Wildest Dream (Redfall Dream #4)

by B. B. Miller

  “It’s one of my favorites,” he says, finally looking me in the eye. He’s clearly starstruck and looking a bit baffled at all of the attention he’s gotten this evening.

  I give him an encouraging smile. “Mine too. How about you play it for us now?” I suggest.

  “I don’t… No… I mean,” he stammers, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

  “Come on then.” I move across the stage and lift one of Kennedy’s guitars from the rack stand and turn back to him.

  His mouth drops open as I stride back to him. “That’s one of his Les Paul customs. I couldn’t… no way,” he mumbles, staring at the guitar as if it’s the Holy Grail.

  Kennedy pats him on the back, and I hold the guitar out to him. “You can.” I watch as he looks frantically at his father.

  “Come on. Out of everyone who entered this contest, you won. You know you’re talented,” Cam offers his own words of encouragement.

  “I’ve never played one of these before. Mine is some cheap Gibson that used to be my grandfather’s,” Josh explains.

  “Hey, no Gibson is cheap,” Cam corrects him.

  “No. I didn’t mean… Are you serious?” Josh’s eyes dart back to mine.

  “You know, Cam and I came up with that riff using a couple of these.” Kennedy nods at the Les Paul, and the two of them share a look.

  “I know. I mean, I read about it in Guitar World,” Josh mumbles. He tentatively places the thick black strap over his shoulder and turns back to his father. “Dad!” His voice is an awed whisper.

  “Go ahead, bud,” his dad says enthusiastically, holding his phone up. “Can I?” I nod, taking a step back so he can video his son.

  Josh’s shaking fingers move over the fret board almost as if he’s afraid to touch it. “Before today, I’ve only played for my family. Dad sent the entry in.”

  “Wise man, your dad,” Matt says. Yanking the cord to stretch from the amp behind him, he plugs it into the guitar.

  “It’s all yours, Josh. Let’s hear it.”

  He takes a shaky breath, getting a feel for the strings, and then he really starts playing. The hypnotic sound fills the auditorium, his eyes fixed in concentration on his fingers as they fly through the riff. It’s laced with texture and precision, and if anyone else closed their eyes and listened to it, they might think it’s Kennedy playing. With a few hiccups that probably only the four of us could pick out, he’s managed to copy the riff like a pro, and the kid is only sixteen years old.

  “Holy shit,” Cam mutters, glancing at me in disbelief.

  I shake my head as I watch him work through to the ending notes. “Dude! You are amazing!” Matt practically gushes.

  “You really are,” I agree, moving beside Matt. Josh stares back at me, practically vibrating with excitement.

  “Now, this time try to put your own spin on it,” Kennedy suggests gently. “Every note doesn’t have to mimic what we did; in fact, it’ll be better if it doesn’t.”

  “I don’t know how… I mean…” His voice trails as he hesitates.

  “You do know how.” I drape my arm around his shoulder. “It’s why we picked you. Close your eyes and let it take you somewhere.”

  “Okay,” Josh mumbles, and following my words of wisdom, he closes his eyes and plays this time from his heart. We step away to give him some space, and join his father as he looks on, clearly proud.

  “Your son is incredibly talented. I hope he enjoys it here,” Nari says, smiling as she watches Josh.

  His father can’t contain his pride. “I know he is. And thank you for this. He’s kind of shy, and doesn’t have a lot of friends, so this is a pretty big deal for him.”

  “It’s a big deal for us too. It’s not often we see musicians with this much raw talent,” I admit.

  “How did that feel?” Kennedy asks him when he finishes. Josh is practically beaming.

  “So awesome!”

  “It sounded amazing.” We move back to join him as his dad snaps off a few pictures of us all together. Josh makes a move to lift the strap from his shoulder, but Kennedy stops him. “You keep it,” Kennedy offers. Josh looks as if he may pass out. “Just promise me you’ll take care of it.”

  Cassidy

  “Where the fuck do people park in this city? It’s worse than New York.”

