Are you going to go in for the Howard film or not? I know it’s a little insulting that they’re making you read. But just, play the game for me, all right? It’s a formality.”

I leaned against the door, not really wanting to make Noreen feel welcome here. I loved her. I did. She’d been my champion for a decade. Most people would kill to have her representation. I knew how lucky I was. But I was so tired of feeling like I was phoning my career in.

“Noreen,” I said. “This project matters to me. I want to stick it out. I don’t see what the urgency is with doing another horror flick. Night Terrors IV is already in post-production. Have you already forgotten what you promised me when I agreed to do it? You said to do one for the studio, do one for the fans. Then the next one I could do for me. Well, The Club is for me.”

She bit her bottom lip and kept her gaze fixed out the window. “Is there a guy?”

Her question struck me right in the chest. “A guy? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“This Ransom kid maybe,” she said. “Or somebody you met out here.”

“Noreen, for the love of God. Be serious. No, there’s no guy.” In some ways, Noreen Nichols would always see me as a gullible kid. Though my blood boiled, thoughts of Domino flashed in my mind.

Was there a guy? God, it was insulting. And yet, I’d been about five seconds and two millimeters from throwing caution to the wind the other day and letting Domino kiss me. For two nights, I’d dreamt about it. The way he felt, the scent of warm leather. He had an interesting face. Hard and dark. From one angle, I could have sworn he was Latino. But then, as I studied his features, I wasn’t sure. Maybe he had Native American blood. Our internet research told us the Dark Saints had roots with the Comanche tribes and Texas Rangers who founded these towns. But his eyes were pale green. They seemed to see straight through me.

“Quinn!” Noreen shouted, pulling me back to the present.

“No-no, just give me some time. All right? That’s what we agreed to. Don’t forget that you work for me.” I felt a little like an ass for reminding her, but it was true. I wasn’t a kid anymore. At twenty-one, I’d been supporting myself for eleven years, my mother too. I worked in a grown-up industry and made hard choices about my own future when most of my peers were just trying to survive junior high.

Noreen sat back and narrowed her eyes at me. “Fine. Boss. You wanna at least tell me what’s been going on out here? The Ransom kid’s been blowing off his Uncle Oliver for days. If you want to know the truth, that’s why I’m here. I was worried about you. I don’t trust that kid.”

“You know, I don’t entirely trust him either. He’s green. But he means well. And this project means as much to him as it does me. He wants to prove himself to his uncles. Which makes him risky, but determined not to fail. I’m just as determined. I believe in this project, Noreen. I’ve never felt like this about anything else I’ve ever done. It’s like ... I don’t know ... I was meant to do it. I know this character. She just leaped off the page for me. I am this character.”

“You’re a biker thug’s daughter? I don’t get it, Quinn. I mean, sure, if all the stars align, this is a great role. I get that. And if this movie is done right, it has Oscar potential. Hell, that’s the only reason I didn’t push back harder when you said you wanted to come out here. But you need to realize, if this thing falls flat ... no ... not even falls flat. If it isn’t perfect in every aspect, it’s going to set you back in ways you can never imagine. Your career will never recover, honey.”

Cold fear snaked up my spine. It got hard to breathe. Noreen knew exactly how to play me. There had been so much turmoil in my life growing up, taking risks was hard for me. But I straightened my back.

“When’s enough going to be enough?” I said. “Twenty million, thirty million?”

“You know it’s not all about the money, Quinn. I’m talking about setting you up so you can make risky choices like this. You’re not there yet. Crosspointe wasn’t that long ago. The Night Terrors franchise has a limited shelf life. You don’t have enough box office hits under your belt for the studios to think you’re a sure bet. Jennifer Aniston can have a flop or two and still be Jennifer Aniston. Everybody knows who she is. Every generation. The daughters do. The mothers see your picture in the tabloids and still have to ask who the hell you are.”

“So you think more teen horror films are going to change that?”

“It’s a process!” she shouted. “Will you trust me? I know what I’m doing. I’ve done this dozens of times for bigger names than you, Quinn. My plan for you will work.”

“Noreen, see, that’s it. It needs to be my plan. It’s my career. And Port Azrael is where I want to be right now. The Club is the movie I want to make. Even if it fails.”

I tried a different approach. I sat on the couch next to Noreen and cupped her face between my palms. I gave her a kiss on the forehead and smiled. Tears glistened in the corner of her eyes as she put her hands over mine.

“I love you like my own kid, you brat,” she said.

“I know. And in a lot of ways you’ve been a better mother to me than my real one. I know that too. Promise. If this project falls apart, we’ll do things one hundred percent your way from here on out. Or at least for the next year or two.”

“What about the Howard project?” she asked as soon as I let her go.

“Stall,” I said. “Buy me a couple more weeks.”

“Quinn …”

“Two weeks. No matter what else, Noreen, I need a break. Hardly anyone knows me out here and I kind of like that.”

“What about this kid, Noel. Is he behaving himself?”

I let out a sigh. I cringed every time I thought about Noel’s stupid antics at Woody’s Bar. On the other hand, I hadn’t done much better with Domino one on one. He currently thought I was a hooker. In retrospect, I’d acted like one. I’d let a perfect stranger ... one who looked like him ... into my car alone. A flare of desire thrummed through me. My skin burned with the echo of his touch along my jaw.

