Page 3 of Hunted Hearts (Black Heart Security #6)

T heo swept a glance around the room. “Everybody out.”

Dead silence followed his order. Five pairs of eyes landed on him for several long heartbeats. Then all at once, everyone moved.

Who the hell were all these people anyway?

A young twenty-something woman who looked like a frightened mouse scuttled to the door. A lanky guy dressed in nothing but black leather took off in long strides and reached the door before the girl.

The head of security left without debriefing, which left Theo questioning how the man earned that title.

A brunette in a navy business suit was right behind them.

And finally, the older gentleman Theo guessed was the tour manager rocked on his heels as if prying his polished loafers off the floor before making his way to the door.

Juliette jerked her attention from her team filing out of her dressing room and took a step as if she planned to follow them.

“Not you, Juliette.”

She went still.

“I need to talk to you.”

She blinked up at him, her eyes a swirl of blue and green like the waters off the coast of Greece.

Bad things had happened in Greece. But after it was all over, he and his team took two days to bask in the sun, to sip cool drinks and swim a sea exactly the same hue as this woman’s eyes.

She took a step backward. “It’s my manager you should be talking to. I didn’t have anything to do with hiring you.”

He took in her defensive posture—narrow shoulders hunched, her fists balled in front her—and realized he was starting off on the wrong foot with her.

Irritation rolled through him. Why the hell did his brothers throw him into this op? He knew how to neutralize threats, not nerves. There hadn’t exactly been a course on emotional support back in BUD/S.

Seeing he needed to swap out his tactical moves for talking down the woman he was here to guard, he gave her a small nod.

“I should have introduced myself first. My name’s Theo Malone, and I’m with—” He broke off as he realized he didn’t know who he answered to anymore.

“I’m with Black Heart Security. I was told you have a possible stalker. ”

As Juliette filled her lungs with a deep breath, she tipped her head back to meet his gaze directly. “I wouldn’t call it a stalker.”

He glanced around the dressing room—mirrors, makeup and curling irons, gowns hanging on a gold rack. Finally he spotted the sofa and waved a hand toward it. “Will you sit down?”

She paused for a beat, then another, as if the woman moved to a musical score in her own head. Eventually, she drifted to the sofa and sank to the cushion in a prim pose.

Theo took the armchair across from her, one of those architectural pieces of furniture that was horribly uncomfortable. Not only that, but his legs were far too long for its size, which forced his knees up too high.

“I need to learn more about you.”

She glanced at a subtle watch on her wrist, dainty and comprised of small links of gold chain. “I don’t have much time. I need to prepare for my performance.”

“You have time for this,” he told her.

She twisted away, the tiny point of her jaw angled toward the ceiling.

He wasn’t going to get anywhere with this woman if he couldn’t figure her out first. Just as a general studied his enemy, Theo had to get to know his ward.

“Any chance you’ll cut the tour short?”

Juliette lifted her brows, more as a challenge than in annoyance. “Not a chance.”

The air hung thick with the scent of hairspray and flowers, and a hint of something earthier he couldn’t put a name to.

“This tour has been in the works for a year,” she added. “A dozen people gave up their holidays and nights and personal lives to make this happen. I’m not walking away just because a bug crawled into a bouquet.”

He blinked slowly, weighing just how far he could push her to take her safety seriously. “You’ve got a lot of shows lined up.”

“Mm-hmm.” She crossed her legs and leaned back on the velvet sofa. “I’ve got a really great publicist.”

Tilting his head, he studied her. “No offense, but I wasn’t told who I was guarding. When they told me to fly out for a VIP musician, I was only given your name. I figured it’d be a pop star or country singer.”

Juliette gave him a dry smile. “I’m a violinist. Disappointed?”

The pieces were beginning to fall into place, from her clothing to her cultured voice.

“Just surprised. A violinist isn’t the kind of person you expect to have a stalker.”

She sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “Well, you clearly haven’t met many classical fans.”

Everything settled in Theo’s mind.

The team around her had an air of precision and polish, not glitter and rhinestones. They weren’t the kind of people who trailed behind a pop diva—they moved like a unit, efficient and quiet, orbiting her like she was something rare and untouchable.

And looking at Juliette, he could see why.

The woman didn’t look like she came from this century, let alone this decade.

Her long, dark hair waved over one shoulder in a thick cascade, almost too much for her slight frame.

