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I worry he knows me well enough to read me like a room of his readers. I mean the entire reason my brother ended up famous was that he took real-life experiences at the FBI, hunting a known assassin, and turned them into fictional genius. He’s smart and observant. He can read his sister. Patty and I join Dash and Allie, and I waste no time introducing them. It’s not long until Patty is in full-on, drill-the-author-with-ten-thousand-questions mode.

Allie leaves Dash to his fangirl and creates a separate group with me. Allie is a brunette, beautiful, and similar in looks to the Allison who is now gone, killed by Tyler’s father. She almost ended up another victim when her life mimicked Allison’s to such an extent that she started looking for her. It sounds like a fictional storyline, but Dash’s assassin keeps tabs on him, and that means his love life. The assassin who inspired his books saved Allie’s life.

And killed Jack Hawk.

“You didn’t come over for waffles this weekend,” Allie points out. “I’m spoiled. I’m used to our weekend chats and the amazing waffles you make us.”

It’s a thing I started with Dash last year. I bought him a waffle maker and I show up every weekend to ensure it doesn’t get dusty. It’s been surprisingly fun to include Allie. She makes Dash happy. She makes him better. She gave him the strength to walk away from addiction and deal with his pain, which has a lot to do with loss and death on his side of the family.

Dash and I share a mother we lost five years ago, but not a father, sadly, because my father is amazing. His was not. He died recently. It was brutal for Dash. Again, there was Allie, lifting him up, holding him up, really.

“Tell me you missed me because you wanted to talk about your wedding. Tell me you set a date,” I demand.

It’s the wrong question to ask, and I find that out quickly when she says, “We want to have this Hollywood deal knocked out. We thought it was done months ago.”

I recover quickly, focusing on Allie’s job at Hawk Legal, the management of our annual charity benefit. “Speaking of Hollywood,” I say, “I managed to get the studio to donate for this year’s auction.”

She perks up. “Really? Tell me all about it.”

I detail the entire conversation with the studio head and all that was promised and she’s beaming with excitement. “God, I love you, woman.”

It’s then that Patty walks away and Dash joins us, fixing me in a blue-eyed stare that says all without saying anything. He knows I’m avoiding him. “What’s up, little sis?”

That’s all he has to say. I’m ready to spill all when suddenly I’m saved, or not, depending on how you look at it.

Tyler joins what has come to be our little circle, standing between Dash and Allie and across from me. Now I have the two men I most want to avoid and yet can’t seem to live without, up close and personal.

Chapter Fourteen

Bella

I meet Tyler’s stare, not about to cower from my long-time boss, and one-time sexual exploit any more than I was willing to run when he told me to. “I thought you went home?” he challenges, right here in front of Dash and Allie. What the heck is he doing? Dash will lose his shit if he thinks there’s something between me and Tyler.

“Why would she go home?” Dash asks. “What did I miss?”

I decide to walk into this as honestly as I can. “One of my clients hit on me. Tyler stepped in. It got ugly. He assumed I couldn’t handle the situation, and things got heated.”

Dash’s brow lifts in surprise and he glances at Tyler. “I hope you kicked his ass.”

“Right out of the door,” Tyler assures him, “but as Bella stated so elegantly. It got ugly. I do believe she called me a bastard.”

Allie catches my arm and gives me a disbelieving look. “He is a bastard,” I state. “You know. I know it.” I eye my brother. “You know it, too.”

“Speaking of bastards,” Tyler replies. “Jesse Bates is playing a show on Friday night. He’s a dick but he’s talented.”

Allie lights up. “Oh my God. Yes, please.” She eyes Dash. “You did this.”

Dash wraps his arms around her. “Of course, I did it.”

“Good thing the concert’s Saturday,” Tyler replies. “He wants me to play golf with him Saturday. I don’t like the game. I don’t like the man.” He lifts his chin at Dash. “You want in?”

Dash laughs and downs the glass of whiskey in his hand. “I wouldn’t miss that shit show for the world. When one of you kills the other, I have the plot for my next book.”

I glance up to find Malcolm entering the room, looking big, broad, and country in jeans and boots, his dark hair slicked back and my eyes go wide. Considering Josh said Malcolm was out of town, my heart thunders in my chest and my eyes jerk to Tyler. He’s talking to Dash, not even looking at me, and I whisper, “Tyler,” with an insistent urgency.

His gaze jerks to mine and I say, “Malcolm just walked in and I beg you to please let me handle him. He’s my client—”

“Who is supposedly out of town,” he supplies. “At least that’s what Josh told my secretary when he RSVP’d for the event.”

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