I gritted my teeth together. Though I had to be just a little impressed by anyone who could rattle off word origins like that. “This is exactly why I didn’t want Felix calling the police. These people trust me. I start bringing the National Guard with me, and there goes my lifeline to Hollywood.”

“I’m hardly the National Guard.”

I looked down to where the butt of his gun peeked out from the waistband of his jeans. “You’re carrying a .32. You don’t exactly scream ‘friendly.’”

He pulled the hem of his T-shirt down to cover it. But instead of arguing the point, his voice took on a firm tone. “Let me help you.”

I stood, meeting him almost at eye level. Give or take a foot. I lifted my chin, crossed my arms over my chest.

“I don’t need your help.”

He gave me a slow, assessing stare. “No, I don’t think you do. But,” he added, “if you’re smart, you’ll take it anyway.”

I took a deep breath, biting back the refusal on the tip of my tongue. Mostly because he had a point. The smart move here was to take the assistance of the guy with the gun. No doubt he had a lot more experience tracking down bad guys than I did. And the sooner I found this creep, the sooner my life could go back to normal. And the sooner I could dismiss my musclebound shadow.

“Okay,” I finally said.

“Good.” It irked me just a little that he didn’t seem the least surprised at getting his way. “So, Katie Briggs?”

I nodded. “Katie Briggs.”

We were in luck. My friend at the salon said Katie had an appointment on the books for ten that morning. The bad news? It was nine thirty-five. And we were across town. I told my friend to stall her at all costs, then grabbed Cal by the sleeve and made for his ozonekilling machine.

Exactly forty minutes later, we pulled to the curb in front of the opulent glass doors of Fernando’s salon in Beverly Hills.

Fernando was a famed hairdresser to the stars, an incredibly tanned, incredibly flamboyant, and incredibly talented man who’d burst onto the Beverly Hills radar about five years ago. While he claimed some sort of Spanish nobility in his ancestry, his actual past was a little hazy. But as long as his extensions kept winning oohhs and ahhs on the red carpet, no one really cared.