“He’s in the next building.” He pointed past the line. “Door’s around the corner.”

“Thanks.”

I’d started off when Becca called after me, “Do you need backup?”

I flicked some of my hair over my shoulder. Yes. I’d become that girl in this situation. I still didn’t trust her, and I didn’t know if I ever would. Why Channing put her on me was something I’d have to take up with him. “I’m going around the corner. Pretty sure I’ll be fine.”

Chad had gone back to checking out the girls in line.

Rebecca detached herself from Congo and came over, digging into her large white leather purse. “Here.” She shoved a brooch into my hand. “Put it on your purse.”

“I don’t use purses.”

She looked down my body, her nose wrinkling. “Where do you keep all your stuff? Your keys, phone? Your password receptor. Your clothes are a second skin all the time.”

I fought against rolling my eyes, chiding softly, “I don’t think that’s proper etiquette.”

I left the password receptor comment alone. Stalker. Her. There you have it.

She flushed. “No, you’re right, but pin this to your jeans or something. If you need me, just press it. It sends an alert to my phone, and I’ll know exactly where you are.”

Oh my God. This took stalking to another level.

“No. No.” I gave her back the brooch. “If I need help, I’ll text Channing.”

“Come on. Don’t be like that,” she cooed as she took the brooch and started to look for a place to pin it. She reached for my jean jacket, but I evaded her, stepping back. “Come now, Heather. We all need help. You too.” She went for my jeans pocket, bending down to my waist.

“Stop!”

I took two steps back. She followed me.

“Seriously. Stop.”

“Just hold still.” She was going for my shirt now, where it was peeking out from my jacket. “Oh, right there would be perfect.”

I began backing away, through the line and around the corner. Becca trailed after me, still trying to pin the brooch on.

“Stop.” I plucked the brooch out of her hand and turned to throw it.

“Wait—”

“Ms. Heather Jax?” A guy approached, stepping out of a black SUV. He smoothed a hand over his tie and inclined his head forward. “You’re Heather Jax, correct?”

I squared off against him. “Yeah?”

We had stepped fully around the corner, and this side of the street had minimal lighting. Cars were parked up and down the road, but the line had snaked the other way. We could hear the people around the other side, but that was it. We were almost isolated.

Becca popped out from behind me. “Who are you?” She grabbed the brooch from my hand, palming it.

He was a tall son of a bitch, maybe over six foot and four inches, but the slicked-back hair and shifty eyes gave him a sleazy vibe—that and the whole approaching us on a dark street thing. The one light that worked on this road was halfway down the block. It cast a long shadow, and this guy stepped into it, coming toward us.

He held a hand out. “I’m Eric McDougall. I represent an associate of your significant other.”

This guy had to do with Channing. I folded my arms over my chest. “What do you want with me?”

“Us,” Rebecca clarified, also folding her arms.

I rolled my eyes.

“Uh…” He looked between us. He started to pull his hand back, but Rebecca moved forward and grabbed it.

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. McDougall.” She smiled up at him, and when he frowned at her, then transferred his attention to me, her hand darted out. She dropped the brooch into his pocket, bumping into him slightly. “Oh, sorry! I had some wine earlier. It must’ve gone straight to my head.” She fluffed her frizzy blond hair, shaking it out before moving back to stand next to me. She caught my gaze, and I arched an eyebrow. She moved her head back and forth, a discreet shake before clearing her throat and smiling at the guy.

He coughed, his hand out to me again. “As I was saying, Brett Marsch is one of my clients. I recently had an interaction with Mr. Monroe and was wondering if you knew where I could find him?”

Nope. I didn’t know this guy. I didn’t care to know him. I didn’t trust him.

“I have no clue.”

He blinked a few times. “What?”

“No clue. You want to know where Channing is? I have no clue.”

He narrowed his eyes, sweeping over us. “Ma’am?”

“Oh.” Her head went from left to right. “Nope. I don’t know either.”

“I was told that if anyone would know, it would be his ‘woman.’” His gaze rested on me.

He fell silent after that.

So did I.

So did Rebecca.

A full twenty seconds of silence passed.

It was obvious this guy expected us to help him, and for the love of me, I had no clue why.

“Miss Jax.” He was all authoritative, coming to stand on the sidewalk with us. “I would like your help with this matter. It’s very important for me to find Mr. Monroe.”

“Oh!” My arms dropped from over my chest, and I turned to Rebecca. “When he says it like that? You know? It must be important.”

She didn’t get the sarcasm, her eyes darting right back to him and narrowing.

“I mean, it must be something vital for you to find me and ask me. Right?” I didn’t wait for his response, rushing on. “You need help locating Channing. That’s what you need?”

“Yes.” His eyes gleamed.

“Well, then…” I stalled. “I probably should tell you…“

He leaned closer. “Yes?”

“…that… ”

“Yeah?” He began grinning.

Game was up. I didn’t have the patience. “You need to decipher sarcasm better.”

He snapped back, and the grin dropped abruptly.

Stalker started laughing. Her elbow nudged my arm. “That was good, Heather.”

I ignored her, jerking my head toward the corner. “If you don’t have balls enough to try to get into his bar, why the fuck do you think I would help you?” I snorted, starting around him. “Get out of here, jackoff.”

“Miss Jax, I—”

The door opened farther down, a bell jingling, and we heard, “It’s the Peter.”

Channing left the store with his sister and her crew members, as well as another guy, behind him.

“What are you doing talking to my woman?” He passed me, going up to the guy and standing close enough to violate his personal boundary bubble.

His tone was cold. His smile was uninviting.

The guy tugged at his collar, straightening his shirt before moving back a step. “It’s Eric McDougall, Mr. Monroe.” He softened his voice too. “But you’re quite aware of my name, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. Just like you know going up to Heather would be the first way to piss me off.” Channing chuckled under his breath. “So, good job there. Did your boss send you my way? Does he want to get rid of you and I’m supposed to do it for him?”

The guy didn’t respond, instead scanning the group. He paused on me, then Rebecca. His gaze moved behind us to Bren and her crew. I didn’t need to look to know that no one was breaking. Not one of us was shocked at Channing’s threats.