Chapter 12

The day passed in a blur of work and a nap to make up for her lost night's sleep and then rehearsal. She'd emailed all of the Angels to congratulate them on the job they'd done and to remind them that there was practice the next morning. She'd received an excited text from Marly, who announced that she had ten thousand new Instagram followers. And an annoyed message from Ana about why it was Marly's picture that all the papers had used. And then, more pleasingly, a call from Mal in Baltimore. She'd managed to avoid telling him about Jeremy. He didn't have long to talk but somehow, in a few short minutes, he managed to make an innocent-seeming request for her email address seem like a proposition.

By the time she'd hung up the phone she'd been turned on and missing him all over again. Which was when she'd decided to go to the club and try to work him and everything else out of her system with four hours of dance rehearsal.

It had helped a little but now it was Sunday night, the club was opening its doors, and she was sitting in front of the mirror in the dressing room and still couldn't manage to focus all her attention on the performance and emceeing. It took her three attempts to get her false eyelashes on, and that was something she could do in her sleep.

Brady wandered past her mirror while she was finally getting the lashes into position. He stopped and studied her face. "More glitter," he pronounced. "If you're wearing the black dress, go for more glitter on the cheeks and eyes and dark-red lips. And the peacock earrings."

"Really? With the black?" The new black dress he'd made her was alternating bands of black satin and lace. Some of the lace was backed by not-so-sheer fabric the same color as her skin. Some of it wasn't. Which made watching her wearing it an exercise in guessing which bits of her body you were really seeing. Exactly the effect they had been aiming for. Sexy but mysterious.

The lace bands had tiny black crystals sewn over them, picking out some of the flowers and flourishes of the fine fabric.

"The crystals throw off peacock shades in the light," Brady pointed out. He leaned over and lifted the peacock earrings from the rack they were hanging on. Shaped like a male peacock sitting in a silver hoop, the colors of his feathers picked out by crystals and enamel, they were extravagant to say the least. Large even before taking into account the chains of crystals that fell from the bottom of the hoop, fanning out to form the tails of the birds.

The earrings had originally been designed for the outfit—such as it was—she'd worn for a peacock-themed fan dance she used to perform, but she hadn't done that routine for over a year now. One of the other girls had reused the feathers in the fan for another routine but Raina had never quite been able to give up the earrings. They were too gorgeous.

They also weighed a ton.

"Maybe just for the first half," she said. "Then I'll change the look." Otherwise her ears might fall off. Brady was a genius costume designer but he hadn't ever experienced the peculiar pain of earrings that weighted your ears down like lead.

He shrugged. "Your call. Are you going to sing tonight?"

"Probably not. We have enough going on, don't we?" She didn't perform an actual routine or sing more than a few times a week these days. And without enough sleep, she didn't want to push her voice.

"If everyone gets back here, we do." Brady said.

"Who's missing?" She frowned at him—or his reflection—as she picked up a vial of fine silver glitter powder and a brush.

"Glynna went to go check on her kids for an hour or so," Brady said. "Her sitter rang, said the little one—what's his name?"

"Ty," Raina said, patting glitter over her eye shadow.

"Right, Ty. He's got a fever or something. So she wanted to check on him."

"Well, she'll come back. She always does." Glynna was a few years older than Raina. A retired Broadway dancer, too, she had settled down with the guy and had babies, and then found herself with an irresistible urge to perform again. Which had led her to burlesque. She was one of Raina's star solo performers who came up with wicked routines with ingenious regularity. The audiences loved her. So she needed to make it back.

"She does," Brady agreed. "Okay. I'll go finalize the run sheet. Luis told me to tell you there's a queue at the door already."

"Really?" She blinked in surprise, causing glitter to flutter down onto her cheeks. Which saved her putting it there later. "It's not even eight." Madame R's opened its doors at eight but the show didn't start until nine. And there were rarely more than a few people through the door before eight.

"Gotta love baseball," Brady said. "Now get glittering and I'll bring you back tea with the run sheet. And don't worry. Luis has all the exits covered. Jeremy wouldn't get in even if he was dumb enough to turn up here. Which he won't be."

She summoned a smile, trying to convince both Brady and herself that she believed him. She mostly succeeded. "What would I do without you?" she said. "Now go while I finish my sparkle." Brady kissed her cheek and hugged her with one arm before heading out of the room. Raina turned her attention back to the mirror and picked up her vampiest red lipstick. Full house, huh? Stage Raina was needed for a full house, so real-life Raina and her obsession with Malachi and worries about anything else were going to have to just take a back seat for the next five hours.

