Page 41 of Never Sleep with the Enemy

“Are you having a good time so far?” Logan asks the crowd, his voice smooth as silk, sending waves of excitement through the packed room.

The response is deafening: claps, whoops, screams of pleasure. He smiles, and I feel my own lips twitch upward in response.

“Good,” he says, setting his guitar in its stand behind his keyboard. Then he moves to the keys, his fingers teasing them, sending a playful melody into the air. It’s the thing we do, too—stretching the moment, giving Goldie and Tesla a chance to catch their breath, to drink some water, to regroup. We do it all the time when Knox and Jonah bicker on stage, pulling the crowd’s attention with playful jabs over which one is prettier.

“Now,” Logan says, drawing out the word, his eyes darting over to Tesla, who gives him a nearly imperceptible nod. “I don’t mean to excite you…” The crowd chuckles. Too late. “But it appears… that we have a celebrity in the house tonight.”

My smile drops.

No.

He wouldn’t.

Would he?

“And if you’re allreallynice to her…” Logan’s eyes flick in my direction again, locking onto mine with such intensity that my heart skips a beat. “I think we might get her up on this stage.”

Oh no.

I guess he would.

I shake my head, hoping he’s joking, but he just grins, that mischievous smirk spreading across his face.

“Ladies and gentlemen of Las Vegas,” he announces, his voice dripping with devious intent, “please welcome to the stage your very own…Katrina Benton.”

A shocked silence ripples through the crowd, followed by an atomic wave of gasps. Heads whip around in my direction, and before I can even process what’s happening, a very helpful spotlight bursts to life directly over my head.

Uh-oh.

So much for slipping out unnoticed.

12

LOGAN

Katrina blanches, her head still shaking as she sits a little lower on her stool.

“Come on, Las Vegas,” I say, my voice commanding the room. “Show her some love.”

The audience obeys, their cheers ringing out as they scream her name. She blushes, clearly overwhelmed, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth that she can’t quite hide.

Come on, kitty.

Let’s play.

As if she hears me, she stands and makes her way through the crowd. They part for her, slowly, offering a narrow path toward the stage. She walks tall; her eyes the only thing betraying her discomfort.

But if I know her like I think I do…

She’s loving this.

Katrina steps up, the people cheering behind her. Tesla is there to help, lending a hand up. They share a brief, friendly embrace before Tesla gives her a gentle push toward me.

Katrina steps close, then pivots, turning her back to the crowd. “What are you doing?” she asks me, her voice laced with suspicion.

I smile, enjoying her squirm. “Playing a concert,” I answer. “Be my backup?”

Her eyes flash with disbelief. “I don’t know any of your songs!”

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