by Tara Wyatt
It was the guy who’d grabbed Taylor at the Rainbow. Colt pulled his keys from his pocket and snapped the USB stick free, jamming it into the computer and downloading the section of footage he needed. He glanced at the clock in the bottom right-hand corner of the computer. The Rainbow would be open, the last of the lunch crowd finishing up. He pushed up out of his seat and strode back to the front of the shop, calling “thank you” over his shoulder as he headed outside.
His mind spun as he drove the short distance to the Rainbow. They were potentially dealing with a stalker situation, and the sooner Colt could get a positive ID on this guy so they could slap him with a restraining order, the better.
The interior of the Rainbow was more brightly lit than the last time he’d been here. Come to think of it, he’d never been during daylight hours. A few steps in, he spied one of the longtime waitresses, and approached her with a smile.
“Hey, Cindy, how’s it going?”
She shot him a questioning glance before returning the smile. “Colt, right? You’re here kinda early, aren’t you? Get you a drink?”
“Actually, I’m working,” he said, hefting the laptop he’d grabbed from the Charger’s trunk under his arm, “And I was wondering if you could help me out with something. You got five minutes?”
“For you? Sure. Just give me a sec.” She zipped behind the bar and dumped her tray and the rag she’d had over her shoulder. She poured herself a glass of water and gestured toward a booth. Colt settled himself in the booth and opened up his laptop, jamming the USB stick in.
“So what kinda work you do?” asked Cindy, sliding in beside him, her long, brown ponytail swishing.
“Private security. I’ve got some footage here I’d like you to take a look at. This guy was here the other week, and I’m trying to get an ID on him.”
She nodded and he queued up the footage, sitting back and hitting Play. Cindy watched, frowning, her mouth twisted to the side as she studied the screen. Finally, when the man turned, she let out a little gasp.
“That’s Ronnie.”
“You know him?”
“Just his first name. He comes in here maybe once a week. Real quiet. Only ever orders soda. Always pays cash. Keeps to himself. I always thought maybe he was lonely. Seemed to do a lot of people watching.”
“You ever talk to him?”
“Not much. I only know his name because I overheard someone else call him that.”
“Someone else knew him?”
“Yeah, this other guy, a biker type. Ronnie left right away after that.”
It was a picture and a first name, but it was a start. Time to let Clay work his magic.
* * *
Taylor sat on the leather couch in her studio, late-afternoon sunshine filtering in through the stained-glass windows and tinging the room with moody purples and blues. The rest of the studio musicians had left, and Roman had locked up behind them. Colt had been gone for a couple of hours, but she was content to wait, enjoying having the space practically to herself for a little while. It was challenging to work on the more personal songs with everyone around. They needed a little more room to grow before she’d be ready to share them with anyone.
Roman sat on the couch on the other side of the room, keeping both her and the door in his sights. He glanced up from his phone and shot her a smile. “Colt’s on his way back. Sounds like he found some information about your admirer.”
“He’s not an admirer—he’s a sick freak.”
The smile dropped from Roman’s face, and he nodded. “You’re right. Sorry. Didn’t mean to be a dick about that.”
She studied him, taking in the long hair, the tattoos, the big, muscled body, the beard, and she saw it all for what it was. Armor. She knew, because she did the same thing, with eye makeup, and leather, and the way she felt most comfortable when there was a guitar between her and whoever else.
Roman’s phone buzzed and he glanced down at it, a half smile on his face as he swiped his finger across the screen.
“Colt?” she asked, toying with the tuner keys of her guitar.
He shook his head. “Nah. Woman from Tinder.”
She scoffed out a laugh. “Tinder? Come on, big guy. I think you can do better than that.” She shot him a meaningful look. “You’re not going to find what you’re looking for on Tinder.”
“Oh, yeah? And just what am I looking for?”
“Something real.”
“You don’t know the first thing about me, sweetheart.” A darkness had crept into his eyes, but it didn’t deter her.
“You and I are a lot more alike than you might think.”
He barked out a laugh. “I doubt that.”
“Just hazarding a guess here, but I’d be willing to bet my favorite guitar that you like to be in control, but being in control means keeping a tight leash on all those pesky emotions.” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Am I close?”
Roman shifted in his seat, but didn’t say anything, just met her gaze with his.
“I think you’re scared to let people in. So you keep everyone at arm’s length with the jokes and the screwing around. You want everyone to think you’re having fun, but under it all, you’re unhappy.”
He sat back and extended his arms over the back of the sofa. Making himself bigger. His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Like I said. You don’t know the first thing about me.” He pushed up off the couch and headed for the bathrooms at the front of the studio. She hadn’t meant to strike a nerve, but she also couldn’t help but wonder if she would’ve spun so far out of control if someone had called her on her shit sooner.
She picked at the acoustic guitar in her lap, her notebook open on the seat beside her. She strummed gently through the E-A-B chord progression she’d been working on, fine tuning the rhythm and setting it to the lyrics she’d had spinning through her mind for a few days now.
I wanna let you in
I wanna let you see
I wanna start where we stopped and begin
I wanna ask for more
So I’m opening the door
She took a breath and launched into the chorus, strumming harder, her eyes closed, eyelids glowing a soft orange in the tinted light.
