Waking Up to You: Overexposed (33 page)

Seven heads swung around to stare at Izzie, seven pairs of eyes wide and curious. Maybe even a little accusing.

She opened her mouth to reply, wondering if they thought she’d done something to make Leah ill, but didn’t have to. The sick dancer herself spoke up again. “I found them lying on the stoop when I got to work today, with Rose’s name on them. She never even opened the box, she just gave them to me.”

That seemed to calm everyone down. Everyone except Nick. Because while all the others turned their attention back to Leah, offering to get her some ice or to drive her home, he frowned and stiffened his jaw so much it looked ready to break. “Where are these chocolates?”

“My dressing room.”

He looked up and stared at Jackie. “I’ll get them,” she said, quickly rushing out of the room.

It seemed ridiculous and Izzie didn’t for one second believe Leah had been brought down by some kind of poisoned candy...intended for
her.
That was strictly
CSI
stuff and she absolutely did not believe it. Judging by the look on Nick’s face, however, she knew better than to say that. He was going to see for himself no matter
what
she thought.

“Nick, I just heard one of the girls is sick, what’s going on?” Harry came rushing in the room, out of breath as if he’d just run down the stairs. The expression of worry on the older man’s face had to make all his employees feel better—no one could accuse Harry Black of not appreciating and caring about his dancers. Which probably made him a rarity in this industry...and was probably why few dancers ever quit here for any reason other than to move on to a different career.

Seeing Leah, he hurried over. “Should we call 9-1-1?”

Leah shook her head. “I don’t think so. But I do want to lie here for a little while, if that’s okay.”

“Oh, honey, don’t you even think of getting up,” another voice said. A woman’s. Delilah had heard the news, too, and followed her husband to the greenroom. She sounded concerned—a rarity for her. “We can cover you tonight and someone can take you home if you want.”

The room was getting crowded. But everybody made way for Jackie when she returned with the box of chocolates. “Here you go, Nick.” Frowning, she put her hand on his arm and nodded toward the corner of the room.

Nick took the box and followed Jackie. They exchanged a few words, and whatever she said to him made his scowl deepen. He kept the box tightly clutched in his hand and Izzie wondered if he was going to crush it.

Harry joined them, murmuring, “What’s wrong?”

Nick’s reply was softly spoken, he obviously didn’t want everyone else to hear. Jackie, having delivered whatever message it was that had gotten Nick even more fired up, called 9-1-1 after all, then went back to help take care of her friend. All the others hovered over Leah. Someone offered to get her a pillow for her feet, someone else offered a bucket for her head. That broke the ice a little and the group laughed.

Izzie didn’t join them. Nick suspected someone had tried to slip her poisoned chocolates. Damned if she was going to stay out of that conversation.

Striding across to the two men, she asked, “Well? Satisfied that I’m not a mad poisoner’s target?”

Nick didn’t look at her at first. Neither did Harry. They were both staring intently at the open box of chocolates on the makeup table. One of the men had flipped over all the remaining individually slotted pieces in the package, so they were bottom-side up. And in the bottom of each, very easily visible, was a small hole.

Something that wouldn’t have happened at the candy factory.

“Oh, hell,” Izzie whispered.

It appeared someone had, indeed, tried to poison her.

And when Nick turned to her and said, “Tell me about the roses,” she realized it might not have been the first time.

11

W
HEN
N
ICK
REALIZED
there were holes in the bottom of the candy, he saw red. And it wasn’t the cherry cordial filling.

He needed to know more—especially after what Jackie had told him about some flowers Izzie had passed to Leah last weekend. But he didn’t want to do it here.

“The police are on their way,” he muttered to Harry. Then, without a word, he grabbed Izzie’s elbow and pulled her out of the room, straight to her private dressing room.

She stumbled to keep up and he realized he might be holding her too tight. But he couldn’t let go, couldn’t release his grip. He wasn’t letting her get more than six inches away from him...or letting anyone else get within six feet of
her.

“Nick, calm down,” she muttered.

“I’m calm.”
Deadly calm.

“No, you’re not. You’re volcanic,” she said as they walked into her dressing room.

Nick shut and locked the door. The last time he’d locked the door to this room had been at the start of one of the most amazing sexual experiences he’d ever enjoyed. He really wished he was doing it for the same reason now.

He wasn’t. He was locking the door to keep Izzie—the woman he now knew he loved—safe from someone who’d tried to hurt her at least twice now. Maybe even more.

Looking down, he saw the new chair sitting in front of Izzie’s vanity and the steam built again. He leaned over and smacked it with his palm, sending it crashing against the wall. It did not fall apart.

But that didn’t ease his suspicion about the last one.

“Why did you do that?” she asked, her voice calm and even.

Good thing one of them was. “Just making sure our friend didn’t sabotage another chair.”

Izzie’s pretty mouth opened into a perfect
O
as understanding washed over her. That, more than anything, seemed to finally make this situation sink in. She grabbed the edge of the table and sagged against it. “Someone really is trying to hurt me?”

