“Whatever we’re doing, we give it our best.”
“That’s a good motto to live by.” As she took another sip of her water, her phone rang. Her eyes widened when she saw the clinic’s number.
Quickly, she put the phone to her ear. It was Lloyd’s doctor.
“Your friend is awake,” he said. “I just wanted to let you know. Normally, we don’t have visiting hours now. But he’s asking for you. And, considering the circumstances, we’ll bend the rules for you this one time.”
“Thank you,” Bree muttered. “I’ll be right there.”
Chapter Seven
“I’m not sure it’s safe to leave the house.” Dez had heard enough of their conversation to know what Bree was going to say next. And his priority wasn’t to look after Lloyd but to keep Bree safe.
“It doesn’t matter if it’s safe or not. I need to go see Lloyd. He shouldn’t wake up alone. He needs someone there, needs to know that somebody cares.”
Dez nodded, admiring her determination. “My car is out of commission right now. But I can have one of my friends come with his car.”
“If you don’t mind, that would be great. Just add it to my tab.”
Her words caused him to pause. How nice would it be just to be able to spend money without giving it a second thought. It was never a luxury Dez had as a SEAL—a fact that Leah, his former girlfriend, had resented.
He called Griff, who promised to be right over and give them a ride.
True to his word, Griff arrived five minutes later, and they climbed into his car. Dez sat in the backseat with Bree, keeping an eye out for any signs of danger as Griff drove.
He could sense Bree’s anxiety as she sat beside him during the drive to the clinic. Anxiety in a situation like this was good. It would keep her sharp. That’s what she needed right now until they knew who was behind these violent acts.
When they arrived at the clinic, they went in through a back entrance. A nurse waited there to let them in since reporters were still at the front of the building.
Dez kept one hand on Bree’s arm as he led her inside. He felt the tremble. All of this had shaken her up—yet she hadn’t let it stop her. He had to admire that.
This wing of the clinic had been closed off to anyone except patients and their visitors. That was a good thing. A few people paused as Bree walked in, their gazes drifting toward her. Visiting hours were over, so these were either patients or their family members.
Fame . . . it appeared it could be a blessing or a curse. Was there any such thing as privacy when you were in the spotlight all the time? It didn’t appear so.
Doc Clemson met them outside Lloyd’s door. He muttered a few things to Bree before ushering her inside.
“I’ll wait out here for you,” Dez said.
She looked up at him and nodded, a flash of gratitude in her eyes. “Thank you.”
Then she disappeared inside the room.
Dez turned to Griff, sensing his friend’s gaze on him.
“What?” Dez asked.
Griff shrugged in the teasing way he was known for. “Nothing.”
His friend shoved his hands into his pockets, as if trying to look casual. Dez wasn’t buying it.
“You’re thinking something,” Dez said. “Spit it out.”
Griff shrugged again, a smile still playing on his lips. “She’s pretty.”
Realization washed over Dez. He knew what his friend was hinting at—but he was going to make Griff say it. “There are a lot of pretty girls out there.”
“You do remember our policy, right? No dating clients.”
Dez shrugged, making it clear Griff’s words hadn’t affected him. “I have no intention of making any moves on Bree Jordan.”
“Good to know. But you’re going to be tempted.” Griff twisted his head, his gaze probing and filled with certainty.
“You think you know me so well.” Dez clucked his tongue.
“I know that all the ladies like you.”
“You jealous?” Dez teased.
“Jealous?” Griff chuckled. “I couldn’t even handle one woman. No way do I want to try to juggle a whole mob of admirers.”
“It does take a special talent.” Dez flashed a smile.
Griff chuckled again. “Then that is one talent that you have mastered.”
“Besides, Bree’s not my type. She’s too much like Leah.”
Griff raised an eyebrow. “Doesn’t that mean she is your type then?”
“Never again. I mean, it’s uncanny how much they’re alike. Leah even liked to sing, just like Bree.”
“Karaoke, though, right?”
Dez shrugged. “Same difference.”
“Or not . . .”
Dez’s grin faded as he glanced around again. He knew reporters were still outside. Some diehard fans probably still remained there also.
This was far from being over. Until it was, he had to remain on guard.
Bree paused beside Lloyd’s bed and frowned.
Her friend looked terrible. Pale. Too thin. Too haggard.
How could things change so much in just a few hours? Lloyd had always been like her big brother. He was in his mid-thirties, with shoulder-length blond hair and sparkling eyes. He’d been in this business a long time and had taken Bree under his wing when he became a part of her band.
Seeing him like this caused her heart to ache.
“I’m so sorry, Lloyd.” It was all Bree could think to say. This was her fault. It didn’t matter what anyone else said.
“You had nothing to do with this.” His voice sounded raspy, like it was hard to talk.
“The doctor said you’re going to be okay.” She avoided responding to his statement.
“That’s what they told me too. I guess you’ll be stuck with me for a while longer.”
She smiled. “I don’t know what I would do on the road without you. You’re always there for me when I mess up.”
