by S. L. Scott
“I will. I promise.”
His eyes search mine a little too long. His hands hold me a few more seconds. He kisses me again as if his whole being knows better than to let me go. “I love you.”
“I love you, Rivers.”
When he doesn’t let me go, I take a step back, pushing out of his embrace. Tulsa opens the door, and everyone in the room watches as I force myself to turn around and leave . . . him and the soul that is begging me to stay.
Raising my chin up, I walk past Tulsa and down the long hall to the bank of elevators. I push the button, and Tulsa shoves his hands in his pockets as he rocks back on his heels. “What are we doing, Stella?”
“Getting coffee,” I reply, but I hear the inflection at the end and he does too.
“Are you sure?”
My gaze lowers to the swirly design in the gold, black, and burgundy carpet. “Do you remember the night Rivers and I broke up?”
“It’s hard to forget something like that.” The elevator arrives, and we step inside. He’s testing me every step of the way, and asks, “Lobby?”
“Yes. Starbucks is on the same floor.”
Jabbing it, he says, “Just checking.”
“I never got to thank you for what you did that night.”
“What’d I do?” His blue eyes are full of warmth like I imagine the deep blues of the Mediterranean Sea, not ice cold like the monsters.
Tulsa Crow always got a bad rap as the wild and carefree playboy. I guess being the youngest of three brothers—not having to be the responsible one and having two older brothers looking out for him all the time—gave him that freedom. After their mom died in the accident, Jet was stuck between being a father figure while fighting to keep his family together and still being a kid at just nineteen. He gave up college and walked away from a full-ride academics scholarship to work full time during the day so he could play music at night.
My Rivers was the lost middle child who carried the blame for his mother’s death. In so many ways, that burden still weighs him down. One day, I hope I can give him the carefree spirit of Tulsa and the peace Jet has found. Rivers needs to realize that his family only works because he’s a part of it. But today I have to do what only I can.
I reply, “You drove me home.”
His signature smile—a little happy, a lot cocky—shows up. “I didn’t do anything anybody else wouldn’t do.”
I laugh to myself, watching the floors end through the glass elevator as we enter the atrium. “You used to call everyone darlin’.”
“Now, I only call my wife darlin’.”
The elevator stops on the lobby floor, and we walk out, stopping just shy of the front desk. “You were so sweet that night. You let me cry on your shoulder and stayed a few extra minutes until I forced you to leave. I saw who you were then and knew the right woman would see through your act.”
“She did. Right through me.”
That makes me smile, my heart happy for him. Maybe because it feels like old times, the two of us falling right back into our brother sister relationship from years ago, but I give him a hug. “I’m so lucky to know you.”
He embraces me, and says, “I told her all about you.”
The sentiment makes me misty-eyed when I step back. “You did?”
“Of course. There may have been distance and time between, but you’ve always been a part of the family. Now I just get to see you again.”
“You could’ve always stopped by, but I understand.”
The smile softens in the corners, and he looks toward the coffee shop. “Are we getting coffee?” he asks again, knowing we’re not.
I shake my head gently.
Taking a deep breath, he looks me over. “I can’t just let you leave.”
“I’m not asking your permission, Tulsa.”
“What am I supposed to tell Rivers?”
“I don’t know. I just know what I need to do.”
“What do you need to do, Stella?”
“Find the truth.”
“Not alone.”
Taking another step back and two more, I beg, “Please let me go.”
“How determined are you?”
“If I don’t leave now, I’ll find another way.”
He takes a step forward, not to intimidate, but by the look in his eyes, he doesn’t want me to leave. “Don’t do this. It’s not safe, and if anything happens to you, what happens to Rivers? To me and Jet? What happens to Meadow?”
“You’ll be there for her. Rivers will make sure she’s taken care of. Jet will watch out for her.”
“And that’s better than you?”
Two more steps toward the door are taken. “No. But I have no choice.”