“Quinn?”

Again, Noreen pulled me out of my head. “What? Oh. Noel. He’s more or less behaving himself.”

“You’re sure he hasn’t bit off more than he can chew?” she asked.

The answer was yes. Of course it was yes. Noel had so far done nothing to prove to me that he had the talent and business savvy to get this project off the ground. But I was stuck with him. The Ransom Brothers had made it crystal clear they’d pull their funding if Noel wasn’t involved. It was just my luck their family had picked my dream project to keep Noel busy.

“I told you, he’s green. But he’s got a passion for this project.”

“He’s got more than that,” Noreen said, rising. “He’s got his mother pulling strings behind the scenes. You know she’s the trustee for the Ransom family fortune. Word is she told her brothers in no uncertain terms they better give that kid anything he asks for. So as long as he keeps his passion for this project, that’s good news for you. Just try and keep him out of trouble if you can.”

“I will,” I said, hoping like hell I could.

The landline rang, jolting me out of my head. Noreen and I both looked at it for a moment, confused.

“Uh,” she said. “You do know how to answer one of those, don’t you?”

I laughed. “Yes, Noreen.”

“Better let me,” she said, pushing past me. “Hello?”

She squinted as she listened to the caller on the other end. A deep line formed between her eyebrows. “I’m her agent,” she said. “Any meetings you want to set up with my client should go through my office.”

The hell? I made a gesture. Noreen waved me off.

“You’re with what firm now? How did you get this number?”

I crossed my arms and shook my head. I thought for sure the paparazzi had moved on. The last thing I wanted to do was switch hotels.

“I most certainly am not going to tell her that, Mr. Domino,” Noreen said. My heart hammered in my ribcage. Domino?

“Give me the phone, Noreen,” I whispered, waving.

She held up a finger and shook her head no. “I’ll relay the message to my client. In the meantime, why don’t you just leave me your number.”

Noreen rolled her eyes. She had no intention of writing anything down.

“What do you mean you’re parked outside?” Noreen’s eyes went wide. I went to the balcony and pulled open the sliding glass door. We were fifteen floors up, but sure enough, even from this distance I thought I could see the gleaming chrome of a Harley parked in the valet circle.

I didn’t think. I didn’t even listen as Noreen shouted after me. My boot heels smacked as I went out the door, heading for the elevators. Luck was with me and they opened just as I walked up. Noel stepped out and I waved him off.

“Be back in a sec,” I said. His mouth fell open, dumbfounded as I pushed the button and waited for the doors to close.

This was crazy. I wasn’t acting rationally. Noreen’s voice and Noel’s seemed to become my conscience as I tapped my foot and waited for the elevator to descend. Who knew what the hell Noreen had even said to him as I ran out the door? Why would I even think he would wait? None of it made any sense except I had a real live member of the Dark Saints M.C. looking for me and wanting to talk.

I ran through the lobby and pushed through the revolving door.

Domino was still there, leaning casually against his Harley. The afternoon sun lit him from the back, making him seem even bigger and darker than the day before. He cast a long shadow and I crossed the courtyard and stepped into it.

He gave me a half-smile that looked more like a sexy snarl. I saw my face reflected in his aviator glasses. I was breathless, cheeks flushed. Wearing a red tank top, cut-off jeans, and my designer cowboy boots, I’d left my Quinn Larsen “persona” far behind.

Now that I stood in front of him, he had me speechless. Domino towered over me, crossing one booted foot over the other. One of his muscled arms was easily the size of both of my legs. He was huge, strong, brooding.

“Nice to see you, Hollywood,” he said with that rich voice that warmed my insides like hard liquor.

“You too,” I said. “But what are you doing here? And how did you find me?”

He laughed. “It wasn’t that hard. Let’s just say you leave a wake.”

“A wake?”

“Did you take my advice?” he asked.

“Advice?” God, why couldn’t I do more than parrot his words? This guy had my insides scrambled.

“Laredo,” he said, his tone darkening. He slid off his glasses and tucked them into his shirt.

“Laredo,” I repeated. “You mean the Devil’s Hawks. Right. Yes, I’m looking into that. I’ve got a few promising leads.” It was all a lie. I don’t know why I did it, but Domino’s face changed. His eyes flashed and his jaw twitched. He reached for me, gripping my arm. Not hard, but that same kinetic energy I’d felt the other day seemed to flow through me.

“Don’t,” he said. “Laredo’s no place for you.”

“Well.” I looked up at him, shielding my eyes from the sun. “You didn’t leave me much choice. It was either Laredo or Port Azrael. I will get what I want, Domino.”

“Fine,” he said.

“Fine?”

“You’ve got questions about my club?”

“Yes.” My heart leaped. Whatever the hell was going on in Laredo, he clearly didn’t want me anywhere near it.

He gave me a full smile. His white teeth flashed against his dark skin. Heat coursed through me. “You ready to go for a ride, Hollywood?”

My breath caught and my heart stopped. Smiling, I took a step back. “Hell, yeah,” I answered. Domino’s laugh sounded more like a growl.