Spy in the Saddle. Dana Marton
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“You have a fun night, now!” she called out to acknowledge the support.
The manager was grinning at her, looking pleased as peaches.
She grinned back then ran backstage, passing the next act going up, another lanky cowboy who stared at her with a troubled look on his face. She set aside the buzz of adrenaline and turned her attention to her true purpose for being here: covert surveillance. She turned off the rock chick and turned on the FBI agent.
For the moment, she was alone backstage. The narrow hallway connected the main bar with the office and the kitchen that prepared a dozen food items—all well salted to keep the drinking at an optimum. Her attention settled on a closed door at the end on her other side. She’d seen that earlier, had wondered where it led. This could be her chance to investigate.
The next contestant started into a song on the stage, sounding unsure. He had a good voice, but it seemed that her performance had thrown him. He didn’t seem to be able to find his footing.
Lilly tuned him out as she hurried over to the mystery door and tried the knob. Locked. Since she was pretty sure they were close to the outside wall and there was no upstairs above the bar, if the door hid stairs, they’d be going to a basement.
She had lock picks in her pocket. She reached for them, but footsteps behind her made her spin around. The music was so loud, she hadn’t heard him in time, not until the man was right behind her.
Brian’s face was expressionless as he watched her. He said nothing, waiting for her to speak first.
She flashed him her best smile. “Is this the staff bathroom? I think somebody’s in there.”
“No staff bathroom. We all use the one by the jukebox.” He didn’t volunteer any information on where this door led.
She could have asked, but didn’t want to sound as if she was snooping. “So how did I look on your stage?” she asked instead. “Felt right—” she grinned “—I tell you that. Nice crowd, too. I sure could get used to it.”
He measured her up. “We’ve never done anything but country.” He paused. “You know, from anybody else, this might not have gone down as well. But you...” His gaze stalled on her breasts for a second. Then slid to her injury. “What happened to your arm?”
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