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PART IX

MARK

The crowd that entered into the hall didn't have any idea that they were going through a state-of-the-art metal detector. Proprietary hardware that most venues would kill to have but could never afford without a crazy line of credit or connections in National Security. Mark wasn't going to ask which one it was. He was just glad for the equipment.

Badger walked up beside him, tugging at his cuffs.

Mark looked down for a quick second and almost smiled. "Nice cufflinks."

A quick nod was the initial answer from the Brit.

"A gift from... a friend."

Mark lifted a brow at that.

He knew there was a story behind the gift.

Maybe, when they got to know each other better, Badger would fill him in.

"I finished questioning the gentleman."

Mark turned his head and gave the man a curious, questioning look.

"He was helpful after he was given his choices ."

Mark nodded. "You make it sound almost... civil."

Badger's chin lifted just a little. "It was almost civil. At first, he seemed a little confused by my accent, but we quickly moved on from such banal ideas. He is the one we've been looking for."

Mark felt the tight bands around his heart loosen. "Good."

He kept scanning the crowd and felt, rather than saw, Badger move up beside him.

"And you're still looking."

Mark heard the unvoiced question in his words. "My thoughts go back to my grandmother's house at Christmas."

A soft, "Hmmm..." reached his ear.

"There was always a bowl of nuts on the table."

"I'm familiar with that."

"I couldn't have been older than five or six when she died, but every year while she was alive, we'd have extended family come to her house for dinner. By the time half of the family had arrived, my grandmother was rolling her eyes at a number of them. During one of those parties, I asked her why she rolled her eyes at people. She leaned in, handed me a homemade gingerbread man and pointed at the bowl in the center of her coffee table, saying..." Mark turned and gave the Englishman a quick look. "There's never just one nut in the bowl."

A soft scoff of laughter came from the other man who had lifted his hand to cover his mouth. "Is that an American idiom that I should familiarize myself with?"

"I doubt you'll hear anyone else saying it. My grandmother was one of kind."

Badger nodded. "Nix is the same," he hummed softly, "one of kind."

Mark listened to the melody that Badger was humming. "What piece is that?"

A ghost of a smile played across Badger's mouth. "It's part of Scheherazade. Rimsky Korsakov's composition. I heard... your violinist practicing it the other day. I hope she'll play it tonight during the concert."

Mark tasted something sour on his tongue.

Badger cleared his throat. "Keep Calm, Ares. She is yours. I just find her taste in musical selections as unique as the woman playing them. She is, in a word, fascinating."

"Well," Mark swallowed and found that the knot in his throat wasn't going anywhere, "you've certainly used more than 'a word' to describe her."

Badger laughed softly and touched his hand to Mark's shoulder. "We are all aware of your feelings. Especially after today in the stairwell. If you've a mind to propose to her on stage tonight, you can make it even more public."

"Are all Brits as smooth as you are, Badger?"

"No, Ares. I am, as your violinist is, one of a kind."

Mark rolled his eyes. "Thank God."

"God does favor the Brits, Ares. Remember that." Badger gripped his shoulder as a soft trill sounded in his pocket. "I'm off. The Uptons are here to take custody of our guest. Once we transfer custody, I'll be back to take my position backstage in the wings. If you need me to take another position, send me a message."

Mark nodded and watched as Badger expertly maneuvered through the crowd.

This, he knew, was the reason that they'd been picked.

Each and every one of them 'cleaned up well.' They could easily move through the crowd and make small talk with everyone in the hall. They were all skilled in everything they needed to be as security and bodyguards, but they were also 'presentable' not just to the general public but the kinds of people that spent top dollar for security.

A member of the venue staff walked up. He'd met her before, the first time that he visited the venue.

"It's good to see you again, Faith."

Her smile was a little tighter than it had been before. "Mister Goddard, I'm glad you're here."

His expression didn't change even though he felt something twist in his belly. "What can I do for you?"

Faith looked over her shoulder at the archway near her office door before looking back at him. "One of our donors would like to... speak with Nix before the concert."

Mark held back his instinctive answer, taking time to focus himself and keep an easy smile on his face. "I'm sorry, Faith, but Nix is preparing for the show. No one is getting in to see her. She'll be happy to speak with them at the reception after the show."

Faith's shoulders were tense, and her normal pleasant expression was stretched thin. "It's... Well, he ," she added the extra emphasis on the word, "is part of the Margolis family. He was under the impression that he would have the chance to meet with her before the performance."

The words 'fuck no' were on the tip of his tongue, but he held them back. "I'll be happy to meet with him and explain."

"Oh, thank you." She sighed and smiled at him, much of her tension relaxed from her shoulders. "He is a generous donor for us, and he said that he spoke with her benefactor?"

