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Laz tsked. “I’m not an idiot. You disappeared three years ago. Now you’re—” He flicked a hand over her body “—undead and running from the press faster than we do.” He leaned against a shelf of can goods and shoved his hands in his jean pockets. “Our limo is waiting at the side entrance. There won’t be paparazzi there.”

“Stay back, stay back.” Voices shouted in the dining room, just outside the kitchen doors.

The air in her lungs cut off. Were the fans pushing in?

“That’s our guards.” Laz grinned. “Sounds like the party wants to move to the kitchen.”

Nathan shuffled backward, taking her with him. “Get us out of here.”

“Right this way.” Laz jogged toward a pantry.

19

Charlee couldn’t tamp down her pulse as she followed Laz through the small room crowded with food supplies and into a hallway on the other side. The silent sentry at her back was in as much danger as she was if their faces were posted on the Internet. With all those camera phones, it was probably too damned late.

A sea of fear sloshed in her stomach and robbed the strength from her legs. She stumbled, caught the edge of a shelf.

Laz pushed the bar on an exterior door and stopped at the black limo waiting in a narrow alley just outside.

The cool night air stirred with the rustling of litter. Cars rumbled somewhere around the corner, and there was not one flashbulb in sight. She strained her neck left to right and discovered why.

Tall privacy gates blocked both ends of the alley, each guarded by a man in head-to-toe black. She released her breath in a puff of steam. How many bodyguards did they have?

A woman with a stiff posture and hair combed into a severe bun opened the passenger door for them. “Good evening, Mr. Bromwell.”

“We’re in a hurry, Tony. To the hotel, please. You’ll have to come back for the guys and the rest of the security team.”

“Yes, sir.”

Nathan placed his hand over Charlee’s Bodyguard 380. The pistol was seated inside her waistband at the small of her back. She crawled inside the limo, the leather seat aiding her slide to the far side.

Nodding at Tony, Nathan followed her in with Laz at his heels. He settled beside her and pressed his phone to his ear. “Need a full run on the bandThe Burn…Yes…The musicians, promoters, managers, producers, security detail, everyone…Yes.” His arm tightened. “I’ve got her. And Crane? We’ve might’ve been exposed. Reassign someone to 24/7 facial searching.”

They didn’t have the recognition software Roy’s company was developing, so their effort was manual and inefficient, but they looked anyway. If they found her photo on the Internet, they’d rip it down with the hope they caught it before Roy did. Her gut clenched. What a royal fucking conundrum she’d steered them in.

Across the aisle, Laz eyed him, his lips flattened in a harsh line. He glanced at her, and an uncomfortable tension vibrated through the cabin.

“Sorry,” she mouthed.

“Yes…Keep me posted.” Nathan pocketed the phone and returned Laz’s glare. “Where are we going?”

“The Plaza Hotel.”

Nathan swung his head, looking out the windows. “Just drop us ten or twenty blocks up the road. We’ll take the subway back.”

The hotel would be a cluster of fan girls. Didn’t stop the too-curious-to-be-rational part of her from speaking up. “Is Jay there?”

“Depends.” Laz leaned into his arms bent on his spread knees.

“On?”

A battle of who-has-the-fiercest-glare launched between the men. She snapped her fingers in front of Laz. “On?”

He didn’t unlock the stare down. “On if this guy is FBI or DEA or any of the other acronyms that would cause a rash in my ass.”

Nathan blew out his cheeks and tapped his fingers on his knees.

“Also depends on how much more damage you plan on doing to my best friend.”