“It’s a big job, but someone’s got to do it.” He looked like he tried to smile but failed.
Bree swallowed the knot in her throat. “I called Jill. She’s on her way. She should be here tomorrow.”
He nodded but didn’t look as happy as Bree thought he might. She knew the longtime couple had been having some problems lately.
“Did they catch the guy who did this?” Lloyd’s voice sounded scratchy and thin.
Bree felt the frown pull at her lips. “No, not yet. But they’re looking. I’ve been assured that every law enforcement agency in the area is on this right now.”
“Good. The person behind this can’t get away with it.” He paused, his eyes searching hers. “Do they think it’s the same person who’s been sending you threats?”
Bree’s heart pounded against her chest. “That’s the assumption.”
Lloyd cringed and touched his side, his eyes narrowed with pain. “How many other people were hurt?”
“Three other people got shot, plus my bodyguard. But everyone should be okay.”
“That’s good. It could have been a lot worse.” Lloyd’s eyes began to droop.
“You’re right. It could’ve been.” Thank goodness no one had died. Bree didn’t know if she could have handled that. She already felt like she’d taken multiple emotional gunshots. Any more, and she might not recover.
A nurse knocked at the door before stepping inside. “He should probably get some rest now. I’m about to give him another dose of his pain medication.”
Bree nodded and took a step back, allowing the nurse some space. “I’ll come back and visit you tomorrow, Lloyd.”
“You just concentrate on keeping yourself safe.” His eyes drooped even more.
“I will. But I have to know that you’re okay also.”
She stepped toward the door when Lloyd called her name. She turned back toward him. The serious look on his face caused her stomach to squeeze.
“Whoever is behind this may be closer than you think,” he whispered.
Alarm s
wept through her. “Closer than I think? What do you mean?”
But before Lloyd could explain himself, his medication must’ve kicked in. His eyes closed, and he drifted off to sleep.
But the unsettled feeling remained in Bree’s stomach.
Chapter Eight
Dez followed behind Bree as she headed away from Lloyd’s room. A few people in the hallway stopped her. All had been kind, even thrilled to see her.
That was good.
Dez had feared that some of them might give her a verbal lashing or try to place all the blame on her for what had happened. No one had, though.
He watched as Bree talked to each person, impressed by her kindness. Nothing about what she was doing screamed that it was all a show. Her voice sounded sincere and warm.
There were no cameras following her moves, proving this wasn’t a publicity stunt. She honestly cared about the people who had been injured.
Already, Bree Jordan had surprised him in more ways than one.
Finally, after she spoke with the last person, she met Dez in the hallway. “I’m ready to go back to the house now.”
“I think some of the reporters may have discovered our back entrance. I’m going to have Griff pull the car around and clear a path for us. I just wanted to give you a warning.”
She nodded. “Thank you.”
He escorted her toward the door, on the phone with Griff as he did so. They paused, waiting for Griff to signal that he was ready for them.
As they stood there, Bree glanced up at him. There was a new look in her eyes, a look Dez couldn’t read. He had a feeling she wanted to say something.
He pulled the phone from his ear. “Is everything okay?”
Her gaze wavered back and forth as if in deep thought, and she nibbled on her lip. “I’m not sure.”
He glanced around again, wondering if she’d seen some sort of danger he hadn’t. He saw nothing out of the ordinary. Just a mostly empty hallway at the clinic. “What’s going on?”
“It’s just that, as I was leaving Lloyd’s room . . .” Bree pulled her gaze up to meet his. “He mumbled something about keeping an eye on those who are closest to me.”
Dez squinted. “What do you mean?”
“That’s the thing. I don’t know. The nurse had just given him some medicine. It knocked him right out so he couldn’t even finish the thought.”
Memories hit him. Memories of Daniel’s last words to him.
Last words were significant. Life-changing. Steeped in raw truth.
So what had Lloyd meant?
“What are you thinking?” Bree stared up at him.
Dez snapped back to reality. “It almost sounds like he suspects somebody in your inner circle might have something to do with this.” The words sounded surreal as they left his lips.
“I know. But what sense does that make? Why would someone close to me open fire at one of my concerts?”
“I have no idea.”
She frowned. “I just wanted to let you know, in case it was significant.”
“It very well could be significant,” Dez said. But that didn’t make his job any easier. Because the people closest to Bree would know her schedule, know how she thought, and know the best ways to get to her.
Griff called and said he was ready for them. Dez braced himself to face the reporters outside.
Bree felt like she was in a daze as they rode back to her house. The darkness felt even darker right now. She glanced at her watch.
It was almost midnight.
Somehow, it felt like an entire week had passed since today’s concert. What a nightmare.
Right now, Bree just wanted to get back to her place and unwind a little bit.
Ten minutes later, they pulled up to the turquoise-colored building. This time, Griff and Dez both checked all the surroundings and flanked her on each side as she walked to the door.