Mark could tell that she didn't really believe the other man, but she certainly wasn't going to call him out on it. She was much too politic for that.

He didn't blame her. It took a lot of money to bring a building this massive back from ruin and he'd read the whole document outlining the work done on the building as soon as this performance had been announced.

"I'm so thrilled that Nix could accommodate us for this performance. When Wade said that he knew her, I was so excited! I've followed her for over a year and I'm always amazed at how she brings new life into so many classical pieces."

Mark felt his heart swell with pride but tried to keep that feeling from showing on his face.

Part of protecting Heather was keeping her personal life, just that, personal.

"I'll be happy to speak with him, Faith. Would you mind if we use your office?"

She touched his arm and smiled. "Thank you. I appreciate it." He swore he could see relief in her eyes. It told him something more than she might have intended. She wasn't sure how this conversation was going to go, so likely, she was happy if he had it out of the public eye. "This is our inaugural event here, hopefully our last fundraiser. With Nix' popularity, our tickets sold out in minutes and some of the donors have already put extra checks into my hands tonight. Very generous checks."

Yeah, she'd all but confirmed that she was worried about this conversation.

Mark put his hand over hers and gave her a reassuring smile. "Why don't you take me to this person and show us to your office."

HEATHER

Heather wasn't sure if something was wrong, but she wasn't about to pick up a phone and distract the guys. She'd expected to have some word from the Margolis family. Bart always offered to send his jet to them to take them to shows. And she knew that some of the family lived in Seattle.

She picked up the phone and dialed Bart instead.

"Hey there, sweetheart!"

She smiled at his happy tone. "Hey, Bart. I just wanted to tell you that they caught the guy."

"I know, sweetie."

She rolled her eyes a little. "I'm sure they told you already, but I want to say thanks from myself. I know I kept saying no."

"But that's why I got the guard... for the violin."

"Because you know I'm stubborn."

"Stubborn?" She was glad that she hadn't connected with video, so she didn't have to see his self-satisfied smirk. "You?"

Heather sighed, but she was smiling from ear to ear. "Yes, stubborn. I have been known to be stubborn from time to time."

Bart laughed and then smothered the sound with ridiculous fake coughing.

"Fine. Fine. Get your laugh."

"I'm sorry, you know I couldn't resist, but I'm so happy to hear that they got him. It's the answer to my prayers."

"Mine, too." She swallowed as tears welled up in her eyes unexpectedly.

"Hey, I know that sound," Bart's voice had softened, "tissues, sweetie."

Heather paused with the tissue already touched to her cheek. "How did you know?"

"We don't want you to mess up your make-up even though no one will see it on stage. But you'll know and I don't want you to go out there with anything but your usual perfection in front of the hordes."

Hordes?

She was laughing and drying her tears at the same time. "Wouldn't want to disappoint them, would we?"

"You never do, honey. Never. But I know you have a special someone in the audience tonight. Well, he'll likely be in the wings, but I'm sure this will be life changing for him."

Her lips pursed together in an uncomfortable half-smirk. "He's heard me play, Bart. This is-"

"Vastly different." He exhaled and she heard the soft sound through the phone. "Honey, when I heard you playing on a video, I knew you were a genius with the violin. I can't believe you had only been playing for a few years. That's why I had to go and see you and make sure that it wasn't some kind of special effects magic and play actors in the crowd. When I heard you for myself..."

She heard his voice trail off and Bart took in a breath and let it out a few moments later.

"I was transported to another time and place. I can't tell you exactly where, it's not like somewhere you can drop a pin on a map, I felt like I was surrounded by sound, lifted out of my everyday life into a space where I was discovering something new in myself. You are magic, sweetheart. Just pure, musical magic."

Heather was stunned.

She didn't know what to say or even if she could say something.

She sat there, her phone in her hand and the sound of his words echoing off of the refinished metal walls.

"I didn't know that's how you felt."

"Aww, honey. I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier-"

"No. NO... I'm not saying that. I'm just happy to hear what you felt. I know what I feel like when I play. It's nice- Really nice to hear how it affected you."

"Well, tonight is going to be something special for you with Mark there. And I know he's going to be knocked on his ass with your talent." Bart chuckled over the phone. "I have a feeling that after he's done being your bodyguard, he's going to make this... situation permanent between-"

"Bart, please-"

"Sweetheart, I know what I'm talking about. There's no way this is the end of anything between you two."

"Bart, you sound like this is what you expected to happen."

"No, no..." He started talking before she finished her sentence. "This isn't what I expected. I knew it could go a few ways-"

"Oh? Didn't you think it could be an unmitigated mistake? A disaster?"

"How?" Bart sounded like he was giving her some serious side-eye. "I can't imagine how it could."

"Well, if Mark took one look at me without my mask and walked out the door? What would that have done?"