  I can’t help my giggle at Sean’s frustration. He’s gripping the wheel of his beloved pink van like he wants to rip it off the steering column. We’ve circled the Russell Senate Office Building, where my dad’s office is located, about four times in heavy afternoon traffic trying to find one of the most elusive creatures in Washington, DC—a parking spot that’s less than four blocks from where you want to go.

  “This is why you should’ve let me arrange this trip,” Tucker growls from the back. He insisted on accompanying us when he heard what I intended to do. I wasn’t thrilled with more people being involved, but since he’s the one who found all the dirt on Dale, I relented. “We could’ve had a nice SUV drop us off and be at our beck and call.”

  Sean waves a hand toward his grumpy security guard. “Pssh. Where’s the fun in that?”

  “Are we having fun?” I ask, as Sean swears under his breath when another driver cuts us off.

  “Of course we are.” He tosses a grin my way, then refocuses on his driving, turning again onto First Street. “Oh, thank fucking God!” he declares as a sedan pulls out of a spot just ahead. “See! We’re even on the same block. It was meant to be.”

  “If you say so,” Tucker mutters. As soon as we’re stopped, he gets out and heads over to the parking kiosk. I let Sean get out and come around to my door. It gives me a few more seconds to swallow down the ball of nerves that has been steadily growing with every mile. I know I need to do this—I want to do this—but that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy. My door opens, and Sean’s hand appears in my field of vision.

  “Come on, love.” His understanding smile calms my jumpy stomach. “It’ll be fine. You can do this.”

  I put my hand in his and give him a shaky smile. “I know. Thanks for coming.” He helps me out and holds me close for a second.

  “Anything for you. I’ve got your back.” His warm lips brush against mine, and my heart swells. His reassurance means more to me than he’ll ever know. I know I look brave from the outside, but sometimes I don’t think I am.

  “Thank you.” I kiss him again, quickly. “Let’s do this.”

  Tucker returns from paying; he buttons his suit jacket and smooths down his tie, his eyes scanning the street. I don’t see anything out of the ordinary—just busy sidewalks full of people glued to their cell phones. Typical DC.

  Sean purses his lips and plucks at the collar of his shirt. He’s wearing a suit jacket and button-down, open at the neck, with his jeans. His emerald green hair draws a few more looks here than it does in New York, but nothing remarkable. I tug the belt of my trench coat tighter and lead the way into the building.

  The Capitol Police officers give Sean’s hair a suspicious look as they check our ID but let us go through the metal detectors without incident. I take Sean’s hand and guide us through the marbled halls upstairs to my father’s office, the click of my heels echoing off the walls. Taking a deep breath, I swing the heavy oak door open.

  “Cassidy! What a lovely surprise.” Sylvia, my dad’s office administrator, looks up from her computer with a startled smile spreading across her face. Two staffers share a desk, crammed into the tight space behind Sylvia’s desk. Built in the early 1900s, the building is impressive, but the offices are small for modern needs. Through an open door to the right, I can see a collection of aides and interns crowded around a long table, typing on laptops or with cellphones stuck to their ears. To the left are my father’s and Dale’s closed office doors.

  “Hi, Sylvia. Sorry for bursting in without an appointment.” I jerk my head toward the closed doors. “Are either of them in?”

  “Dale’s out somewhere, but your father’s here. He sh
ould be finishing up a meeting in a few minutes, if you’d like to wait. I can squeeze you in before his next meeting.” I swallow my laugh when she frowns at the emerald mop of hair adorning Sean’s head. I slip my hand in his and smile when I see her eyes fly open wide.

  “That’d be great. Sylvia, this is Sean Murphy, my fiancé, and our friend, Tucker Pearson.”

  “Your fiancé!” Her mouth drops open for an instant before she manages a strained smile. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

  “Ma’am,” Tucker says, his rumbling voice loud in the space. A couple of the aides in the next room observe us with drawn brows, as if trying to remember where they’ve seen us—probably Sean—before.

  My helpful fiancé takes my coat and hangs it on a peg before stepping forward. “Sylvia,” Sean purrs, taking the startled woman’s hand and giving her a smooth smile. “I hear you’re the glue that keeps this whole operation together.”

  “Oh, um, well…” The poor woman blinks like she stared too long at the sun. I can’t blame her; I frequently feel the same when he gives me that smile. I glance down at my shoes and smooth my silk shirt.