Of course, forgetting about Mal would have been easier if the first people Raina spotted when she stepped out onto the stage to open the show hadn't been Maggie Jameson and Sara Charles, sitting with a couple of friends at one of the very front tables. What the heck were they doing here? Sure, she'd offered to leave Maggie's name at the door—and she had—but she hadn't thought that Maggie would actually come down here. Besides which, shouldn't she be in Baltimore?

Maggie and her friends whooped and clapped when they saw her. Raina sent a smile in their direction and then got on with the show.

During the first intermission, curiosity burning, she worked her way around the room, greeting regulars and saying hello to first-timers—so many first-timers—until she ended up by Maggie's table.

Maggie jumped out of her chair and hugged her quickly. "Raina, this place is fabulous. And the show is even better." She sounded extra revved up, even for Maggie. Raina shot a quick glance at the table. There were tall glasses in front of each woman. Filled with bright-pink liquid. Which meant they were drinking the killer Madam R cosmopolitans that Brady had invented. Cranberry juice and three different kinds of flavored vodka and a kick of St-Germain for extra oomph.

She grinned as Maggie let go. The four women were going to be sorry about this in the morning. She knew from experience. Brady had invented the killer Cosmo for one of her birthday parties. She'd felt far far older than her years when she'd woken up with the hangover from hell the morning after. "I thought you'd be in Baltimore," she said as Maggie stepped back.

Maggie shook her head, her long dark hair, which was tamed into perfectly blow-dried waves tonight bouncing with the movement. "It was my birthday during the week and my dad wasn't home. He got home last night so he wanted to do birthday lunch today. It's our tradition. And then the girls decided we should go out tonight to keep the celebration going."

"Well then, happy birthday," Raina said. "Drinks are on me."

Maggie started to protest and Raina cut her off. "No arguments. How about you introduce me to your friends instead?"

Maggie turned back to the table. "Sure. You know Sara, right?"

Raina nodded.

"Well, this is Hana Tuckerson—she's Brett's wife." Maggie was nodding at a slender woman who had chin-length black hair and dark eyes. Raina tried to remember if she'd learned anything about Hana in her time studying the Saints. Brett's wife. Right. Now she remembered. "You're the tae kwan do champ. Very cool."

"I'm retired," Hana said. "These days I save my roundhouse for special occasions. Like when Brett annoys me." She grinned at Raina and lifted one of the pink drinks. "Nice to meet you. You do good cocktails."

Raina laughed. "Those have a kick to them. Fair warning."

"Hana can drink the rest of us under the table," Maggie said. "It's not fair."

Hana snorted. "You need more training. You spend too many early nights tucked up with Alex."

"Well, do you blame her?" said the other woman at the table. She was a cool-looking blonde, her long hair spilling down past her shoulder blades, looking very pale over a severe black dress that seemed conservative until she moved and Raina realized that the front was slashed almost down to her navel.

"Hi, I'm Shelly Finch," the blonde said, holding out her hand with a friendly smile.

"Shelly's an entertainment reporter," Maggie said. "She can give you a great write-up."

"She's also engaged to Hector," Sara added helpfully. "They're getting married as soon as the season's over. In Hawaii."

"Sounds fantastic," Raina said. Hector Moreno was the team's catcher, she knew that much. It made sense that Maggie's best friends were all involved in baseball. After all, hers were all dancers.

"I insisted on it being somewhere warm," Shelley said. "If I have to work around his ridiculous baseball schedule, then he can pony up for a tropical location. I didn't want to have to wear a fur wedding dress, and New York in November is kind of dismal."

Raina grinned approvingly. "My kind of thinking. I've never liked the cold. If I'm ever old and rich I'd like to live somewhere that's warm all the time. It'll be easier on my worn-out old bones."

"Tell me about it," Hana said. "I have a few places where I had fractures during my career and they ache half the winter. Must be worse for dancers. That stuff is hard on the body."

"I like the cold," Maggie said. "Maybe because I associate it with free time. No baseball. It's when all the fun things happened when I grew up. And Dad was home most of the time. Not that baseball isn't fun," she added.

"Baseball is fine by me," Raina said. "We've had a lot of interest in the club since yesterday."

"I thought the Angels' routine was great," Sara said. "Those wings were amazing."

"Those were Brady's idea. He's does a lot of the design work here. Makes most of my costumes."

Shelly was eyeing her dress with a speculative expression. "If he made that dress then he's missed his calling. He should have been a fashion designer."