"You don't think he would have walked out on you. Talking to Alex Marchand was... eye opening."

Heather sighed softly.

"Yes, I can hear you from here." Bart chuckled. "I had no idea that Alex had on his roster someone with a connection to you, but he did. He was the one who suggested Mark as soon as I brought up that this was about you."

She nodded. "I'm guessing he's known where I've been since that night."

"I know that he thought you wouldn't be happy if you found out about his involvement before you got a chance to spend some time with Mark. If you ask me, which you didn't, he's trying to do something to help you get some of your life back."

"Alex was my anchor for quite some time after I was shot."

"I hope you won't hurt him too much when you see him."

"I doubt I'd be able to. Alex can take care of himself. He's probably more Jason Bourne than James Bond. Although he's always looked more like Bond."

She heard Bart's soft laughter, and the sound took some of the pressure off of her shoulders. "I think you're right. I was going to say John Wick, but Alex doesn't look scruffy enough."

Heather laughed out loud and clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound, but the walls were already echoing with it.

When she was able to breathe, she lowered her hand. "You're right, Bart. Definitely not John Wick, although I wouldn't kick Keanu out of bed."

It was Bart's turn to laugh, and it was more of a knee-slapping HA! "I wouldn't tell Mark that, sweetie. I don't think he'd see the humor in your words. And what if Keanu turned up at one of your shows someday?"

"Oh, I wish! But sure, I'll keep my lips zipped when it comes to Mister Reeves. And you..."

"Yes?" He was still in a humorous mood.

"I need to ask you a favor."

"Oh?" She heard some movement on his end of the call. "What can I do for you?"

She blinked away a few sudden tears as she thought about how much Bart had done for her since he reached out the first time. She knew she'd never be able to really thank him.

"Honey? Are you okay?"

"I'm... I'm going to be okay." Putting her smile back on her face, she nodded and saw the movement in the mirror before her. "Come and see one of my shows soon. Or come and spend some time with me. I really do miss you, Bart. You're... you've helped me come back to life in so many ways."

"Now, that's a request I can agree to. I'll come out and see you next week. Okay?" He sighed and she could almost see him shaking his head with a warm smile on his lips. "And you need to remember that you're the one who made this all possible for yourself. You. I'm just happy to be along for the ride. You were meant to be happy, Heather."

He said her name softly, like a whisper.

"You will be if I have anything to say about it."

"Then I hope you get what you want, Bart, because I'll be thrilled if it does. I just know I want to see you soon and give you a hug- A thousand hugs for everything you've given me!"

"Let's start with one before Mark tries to throw me out a window. I'll be there to see you. Now go kick some ass at the show!"

"You mean break a leg, right?"

"Naw," he chuckled, "I don't want you to break anything. It's going to be an amazing night, sweetie! Enjoy!"

MARK

When Mark met the man who wanted a meeting with Nix, he got a strange feeling at the back of his neck.

The man that he reached his hand out to in greeting, barely met his eyes.

"I'm Mark Goddard, the head of Nix' security."

The other man looked at his outstretched hand for a long moment before putting his own out for a quick, utilitarian shake. As he lowered his hand, the man spoke.

"I don't like this."

Mark gestured to the room around them. "Faith was kind enough to let us use her office so we could talk."

"I don't need to talk to you, sir. I need to speak with Nix. I want to see the violin."

Mark's eyes narrowed a little. "The violin? How so?"

"It's mine! Or rather," he shook his head a little, "it belongs to my family."

The man before him was about his age, maybe a little younger. He was about Heather's height, but he didn't seem to have any warmth in his eyes. He lifted his chin in an almost defiant gesture.

"We were assured that Nix was going to care for the violin and keep it in good working condition."

Mark was instantly angry. It wasn't a logical reaction, but he wasn't exactly logical or dispassionate about Heather. He loved her. And the way this man was talking, he didn't trust Heather to do what she'd promised.

He wasn't happy with that. Not on any level.

"The violin is in perfect working condition. I'm not sure where you would get the impression that it's not."

"Well," the man puffed out his chest a little as if he wasn't happy to be called out, "let's just say that I've heard some... disturbing things about Nix. Someone that has known her for years has told me things that bring her behavior into question."

Mark shook his head. "I find that hard to believe, Evan."

His head jerked up. "How did you know?"

Mark smiled. "I know you and your whole family. Pictures. Dossiers. We've done our research."

He paled visibly and Mark felt something move up his spine. Evan was showing every sign of hiding something. "We were told that we'd have access to the violin to verify its condition."

"And you do, but not at the last minute. Not right before a performance."

Evan reached out a hand and knocked on the desktop. "Then, when?"

"I can ask Nix if she will meet you after ."

"There's a reception after the show." Evan smiled and Mark felt a muscle in his jaw tighten. "Have her bring the violin there."