He stepped close and wrapped his arms around her shoulders and tugged her against him. “I think so, babe.”

“Why?”

“I have no idea. Why do stalkers do any of the crap they do?”

Tilting her head back to look up at him, she murmured, “
Stalker?
Why would someone wanting to get
close
to me only to do something as dumb as make me sick?”

He had a few ideas. There were a lot of men out there who liked to play hero. Maybe somebody was setting Izzie up to get sick or take a fall just so he could get near her by being the one who came to her aid. Who knew how some dark, twisted minds worked? “Maybe somebody was hoping you’d pass out onstage and he could say he was a doctor and come to your aid.”

She blew out an impatient breath. “That’s silly.”

“But not impossible,” he insisted. “Those flowers that came last week...Jackie said they were for you, but that you gave them to Leah?”

Narrowing her eyes, she nodded. “You think they have something to do with this?”

That seemed incredibly obvious to Nick. “You get a couple of anonymous gifts, and the person who ends up with them gets sick.”

She quickly figured out where he was going. “Harry said Leah was sick Sunday night....”

“So was Jackie. They share a dressing room and both smelled and touched the flowers when they were putting them in a vase.”

Izzie shook her head, obviously not wanting to believe it. He didn’t blame her. It couldn’t be easy for her to think someone out there had been targeting her.

Because it was absolutely
killing
him to think it.

“And you think there was something on the roses....”

“Could have been insecticide, roach powder, anything. They both got nauseous and dizzy, and went home with horrible headaches.”

Nick didn’t know a lot about common household pesticide exposure, but he sure knew about its military applications. He’d been trained in dealing with all kinds of chemical attacks and imagined the most basic symptoms would be similar.

Izzie finally slipped out of his arms, her lovely face taut and strained. Her mouth drooped and she shook her head, appearing almost...
hurt...
that someone would be after her.

But the hurt didn’t last for long. As she stared toward the replacement chair, her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed. He saw the clenching of her jaw and knew she was working herself into a temper.

“The cowardly bastard.” She smacked her hand flat against the tabletop, muttering a few more choice curses. “You find out who did this, Nick.”

He liked the return of that fierceness. Izzie wouldn’t let anything keep her down for long—it was one of the things he loved about her. Which he planned to tell her, just as soon as they got around to having that whole “I love you,” and “I love you, too,” conversation. Which would be soon, if he had his way. Very soon.

“I intend to. We’ll start by questioning everyone to see if anybody noticed your anonymous gift-giver hanging around.”

Though he didn’t say it to her, Nick also intended to carefully watch the staff when he talked to them. It wasn’t impossible that someone who worked right here at Leather and Lace was behind the attacks. An obsessed bartender, a jealous dancer who wanted Izzie’s headliner spot. Maybe even a bouncer wanting to be her hero. Hell, maybe even Harry wanting to stir up a big news story as publicity for the club. He could see the headline now: Hottest Mystery Dancer in Chicago Stalked by Unknown Assailant.

It was possible. Anything was.

“I’ll watch the crowd tonight and see if anybody acts suspiciously, or if I recognize some of the guys who come every night I’m on.” Glancing at her watch, she added, “I have to hurry up.”

That comment drove everything else out of his mind. Nick shook his head hard. “You’re not going on tonight.

She lifted her mask, turning to the mirror. “Of course I am.”

Nick met her reflected stare. “Like hell.”

“It
can
be like hell in here if you force me to make it that way,” she shot back. “Because if you say that again, we’re going to be having a major fight.”

Nick couldn’t believe her. She’d just found out someone had likely tried to poison her and she still wanted to perform. “Izzie, you can’t be serious.”

“Oh, you bet I am. We’re already down one girl with Leah being sick and I left Harry in the lurch last weekend.” Her eyes flashing fire, she added, “Besides,
no one’s
going to force me off the stage.”

Her expression betrayed her sheer determination as much as her words did. And he had to wonder if they had a double meaning.

Because despite everything that had happened this evening, he hadn’t forgotten what they had been talking about before Leah got sick. She’d basically asked him if he was going to watch her dance, and he’d hedged on his answer. He hadn’t missed the shine in her eyes or the disappointment twisting at her mouth. But he hadn’t been able to reassure her, because even Nick didn’t know how he was going to react when that moment came.

“It’s too dangerous.”

“There are four big burly bouncers upstairs to make sure nothing happens,” she insisted. Piercing him with her stare, she added, “Besides, you’ll be there to protect me. Or
won’t
you? Maybe there’ll be something more
important
to deal with.”

Nick now knew for sure she was referring to their earlier conversation. And maybe she had a right to.

But being a little slow to want to watch the woman he loved get naked in front of a bunch of other guys had absolutely nothing to do with his concern for her now. “It’s not about that.”

“Oh, yes, it is.” Izzie stalked around the privacy screen. Given that it offered no privacy whatsoever, considering the mirror, that was a statement in itself.

A frank one...that the walls were going up between them.

“And frankly, I’m tired of asking you about it. You can watch or not, but the Crimson Rose is performing tonight.”