“You have plenty of choices, and you have us to help. That’s why we’re here.”
“Please let me go.”
“I can’t stop you, but I can follow.” When I turn to walk away, not wanting to draw attention as I leave, he says, “I’m right behind you. I’ll always have your back.”
A loud boom is heard, and I jump, startled as I look up to see Rivers descending in the elevator. I can’t hear him, but the look of devastation is enough for me to know that he’s yelling no.
“I’m sorry.” I run because I know this is the only shot I’ve got. Tulsa will be there. Rivers on his tail. I’m not doing this alone despite wanting to save them and set Meadow and me free.
I reach the taxi line, and the back door is opened for me. I’m about to duck inside and leave, but I know I can’t. He never stopped loving me. He came back for me. For us. For our future.
A bad decision on my part could ruin the good Rivers and I have rebuilt. I stand there, staring at the empty back seat because I can’t risk my life if it destroys Rivers. “Sorry. I don’t need one after all.”
When I turn around, Rivers and Tulsa are standing there, right behind me, having my back. And when I move into Rivers’s arms, it’s not just my back he has covered. It’s all of me.
“Going somewhere?” he asks, embracing me in his love.
“Nowhere without you.” The top of my head is kissed, and I add, “Brian is working for Conrad Baird.”
39
Stella
“Do you know how insane that sounds?” Jet says, walking the length of the couch and then back again. “You can’t do this alone, Stella.”
“I can’t do this with a group of celebrities.” Waving my hands around, I’m dumbfounded how they think they’ll go unnoticed. “You can’t even walk outside without being attacked by groupies. How do you expect to walk into a school unnoticed?” I snort and then begin to stutter as these sex symbols stare at me. “Have you seen you? There’s nothing normal about this—visually—like all of you together . . . like this . . . separately or together.” I scoff and roll my eyes, muttering under my breath, “I mean, really, you’re a band of musicians, not vigilantes.” I stand from the couch. “I need to do this alone. I have the key card to get through security, and if Judy’s there, she’ll let me wait in Brian’s office.”
“No.” Rivers nixes the idea as soon as I say it.
Johnny’s large suite is starting to feel small with all these bodies packed in the living room. Somehow, my fate is a group debate. I’m both touched and overwhelmed. Tommy says, “If this Teller guy is the bad cop, maybe Suthers is the good cop. Should we talk to him?”
Dex leans forward. “What if they’re both bad? We have security on standby. I’m with Rivers. I think everything that’s been suggested is a bad idea. I wouldn’t let Rochelle go near danger much less walk into it alone.”
Rivers, who is leaning against the windowsill, asks, “Why are we even discussing this like we have options?”
“Because we have options right now,” I say, hoping he’ll see the only opportunity we have. “If we wait too long, we won’t.”
Johnny says, “We can’t do this. This is dangerous. I’ve lost one brother. I’m not willing to lose any of you. Let’s get on the phone and ta
lk to our attorneys to see what legal options we have.”
Dex adds, “Stella is one of us. If she’s threatened, we’re all threatened.” While I become a puddle of goo under his sweetness, he looks at Johnny. “I don’t see what a bunch lawyers are going to do about dirty cops.”
Standing up, Johnny shakes his head while rubbing his hand through his hair. “If I had a choice, Cory would be alive. If I have to make the same choice regarding any of you, I choose life as well. This isn’t some Scooby-Doo caper. This is real shit that can end any of us.” He walks toward his room. “Everyone will have security detail until further notice.” The bedroom door slams closed, and silence spreads like a fog after his final word.
I don’t know who to look at for a follow-up to that. Tommy stands and messes with his phone in his hand, giving Dex a look that only they understand. He then says, “He’s right. We need to keep this legal and more importantly, safe. I’m going to my room.”
As soon as he leaves, Dex says, “And people call me the moody one.”
Meadow chimes in, giggling, “Johnny’s more broody.”
When Dex stands up, he says, “I don’t know what that means.”
