Over the Line (28 page)

A spike of adrenaline that always foreshadowed trouble shot through his system like a fireball.

Shit. Holy shit,
he thought when the light passed a face in the crowd.

There. Just there—row three. Jase squinted, focused, and felt his blood boil.

Grimm. Goddamn, it was Grimm!

The light moved on and Jase lost him in the dark.

Maybe he'd been seeing things. But he could have sworn he just saw Edwin Grimm. Hell, he'd studied the bastard's picture often enough. He knew exactly what Grimm looked like.

Jase grabbed a heavy-duty flashlight and, shining it into the crowd, edged closer to the stage.

Nothing.

Grimm was gone—if he was ever there.

Still, Jase had bumped up to red alert, the hair at the back of his neck standing at attention, that "got a bad feeling" zipping along every nerve ending.

He zeroed his search in on the section where he thought he'd spotted Grimm. Third row, a little left of center. Nothing. If he was there, Jase couldn't spot him in the throng of bodies. They moved together like a monster wave, hands in the air, mouths moving as they sang along, screamed, cried, laughed, and spilled foaming beer.

Okay. Maybe he
had
been seeing things. Maybe—

Fuck.

There he was.

Grimm had maneuvered himself in position directly in front of the stage.

Jase tossed the light and shot out onto the stage like a bullet. He glanced at Janey—and saw in her eyes that she'd just spotted Grimm, too.

"Get off the stage!" Jase yelled on his way, by then launching himself into the crowd and diving straight for Grimm.

"I wasn't doing nothin'!" Edwin Grimm yelled.

Jase twisted Grimm's arm behind his back and shoved his wrist between his shoulder blades.

"You got no call to attack me! I paid money! I was just watching the show!"

"Save it for the judge, asshole." Jase steered Grimm around behind the stage area, where he could have a little chat with him before he called the police to come and haul his perverted ass away.

"You're the one goin' to jail, muscle head! I'm going to charge you with assault and battery!"

"Were I you," Jase snarled, shoving Grimm up against a cement wall, "I'd stow it. Because you're starting to piss me off. And you really don't want to see me mad."

"I want a lawyer," Grimm said, some of his bravado waning in the face of Jase's snarl.

"Sit down and shut up."

With a surly glare, Grimm slid quietly to the floor.

"Call the police," Jase said as three or four of the security guards he'd contracted for that night's concert came running. "I'll be right back."

He sprinted for the stage where the band was still rocking and the crowd was still grooving and Sweet Baby Jane had never missed a beat.

Damn, she was something else. And he'd deal with the fact that she hadn't hiked her sweet ass off the stage when he'd ordered her. Later. Right now, he just wanted to make sure she knew the threat was over.

He waited until she moved his way, cut a glance in his direction, and he was able to give her a nod—an all clear.

He caught the flicker of relief in her eyes just before she strutted her stuff back center stage, playing a wicked air guitar, then danced toward the crowd.

Yeah, she was something all right, he thought, and headed back to have a little chat with Edwin Grimm.

"I just came to see the show," Grimm insisted, over and over as the police questioned him in an interrogation room down at the station. "And for the last time, I don't know nothing about Atlantic City or Podunk, Mississippi, and any bleeding hearts. And I'm not answering any more questions until you get me a lawyer."

Standing beside Baby Blue outside the room behind a two-way mirror, Janey stared at the man who had made her life a living hell. She'd finished the concert but skipped the after-show party so she could come down to the station to file a complaint.

"He's not going to change his story, is he?"

Baby Blue shook his head. "Not a chance."

"How long can they keep him?"

"Without hard evidence? Not long."

"We had a restraining order against him before he went to prison. Can't they keep him for violating it?"

"Don't know yet. They're checking on that, but the detective says it was most likely a temporary order—and even if it wasn't, it's probably expired. In the meantime, I've already had them get another one in the works just in case."

"So, most likely, he walks," she concluded, angry at a justice system that seemed to always work toward the criminal's advantage. Angry at Baby Blue, who had to know she could use more than his able protection right about now but kept his distance like a good bodyguard should.

"Janey, look, the PD in Tupelo and Atlantic City are both working the case hard. Now we've got these guys on it. They're working it back at E.D.E.N., too. Something's going to pop to link Grimm to the break-ins. Maybe they'll even be able to tie him to your mother's death. You've got to have some faith that they'll make a case against him eventually."

She turned away from the mirrored glass. Couldn't look at Edwin Grimm any longer. At his pasty prison complexion. At his smug look and disturbing eyes. "Eventually might not be soon enough."

Baby Blue moved in close, touched a hand to her shoulder, quickly let it drop when she looked up at him. Like he'd just realized he'd touched her and was sorry as hell.

