I relax and tip my head in Layla’s general direction. “So, is that the norm around here? Eve smacking the shit out of Layla with her words and Layla just taking it?” I ask.

Finn shrugs and slides his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “That? Oh, that wasn’t even the tip of the iceberg. Eve is actually in a good mood today.”

I shake my head in confusion. If that was Eve on a good day, how the fuck does she act on a bad one?

“Why the hell doesn’t Layla tell her where to stick it? This is her career, her life.”

Finn laughs but it’s not meant to be a cheerful one. It’s a laugh filled with disdain and irritation.

“You would think, wouldn’t you? Layla is the star. She’s the one bringing all the money in and has people falling all over themselves to make her happy. One would naturally assume that she’s the one who makes all the decisions, Chief Marshall,” Finn says with a raise of an eyebrow.

“I’m not with the Navy anymore. It’s just Brady.”

Finn cocks his head at me, a pensive look on his face as he holds his chin in between his thumb and forefinger and furrows his brow.

“Oh, my bad. I just assumed once a SEAL, always a SEAL. The kind of person who shoots first and asks questions later, someone who follows orders no matter who gives them and never thinks for himself. You know, someone who makes snap judgments about a person before they really know anything about them.”

I want to be mad. I really do. I want to punch the smug look off of Finn’s face, but I can’t because he just described me to a T. I can’t even pretend to be offended. Not twenty minutes earlier, in the text I sent to Gwen, I called Layla a “self-centered attention whore.” “You know what happens when you assume, Brady,” Finn adds with a smile.

“Alright, you made your point,” I concede.

“Judge not, lest ye be judged.”

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “Seriously. Shut the fuck up. I get it. Stop talking in idioms. There’s more to her than meets the eye. Understood.”

A banging noise breaks into our conversation, and we move so we can see the stage. The mic stand that previously stood front and center is now rolling in a giant circle at the far end, and Layla stares after it, her hands on her hips and her chest heaving with what I assume is the remainder of the energy she used to angrily chuck it in that direction.

“I better go check on her,” Finn says quietly, his voice filled with concern as he starts to walk down the aisle behind me.

“You’re her friend. Why haven’t you done something to stop this?” I ask, my words making him stop in his tracks.

“What makes you think I haven’t?” he replies with his back to me.

I watch as he walks out of the row and makes his way down the center aisle to the stage. After a few minutes, making sure he gets to Layla before I go, I head the same way he does, but instead of turning left to the stage, I make a right and head out of the arena.

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I and dial Gwen. “Hey, change of plans. Put Finn Michaelson’s background check on the back burner. Focus on Eve Carlysle. Get me everything you can ASAP.”

Chapter 6

“You really need to find another hobby. This waking up at the ass crack of dawn to go running is getting on my nerves.”

I ignore Finn’s complaints as I concentrate on my stretches, extending my arms over my head and clasping my hands together, tilting from side to side to work out the kinks in my back. We’re standing at the beginning of the Bryant Grove Trail in Long Hunter State Park, my favorite place to run when I’m home. It’s eight miles round trip, but with Finn’s constant bitching and moaning, we usually only complete half. Running is part of my strict fitness regimen that I have to follow in order to keep my stamina up for the concerts, but I'd still do it every day. It’s the one time I can shut my mind off. The only thing I need to focus on is my breathing, my heart rate, and the distance I’ve traveled. I don’t have to think about how trapped I feel or how if I have to spend one more day living this life, I’m going to keep losing piece after piece of myself until there is nothing left but the robot my mother has created.

“You were in the Marines. Didn’t you have to run in your sleep?” I question as I step onto the trail and set the timer on my watch.

“Yes. And that’s precisely why I don’t want to do it anymore. People shouldn’t run unless someone is chasing them,” he tells me.

Finn likes to complain, but I know he enjoys this as much as I do. He might not be too fond of the physical requirements, but the peace and quiet in his head is as important to him as it is to me.

Finishing up a few windmills with my arms, I whip my head around. “That’s the fifth time in the last minute you’ve looked back towards where we parked the car. What’s with you this morning?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Just checking to see if there will be any other runners out here with us this morning. You know, since I am your bodyguard and all,” he says cockily.

“I’m sure it’s just going to be the two of us, just like every other time we run here,” I remind him, turning away from him and getting ready to really take off.

A snap of a branch close behind us has me stopping and quickly turning to the noise.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

I can’t hide the shock or anger in my voice when I see who’s standing a few feet away from Finn, dressed in black nylon Nike shorts, a pair of running shoes, and an old AC/DC concert T-shirt that's just tight enough to show off all of the contours of his sculpted chest, and the short sleeves put his muscular arms on display.

“Thanks, but I’ve already got Finn here with me.” I try not to stare at his strong arms or the hint of a tattoo peeking out from under the edge of one of his shirt sleeves, instantly curious about what it is, in spite of my irritation with him.

“Yeah, we’re good here. This is our routine when we’re home. We’ve been doing just fine on our own without some stranger sticking his nose where it doesn’t belong,” Finn arrogantly tells Brady.

“That may have been fine in the past, but sticking with the same routine is what gets people killed,” Brady states as he walks closer to Finn, getting in his face.

“Are you trying to tell me I don’t know how to do my job?” Finn asks him heatedly, his hands clenched into fists at his sides with barely concealed rage.

Brady casually crosses his arms in front of his chest and uses the two inches he has on Finn to stare down at him, subtly trying to tell him that he could probably kick his ass without even blinking.

“I’m trying to tell you that your relationship with Layla might be clouding your judgment when it comes to protecting her.”

The way Brady spits out relationship proves that he’s done his research, at least as far as the tabloids go. For years they’ve hinted at an affair between Finn and I. Of course Eve made it known that we shouldn’t disparage those rumors. Any press is good press and all that bullshit.