  Thankfully, my father’s office door opens and two men leave—one I recognize as another senator. They both frown at Sean’s hair as they pass us on their way out of the office.

  Sylvia waves us in, and I take a deep breath and share a look with Sean. “Okay, let’s go.”

  “Cassidy?” My father puts down the file in his hand and frowns at me in confusion as I enter his office.

  “Did you know?” I ask without preamble, striding forward on the thick carpet and planting myself, hands on my hips. He stands behind his carved oak desk, his confusion evident.

  “Know what? What are you doing here, Cass?” He looks to the men behind me, a frown on his lips as Tucker closes the door with a click. “What’s going on?”

  “About the pictures. Or, rather, the lack of pictures.” I ignore his questions, folding my arms over my chest. “That there were never any pictures. Did you know?”

  “Pictures of what?” He leans forward, bracing himself with his fists on his desk. “Who are these men?”

  I take a deep breath, reining in my roiling emotions enough to remember my manners. “This is Tucker Pearson, a security expert, and this…” I step closer to Sean and slip my hand in his. “This is Sean Murphy. My fiancé.”

  My father gapes at me, while Tucker’s eyes widen in surprise. “Seriously? Congrats, man,” he murmurs to Sean, nudging him with his elbow. “This is awesome—I finally won a bet with Cam.” Sean returns his smirk before stepping toward my dad, his hand outstretched.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Senator Skinner.”

  My father’s face freezes; I’m not sure if the word fiancé or Sean’s English accent is the bigger shock for him. He stares at Sean, his eyes moving slowly from his green hair down to his black Doc Martens. Cocking an eyebrow, Sean withdraws his hand my father left hanging.

  “Cassidy, what the hell is going on?” Dad stands straight again, glaring at us from beneath his bushy eyebrows. “I don’t have time for these games. I have to leave in a few minutes for a meeting with the majority leader.”

  “It can wait.” I raise my chin and meet his angry gaze. “I’m not playing games. Sean is my fiancé, and I love him. I told you I’m not marrying Jack, and I meant it. There are several reasons, but Sean is the most important. However, this isn’t the reason we’re here.” I release Sean and lean forward over the edge of Dad’s desk. “I want to know if you’ve always known there were never any photos of what happened to me.” My voice lowers. “Back then.”

  He rears back like I’ve struck him. “Photos?” With a worried frown, he looks first at Sean, then Tucker.

  “They know,” I inform him, and I’m not surprised to see his shock. “They know enough about what happened to me and everything about what happened when Kevin and Dale came to campus. In fact, they know more about Dale than you do.”

  His pale blue eyes dart between Sean and Tucker until he finally focuses back on me. “Cass, there weren’t any photos,” he says quietly, looking at me with consternation. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  I narrow my eyes, studying him. He’s telling the truth. I can see it in his eyes. This is why I needed to do this in person. A weight leaves my shoulders, and I take a shaky breath. “Dale told me there were. He told me you had him secure a special cyber team to keep a watch out all these years. Every once in a while, usually when you needed my help, I’d get a text telling me they’d found and deleted another photo. And every time, I was reminded of what you did for me, and I’d go along with whatever was needed, out of gratitude. And because I love you.”

  My father’s eyes grow wide as I speak. With Sean’s hand on my back giving me strength, I continue, “I’ve lived with this…this fear for years.” I blink back the wetness in my eyes. “Always wondering if a photo would slip through, wondering if…if you’d seen them.” My mouth twists with disgust, the memory of that long-ago night briefly washing over me. “I wanted to talk to you about it, but I could never find the strength. The whole thing was just so…humiliating. I didn’t want to think about it, and I definitely didn’t want you and Mom to have to think about it. I just wanted for us all to forget it and talking about it would just keep it alive.” I glance at Sean, his lips mashed into a thin line as he listens.

  Gritting my teeth, I press a fist to my chest and keep going. “But I haven’t been able to forget it. Dale’s kept me on a string, and he tugged at it whenever he wanted something.” I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, hating the quaver in my voice. “I’ve been his puppet. But no more.”