And those eyes seemed too large compared to her small, upturned nose and rosebud lips.

She perched on the cushion as if ready to get up and bolt out of the room.

“I know you have a performance this evening, so I’ll make this as quick and painless as possible.”

“All right.” Her voice was soft, with a lilt of a French accent.

He leaned in a little, studying her face, the shift in her tone. “So how did this happen? Someone targeting you? What’s the story?”

“Like I told everyone, I don’t believe it was a threat. Just an unfortunate event.”

“Can you tell me what happened?” With his legs folded this way, an old knee injury was waking up like a grumpy mountain ogre. He stretched it out, and Juliette tracked the movement, her stare clinging to his thigh for a moment before a slight flush climbed her pale throat.

She pursed her lips and then launched into the story of entering her dressing room after sound check to find a vase of gardenias. When she leaned in to smell the flowers, a scorpion crawled out.

“I grabbed the first thing I saw—my high heel—and I smashed it.”

Theo studied the woman before him. “You killed a scorpion with your shoe?”

She dipped her head in a nod, appearing a bit uneasy for the first time.

He threw a look at the trash can across the room. “Are those the flowers?”

“Yes.”

“And the shoe you used to kill it with?” It was gold, with delicate straps he could picture lacing around her ankles all too easily.

He tore his gaze away.

“Yes, that’s my shoe.”

“I’ll have a closer look in a minute. Can you think of anybody who would want to scare you?”

“No.”

“Any boyfriends? Exes? Lovers?”

“No.” The pink that had started to fade on her throat flared bright again and began creeping up her jaw to settle in her cheeks.

“Jealous friends? Family members you have a problem with?”

She shook her head. “No.”

She didn’t give him much to go off—he needed tour dates and a list of recent venues, as well as names of every person in Juliette’s inner circle.

He didn’t look away from her. “Did you leapfrog over someone to get this tour slot?”

Her spine stiffened, and she crossed her arms over her small breasts, jaw tensing like she’d just tasted something sour.

“No,” she said curtly.

He kept going. “Step on the wrong toes? Steal someone’s boyfriend?”

“Seriously?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes these things start off personal. A fan, an ex. Could be jealousy, could be revenge.”

She stared him down, mouth tight. “What’s next? Sleeping with a conductor to get my solo?”

He didn’t flinch, but something in her tone made his shoulders knot. She’d taken the question as a jab. Hell, maybe it was.

And then she pushed to her feet, fire sparking in her eyes. “Are you trying to victim shame me?”

That stopped him cold.

He met her glare, trying to dial back the edge in his voice. “I’m trying to understand why someone would come after you. You’re not exactly high-profile, and threats don’t usually pop out of nowhere.”

She was breathing hard now, her body rigid with offense. But it wasn’t just anger—it was something deeper. A flicker of pain beneath the defiance.

He watched her turn away, her spine straight as a blade, like she needed distance to settle. And damn if it didn’t twist something in his gut.

He didn’t know who she really was yet. But he saw enough to understand she wasn’t someone to underestimate.

“For the record, I don’t want you to be here.” Her tone was soft but terse.

He grunted. “For the record, I was on a family vacation, and I didn’t even get to go fishing.”

She swung to meet his gaze. From her stance and the spark of irritation in her eyes, he guessed they were at a standoff.

He had to defuse the situation. Had to do better.

He stood to face her and tugged on the brim of his cowboy hat, the old battered one he’d found in the back of his closet in his old bedroom.

A relic from his days before boot camp. At some point, he’d stuck a crow’s feather in the band and he hadn’t bothered to remove it when he reclaimed it as his own.

He wasn’t the young kid who grew up on a ranch, running barefoot through the fields or riding horses bareback, but he did know he wasn’t a special operative anymore.

“Look, I didn’t mean it that way. I’m not insinuating that you’re the problem.”

“Good. Because I’m not.” There it was again, the jut of her chin as she met his gaze with a direct one of her own.

He opened his mouth to say more, but a knock on her door made him jolt into action.

He threw out his arm, shoving Juliette behind him. In the back of his mind, he was aware of her quiet gasp and the fact that she didn’t even weigh as much as his rucksack. In three strides, he reached the door.

Turning his head, he tossed her a pointed look. “Don’t move.”

Then he cracked the door to see a man with a swoop of brown hair across his forehead and chunky, black-framed glasses.

“Yes?” Theo prompted.