The last of his tirade was cut off when the door to the street swung closed behind her. Kate gulped the fresh air as she half ran, half walked from the building. She got to her car, jumped in, and locked the door before she allowed herself to cry. Only the fear that he might follow her motivated her to start the car and drive away.

She got to her apartment and ran for the shower. Her encounter with Welshiemer had left her feeling dirty and sick. After ten full minutes under the pulsing water, she finally managed to stop sobbing. When she thought about what could’ve happened in that filthy apartment, she began to shake.

In an effort to take her mind off the hellish encounter, she forced herself to think of something pleasant. Her thoughts shifted naturally to Reid and the New Year’s Eve they had spent together. She smiled when she remembered what they’d been doing at the stroke of midnight, and all at once she felt better. He would freak if he knew what’d just happened, but he was working in Knoxville and wouldn’t be back until the next day.

When she was finally able to breathe normally again and her hands had stopped shaking, she picked up the phone to call Ashton.

“This is a nice surprise,” he said when his assistant put through her call.

“Happy New Year,” she said in an effort to sound normal.

“Same to you. What’s going on?”

“I was wondering if I could ask a favor.”

“Of course, anything you need.”

“Do you know anything about a producer named Harvey Welshiemer? Decade Records?”

Ashton gasped. “Jesus, Kate, that guy’s bad news. We have three clients trying to break contracts with him. He has them signed to ironclad agreements that make it impossible for them to work anywhere, and he’s doing nothing for them.”

Kate winced. Why hadn’t she called Ashton before she went over there? Thank God she hadn’t signed anything.

“Kate? What? Oh my God, you didn’t sign something with him, did you?”

“No, no,” she said weakly. “I met with him, but he skeeved me out, so I split before he could force me to sign anything.”

“Son of a bitch,” Ashton muttered. “Are you all right?”

“I am now.”

“Okay, listen to me, from now on, you don’t talk to anyone in the music business—and I mean anyone—without me with you, you got me? The next time you see me, give me a dollar.”

“Why?”

“That’s my retainer. Once you pay it, I’m officially your attorney.”

She laughed. “You’re awfully cheap, counselor. How do I know you won’t cheat me?”

“I’m serious, Kate. You could’ve gotten royally screwed by that guy today, and your career would’ve been ruined before it ever got started. This is nothing to joke about.”

“I’m sorry. You’re right.”