Rebel Sweetheart

by Sydney Canyon

  Rebel

  Sweetheart

  by

  Sydney Canyon

  Rebel Sweetheart © 2019 Sydney Canyon

  Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form without permission.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events of any kind, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Printed in the United States of America

  First Edition – 2019

  Cover Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  Interior Design: Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  Editor: Megan Brady - Triplicity Publishing, LLC

  Also by Sydney Canyon

  Novellas:

  Wrecked

  Rapture & Rogue

  Bella Vita

  Fine

  Igniting Temptation

  Miracle at Christmas

  One Night

  Shadow's Eyes

  Light Reading: A Collection of Novellas

  Full Length Novels:

  Second Chance

  Special thank you to Megan Brady for editing my mess of elementary mistakes!

  For all of the country girls who like to rock and roll!

  Chapter 1

  “Dennis, get serious.” She leaned back in the chair, rolling her misty gray eyes at the tall man standing in front of her. “I have four cases pending on my desk. I do not have the time, nor do I have the patience for some hillbilly singer with a security problem.” She turned back to her computer screen and growled, “Send Jeremy.”

  He set a thin manila folder down in front of her.

  “Just take a look at the file, Shane. What she needs is personal protection and someone with investigative experience,” he said. “Besides, her manager asked for a woman.”

  “Fine, but that doesn’t mean anything. I’ll read it later.” She slid the thin file into her briefcase, before going back to the computer screen and the three-page report she was working on that was due at the courthouse two hours ago.

  As soon as Dennis left the room, Shane tossed her ink pen against the closed door. She hated being told what to do, and it very rarely happened anymore. The only time the agency owner ever pushed an assignment on her, it was serious and she was his handpicked choice. Otherwise, she’d be drawing from the same pool of cases as the other two private investigators at the firm, despite having a much fancier resume. She’d wanted it that way, or she wasn’t taking the job. She ran her hands through her unruly and short, dark hair as she stood to stretch her tired body. At five-eight she was slightly above average height, with a trim waist and a lean, but well-toned frame. She often turned the heads of both sexes with her androgynous, chiseled features. The day Dennis had met her, he’d asked her if she was Greek, but she was unsure since she had been adopted as a baby.

  ***

  Hours later, Shane was sitting in her riverfront apartment, sipping a glass of bourbon, when her mind loosely drifted towards the file in her briefcase. Carelessly, she opened the folder, expecting a hillbilly or a redneck in a cowboy hat, but what she saw literally took her breath away. Saliva caught in her throat, threatening to choke the life out of her when she tried to swallow. A picture of the seditious singer with long, wavy blond hair hanging in loose curls and deep bluish-green eyes, was staring back at her. My God. She coughed and took another sip of her drink. Shane wasn’t lacking for company between the sheets, but the fine specimen looking back at her might be just what she needed to quell the flames of desire burning deep inside. “A potential bedmate is no reason to take a babysitting assignment,” she chided and flipped the picture over.

  Haley Nielsen was at the top of the country music charts and quickly climbing her way up the billboard music ladder in the pop category with her new album: Rebel Sweetheart. She was known for her raucous lyrics, smoky voice, and bluesy, country sound with a little bit of rock and roll. You typically loved her music or downright hated it, and apparently someone hated it enough to be sending her life-threatening hate mail instead of love letters.

  Shane continued on to the bio page. Haley had just turned twenty-six and was barely five-foot-four. Based on the picture at the front of the file, Shane guessed she was probably a hundred pounds soaking wet with her petite build. Her marital status was single and she had an Associate’s Degree in Fine Arts from the University of Tennessee. Apparently, she’d been singing for a number of years, starting out as a child performer in a local bar, and county fairs. Then, she sang in bars during her two years of college, until her first record deal, which led to a ratty hole-in-the-wall-bar tour six years ago. Now, she was with her second record label, and on her fourth album, while topping the charts with her crossover radical country music. She was currently selling out arenas all over the U.S. with Rebellious, her fourth tour.

  She flipped back to the picture in the front. “There’s something about your eyes. I feel like you really are staring back at me,” she sighed, knowing she wasn’t going to be able to say no. I don’t know if I can do this again.

  ***

  The next morning, Shane pulled her black, pristine conditioned, ’64 Chevy Corvette, alongside the curb, hoping to avoid a run in with Dennis as she slipped into the office long enough to pick up some paperwork for one of her cases. She was just about out the door when she felt something pull the back of her suit jacket. She automatically reached under her right arm to the .40 caliber, sub-compact Glock pistol tucked neatly in a leather shoulder holster.

  “So, did you check it out?” Dennis’s deep voice bellowed in the hallway.

  Shane winced and spun around to face him. “Don’t you mean, did I check her out?” she huffed and tried to hide her trademark cocky grin as it crept up. Dennis Williams knew her well enough to know a petite blond with gorgeous eyes and an iceberg melting smile would definitely get her attention. “Just because she’s easy on the eyes, does not mean I want a babysitting gig.” She finally let the grin slip. “It sounds like an easy case. When do I start?”