"He has the dance bug," Raina said. "It's kind of incurable." She caught sight of Brady out of the corner of an eye. He tapped his watch, meaning she had about two minutes before they were supposed to start again. "Now, excuse me, I have to get back to work. Happy birthday again, Maggie."

She made her getaway and got backstage before Brady's head exploded.

She reapplied her lipstick, changed her earrings to a pair made from jet that didn't weigh half a ton, and smiled at him. "Don't panic, I hear the boss here is pretty relaxed about starting on time."

"That's because she's the one who is making us late," Brady said. "Who were you talking to out there?"

"The tall brunette is Maggie Jameson," Raina said. "You know, her dad used to own the Saints."

"Yes, I know who Maggie Jameson is," Brady said. "Baseball fan, remember?"

"Well, that's her. It was her birthday last week, so make sure the bar guys know to comp their table. They're drinking killer cosmos so they're going to hate themselves in the morning. No big credit card bill will ease some of the pain. See if the kitchen can rustle up some cupcakes or something." Paolo usually made sure there was something in the tiny cool room that could be used if any of the customers with a reserved table sprang an "It's my birthday" surprise without organizing their own cake. "The usual. Glynna can sing her Happy Birthday number."

Brady nodded. "Got it." He smoothed his hand over her hair, tweaking how it lay. "Okay. Perfect. Out you go."

The show started again and was running smoothly. Crowded as the room was, those in the audience were getting into the groove of the burlesque acts and the group routines and the odd torch song that Brady liked to throw into the mix.

Raina came offstage after doing a quick fill-in while a costume emergency—a busted heel on one of Glynna's shoes—was taken care of and almost ran into Luis. She came to a halt just in time, teetering on the spiked heels of her boots, which weren't designed for fast stops. Luis steadied her by catching her arm. After an ungraceful wobble, she righted herself.

"Thanks." Then she frowned. "What are you doing back here?" Luis rarely came backstage during a performance. "Is there a problem?"

He nodded. "You need to come up to your office for a while."

"I'm in the middle of a show here."

"I know. But someone just drove by and threw a bunch of firecrackers at the door. Luckily there isn't a queue anymore but one of them went off right against the door and Tallie's arm got burned. We're lucky the place didn't catch fire."

"Shit." Raina looked around for Brady, caught his eye. He saw Luis and was by their side in the next second.

"What's up?" he demanded.

"Something I need to deal with," Raina said. "Can you get Glynna to do the next few breaks, please? Or you can do it if you're in the mood."

Brady was brilliant at working the crowd when the mood struck him. But these days, he stayed mostly behind the scenes.

Brady nodded. "You go. We'll figure it out."

"Thanks, I'll be back as soon as I can."

She followed Luis back to her office and dropped into the nearest chair. "Is Tallie okay?" she asked.

"I sent Rick with her to the ER to get the burn looked at," Luis said. "And I sent Benji up to take the door with Eli. The cops will be here soon to take a look."

"You called the cops?" Raina asked. Then nodded. "Good. It's your call, of course, but if Tallie got hurt then they need to know." She studied him a moment. "Who else did you call?"

Luis's expression went flat. "I let Mal know, if that's what you're asking. He asked me to let him know if anything else happened."

"It's not exactly his business," she said.

"It is," Luis said. He ran his hand over his head. "For one thing you're working for him, and for another you're sleeping with him. So he has a right to know if you're in danger."

"I'm not in danger," she protested. "And Brady has a big mouth."

"I have eyes in my head. You two were practically setting each other on fire the other day. Brady didn't need to tell me anything. And you don't know if you're in danger. This is an escalation. It's one thing to spray-paint a door when the club is closed. Trying to set fire to the place when it's open is another category altogether. And then there's the email?—"

"You didn't tell him about that, too, did you?" Raina asked.

Luis shook his head. "No. But you should." He paused for a moment, and Raina heard the faint crackle of his earpiece. "Cops are here. You stay. I'll bring them up. And yes, I'll be discreet about it."

He vanished and Raina fidgeted while she waited for him to return with the police. Who were perfectly polite and listened to Luis's description of what had happened tonight and before. Including her car.

"Ma'am." The older of the two cops, a woman with calm gray eyes and dark-brown hair pulled back into a neat bun at the back of her head, turned to Raina. "Do you agree with what he's just told us?"

"Yes," Raina said. "I didn't see what happened tonight, I was inside. But I saw the graffiti. And my truck obviously."

"The truck incident happened on Staten Island? Was a report filed there?"

She nodded. "I know the Saints' security team filed a report. I'm meant to file one, too, but I didn't have a chance to get to Staten Island today. I'm going tomorrow and I'll do it then."

