Chapter Nineteen
The Music Hall was packed to overflowing.
News of a second murder had sent the media into a frenzy and loaded spectators into the top row of the balcony seats.
Matt Carlyle told Val the police had decided it might work in their favor to release the image of the latest note.
Maybe someone out there would come forward with information.
From the dark look on Ethan’s face, he didn’t agree.
The pre-show began, the TV interviews rapidly descending into questions about the murders. Val stuck to the answers Matt had formulated for her and the rest of the models.
Yes, she was terribly upset that another woman had been killed, but the police weren’t sure the murder of Mandy Gee was connected to the death of Delilah Larsen.
Val had every confidence the Dallas Police Department would handle the situation and make an arrest very soon.
With so many capable security people watching out for the models, she wasn’t afraid.
A third note like the first two, left at the murder scene, had revved media attention to even greater heights. According to the La Belle media staff, the publicity might sell even more tickets to the show.
Which was now under way, steaming along with perfect pacing, already down to the final few segments: Devil-Angel, followed by the Diamond Jubilee, then a wrap with all the models parading the length of the runway in various costumes from the show.
Trying not to think that she was taking Delilah’s place in this segment, Val wore a sapphire-blue-and-silver bustier cut high on the sides, with a built-in, push-up bra that provided a sexy platform for the incredible million-dollar necklace the president of David Klein Jewelers, Jason Stern, personally draped around her neck.
She felt his long, slender fingers at her nape, lightly brushing her skin. “Hold still while I fasten the clasp.”
With her hair swept up to display the stones better, the intricate, lacy pattern of diamonds fanned out in a glittering spiderweb around her throat, the platinum setting cool against her skin.
As soon as the clasp clicked into place, she turned to check her image in the floor-length mirror set up backstage.
For a moment she forgot to breathe. Exhaling slowly, she stood there, completely enraptured by the sparkle of scarlet, amber, and brilliant blue glinting from each diamond prism.
“You look beautiful, Valentine.” Jason Stern stood well over six feet tall.
In his perfectly tailored navy suit, with his lean, athletic build, he looked every bit the high-powered executive.
His thick black hair touched with silver near his temples and magnetic blue eyes only heightened the impression.
He rechecked the clasp and clicked the safety catch into place. “David Klein Jewelers couldn’t have chosen a better spokesperson than you.”
Her eyebrows went up as she turned to face him. “Spokesperson?”
“Of course. At least for the balance of your contract. Though the circumstances were painful, someone had to take Delilah’s place. We think you make the perfect choice.”
“I see.” With everything that had happened, she’d forgotten that Delilah had also been the voice of David Klein. She did TV interviews and made special appearances. Val was surprised Matt Carlyle hadn’t mentioned Klein’s decision.
But then, he’d been up to his ears in the details of running the tour, to say nothing of handling the media after two women had been murdered.
“There’ll be a bonus, of course,” Stern continued.
“And really, the job only requires a few extra duties. There’ll be an interview wearing the jewels during the pre-show in Atlanta, along with a couple of morning TV shows, and a few online media events.
Perhaps you’ll join me for a late supper after the show tonight so we can discuss the details. ”
From the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of Ethan standing in the shadows not far away. He’d moved closer for this part of the show, keeping her and her million-dollar necklace in close proximity.
Even from a distance, she could read his body language. He didn’t like Jason Stern standing so close. He didn’t like the man’s blue eyes skimming down her body with such blatant regard. He would come unglued if he thought she’d be leaving the theater with Stern after the show.
“I’ll have a limousine waiting at the rear entrance,” Stern went on, as if she’d already agreed. “Beau Desmond will escort you to the vehicle.”
She told herself it was just part of her job. That all of this would be over by the first of September, when her contract ended and she went back to finish her last year of school.
She glanced at Ethan, saw that he had moved even closer, crossed his arms over his powerful chest in a gesture she was coming to recognize. She should have found his intrusion annoying. Instead, he made her feel safe.
She smiled into Stern’s confident, attractive features. “I’m afraid I can’t make it tonight, Mr. Stern.”
“It’s Jason, please. From now on we’ll be working together.”
“Jason . . . I’m sorry, but several of us already have plans, and Matthew has declared tomorrow a badly needed day of rest. Perhaps we can discuss the matter over lunch when the tour gets to Atlanta.”