  He smiled. “I thought you didn’t want this gig?”

  “Yeah, well, Jeremy can’t handle something that looks that damn good, and besides, I’m the only woman around here.” She looked at his crotch and grinned again. “Unless, you have something to tell me.”

  “No. Nope. You’re the only tits and ass in this building, babe.” He smiled. “I guess you better get your open cases over to Jeremy and Randall. Your plane leaves in three hours.”

  “Plane! What plane? It says she lives in Nashville. It’s a three-hour drive.”

  “Lives, yes…but, she’s on tour in Louisiana at the moment, heading to Texas.” He winked and walked away.

  “Son of a bitch,” she mumbled under her breath as she walked back to her office. This was what she got for letting her libido take over her mind. It was always a bad idea when her crotch did the thinking. She didn’t even listen to country music. This is a bad idea.

  Chapter 2

  “Come on, Rich. I do not need a babysitter. We’ve been over this.” Haley kicked her cowboy boots off and leaned back on the sofa. She’d only been on tour a month, but she was already used to living on the road. She had her own bus with two small bedrooms and a shared bathroom, while her band members shared the second bus that had six bunks and two bathrooms.

  Rich Bergman, her manager for the past two years, stared across the living area of the bus at the headstrong blond in a tight, white tank top and form fitting, low-slung jeans. It had taken him close to two months to get used to bein
g around the sexy vixen. He was close to twenty years her senior and had children her age, but he couldn’t help getting cross eyed over her when they’d first met. At least until her personality reared its feisty head. Haley Nielsen generally did what she wanted, whenever, however, and with whomever. He learned quickly not to match wits with her. He’d lose. “Look, Haley, we’ve been over this a hundred times. We need tight security on you, and we also need someone to figure out who this asshole is before he makes good on his threats and tries to hurt you.”

  “What’s wrong with our guys? Why are we paying for security guards at each venue if they aren’t good enough?” She raised an eyebrow. The girl was definitely not the country bumpkin Rich thought she’d be when he’d first heard her smoky voice belting out a string of rowdy lines from a song on her first record.

  “It’s not that simple. Those guys are usually off-duty cops or whatever. They aren’t with us twenty-four/seven, so they can’t investigate this son of a bitch. Each jurisdiction is different, which is why we’ve kept this hidden from the media. All we need is another frenzy around you. The tour and the album have enough of a circus on their own. Besides, you need someone by your side like flies on shit watching everyone around you.”

  She raised both eyebrows. “Nice visual, Rich, and oh, such fucking language.” She smiled over the cup of hot tea she was sipping. “Still, I don’t need someone breathing down my neck constantly. Why can’t we send the letters back to the Nashville Police, or the FBI? Whoever this dickhead is, he hasn’t bothered to do anything so far.”

  “Exactly. Haley, we have no idea when or even if this guy will strike, but your safety is my biggest concern. Just do this for me. Try it for a month, and if you can’t deal with it, then we’ll try something else.” Come on girl, compromise here.

  She tucked a strand of her wild, wavy hair back over her shoulder and smiled slowly. “Fine. One month, Rich. One Month. Now get off my bus.” She finished her tea and walked to the stateroom at the back of the bus.

  He let out a long breath, thankful she went with his plan…finally. He’d been there for over two hours talking to her after her last show. The buses needed to be on the road, headed to the next town, and he needed to get some sleep so he could pick up the new guard at the airport in the morning, before driving to the next venue since it was too close for him to fly.

  ***

  Haley peeled out of her sweaty, performing clothes that were stuck to her like a second skin. She was furious that Rich had bombarded her with this crap about more security as soon as she’d stepped off the stage. He was a sneaky bastard, but she trusted him. One Month Rich, then you can go fly a kite in a lightning storm. “Ugh!” She huffed and stepped into the hot spray of the shower just as the bus began rolling down the road.

  Chapter 3

  Shane stepped off the plane and stretched. She hated flying. At least there was leg room in the first-class seat she’d been in, and the flight was only an hour and a half. She grabbed her briefcase from the overhead compartment and made her way towards baggage claim. She noticed a balding man with a thin gray goatee, holding a white sign with CROWLEY written on it. She rolled her shoulders and walked towards him.

  “Bergman?” she asked. He nodded. “Shane Crowley.” She stuck her hand out. He shook back as he slowly eyed her up and down. She raised an eyebrow and cocked her head to the side as he finished his appraisal. “Do I pass inspection?” she asked sarcastically.

  He coughed and turned a light shade of red. “It’s nice to meet you. I only heard a little bit about you from Mr. Williams.”

  She spoke professionally, but nonchalantly. “Well, I’m sure he gave you all of the facts in my resume. I spent a little over six years as a deputy marshal in the United States Marshal Service, and I’ve been with Mr. Williams’ private investigation and security agency for the past year,” she added, grabbing her bag from the carousel. She looked up to meet his questioning brown eyes.