“You’re a real piece of work, you know that!” Finn shouts.

I grab onto his arm and pull him back towards me. I’ve never seen him so worked up like this. His body is practically vibrating with fury. I don’t want anyone to get hurt, even if I do think the ex-Navy SEAL standing in front of us could use a good punch in the face right about now to wipe that smug look off of it.

“Alright, that’s enough. Both of you. If you guys are through with your pissing contest, I’d like to get started on my run.”

I let my eyes shift back and forth between them, putting my hands on my hips to let them know I'm not in the mood for their nonsense. I understand that Finn feels like an outsider is poaching on his territory and trying to tell him how to do his job, but he needs to cool down. For all we know, Brady is going to run to the tabloids himself and let them know Finn has anger management issues.

“Finn, why don’t you head back to the cabin and make sure the guys installing the new alarm system don’t screw everything up,” I suggest to him softly.

I don’t want to push Finn away, but he needs to take a step back for a minute. The longer he stays here, the worse it’s going to get between him and Brady. I can already tell Brady isn’t the type of person to listen to orders from anyone. There’s no way he’s going to be the first one to leave. Plus, it will give me a chance to find out what the hell he’s really doing here.

Finn whips his head around to stare at me, his eyes wide with hurt and disbelief.

“So it’s going to be like that, huh?” he asks me angrily. “Fine. You two have a great run.”

Before I can say anything to convince him that I’m not doing this to purposefully hurt him, he’s already stalked off and disappeared around the bend.

Brady chuckles and I turn to face him.

“Oh, that’s nice. It’s good you can see the humor in a situation that isn’t funny at all,” I angrily tell him.

“Sweetheart, that guy is one argument away from blowing someone’s head off with his side arm. Sue me if I think it’s a riot that you’ve put all your trust in someone like that and think I’m the bad guy.”

Until now, I haven’t seen or spoken to Brady since right before the concert when I handed him the list he asked for of people who might have it out for me. And actually, I didn’t speak to him then either. I was still too keyed up from the fight with Eve to do much more than shove the list in his hands and walk away to warm up.

“Here, the list you requested.” I walked up to him right outside my dressing room and smacked the piece of paper into his chest so he had to quickly grab onto it before it fell to the ground.

I ignored the fact that touching his chest felt like touching a brick wall—a very muscular, firm brick wall that radiated heat.

I crossed my arms in front of me as he perused the list, raising one eyebrow at me when he was finished.

“There’s only three names on here.”

The disbelief and confusion in his voice immediately put me on edge.

“Contrary to what you might think, I’m not hated the world over. Most people actually like me.”

He looked like he wanted to say something else, but I cut him off before he could laugh at me or make another snide comment about what he thinks of me.

“I have to get ready. The exit is down the hall to the left. Don’t let the door hit you in the ass on your way out,” I lob at him sarcastically before turning around, walking into my dressing room, and slamming the door behind me.

The list I gave him only contained a few names: another singer or two who had made a few silly threats to me in the tabloids because I got invited to events they didn’t and an interviewer from a magazine who liked to constantly make remarks about how the world would be a better place if I wasn’t singing in it. And she was just bitter because she used to work for me, and Finn caught her skimming money from the top.

It’s not that I think Brady’s the bad guy. Not really. I just don’t know him or trust him. I trust Finn with everything and I just sent him away. This guy comes in here like he’s hot shit and looks at me like I’m dirt on his shoe. How the hell am I supposed to react to him?

Brady stares at me for a few minutes and when I don’t respond to his statement about him being the bad guy, he shrugs it off like he never expected me to disagree. Without saying another word to me, he turns around and takes off jogging on the trail leaving me standing there staring after him.

“You better move your ass if you want to get all five miles in before this trail gets packed with tourists,” he shouts over his shoulder as he disappears around the first bend.

I stand there just long enough to curse his name in my head, then take off running faster than I normally start off so I can catch up to him. Out of spite, and because I’m pissed that my morning routine is thrown off by his presence, I speed past him until I’m a few legs in front of him and slow down so I don’t get winded too early.

I can hear his feet pounding on the trail right behind me, and before I can get too cocky about being in front of him, he actually has the nerve to come up on my right and go around me.

“Passing on the right,” he says jovially, continuing the fast pace I’m not used to.

My eyes immediately zero in on his ass in those stupid shorts as I watch him pumping his legs to go even faster. The thin material is molded to it, and it’s almost impossible to turn my eyes away, but I do so I can once again leave that ass behind in the dust.

Pushing my legs as hard as I can, I make up the distance between us.

“Passing on the left.”

Two can play at this game.

I stay in front of him just long enough to wonder if he’s looking at my ass. I’m wearing a pair of tight pink, lightweight running shorts, and even though I’m pretty confident in how great my butt and legs look in them, I don’t want him staring.

Regrettably, I slow my pace until he makes it back up to me and we’re jogging side-by-side at a more normal speed.

“I thought for sure you were going to keep that shit up for the entire five miles,” he says with a laugh. I notice he’s not even breathing hard, and I immediately want to stick my leg out and trip him.

“Figured I should slow it down for you. A man of your age could have a heart attack at any moment, and I’m not really up-to-date on my first aid training.”

We jog in silence for a few minutes, the sounds of nature filling the air and making me momentarily forget that my best friend conspired with the enemy.

“You know, I didn’t mean to make things strained between you and your body guard,” Brady says, reading my mind. “I asked your mother to give me a print-out of your normal routine when you’re home. I thought I would case the place ahead of time and make sure there weren’t any threats in the area. It took me a little longer than I expected, which is why I was still here when you guys showed up.”