Page 23 of 1001 Dark Nights: Bundle Forty-Two

“Just saying, maybe it’s time you found out for sure.”

Trevor shot him a sideways glance. “I’m serious. Drop it.He’s a good friend. That’s important to me.”

“Right. Sorry. I didn’t mean to push. Or pry.” Hell, he hadrelationships on the brain. Or at least, he had Frannie on the brain. He’dtaken a hell of a risk last night. He’d already decided that he wanted her inhis life, but last night…?

Last night raised the question of how. More than casualfriends, that was for sure, and it seemed she wanted that, too. But arelationship?

He didn’t do relationships with actresses. That was hislongstanding rule, and for damn good reason.

So that left friends. Or more specifically, friends withbenefits.

And that was fine by him. Hell, that was perfect.

Except if it was so damn perfect,then why did it feel so wrong?

* * * *

“Ms. Muratti! Francesca!”

They were heading across the hotel lobby toward theelevators that led to the parking garage when Simon heard the voice. He tookFrannie’s hand, moving in front of her as they turned around to see the paleblond man in jeans and a flannel shirt hurrying toward them.

Beyond the man, he saw Aaron and Matthew walking together.Aaron looked up, and for a moment, Simon was certain he was going to come over.Then he returned his attention to Matthew, and the two of them cut off to theright, veering away from him and Frannie in favor of the food court.

“That’s him,” Frannie said. “The reporter.”

“Thank you,” the man said, breathing hard as he caught up tothem. “Thank you.”

They were on a bridge that connected the two sections of thehotels. The walls were glass, looking down on the street below, and Simonlunged forward, taking the reporter by the collar andslamming him back up against one. “You sent that note?”

“I—I—it’s just that I needed corroboration.”

The guy was so agitated, it was a wonder he didn’t piss himself. He glanced at Frannie, who nodded. Then hereleased the guy and took a step back. “Talk,” he said. “And if I don’t likewhat I hear, it’s not going to go well for you.”

“I’m sorry. I know the note was stupid. Really. But I just—Ididn’t know what to do. I’m sitting on a career-making story, but my source isdead. I can’t do a thing with this story without corroboration.”

“Why the hell is that my problem?” Frannie asked.

“Because you’re the only one alive who can help me.”

“I—” She cut herself off with a shake of her head.

“Here,” Simon said, then led them both into the stairwell,hoping to avoid the curious stares—and possible keen hearing—of the fans whowere passing them on the bridge, their eyes on Frannie.

“What’s your name?” Simon asked. “Let’s start there.”

“Corey. Corey Burnet.”

“Good start. Now what’s the story?” Simon asked. “What storyis so damn important that you’re willing to send threatening notes and riskbeing arrested in order to maybe get corroboration?”

The reporter winced, and Simon was certain that the idiothad pulled a stupid prank designed to get Frannie to talk. But there was nolegitimate threat. Idiot.

“It’s okay, Frannie,” he said, putting his hand on the smallof her back. “This guy’s not going to hurt you, are you?”

“You son-of-a-bitch,” she said. “Do you have any idea howscared I was?”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I just—it’s just, this could be really important. This could be huge. And there aredangerous people who don’t want this published. But it needs to be. Please,please believe me that it needs to be.”

“You sent me a threat. You threatened my life, and youdidn’t even tell me why.”