  Dad sucks in a breath, looking shaken, and rubs his temples. “Cassidy…I don’t…I can’t…” He comes around the desk and takes my hands in his. “Cass, I swear to you there were never any photos. Not one. None of them, the people who”—he glances at Sean, and lowers his voice—“did that to you, took any photos. They were too drunk and too, um, focused on what they were doing.” He grimaces and glances down at his feet in embarrassment before meeting my gaze again. “It was one of my fears, but Dale and your brother ensured that it wasn’t an issue. All of their devices—phones, computers, and whatnot—as well as their emails and social media were scoured and destroyed. Kevin saw to it himself. In fact, I wanted to encourage you to go to the police,” he says, and it’s my turn to be shocked. He was willing to risk his career for me by going to the police?

  “Dale talked me out of it.” His lips twist in a familiar expression of dissatisfaction. “He convinced me the press would’ve been too much for your mother. She was going through tests for breast cancer at the time.”

  What? I cling to his hands, my eyes wide. “I didn’t know that! Why didn’t you say anything? Did Kevin know?” If my brother knew and didn’t tell me, I’ll rip him a new one.

  “No. Marilyn didn’t want to worry either of you. It turned out to be nothing, so that was that. But that’s why I agreed to not involving police.” His eyes harden as he continues, “So I had him make sure those fuckers paid another way.” He’s talking about them ending up in the ER. “And the ones who are still alive are still paying.”

  Tucker grunts with approval, and I glance over to see Sean nod at my father with a smile of grim satisfaction. I pull my hands from Dad’s and sweep my hair out of my eyes. “What do you mean?” I look at him as if I’ve never seen him before, and I guess I haven’t. I can’t remember the last time I saw the gleam of paternal vengeance in his eyes.

  He waves a hand. “I’ve just kept an eye on them. Made sure they stayed the insignificant little shits they’ve always been. Nothing you need to worry about.”

  I swallow, love for my Dad mixing with my anger toward Dale. “But I have worried,” I say, grasping the corner of his desk. “Dale has kept me in a continual state of worry for years…for nothing.” My voice breaks at the end, and Sean slips an arm around my waist, pulling me close to his
side.

  “It’s okay, love,” he murmurs. “He won’t anymore.”

  “Dale Canton is my chief of staff and most trusted advisor. There’s got to be a misunderstanding.” My father shakes his head, and then looks at me, confusion marring his face. “Politics is a family sport; you’ve always known that. My name is on the ballot, but we’re all in this together. I’ve tried to keep you out of most of it, but sometimes it’s advantageous if…” He spreads his hands, looking a little lost. “You’ve always seemed happy to help. Dale said—”

  Sean snorts a harsh laugh. “I can imagine what he’s said. That fucker has a lot to answer for.” He suddenly leans forward, peering at the framed family photos on Dad’s desk and selects one with a soft huff. “Look,” he says, tapping the glass lightly. It’s me as a baby, sitting on our old sofa at home in a diaper, my birthmark on full display. Ah—that’s one mystery answered. Dale knows about my birthmark from this photo.

  “Put that back, please.” Dad frowns at Sean, and then runs a hand over his face roughly, as if he’s weary of the world. “I’ve known Dale for years. I can’t believe he’d betray us like this.”

  “You don’t know him as well as you think,” Tucker says flatly. He pulls a sheaf of pages out of his inside suit pocket and slaps it on my father’s desk. Photos.

  Fuck. I catch a glimpse of bare skin wrapped in some kind of black strappy harness before I pull away from Sean and walk to the far side of the office, wrapping my arms around myself.

  “Is this really the sort of person you want to associate yourself with?” Tucker spreads the photos out on his desk. “Your constituents generally lean toward the conservative side, don’t they? How would they feel about this?” My father leans over the pictures, uttering an oath, and grabbing at one of them with an expression of incredulous disgust.

  “I’m usually the first to say ‘live and let live’ regarding people’s private habits, and God knows my own past behavior could hardly be considered saintly,” Sean says, studying the photos. “Not even in my most debauched dreams did I ever think of using a vegetable like that. Especially on myself. That’s just fucking weird.”