Let’s forget about the past
Let’s make something that will last
Take my heart and hold it in your hands
I wanna give it to you
I hope you want it too
“That’s really pretty,” said Colt from several feet behind her, and she jumped, dropping the guitar into her lap. The strings squealed as they scraped against her fingers, and she swallowed around her heart, which had leaped up into her throat at the surprise of hearing Colt’s voice.
She blew out a breath as blood rushed to her cheeks, and she wondered if he’d heard the lyrics and, if he had, if he knew they were about him. She pushed her hair out of her face and turned to look at him.
For a long, shimmering second, their eyes connected, and the rest of the room dropped away. Her body tingled with awareness, and everything slammed into her like a rapid-fire montage, not of scenes, but of snippets of image and sound, smell and taste. Colt’s naked body against hers, his hands roving over her skin. The fluttering of her heart in her chest. His scent. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. The way her skin warmed at his touch. All of it melded together in a kind of cinematic bang, and she swallowed thickly.
Colt rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “I need to talk to you.”
She gestured for him to sit down on the couch beside her, pulling her guitar back into her lap.
“I think you have a stalker.”
Her heart dropped from where it had set up camp in her throat to her stomach. “Really?”
Colt nodded. “I went to the flower shop, and I convinced them to let me take a look at the security cameras.” He paused, shaking his head slightly. “You remember the guy from the Rainbow, the night we…met? He’s the one who sent you the flowers.”
“Sh
it,” she whispered, her stomach churning, its contents feeling like concrete.
“His first name is Ronnie. I’ve got my PI buddy Clay on it. He’s seeing if he can use the image from the security camera footage and the first name to track down who this guy is.”
“So that’s it? We just wait?”
“Nothing much else we can do right now, gorgeous.” He moved closer on the couch and pulled the guitar gently away from her. “But I can promise you this. I won’t let that creep get anywhere near you.”
She wrapped her arms around herself, trying to hold everything together. After a second, she let out a shaky laugh. “When it rains, it pours, eh?”
“You talking about your dad?”
She nodded, chewing her lip.
“I’m having Clay look into him, too. We’ll figure out what’s going on. Come on. You wanna go home?” He stood and offered her his hand. She stared at it for a moment, absorbing the strong, thick fingers and wide palms, the slightly rough texture of his skin and shivering at the memory of how fucking fantastic those hands had felt on her skin. In her hair. In her.
Her eyes once again met his, and in a gesture that felt much bigger than it looked, she put her hand in his and let him help her off the couch. She quickly gathered her things and watched as Colt briefed Roman, who was going to lock up behind them. Something tightened and then instantly melted in her chest at the easy familiarity with which Colt moved through her space. He took her hand again, slipping his fingers between hers as he led her toward the Charger, his eyes scanning the empty parking lot and the street. His grip tightened on her hand almost imperceptibly, but he kept his stride steady. He opened the passenger door for her, and once she was tucked safely inside, he strode around the car, dropping into the driver’s seat and hitting the door locks.
“We’re being watched.”
She looked around the parking lot and out at the street. “What makes you say that?”
“That exact same van was parked near your house this morning. The studio’s in a completely different neighborhood than your house. What are the odds that the exact same van would be both in front of your house this morning and in front of your studio right now?”
Taylor’s pulse sped up slightly. “How do you know it’s the same van?”
“Same plates.”
He turned his key in the ignition, the Charger’s engine roaring to life. “Let’s see if they follow us.” Surprising her, Colt pulled smoothly out of the parking lot and onto the road.
“I thought you would’ve gunned it,” she said, staring into the side-view mirror.
“If he is following us, I don’t want him to know that I know.” He glanced over at her. “Countersurveillance one-oh-one. Besides, the last thing we want is to get involved in some kind of car chase. That’s pretty much the opposite of keeping you safe.” Instead of heading for the freeway, Colt took a winding route through the city, through dense traffic and a seemingly endless stream of traffic lights. “He’s definitely following us, but he’s at least two lights back now. I’m going to make a sudden right, and then accordion my way up to the freeway. He’ll think he lost us, and not the other way around.”
True to his word, with a glance in the rearview mirror, Colt swung the Charger into the far right lane and made a sharp right, accelerating as he zipped through turn after turn. His fingers flexed on the steering wheel, and Taylor watched through the side-view mirror for any sign of the van as her heart hammered in her ears.
“I…I think you lost him,” she said, settling back into her seat and trying to wrestle her thoughts into some kind of coherent order. First her dad had texted her out of the blue, then had shown up at her door, maybe more than once. And now there was the additional threat of the stalker. Had he been the one to sneak around the outside of her house? Was he the one who’d been following them just now? Or was the tail related to her dad and whatever fucking mess he’d gotten himself into?
Questions without answers. And the only certainty she had in all of it was that Colt would keep her safe.
