3. Chapter 3
three
L ina stepped out of the cab on East 7 th Street and studied the stone building in front of her. From the few months she got to know Curtis and the rest of Canis Major, she’d figured these musicians would live somewhere bohemian and trendy like Alphabet City. The laid-back and artistic neighborhood would suit a rocker, but with their kind of popularity, she’d thought Curtis would choose to live in a sleek, modern apartment building with amenities instead of an old refurbished synagogue.
B&Y had files on all the people they needed to monitor, but they only actively provided security for Canis Major when they were on tour. They were relatively low-risk celebrities, and until today, B&Y had no reason to be concerned about any of them.
Though she recalled reading a report that Curtis and his bandmate, Brandon Rossi, had some major action about a year-and-a-half ago when Curtis’ sister had been kidnapped by an abusive former partner. They’d rushed to rescue the sister themselves instead of waiting on the police. Rash and stupid? Definitely. They were lucky they’d come out all right. But she admired their heroics. She’d do the same.
Lina scanned the street. Quiet. There were a couple of people bundled up in thick coats walking on the other side of the street. It was five minutes to ten—past the morning rush. But the street was full of parked cars. Discreetly, she swept her gaze along the cars, making sure they were empty, before she stepped up to the front door.
After pressing the button for unit four, Lina turned back to the street as she waited. This time, she studied the buildings across from where she stood. She looked for any activity in the windows, anything out of place. Except for several windows with their curtains down, she detected nothing suspicious.
The door suddenly buzzed open.
Lina eyed the heavy old door with the new lock system. It looked sturdy, and the new lock was adequate for a residential building. But it wouldn’t provide much security if people unlocked it for strangers without even knowing who was at the door.
She entered a communal foyer and closed the door behind her. It was like stepping into a portal from an older time into the future. The interior was the complete opposite of the Romanesque exterior. It was all clean lines and bright light.
Not lingering to admire the design, Lina climbed the stairs to the next floor and found Unit 4. She pushed another bell, but this time she didn’t have to wait. The door yanked opened, and a woman clad in a winter-inappropriate dress and shoes stood before her. Her makeup could use freshening up. And her blonde hair had probably lost its volume from sleep.
They sized each other up for a second, but the other woman called back, “Curtis, you got company.” She then said to Lina with little interest except for getting by her, “Excuse me. I’m late.”
Lina moved out of the way. She didn’t know where the woman was heading, but Lina hoped she’d have time to shower and change. She noted at least the woman had a coat to wear. It was pretty frigid out there.
“Lina?”
Lina turned to Curtis’ voice and found him standing by the door in only a pair of boxer-briefs, with wiry muscles and mussed, thick dark hair. It’d been two years since she’d last seen him, and she’d often watched him bare-chested on stage. His mixed heritage of Chinese and Caucasian blood resulted in a look that had melted many of his female fans. That face, his height, and the half-grin he often sported made Curtis Bisset eye-catching, but the nearly naked man before her now made her mouth water.
Damn, he looks fine.
Of all people, Curtis would never think to find Lina Cheung at his door. The morning cobwebs cleared away at the sight of her. Every muscle in his body became alert, except for his brain, apparently.
“Curtis,” Lina said with her eyes straight on his face.
“Lina,” he echoed her name. “What are you doing here?”
“Would you mind putting on some clothes, please?”
Her request made him frown and didn’t seem as important as his inquiry. Belatedly, he noticed her rigid stance and the slight blush on her smooth cheeks as she kept her gaze above his shoulders.
He wasn’t naked, but he supposed he could throw a pair of pants on. He looked at himself and noted his diminishing morning wood had gained new perkiness at the presence of the formidable Miss Cheung.
“Come in.” He moved to allow her to enter and padded into the living room. He picked up a pair of pants from the carpet where Jill had pulled them off him the night before. Not too far from them, he found a T-shirt and put it on, too.
When he turned to face her again, Lina was surveying his apartment. Her sharp eyes took in every nook and cranny of the living space. He remembered that about her. When she’d led the security team that toured with them, she’d never let her guard down. She’d been the first person to enter a room. She’d walked an entire venue and made sure she knew all the exits and the weak points of the place. She and her team had ensured no incidents happened during the tour.
