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“And then we’re getting ice cream,” her kid sister informed him.
He folded his arms across his chest and faced them, his back to the exit. The adoring fans on the other side chanted “Chrissie Tate!” over and over. But what if someone in the crowd wanted more than her autograph?
“Order room service,” he said.
“I was planning on it.” Chrissie smiled at him. That same fake grin, dammit. “But first I need to sign autographs. Those people have been waiting out there. I owe them.”
“You gave them a great show,” he said evenly.
“You liked it?” Her smile touched her eyes for a brief second. But then the grin she wore like body armor returned.
Hell, he wanted to tell her that wasn’t a guarantee. There were some things it couldn’t protect against. Like an IED or a shot to the head.
Or a crazy-ass country music fan.
“Yeah. I’m not about to go out and buy cowboy boots or anything—”
“But you liked hearing songs about pickups, dead dogs, and the good old U.S.A.,” she teased as she tried to walk around him.
“Not the ones about the trucks and the dogs.” He moved in front of her. “But the rest were about you. I liked them because the lyrics were honest.”
Her smile vanished, but she didn’t look away. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Now let’s find another way out of this place.”
She drew a deep breath. “You’re fired.”
“I’ll pass the message on to Ronan. But I’m still not letting you through this door.”
Mason rushed over. He’d traded his suit for ripped jeans that looked as if he bought them that way and a button-down shirt. “What’s the holdup, Chrissie? The crowd is getting restless.”
“The hired muscle needed to share his concerns. I was just explaining that I had faith in his ability to think on his feet and keep me safe.” She turned to Mason, her expression a mask of concern Dante was pretty damn certain she didn’t feel. “Although, if his knee is bothering him, if he isn’t up for it, I suppose we could borrow one of the big guys the hotel hired.”
Not up for it my ass.
She was baiting him, and he knew it. But he’d spent too many weeks sitting on the sidelines feeling inadequate to take the high road. And option two, the guys who’d beefed up at the gym and applied for a bouncer job? Dante would escort her through the crowd with two broken knees before he let that happen.
“My knee’s fine,” he lied. The repaired ligaments had been giving him hell since the intermission. He should have watched the show from the audience instead of offering to cover the second shift so that Ronan could see his girl perform the opening act from the audience.
“If we go out there,” Dante said. “We do this my way. If I tell you to hit the ground, you lie down. If I tell you to run—”
“I run,” Chrissie said. “You know, I usually like to be the one giving the orders, seeing as I foot the bill, but for you, Mr. SEAL, I’ll make an exception.”
“Mr. SEAL,” her Mini-Me repeated with a giggle.
Dante looked from one sister to the other. Leading them through the crowd promised trouble. But she was right. He didn’t back down from a challenge. And he didn’t admit defeat, especially not in front of a man who paid twice as much for jeans someone else had ripped for him.
Dante lowered his arms, turned, and opened the door. “I’ll go first.”
“Such chivalry,” Chrissie said, her voice light and playful. But then, she didn’t look at the crowd and see a goatfuck waiting to happen.
“When I throw you over my shoulder and run for safety, then you can thank me for serving as your white knight.”
He walked into the wide, carpeted hotel hallway. Metal gates designed to keep the crowd securely on the other side bordered the walkway. Hotel security guards were positioned every ten feet eyeing the packed-in crowd.
Dante’s teeth gnashed together. Whoever had dreamed up this exit scenario worked in the front office and spent her days with her nose buried in spreadsheets. He glanced back at the smiling, waving talent. Yeah, that bottom-line-crazed person might be the star, who didn’t seem the least bit concerned with her personal safety.
Chrissie waved to the crowd with one hand and clenched her sister’s fingers in the other. Her Mini-Me looked as if Christmas had arrived early and Santa had delivered a herd of ponies. But the kid wasn’t looking out at the adoring crowd. She was staring up at the big sister.