Chapter 14
Karaoke at the Brass Monkey was exactly the distraction Taylor needed after the day she’d had. At first, Colt had tried to talk her out of coming tonight, but she’d been looking forward to seeing her friends, and she needed the stress relief of a night out. Eventually, he’d agreed but had insisted on bringing Roman along to keep things under control, if need be. Although it wasn’t impossible, it was very unlikely that her creepy admirer would try anything in public with security around.
“You okay?” Sierra hooked an arm around Taylor’s waist and gave her a side hug as Colt scouted the place out and Roman secured them a table. “You’ve been quiet.”
“I’m just tired. It’s been a long day, but don’t worry. I’ll rally.” She didn’t want to talk about everything weighing on her: the album deadline, her unsettling attraction to Colt, the news of a potential stalker, and her dad’s sudden reappearance. Normally, she’d tell Sierra everything, but she didn’t have the energy. Not tonight.
Her eyes roamed over the bar, taking in the upbeat atmosphere, and a warmth spread over her when her eyes found Colt, several feet away, his eyes on her. Wearing a khaki-green Henley shirt, worn jeans, and beat-up boots, he looked rugged, sexy, and perfect. His five-o’clock shadow was starting to come in, highlighting his strong jaw and full lips. He smiled and displayed his perfect white teeth, the skin around his eyes crinkling.
“Oh, shit.” Sierra smacked Taylor’s arm, jolting her. “You have a thing for him.”
“I…we…” Taylor scuffed her toe on the floor, avoiding Sierra’s gaze.
Sierra’s eyes widened. “Ladies’ room. Now.” She took Taylor by the elbow and began leading her through the bar. Meeting Colt’s eyes, Taylor tipped her head in the direction of the bathrooms, and he nodded. Taylor silently prayed that Sierra wasn’t mad at her, or hurt that she’d shut her out.
The second the door whooshed closed behind them, Sierra turned on her, her arms crossed. “You. Spill. Everything.” Her green eyes blazed, and Taylor knew she was at least a little pissed.
Taylor opened her mouth and the entire story came spilling out. The one-night stand, and then Colt turning up as the bodyguard hired by the label. Her dad. The stalker. Her undeniable attraction to Colt and her jumble of feelings for him. She let out a long breath once she finally finished talking. “So…yeah. That’s what’s been going on with me.”
“Wow.” Sierra gave Taylor’s shoulder a squeeze; any anger she may have felt seemed to have disappeared. “That’s…wow. How are you feeling?”
Taylor shrugged, lowering her voice as another woman entered the bathroom and headed for a stall. “I don’t even know. It seems to change from hour to hour.”
“What do you want?”
“That’s the thing. I know what I want. I just don’t know if I have any right to think I could…” She sighed heavily. “I thought Zack was that guy, you know? At first it was just fun, but it turned into something a lot more than that. At least, it did for me. I’m scared of putting myself in that position again, of thinking I’ve found this great guy, giving him everything I have, and letting him rip my heart out.”
Sierra squeezed her hand. “Zack led you on, and that wasn’t fair of him—”
Taylor didn’t let her finish. “But I’m the one who broke the rules. We agreed, upfront, that we were casual, no strings. I’m the idiot who fell in love with her fuck buddy. And I can’t go down that road again. I can’t leave myself open and exposed and stay whole when it doesn’t work out.”
Sierra leaned against the tiled wall. “I don’t know him. I only know what Sean thinks of him, and what you think of him.”
“And Sean thinks he’s an asshole.”
Sierra shrugged. “Pretty much. But there are two sides to every story. Have you asked Colt about it? About his side?”
Taylor shook her head. “No. It hasn’t come up.”
“You should ask him. I…I don
’t think you should ignore your feelings for him.”
“Why not?”
Sierra laid a hand on Taylor’s cheek. “Because you light up like Christmas when you look at him. How do you think I picked up on the fact that something’s going on between you two?” Sierra took her arm and began leading her out of the bathroom. “For what it’s worth, Zack didn’t make you light up that way. So regardless of Colt’s bad history with Sean, there’s something there.”
As they made their way through the bar, a group of obviously tipsy girls took the stage and began half-shouting, half-mumbling their way through TLC’s “No Scrubs,” and Taylor smiled. This was the Brass Monkey at its best. Unpretentious and welcoming, with awesome drinks, greasy food, and a huge songbook. Even though it was relatively early, the bar was nearly full, with people crowded around the small wooden tables. Most of the walls were exposed brick, with a few sections of wood paneling, including the makeshift stage adjacent to the bar.
“Hey guys!” Taylor and Sierra both spun just as Chloe Carmichael ran up to them, her arms open, a huge smile on her face. Her gorgeous light brown skin glowed, her thick cinnamon-colored hair bouncing in loose waves around her shoulders. She flung her arms around her friends just as the final member of their group, Alexa Fairfax, appeared in the doorway, another bodyguard accompanying her. Alexa was adorable, with her tiny frame, blond curls, and perfect nose. She was also by far the biggest celebrity in their group. Her family, the Fairfaxes, were one of the most famous families in Hollywood, on par with the Barrymores or the Fondas. But even though she was the most famous, she was also a sweetheart, always wanting to make her friends happy and, as far as Taylor was concerned, putting others before herself far too often.