"No." Mark gave his head a single shake. "Not possible. The violin around liquids and food? I doubt that would be good for the instrument."

The color rising along Evan's neck said that he felt the truth of Mark's words even though he didn't like it.

"If Nix agrees, you can view the violin in her dressing room after the reception."

"That's perfectly fine. I'll head up after the show and-"

"It'll be up to her when you are allowed to enter her private space. I'm not sure what you think would happen when you walked into the hall tonight to make demands."

Evan took a quick step forward, almost as if he was going to go toe-to-toe with Mark. "She's allowed to use the violin, but I have a say."

Mark narrowed his eyes at the man. "Where is all of this coming from? This... person you've been speaking to. Who is it? I'm thinking that you've been fooled."

Evan didn't like that idea. He drew back. It wasn't much but it was there. "I'm not a fool!"

Mark had to walk it back. He'd made a mistake in pushing the other man. It was a knee-jerk reaction on his part because of how he felt about Heather, but Mark should have known better. Or rather, he should have behaved better. That was the whole reason why they'd been picked to work for Alex and Big Sky Bodyguards.

"I never said you were." Mark knew he had to go further than that. "I'm concerned that someone has told you lies hoping to do damage to Nix and her relationship with the violin. People who try to do these kinds of things, tell these kinds of falsified stories, they're usually very personable people. They know how to craft a story to do damage and know how to finesse with their words and demeanor. They use kernels of truth and embellish their stories in subtle ways. They're adept at tricking the most discerning people, it's a skill they've perfected over time. I should have explained myself in a more adept way, but I'm afraid I was upset about the trouble they're trying to cause Nix."

Evan was the one looking deeper this time. "You care about her."

Caught.

Mark wondered if he was the right man for the job. Keeping himself on track, holding his temper back, it wasn't easy.

If it was anyone else but Heather-

But it wasn't.

This was about Heather and what this man said was galling to him.

Still, he had a job to do and that didn't involve his heart getting tangled up in it, no matter how much Evan's words irked him, he had to keep his cool. Had to keep his mind on the job.

What he had building back between himself and Heather?

That would wait.

This was the job.

And he was going to do it because he had to protect her before he could make this thing between them last.

"I do." He nodded. He was tempted, for a moment, to keep everything he felt a secret, but he had a feeling that wasn't the way to go. Evan had already seen beyond his mask. "We knew each other a long time ago."

Evan scoffed at his words. "So this is an unrequited lovers thing?"

"No, this is about her safety, but it's also about the violin. I was hired to protect them both."

Evan narrowed his eyes. "That's what he told me?" [I don’t understand this line]

"Blackwood?"

Evan nodded. "The billionaire. He has more money than anyone should have on their own."

"Whatever you have against him, isn't productive to our conversation." Evan drew up short as if Mark had poked him in the chest or delivered a quick slap across the face. "You'll see the violin, but not before the performance. She needs to focus."

As much as Evan was trying to be forceful in his own way, Mark could tell that there was something eating at the man. Something that he couldn't see.

Someone had stirred him up, shaken him somehow.

Mark knew that they had the stalker in custody, but there was something going on with Evan Margolis. He didn't know what it was, but it bothered him.

Before he'd let Evan meet with Heather, he'd make sure that he had the room locked down.

He wasn't about to risk Heather.

It didn't matter if she wanted to build something with him or not. Just knowing that she was alive and well was enough for him. He'd wondered about her for years, now he knew where she was and that she was alive. And doing something amazing with her life. He was going to protect her, however he could.

He was going to keep her safe.

It occurred to Mark that Evan hadn't made a sound or moved since he stopped talking. Evan was still staring him down in a kind of war of wills.

Mark didn't want to break it to Evan, but he'd never win if that's what he thought would make him back down.

He didn't know what Mark could do with that face if he was of a mind to do it.

That was also part of the job. Look good in a suit or tux, but also keep it under wraps how dangerous you really are.

The element of surprise.

There were so many layers to what he could do as a bodyguard, and he would use them all to do his job.

But to protect Heather? He'd do everything.

Everything, including laying down his own life.

That was another thing that had never changed over the years.

"Is there anything else, Mister Margolis?"

Evan drew in a breath and let it out. Mark watched him fight his own instincts before he made his decision. A single shake of his head was the answer. Evan walked to the door past him but stopped with his hand on the doorknob. He looked over his shoulder at Mark. "I can't make up my mind if you know who she really is and don't care, or if she's got you snowed over like everyone else."

Evan walked out and the door swung closed behind him with a quiet click of sound.

Mark stood there, starting at it. He had a feeling he would have felt better if the other man had slammed the door, because somehow the soft click of the door made it all feel worse.

Something was wrong.

Mark just couldn't put his finger on it.