He smiled faintly. Half the women in the show were enamored of Jason. That he was married didn’t seem to matter. From what she had heard, it certainly didn’t matter to him.
He made a curt nod of his head. “I’ll phone you as soon as you arrive, set up a time that’s convenient.”
“Three minutes, Ms. Hart!” one of the stagehands called out.
Stern made another curt bow of his head. “Until Atlanta,” he said, turned, and walked away.
She wasn’t completely sure why she felt such a wave of relief. Ethan uncrossed his arms and moved toward her.
His dark gaze followed Stern’s movements until he disappeared, then returned to her, sliding over the necklace and down her body, a trail of fire that licked over her skin. The tension she’d been feeling returned, different now. Not nerves, just burning sexual heat.
“The diamonds suit you,” Ethan said mildly, though there was something hidden in his words. “You look like you were born to wear them.”
She studied his face. “I lived on the street, remember? One lesson I learned—there are a lot of things more important in life than diamonds.”
A muscle tightened in his jaw. He flicked a glance to where Stern had disappeared. “You sure?”
He thought she was interested in Jason Stern? Not hardly. She smiled. “Positive.”
His broad shoulders relaxed. “Good to know.”
“You’re on, Valentine!” Daniel motioned her toward the stage and she hurried in that direction, not daring to look back at Ethan. She knew she would see the desire he worked so hard to hide.
Taking a deep breath, she took her place in front of the curtain and pasted a smile on her face. She reminded herself she was Valentine Hart and started striding down the runway.
Ethan heard the scuffle, the thud of heavy blows, and the sound of a muffled curse. He flicked a glance toward the stage, but Val was already finished. The necklace had been safely returned and she was back in her dressing room. Beau was nearby, along with a dozen other security people.
He headed toward the sound of men arguing, saw Pete Hernandez standing in front of two hard-looking biker types at the end of a dimly lit hall that opened into a room where stage sets were built.
A man with shaggy brown hair pulled into a ponytail wore jeans and a cutoff T-shirt that showed his ladder abs. The other man, taller, even harder, had tats running down both arms. Ethan wondered how the hell they’d gotten in.
The ponytail bobbed as the first guy swung, connected with Pete’s lip, and blood sprayed into the hallway.
Pete threw a solid punch that landed hard, knocking the guy a few paces backward into the construction room.
The guy stayed on his feet, crouched low, and got ready for more as Hernandez followed him in.
The room was full of equipment: commercial saws, hammers of every shape and size, plywood tables, sawhorses.
The smell of freshly cut wood rose up from the inch of sawdust covering the floor.
The ponytail guy threw a straight-from-the-shoulder punch that hit Pete squarely in the jaw, knocking his head back.
Pete staggered, tipped over a worktable, and went down like a stone.
Swearing softly, Ethan stepped into the fray. Catching the guy by his cutoff T-shirt, he spun the man around, grabbed his arm, and cranked it up behind his back, then slammed the guy’s head into a half-built fake window. The man slid down moaning and didn’t get up.
The guy with the tats stepped in front of his friend, arm cocked back. Ethan ducked the punch, tripped the guy, and he went sprawling, but he was too dumb to stay down and scrambled back to his feet. He growled as he charged, ramming into Ethan’s middle, carrying him backward into the wall.
Ethan grunted, threw an underhanded punch to the guy’s midsection that lifted him clear off his feet, one more for insurance, then shoved him away.
“Time to end this, buddy,” Ethan warned.
“Fuck you, asshole.” The colorful tats blurred as he swung a blow that would have been painful if it had connected.
Ethan sidestepped, caught a tattooed wrist, and dragged the man forward, bent him over a wooden sawhorse in the corner, and dragged his arm behind his back.
Sliding a plastic tie onto his wrist, Ethan dragged the other arm back and secured it as well.
It was over.
In seconds, he had the two men cuffed and sitting on the floor, their backs propped against the wall. When he looked up, he saw Val standing in the doorway in her stage robe, her eyes wide, a silent O on her lips.
“Everything’s under control, Val. Go back to your dressing room.”
Her gaze swung to Hernandez, who sat up on the floor with a groan. “What . . . what about Pete?”