Page 91 of Blacklist

“You’re going to make me blush,” Kai says.

“Let’s dance before I have to give you back to L.A.” Poppy grabs his hand and drags him to the dance floor. Considering the lack of live music, there’s only a few others on it. Occasionally, someone catches a glimpse of Kai and does a double take.

“I’m going to chat with my boys,” Jack says. “I want to make certain they keep an eye on him.”

“He’s used to it,” I say.

“I’d rather play it safe. He’s here for a good time not to be harassed.” Jack leaves us at the bar to talk to his security team. Now I’m stuck alone with Sterling caught up in memories of the past. That coupled with the amount of whiskey I’ve drank can only spell trouble.

“I think Kai has gone the farthest of all of us,” Sterling says.

I might have agreed before I saw Sterling’s condo. I’ve watched Kai rocket to the top of the music industry since he left Valmont early our sophomore year. He’s doing well for himself, but it’s nowhere near the level Sterling’s achieved. “Sometimes I wish I hadn’t hooked him up with a producer at a MacLaine-held record label,” I confess to Sterling. “It couldn’t have happened to a better guy, but it hasn’t been easy. He’s had his fair share of people that just want to use him to make a buck or get ahead.”

“That’s what happens when you’re successful,” he says.

“He got burned by a few fans. A lot of people look at them as a way to break in to the business. I’m not sure if I should have invited him to a blues bar. I don’t want him to feel pressured to sing.”

“Jack won’t do that,” Sterling assures me. “He’ll be the first person to hand Kai a guitar if he asks for one, but he doesn’t use people. He’s not even going to tell you he’s starting his own record company. I guarantee it.”

“What?” I look around the crowded bar. “How does he have the time?”

Sterling nods like he wonders the same thing. “He’s passionate about the industry. He wants to see artists treated with respect. The label is never going to be a huge source of income.”

“It doesn’t seem like he needs a huge source of income,” I point out shrewdly. Jack can’t be much older than us, but he owns one of the most established venues in Nashville. I’m as curious about the source of his good fortune as I am about Sterling’s. “Does he?”

“He’s doing alright.” The question rolls right off his broad shoulders.

Another non-answer. I’m not getting clues about either man’s wealth tonight. It only makes me question it more.

But maybe interrogating Sterling isn’t the route to take. He’s never liked answering questions, but he never minds telling a story if you nudge him toward one. “You two have the same tattoo.”

I’d noticed Jack’s inked forearm when he was feeding me shots. The art is the same. The location is the same. I know it can’t be a coincidence.

“We met in the Marines,” Sterling says. At last, an answer, but there’s a finality to his tone. He knows I’m angling to learn more about his past and he’s warning me to stop talking about it.

That doesn’t mean that I’m going to. “You never told me about your time in the Armed Forces.”

“That’s not an oversight.”

Before I can press him harder, he stands up and holds out his hand. “Care to dance, Lucky?”

“If you stop calling me that.” I counter his offer. I need to erect some boundaries—and quickly.

“I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He sounds genuine.

That only makes it harder to resist the incessant tug of memories I feel when he’s around. I can’t bring myself to look directly at him. I’m not sure I can handle seeing his eyes. “Look, we can pretend for everyone else,” I say, “but let’s not fool ourselves.”

Sterling’s shoulders square, his jaw tensing before he tips his head with a terse nod. “Fair enough. We should still dance,” he says, adding, “for the sake of appearance.”

If he’s going to act nonchalant about this, so can I. “Let’s go.”

It’s been a long time since I’ve been out dancing. Stilted waltzes at charity galas don’t count. This is dancing—letting loose, laughing. Even if my partner is Sterling Ford. I need more of this. There’s no sick father to care for anymore. Ellie’s old enough that I don’t have to worry about Ginny leaving her to cry in her crib. I might not be free of Valmont but my leash is finally lengthening. This is life. The music soaks into my skin, like the whiskey moving in my bloodstream, and leaves me no choice but to give in and feel good.

Poppy and Kai join us, him singing along to the song playing. That’s when it happens. A girl spots us and begins to shriek. “I knew it! It is him!”

Kai’s eyes close for just a moment as if gathering strength before he turns on his million-dollar smile. Pretty soon, he’s surrounded, signing napkins, and taking selfies. Jack’s guys move in to break up the impromptu autograph session, but Kai waves them off. We back away to give the fans more room.

“He claims he hates the attention,” Poppy says.