"I don't like the idea of him being turned loose any more than you do, but even if he walks, we're going to know where he is this time, okay?"

He paused when she didn't say anything, then explained. "I've already put in a call to Nolan. His brother-in-law used to be a PI. He's going to put us in touch with a friend we can count on to keep track of Grimm. The minute the bastard sets foot on the pavement, our man will be on him. Grimm won't be able to spit without us knowing where and how far."

"Hey." He touched her arm when she didn't respond. "He didn't get to you tonight, did he? Did he?"

She looked up into eyes that had gone hard with determination.

"I promised you I wouldn't let him and I kept that promise. Just like I'm promising you right now that he's not getting close to you again."

She nodded. Yeah. He'd promised. And he'd come through.

"Can we leave?" she asked, trying not to think about other promises. The ones she'd seen in his eyes last night.

Or thought she'd seen.

"Yeah. I need to check in with the detective again; then we can go. Sit tight—and do what I tell you this time. I'll make it quick."

She watched him disappear down a hall after he gave her another stern admonishment to stay exactly where she was.

She stayed. Wishing she were anywhere but here.

For tonight, at least, she was safe from Edwin Grimm. She should feel relieved.

Yet when Jason Wilson, in his dark T-shirt and perfectly fitting worn jeans, walked back down the hall toward her, all she felt was empty.

That's because sometime between landing in Boston and seeing him charge across the stage tonight like an avenging angel, she'd figured something out.

She'd fallen in love with her bodyguard.

You know how to pick 'em, don't you, girl
?

She'd fallen in love. Hadn't meant to. Didn't want to. But there it was. She loved him.

And the stern, distanced look on Baby Blue's face as he approached her told her there wasn't a raindrop's chance in the Sahara that he'd want to come within a desert mile of that word.

No. Country boys didn't fall in love with rockers. They just had electric, mind-numbing sex with them.

"I don't want to go back to the hotel," she said when he stopped in front of her.

He frowned. "Janey—it's two in the morning."

"I don't care. Call John and tell him to get the jet ready. I want to get out of here. I want to go home." She hugged her arms tightly around her, drew into herself. "I want to see my dogs."

Bastards. Bastards didn't have shit on him, Edwin thought smugly as he lay on a jail cell cot. They couldn't keep him here. Couldn't pin nothing on him. And as soon as the lawyer his attorney back in California had called arrived, they'd have to turn him loose.

Someone was going to pay for this, he thought as the hollow slam of a cell door made him jump. He hated being caged. Hated what happened after dark.

"Jesus will protect me. Jesus will protect me," he repeated over and over. And tried to think about anything but where he was.

So he thought about Janey. God, she'd looked amazing. She was too good for those trash rockers she ran with. He was good for her, though. She'd see. He just needed to make her see that. But he couldn't get to her. Too many people running interference.

Hell, if he had his way, he'd soon be saying good riddance to a whole shitload of hangers-on—including Derek McCoy. Just thinking about that self-professed cocksman touching her made Edwin see red. And Neal Sanders. The worthless piece of shit sucked onto Janey like a slug now that she'd made the big time.

More than anything, though, Edwin wanted to give that fucking bodyguard what he deserved. Bastard damn near broke his arm.
We'll see who ends up broken next go-round.
When he tied up some loose ends, he'd deal with that baby-faced prick personally.

He thought of Janey's slut of a mother. Was damn glad the bitch was dead. Even Jesus had to say good riddance to that piece of work. His only regret was that he hadn't been personally involved in her death.

They'd be trying to pin that on him, too. For all the good it would do them.

He jerked to a sitting position, then stood when a guard rattled a key in the lock.

"Lawyer's here."

"About damn time," Edwin sputtered, and walked out of the cell.

Yeah. It was about damn time. He had things to do. Things to finish. And he was going to have to step up his game if he was going to get what he wanted.

Same night, Derek McCoy's hotel room

"And you won't quote me, right?"

Chris Ramsey smiled, settled back on the gold brocade sofa, and drew deep on her cigarette. "I keep my word, Derek. I told you that the last time we had a little chat. You can count on that. I just need a little more insight into the 'real' Janey Perkins."

McCoy snorted. "There is no
real
Janey Perkins. She's a flaming robot."

"Stiff as a board in bed, huh?" Chris prompted, knowing the dig would hit home. McCoy considered himself a lady's man of major prowess. "You
have
gotten her into bed, right?"

McCoy sneered and took another toke off his special blend. "You kidding me? She's an ice queen. Damn prick tease is what she is."

Chris loved it. She covered a smile with a conciliatory look. "She does like yanking your chain. I've noticed that."

"Got that right. A major ballbuster, that one."