Once inside, her shoulders drooped with relief. Maybe a long bath and a good night’s sleep would be just what she needed to think clearly.
But with that thought, a new round of guilt flooded her. Who was she to be able to relax and sleep while other people were in the clinic because of that concert?
As they stood in the entryway, her gaze went to Dez’s injured shoulder. He’d made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. Did he tell the truth?
“I checked on everybody else who was injured, but I didn’t check on you.” Bree started to reach out but thought again and dropped her hand. “How are you really?”
He touched his shoulder and shrugged. “I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.”
Bree nodded, even though she knew she would continue to worry. Way back before she was a popstar, people had accused her of being a mother hen. Probably because she was the oldest of four children and she’d always liked taking care of people.
The public would find that hard to believe right now since she often traveled with an entourage who took care of all of her needs. But the entourage had not been her idea. That had been Emerson’s.
“Is there anywhere around here we could order dinner?” Bree started toward the stairway that led to the third-floor living area. Griff had disappeared up that way, no doubt checking out the rest of the house again. “I’m sure you’re getting hungry. So am I.”
“I might be able to find you something,” Dez said. “What kind of food are you thinking?”
Normally, Bree would say a salad or something healthy. But right now she just craved comfort food. “I want a burger. Fries. Oh, and, on the burger, I want cheese and bacon and mayo.”
Dez smiled. “You’re going all out, huh?”
“What can I say? It’s been a day.”
“Yes, it has.”
Once they reached the top floor, Dez paced into the kitchen as Griff disappeared into the master bedroom.
When she saw Dez freeze, she knew something was wrong.
Her hand went to the wall so she could steady herself. “What is it?”
Using a napkin, Dez picked up a piece of paper from the counter. “This wasn’t here when we left.”
Bree moved beside him, and her eyes widened when she read the words there.
I’m not done with you yet.
The blood left her head so quickly she thought she might pass out.
Whoever her stalker was, he had been in her house.
Chapter Nine
An hour later, the rest of Dez’s team arrived. Security cameras were put in place, and the rest of the house was checked. Dez wasn’t sure how this person had gotten inside. He called the management company and made sure they’d cleared all the previous codes from the keypad at the door. They assured him that none of those codes should work anymore.
This act proved that whoever was behind this was brazen and not intimidated. That was a bad combination.
Bree looked beside herself as she soaked in all the news.
Emerson had shown up after Bree called him. The two of them were in the living room now, and Dez tried not to listen to their conversation, yet he couldn’t help but overhear.
“We need to get you out of here.” The man stood in front of Bree, his hands on his hips and his voice taking on hints of a lecture.
Bree crossed her arms. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”
“It’s not safe.”
“Let’s be honest. There’s nowhere that I’m going to be safe. So I can stay here and try to put an end to this, or I can keep moving and keep having this guy follow me from place to place. I’d rather stay put. You know I don’t have any concerts scheduled for the next two months.”
“All the media outlets are calling. They want our statement on the matter. Want to know how you’re doing.”
“I assume you’re handling it?”
“For now. But we need to keep our forward momentum. You’re supposed to be in the studio recording some new songs.”
Bree stared at Emerson, her gaze unflinching. “And I told you that I needed a little downtime first.”
“You have to strike while the iron is hot. If you take a break now, you’re going to regret it.”
This guy was laying the pressure on thick. Bree didn’t seem to have a problem standing up for herself. But Dez had a hard time not stepping into the conversation.
“How can I regret it if it refreshes me to take a step back?” Bree continued. “Going at full speed will only result in burnout.”
“That’s not necessarily true, Bree. You just need to learn how to kick back and take it easy a little bit more. Balance. You have to teach yourself balance. Take it from me. I’ve done this a time or two.”
Dez wished he could knock that condescending look right off Emerson’s face. But he remained at a distance, keeping his gaze fixated on the windows and doors.
“That’s obviously not something that I’m good at doing,” Bree said. “Besides, I’m not leaving here until I know that Lloyd is okay as well as the other people who were injured today. Plus, the police chief wants me to stick around in case she has any more questions. So this conversation is over.”
Emerson shook his head, his beady little eyes narrowing as if he was trying to come up with another way to convince Bree to change her mind. Finally, he said, “I think you’re making a mistake.”
“You’ve made that clear. And I’ve also made myself clear.”
He let out a sigh and took a step back. “Fine. Have it your way. Since I know you’re all safe and sound here, I’m going to get back to my place and turn in for the night. I’m going to need to make some calls. I had already set up some studio time for you. And there are some new songs that I want you to listen to.”
“Please tell me they weren’t written by Hans Jennings?”
“What’s wrong with Hans Jennings? He’s a hit maker.”
“His songs are horrible.”
“Horrible? They’re on every radio across the country right now, number one hits. The songs have helped make your career.”
“Everybody knows they have no depth. Anyone could sing them. The lyrics don’t reflect me, my stories, or what I believe in.”
“This isn’t about reflecting you. This is about making a career.”
Safe Harbor Page 4