She yanked her robe off, then, watching him watch her, dropped her bra and panties to the floor.

“Damn it,” he muttered, as always unable to take his ravenous eyes off her. She was just so incredibly beautiful. The woman stopped his heart every time he looked at her.

Izzie continued to ignore him, reaching for her G-string and pulling it on. Then she covered her dark, puckered nipples with those two ridiculous pink petals.

“Don’t do this,” he ordered through a thick, tight throat. “Not until we know you’re safe.” When she stepped out from behind the screen and lifted her chin in challenge, he added, “You don’t have to go out there.”

“It’s my job.”

“It’s something you do part-time for kicks and to rub it in to your family and the world that you’re not sweet little Isabella Natale anymore,” he said, frustrated beyond belief at her stoic refusal to listen to reason.

She appeared stunned by his accusation. “How can you
say
that? My family doesn’t even know I’m here.”

“I know and that proves my point. You get your
secret
kicks out of it without ever having to face the consequences. You’re not being honest to anyone—not even yourself—about why you’re doing this and what you really want.”

She jerked as if he’d slapped her. Closing his eyes and shaking his head, Nick wondered how he’d let this whole conversation spin so badly out of control so rapidly.

“You certainly are a fine one to talk,” she finally said, her tone steely.

“What?”

“You accuse me of that, but you’re doing exactly the same thing, Nick Santori. Stringing your family along with this idea that you’re going to be singing “O Sole Mio”
and slinging pizza dough with Tony and your father. Meanwhile, you hide your nights doing something exciting and dangerous at a place they would never approve of. I call that hypocritical.”

He couldn’t believe she’d turned things around on him like that. “That’s ridiculous.”

“So why haven’t you told Tony you’re not sticking around? Why haven’t you told your father about this ‘protection’ business you’re thinking of going into with your Marine buddies?”

Leave it to a woman to use something he’d told her less than a day ago in a fight against him. “That has nothing to do with whether you go out onstage and flaunt yourself in front of someone who wants to
hurt
you.” But even as he said it, a small voice in his head whispered that she might be right. At least a little.

Not that he was going to admit that now...not when they still had the issue of her physical safety to work out. So he pushed on. “And I’m not onstage intentionally taking off my clothes to try to turn on a hundred strangers—one of whom might be trying to poison me.”

She’d stiffened at the word
flaunt.
By the time he’d finished speaking, Izzie’s face was as red as her mask. “Well, that’s it, then, isn’t it? We’ve finally gotten down to it.”

“Izzie....”

She put a hand up to stop him. “I knew it would come to this, and now it has. You need to leave. I’m going onstage tonight. By the time I get back, I hope there will be a new lock on my door, for my own protection.” Her chin quivered, her full lips shook. But she had one last thing to say. “And you most definitely will not have a key to it.”

* * *

N
ICK
WASN
’
T
IN
the audience. Izzie scanned the crowd for him throughout her performance, wondering if he’d be lurking in the shadows, watching out for her.

He wasn’t.

It was over.

Somehow, she managed to not cry as she gyrated to the music. Managed to not show the hungry-looking men in the audience that her heart was broken.

It shouldn’t feel this broken, after all, she’d known going into this crazy, wild relationship with Nick that it would have to end badly. From day one, they’d wanted each other on opposite terms. He’d wanted the cute kid sister of his brother’s wife, who worked at the bakery every day. She’d wanted the sultry, sexy bodyguard who guarded
her
naked body every night.

That he’d tried to put his foot down and forbid her from dancing the very
first
moment he had a convenient excuse emphasized that and more.

As she dipped and swayed and thrust and jumped on the stage, four words kept time with the music. They played over and over, keeping the 4:4 beat.

It can not work.

By the time she was finished dancing, Izzie was as much angry as she was heartbroken. Aside from being her lover, Nick was supposed to be the club’s bodyguard. And yet when she’d been the most vulnerable—exposed—he’d been nowhere to be seen.

She’d have something to say about that the second she saw him. But that moment came almost immediately—he had been watching her back. Literally. He was standing, dark and predatory, in the wings just offstage. He’d been watching for her to come off...out of a direct line of sight to center stage. So he
hadn’t
watched her dance. And he most certainly hadn’t experienced watching her dance with the rest of a big male audience.

Nothing had changed.

“I’ll escort you to your dressing room,” he said, his jaw as stiff as his shoulders.
“Rose.”

She didn’t even respond as she slipped her robe on over her nearly naked body, then sailed past him toward the stairs. She didn’t need his help, she didn’t need his approval.

Yes, she needed him. But she’d learn to do without him, just like she’d done without him all those long, lonely teenage years when she’d pined for the man.

Of course, never having had him might have aided her then. Now that she had?

Izzie feared she was never going to get over Nick.

“Ahem.” As they reached the bottom of the stairs, Harry stepped out of the greenroom.

“Everything okay?” Nick asked, instantly on alert.

“It’s fine,” the older man said, but he didn’t sound convinced. In fact, his voice was weak, his face a little pale.

Izzie reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Harry, what’s wrong? Is Leah all right?”