Page 107 of Knox

It was so sweet, resolute, she wanted to weep. Instead she met her mother’s eyes and swallowed. Nodded. “Vet him, Mother. We did. You’ll find that he knows what he’s doing.”

A flicker of a muscle moved in Tate’s jaw.

Carter had vetted him, right?

Then Tate was nodding. “I’ll keep her safe. All the Belles safe—”

“Oh no, she’s done touring. Enough of this—”

“Mother. I have commitments, and my own life.”

“And you may resume them as soon as we neutralize this current threat.”

Glo glanced at Kelsey, who met Glo’s eyes.

“No, Mother. We just accepted a six-month gig with the NBR-X. I can’t let Kelsey and Dix down.”

Kelsey sighed, nodded.

“I’ll keep her safe, ma’am. It’s my job,” Tate said. No flinch, no glance in her direction. His job.

Yes.

“If you’ll have your security people brief me on this threat, I can start working with my team to prepare for our next event.”

His team? But good save, Tate.

Her mother’s mouth tightened. But she took a breath and nodded.

She turned back to Glo. “You just rest, sweetheart. We’ll get this sorted out. Everything is going to be okay.”

Then she turned and motioned for Tate to follow her outside.

Kelsey took Glo’s hand, met her eyes, and gave her a small, pained smile. “So, the adventure continues.”

Apparently, no one was getting a happy ending.

12

Tate wasn’t going to let it happen again.

Nearly kissing her. No, nearly losing her twice.

And it wasn’t just losing her by some terrorist shooter, but by Glo’s very large and in-charge mother who came with a security team to rival a Gambino mob boss.

He was used to mob boss security personnel types—dark, beefy, and focused. Had been one, once upon a time.

What had him on edge was the very serious, very lethal threats on Reba’s—and Glo’s—lives. The fist in his gut had only tightened reading the emails from the Bryant League, a group of social revolutionists.

Tate prowled the hallway outside Glo’s room, his Bluetooth to his ear, on the phone to Knox.

Inside, Glo was getting ready to check out of the hospital after her twelve-hour stay. She’d move to a nearby hotel, then tomorrow they’d fly to…and his chest tightened.

Vegas.

He blew out a breath. He’d just have to keep his head down, hope that Malovich’s men had dispersed, forgotten him.

Not hardly, but he couldn’t think about that now.