  “What made you leave the Marshals?” he asked shakily as he led her towards the parking garage.

  She shrugged, then lied. “I guess I was tired of it. I wanted something a little more stable.”

  Shane tossed her bag and briefcase in the back seat of his rented Escalade and slid into the passenger seat. She’d spent some time on the plane rereading the case, not that she’d missed anything the first time, but she wanted the facts ingrained in her memory. She avoided the picture the second time around, though.

  “So, I guess you want to know why I went through all of the trouble to hire you, am I right?” he asked as he maneuvered out onto the expressway.

  Shane hoped the drive wasn’t long, but then again, she had no idea where they were going. “Well, there isn’t much to go by in the file, so—”

  “Haley Nielsen is…a bit eccentric, if you will. She sort of does what she wants to do and says what she wants to say. She is day and night compared to most of the country music industry. Apparently, she’s made a few enemies along the way. Someone keeps sending her hate mail and the threats are escalating. Her safety is my main concern, but at the same time, I want to catch this bastard.”

  Shane stretched her legs and stared at the passing cars. “Do you have any idea who may behind the threats?”

  He sighed angrily. “No. Not one fucking clue.”

  “Do you have copies of the letters?”

  He finally took his eyes off the road and glanced cautiously at the woman sitting next to him. “I have all of the original letters. We didn’t get the police involved since she’s on tour and in a different city every night. That would just be one big cluster fuck. I want it handled privately.”

  Shane had to agree with him. She could imagine all of the different jurisdictions fighting over the case. “As soon as we get to wherever we’re going, I would like to take a look at everything you have and send it to the private lab we use. They’ll dust for finger prints and swab for DNA. Whatever they find will be uploaded to CODIS and NCIC which are the police and FBI databases. With any luck, we’ll get a hit on a match. Even if it’s a partial, it’s still something to go on.”

  “Sure. Whatever you need, just let me know. Oh, and we’re almost there. The buses arrived in the middle of the night so we’ll catch up with them at the arena.” He paused and took a deep breath. “We should probably get down to the details. I know you’re familiar with personal protection, but you should know, Haley isn’t going to be happy. She knows I hired someone to lead her security, but I haven’t given her the details yet. She’s like the queen bee and I’m about to kick her nest. Don’t get me wrong, she’s a sweet girl once you get to know her.”

  “I can understand that, she’s used to having things her way and having her space. Anyone would have a little bit of a problem with a bodyguard walking around constantly. I’m well trained, Mr. Bergman. She’ll know I’m there, but I can be discreet.”

  He cleared his throat and turned off the exit. “That’s where it gets hairy, Ms. Crowley. I’m sure you will assess the situation and do what you feel is necessary, but you will need to be at her side. The reason I requested a woman is…well…because, you’ll be living on her bus with her. The band shares the second bus, and the third and fourth buses are for the road crew.”

  Shane’s jaw hit her lap. Living together? Damn it, Dennis! She raised an eyebrow and turned to face her companion. “What is the need for cohabitation? I was under the impression I’d be…uh…somewhere else until she was in the public eye.”

  “We’re here,” he announced, pulling into the parking lot of a large arena, ignoring her question as he cut across the numerous parking lanes towards a group of four buses and two semi-trucks which were parked next to the back doors of the building.

  Chapter 4

  “Richie Rich, you missed our dry run. I thought you’d be here hours ago,” Haley called from the center of the stage to her manager as he walked in.

  Rich rarely missed their warm ups. Noticing that he
had someone with him, Haley jumped off the stage, tossed her long blonde curly waves over her shoulder, and sauntered up to them. When Rich moved to the side, Shane stepped into her line of sight. Haley started from the ground up, noticing the shiny shoes and expensively tailored black suit. She could tell the body beneath the suit was female based on the slight curvature of hips. Her dark brown hair was somewhat curly and cut short. Blue-green eyes locked onto gray ones, and for a minute, the room was silent.

  “Haley Nielsen, meet Shane Crowley, your new personal bodyguard, and the private investigator that’s going to catch our letter writer.”

  Shane felt the breath leave her chest. The picture in the file was no comparison to the petite blonde standing a few feet away, dressed in a tight, white tank top, threadbare jeans, and scuffed, brown cowboy boots. Her long hair hung halfway down her back in slightly unruly waves. Turquoise was the only color Shane could think of when describing the bright eyes boring into her. She’s beautiful.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Ms. Nielsen.” Shane stepped forward, sticking her hand out to the smaller woman. The heat from Haley’s hand penetrated her skin like flames licking a fire when they touched for the first time.

  “Likewise, Miss…Crowley, was it?”

  “Shane,” the taller woman said with a grin.

  “Fine, call me Haley.” She turned to the balding man next to her who was scratching his goatee. “I have a few minutes before we do another run. Shall we get this over with now or later?” Haley’s voice was light and smoky, and very sexy.