She shrugs. “It’s a girl thing.”
He nods and heads for the door. “I’m catching a flight tonight. One of my kids won their division in the science fair, and I promised him I’d be there for the awards ceremony.” Before he walks out, he adds, “We have schools in LA if you’re considering moving out west. I’m happy to put in a good word for you.” I’m taken aback by his kindness and left speechless while holding my hands over my chest. “If you need anything, Rivers has my number.”
“Thank you.”
Meadow stands, holding Ridge’s hand. “We’re going back to our room. Call me later.”
Tulsa says, “Guess that’s our cue.” He comes to me, and when I stand to move toward the door, he gives me a hug. “It may not feel like it, but you made the right decision.”
“You’re right. It doesn’t feel like it.”
His low laugh makes me smile. Moving toward the door, he says, “I’d tell you to take care of yourself and Rivers but taking care of yourself is taking care of my brother. Remember that, okay?” He taps my nose. “Boop.” Calling over my shoulder, he nods for Jet to go. “We’re out of here. Call us later, Riv.” He shakes his hand and then pulls him in for a one-armed bro-hug.
We all walk out together, but we turn right to go to our suite as they turn left.
Once we’re inside, Rivers says, “We have the entire floor reserved for our group. Guards at the elevators and exits. You’re safe here. I want to keep it that way.”
Kicking my flip-flops off, I can’t hide my sarcasm, “How long will we be on hotel arrest? One week? A month? Maybe a year or two?”
“You can make fun all you want, but at least you’re alive doing it.” He moves toward the large windows where the sunset shines in, turning the room a golden hue.
He’s a stunning, beautiful man basking in the light. His heart may be heavy, but he’s still breathtaking in his anger. He turns around, his face silhouetted in shadow. “Let’s get married.”
I laugh, not able to take this seriously, not because I don’t think he means it, but because it’s not the time, and he knows it. “Is this how you always dreamed of asking me?”
“No, but none of that matters. I just want to be your husband and for you to be my wife. I can’t care about what others think or will say—”
“They’ll say I’m pregnant. I’ve seen how it plays out. I’ll be cast as the villain who trapped you with a child. Is that how you want us to start our marriage?”
Walking to me, he holds me by the arms. “No, but I still want you. Knowing what you’ve been through, what you endured, and then seeing how you love me so unequivocally despite it all, I’m not deserving. So my motives are selfish. I’m definitely dating above my pay grade.”
Slipping into his arms, my most favorite place to be in the whole world, I ask, “How is one of the most famous musicians in the world in love with such a troubled but simple girl?”
“There’s nothing simple about you or us. Like our love, you’re worth fighting for.”
He’s worth fighting for too. I was wrong five years ago when I didn’t do that. But now? Now there is only one way I know how to fight, to protect the life I plan to live with Rivers.
But he also makes this so damn hard, almost painful to go through with. I just can’t sit around waiting for a lawyer or a hired detective to do their work while these monsters continue to terrorize Meadow, me, and who knows how many countless others. I can’t involve these amazing men who are a vital part of Rivers’s life. His brothers have families now, and I don’t know how far Baird’s reach actually is. Will he go after them next?
I won’t live my life looking over my shoulder for the boogeyman. He has to be stopped, and I know what I have to do. My mind is made up.
Resting my chin on his chest, I say, “Always remember I love you.”
“I don’t know what you’re planning, but I see the cogs turning in your eyes, and I’m pleading with you, Stella, not only to you as the person who owns me, but as the caretaker of my heart. Don’t do anything you know you shouldn’t to be the hero. I can’t . . . I can’t lose you.”
I hide my eyes from him and rest my ear to his chest, listening to his usually steady heartbeat quicken. “Always.”
* * *
Rivers fell asleep after mentioning not once or twice, but four times how our floor is a fortress. There’s no getting on or off it without security knowing. With that in mind, and wearing black yoga pants and shirt, and sneakers the hotel had sent on request, I check my phone. It’s time. I kiss him on the cheek and walk right out of the hotel suite.
