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Chapter One



“No. Absolutely not. I am not comfortable with weapons in a club while I’m singing, Tim.” Kat Chastain stared at the reflection of her band’s lead guitarist in the mirror as she dabbed foundation on her nose. “You know this.”

“Security’s weapons are not your responsibility.”

“The hell they’re not. We are responsible for anyone we hire and bring into a club. Someone gets hurt? Our fault. Besides, the last guy you hired? Please. He couldn’t have wrestled a two-year-old off the stage. And he was so covered in sweat by the second song that if he’d drawn his gun it would have slipped out of his hand long before he aimed it. So, no.” She put the foundation bottle and sponge down and turned to face him. “No.”

“Technically we would not be responsible, he would, but that’s beside the point because Derek, the new guy, doesn’t carry.”

“Derek? Hold up. Derek as in Derek Black, your linebacker friend from college?”

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