Lina Cheung was one intense woman. Curtis had often teased her about it. What could’ve happened to four guys who just wanted to play music? But after witnessing what had happened to his sister and…
Curtis swallowed the bile that rose in his throat as the image of Sean Murphy dying flashed before his eyes. He’d learned the man’s name as he’d sat in the police precinct for the rest of the night being questioned by a detective.
He rubbed his face, trying to erase the memory.
Fuck. I need coffee.
“You want coffee?” He beelined to his espresso maker.
“Thank you, no,” Lina answered.
“Right. You drink tea,” Curtis remembered, glancing her way. She looked at him with parted lips, as if she was surprised that he knew her beverage preference. He surprised himself, but Lina Cheung wasn’t the type of woman one easily forgot.
“I might have tea somewhere here. I bought some for my grandma when she visited last,” he added.
“Don’t bother. I’m good,” she finally said.
Curtis pushed a button to grind the coffee beans, which filled the portafilter. He tamped the ground coffee and locked the portafilter into the machine and brewed a double-shot espresso. When it was ready, he downed it in one gulp.
He was grateful Lina was perceptive enough to wait until he got his first dose of caffeine before she approached.
“Sorry if I intruded into your morning with your girlfriend,” Lina said.
His brow knitted, puzzled at her words. Then it dawned on him. “Jill? She isn’t my girlfriend.”
“I see,” she simply said.
Checking his sudden need to explain himself, Curtis changed the subject. “You didn’t answer my question earlier. What are you doing here? I mean, I don’t usually hear or see you unless we’re on the road. And you didn’t come with us on our mini summer tour last year. I heard you handle big jobs now, not us lowly musicians.”
She pierced him with her direct, dark eyes and ignored most of his rant. “I just got back from an extended business trip last weekend.”
“And you had the overwhelming desire to see me?” he teased.
“I came to see if you’re all right.”
“Why wouldn’t I be all right?” He narrowed his eyes at her.
“I heard what happened last month,” she said. “Witnessing a murder takes a toll on a person.”
Curtis’ lips flattened into a thin line. I need more coffee.
He turned back to his coffee maker and got busy preparing another shot.
“Curtis,” Lina started again.
“I’m fine.” He flashed her a quick grin. She didn’t need to know he saw Sean Murphy’s face in his nightmares. “Here I am, thinking you miss my irresistible charm. But it’s an official visit, isn’t it? Marcus told me B&Y would arrange security for me during the trial, but I didn’t think they’d send you.”
With a refilled cup, Curtis finally faced Lina, standing across from him on the other side of the kitchen island. A small smile was on her lips, as if she was indulging a child.
“You’re sure you need that? You seem wired,” she said.
And like a stubborn brat, he sipped the espresso slowly while staring back at her over the rim of his cup.
“Nice place you got.” She backed off and made a show of looking around the space again, as if she hadn’t cased the whole joint in the first five minutes she’d stepped inside. “The exterior threw me for a loop, but this seems like you—a good mix of avant-garde and gloss.”
Curtis frowned at her assessment. He didn’t think she’d paid enough attention to him to make a judgment about his style. He’d always found her aloofness fascinating. There was always something about the straitlaced type that intrigued him. And Lina was the poster child of propriety—not necessarily on etiquette, but on protocol and professionalism. He’d flirted with her every chance he’d gotten during the tour, but she’d never given him an inch. In fact, the only time he’d ever seen her break from her bodyguard role had been the first time they’d met.
The memory brought an involuntary smile to his lips. It had something to do with a dimly lit room, sneaking around, and something fishy.
He smelled something fishy now. “You’re not here for a social call. I wish you were, but I doubted it. What’s going on?”
Lina contemplated him with a thoughtful look before saying, “The man you’re testifying against, Rocco Stiletto…”
“What about him?” Curtis couldn’t forget him either, even if he wanted to. The memory of Rocco’s panicked eyes as he’d realized what he’d just done wreaked havoc in Curtis’ head, as his testimony might put a young man in prison for life.
“He’s dead,” Lina said.
Curtis’ gaze sharpened on her. “What?”
“He was killed in jail last night, presumably a revenge kill for what he did to Sean Murphy, the victim you—”
“I know who he was.” Curtis put the cup down on the counter and gripped the edge of the stone counter.
He’s dead?
His stomach churned.
“You okay?” Lina asked.
“I think I’m gonna be sick.”