Working on a wing and a prayer, I walk straight to the elevators where three men dressed like secret service sans the sunglasses sit in chairs. One stands when I approach. “Ms. Fellowes.”
Interesting. He knows who I am. “Hi.” I reach to push the button, but he sidesteps to block it. “I’m sorry. Unless we send someone with you, we’ve been instructed not to let anyone on or off the floor.”
“No biggie. Who’s coming with me?”
Another guy, bigger, broader, blonder stands. “I will.” Reaching forward, he says, “I’m Looty.”
“Looty? That’s unique.”
“My past caught up to me.”
“I don’t know what that means, but I know the feeling.” The lead takes the vacated seat, and I press the button after he leaves.
“Where are we going, Ms. Fellowes?”
The elevator door opens, and I step inside. When he joins me and the door closes, I press the parking garage level and reply, “On an adventure.”
“My apologies, Ms. Fellowes, but I need to make a quick call upstairs to inform our bosses that you’re leaving the premises.”
“Inform them?”
“Yes, I have to let them know.”
“Let them,” I say, pitching my tone up an octave until I hit that perfect note of insanity. “I am not anyone’s property.” I poke him hard in the chest, which actually hurts my fingertip. “You are not my boss and no one owns me.”
“Ma’am, I didn’t mean to offend you. I wasn’t inferring that anyone owns you like property. This is our protoc—”
The door slides open and I see my target, dashing out as soon as he looks down. I practically dive into the car and lock the door. “Go. Go. Go.”
The driver hits the gas, leaving skid marks on the parking garage floor. Looty barely hits the car before we’re too far-gone. Turning back, he’s on his phone with his other hand raised into the air.
The driver makes eye contact through the rearview mirror. “Stella?”
Checking my phone, I see my driver’s name and look up again. “Topher?”
“Yes,” he says, seeming to relax. “What was that about?”
Rolling my eyes, I wave my hand. “Crazy ex.”
&nbs
p; “Ugh. I have a few of those.” When his car tells him to take a right, he confirms, “Rostinal Academy, right?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“It’s a bit early for a school visit.”
It’s really none of his business what I’m doing no matter if it’s three p.m. or three a.m., but since he’s mentioned it, it would be suspicious if I didn’t say something. “I work there. I’m a teacher. Midterms start tomorrow and my printer at home isn’t working. I have to be ready when the students walk in, so it will be a long night, but I refuse not to be prepared.”
“That sucks. Do you like teaching?”
“Love it,” I lie. Then I pretend to play on my phone, so he leaves me alone.
When he pulls into the parking lot, he asks, “Are you sure you’ll be okay?”
The kindness of strangers is never lost on me. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” I get out and send a bonus tip and give him the highest rating as I walk to the back door. Digging into the secret pocket of the pants, I pull out my key card and hold it to the security pad. The door unlocks, and I’m in.
The school is highly secure. Every camera in the place will show I’ve been here, but I don’t care. I’m hoping to be in and out before the alarm company calls. By the time I enter the front office, though, I realize I’m not fast enough. I answer to keep them at bay. “This is Safe Haven Security, can you please identify yourself.”
“Sorry for the late-night visit,” I start feeding the same midterm lie to this guy. “Stella Fellowes. 569 is my security clearance. I used my card to get in.”
“I’m scanning the list. Yes, you’re right here. You have clearance. Thank you, Ms. Fellowes, and have a safe night.”
I hang up and rush to my classroom to get the universal key I was given last week to meet with the dance committee in the gymnasium at night. Grabbing it out of the back of my filing cabinet, I lock my drawers again and head back to the first floor.
If my suspicions are correct about the money, I need that check as evidence. It will be the key to everything. I’m either right, and this will put them all away, or wrong and back where I started no safer than I was hours ago. It’s worth the risk.