Page 28 of Israel

“Hell yeah.”

He went forward to the kitchenette, and returned with two glasses and some ice. He poured a generous glass of whiskey rocks for each of them, then sat down next to her on the sofa with a sigh, relaxed and legs splayed.

“I can’t believe you got us the whole bus to ourselves,” she said. “I feel like running naked up and down the aisle or something.”

“I’m sure Trevor would appreciate that,” he said. “And Avery.”

She rolled her eyes. “And you, Grizzly Dick.”

“And me,” he admitted, taking a sip of whiskey and leaning his head back for a moment. “God, I needed that.”

“Mmm.” She took a sip herself. It was good stuff. She approved of his taste.

“You didn’t answer my question,” she said. “About the tour.”

“Harrison was talking about canceling,” he said. “I was against it.”

That surprised her. “You were?” she said. “I’d think that was the option that presented the least security risk.”

“There are other considerations.” He looked down into his glass, swirling the liquid slowly. Finally he said, “Do you want to cancel it?”

She felt the helpless anger rising up in her again. “Of course I don’t.”

He gave a small smile. “Let me rephrase. Do you think canceling it is the right thing to do?”

She opened her mouth, then closed it again, thinking. He waited, taking another sip of whiskey.

Finally she said quietly, “No, I don’t. If other people were in danger from the stalker, then I’d say we probably should. But if anyone is in danger, it’s only me.”

He turned his head. “You matter too,” he said.

She gave him a small smile. “That’s not what I mean,” she said. “I just meant I wouldn’t put other people in danger to advance my career. But they’re not. And canceling the tour would hurt a lot of people—everyone who’s working it, plus the venues, and the people who bought tickets and will be disappointed.”

She took a sip of her whiskey. “But if I’m the only one who might be in danger, then it’s my choice whether or not to take the risk—or it should be,” she added bitterly.

“But you don’t think it is your choice.”

“Are you kidding?” she said. “All my life, other people have decided what I get to do and what I don’t. The only reason this tour happened at all is because my family is ‘indulging’ me. And if they—or Harrison or his security team or you, or even my bandmates—decide it’s too risky for me, then boom. I’m done. I get no say.”

Israel was frowning. “That’s not right,” he said. “I know the Shifter Council has turned a blind eye to some of the more patriarchal practices of different shifter groups, but I don’t know of many that are quite that bad. Couldn’t you break away from your family?”

Ashley gave him a sideways look. “‘Werebunnies’ like my family are a law unto themselves,” she said. “They don’t come under the purview of the Shifter Council. And my people are patriarchal as shit.”

Israel shook his head, still obviously frustrated that she wouldn’t tell him what kind of animal she really was. But all he said was, “Those sound like some badass bunnies, babe.”

Ashley fingered her necklace. It felt like it was choking her. “You have no idea,” she murmured.

She took another sip of her whiskey and looked at him. “Why were you against shutting down the tour?” she asked. Of course, he’d lose this job if the tour ended, but she also knew this was a minor job for the Silverlake pack. He’d just be reassigned somewhere else, so he wouldn’t be worried about that.

He was quiet again for a minute, still looking thoughtfully into the depths of his drink. She was beginning to learn about him, though, so she waited for him to gather his thoughts.

“You’re right,” he said finally. “Ending the tour would be less of a security risk. But you can’t go through life doing nothing but minimizing risk, can you? What kind of a way is that to live?”

She smiled. “So you think the risk is worth it?”

He said, “I think…some people have a destiny. Like, some shifters are born alphas, destined to lead a pack. And some are destined to serve their people in other important ways. Others have a talent that drives them, that needs to be expressed. But you—you have even more than a talent.”

He turned on the couch to face her. “I saw you out on that stage tonight. It was like—like you were glowing from the inside. You touched every person in that audience, and made their life just a little bit better.” He dropped his eyes. “Some people might say that being an entertainer isn’t important work, but I think it is. Music gets people through some tough times. It lifts them up, or makes them feel like they’re not alone.”