Life-sized banners ofThe Round Tableteam hung from the rafters—a group of college students took selfies beneath them, squealing when one recognized Duke walking past.
The entire building felt alive and pulsing with energy.
Andi barely had time to take in any of it before Rupert came hurtling toward them from the side hallway like a missile in a plaid designer jacket.
“There you are!” he hissed, somehow both breathless and indignant. “Do you have any idea how close we were to disaster? Two minutes. Two minutes!”
Disaster?Rupert had to be the king of hyperbole.
She forced her tone lighter than she felt. “The good news is that we’re here now.”
Rupert didn’t appear remotely comforted as he narrowed his gaze, already launching into a torrent of instructions as he ushered them toward the backstage corridor. “No time for explanations. Hair, makeup, microphones, energy drinks—everything is already set. Duke, you’re on the far left. Andi, you’re center. Please try not to glare at the sponsors.”
“I can’t promise that,” she muttered.
Backstage buzzed with controlled chaos. Folding tables crowded the space, scattered with makeup kits, water bottles, printed run-of-show schedules, and—of course—rows of neon-bright energy drink cans lined up like obedient little soldiers.
Mariella looked flawless, as usual, as she touched up her lipstick. Simmy was smoothing Anastasia’s hair while Karen hovered nearby with a stack of books. Ranger leaned against the wall, arms crossed, eyes alert. Matthew’s laptop was already open.
But each of them glanced up from what they were doing as Duke and Andi stepped into the space, waiting to hear what they’d learned.
Even though she didn’t have much time, she wanted to give them a quick update. “The police didn’t bite. The detective claimed Gina left on her own once before.”
Mariella’s brows shot up. “That’s . . . unfortunate.”
“We found evidence at Gina’s apartment,” Duke added. “Evidence that someone could have accessed her window without force. However, it wasn’t definitive.”
Ranger’s jaw tightened. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
“And Emily, Gina’s roommate, isn’t answering her phone,” Andi finished. “Every call goes straight to voicemail.”
Simmy’s expression softened. “Poor girl is probably scared.”
“Places!” Rupert barked, clapping once. “We areon.”
There was no more time.
They lined up at the edge of the stage. Andi took her spot, heart still pounding from the morning’s dead ends and dismissals.
As she stepped forward, her gaze snagged on the tables set across the stage.
In front of every microphone sat a pristine, unopened energy drink.
The electric-blue label practically glowed under the stage lights.
She swallowed a groan.
I cannot wait for this tour to be over.
She never thought she’d say this, but she missed Fairbanks. She missed the cold. The snow. The Northern lights.
When she originally moved there from Texas to go undercover as an ice road trucker, she didn’t think Fairbanks would ever feel like home. But now it did.
The curtain rose.
A thunderous applause crashed over them, loud enough to vibrate through Andi’s ribs. Hundreds of voices, cheers, whistles. The familiar surge of adrenaline kicked in, muscle memory taking over as she smiled and waved, settling into her chair.
She glanced down the line and caught Duke’s eye.