"All right." The woman—Officer Banks according to her name badge—nodded. "Make sure you file that report. I'm not sure there's a lot we can do about tonight. Once you get a clearer look at the vehicle on your security tapes, let us know. But there's not much left of the firecrackers apart from ashes. We'll take some pictures and go talk to the woman in the ER. But please let us know if anything more happens." She pulled out a card, handed it to Raina. "That's my number. Call me direct if you need to."

"Thank you," Raina said. "I appreciate that."

"Can't stand creeps who target women," Banks said. "We can't get them all, more's the pity, but maybe we can stop this one. Hopefully this was another stupid prank, but please, be sensible. You've had a lot of publicity with this Saints thing—yes, I know about that—and that can bring out the crazies. Be safe."

"I will," Raina said. "I don't want anyone, me or my staff, getting hurt." She hesitated. Then decided that the police needed the whole picture. "I had an email today from an ex who, well, let's just say we didn't part on good terms." She saw the younger cop stiffen.

"He hit you?" he asked.

"It didn't get quite that far. But he was aggressive. I left and I haven't heard from him in several years."

"Nothing after any of the other incidents?" Office Banks asked.

Raina shook her head.

"Well, without any evidence he was anywhere near here, I can't do much, I'm afraid. Do you have an address or phone number?"

"Only where he was when we were together. I have no idea if he's still there. I have the email, of course."

"Forward that to me. And let me know if you hear from him again.

"I will."

"Good." The woman turned to Luis. "I suggest you close the doors, don't let anyone else in tonight. This place looks pretty full anyway."

"We're under code," Luis said.

"I'm sure you are. But if there's someone out there with a grudge, why risk letting him or her in?"

"We're only open until one a.m. anyway," Raina said. "We'll close the doors, it's fine. Now, if you'll excuse me, Officers, I have to get back to the show. If there's anything else Luis can get for you—including coffee or something—just ask."

Mal knocked on Alex's door a little harder than he intended. Fury burned his gut, not dying down since the first hot hard flare of anger had hit him when Luis had called him to tell him what had happened at Madame R. When Alex didn't answer the door, Mal pounded again.

"Calm down, I'm coming," Alex shouted from inside. A few seconds later the door swung open, revealing Alex in jeans and a T-shirt that was inside out.

"What's—" he started. Then his eyes narrowed as he spotted the roller case at Mal's feet. "Going somewhere?"

"Back to New York," Mal said.

"We have a game tomorrow."

"I know, I'll be back."

"What happened?" Alex asked. "Is there a problem at the stadium?"

Mal shook his head. "No. At Raina's club."

"Something serious? Was someone hurt?"

"Not badly."

Alex yawned then, scrubbing his hand over his chin, and Mal realized he'd woken him up. Shit. Still, he'd wanted to come tell him he was going in person.

"So if I ask you why you're charging off back to New York in the middle of the night when it's not serious, are you going to tell me?" Alex asked.

Mal shrugged. "You're a smart guy. You can join the dots."

"You and Raina?" Alex asked.

"Maybe," Mal said. "I like her."

"Okay then," Alex said. And then he grinned. "Shit. I'm starting to think there's something in the water at Deacon. We've barely been there four months and all three of us suddenly have girlfriends."

"I'm not sure we're quite at the girlfriend stage," Mal said.

"Are you about to travel for several hours in the middle of the night to see her before you have to turn around and fly back here in the morning?" Alex asked.

"Yes," Mal said. Then. "Shit."

"If she isn't your girlfriend, then you're inclined in that direction, I'd say," Alex said. "Good." He nodded. "I'm happy for you. It's been a…"

"I know," Mal said. Alex and Lucas had only met Ally a few times but they'd both been there for him when she'd died, trying to bring him through the grief.

"And you're going now because you think it's a good idea, not because you're…" Alex trailed off but Mal knew what he was asking. Was he being overprotective? Trying to fix things he couldn't fix. Protect things that didn't want or need to be protected. Like he had with Ally.

Ally who'd died anyway.

"I don't know," he said honestly. "But I need to go."

Alex nodded. "Then go."

"Don't tell anyone what I said about Raina. I haven't asked her if she's ready for everyone to know."

"It's in the vault. Don't worry. Did you get a flight?"

"Charter job," Mal admitted. "Old friend of mine."

"You and your old friends. You could run for president one day. Get elected just by activating your super-secret ex-army-buddy network."

"Go back to bed," Mal said. "You're not making any sense."

Alex gave him the finger and shut the door.