RAPT - The Price of Love: Everhide Rockstar Romance Book 3 (Everhide Rockstar Romance Series)

by Tania Joyce

  Hunter stretched, arms reaching above his head. “Whatever. Doesn’t bother me.”

  Kyle adjusted the height of his mic stand. “Gem, that’s an awesome idea. We love that song. It’s the perfect fit. Done.”

  Why could they agree on everything when it came to their music, but very little when it came to their wedding?

  Their pending ceremony had shone a light on their differences. But he wouldn’t let anything ruin their day. He’d move heaven and earth to make sure it went off without a hitch.

  “If you want to change the set list, it’s your call.” Sophie gave a shrug. “I’ll update it and get one of the guys in the office to print off the sheet music.” She bent down and picked up Gemma’s duffel bag. “So you don’t trip over this, I’ll put it in with ours in the meeting room next door.”

  “Okay, thanks.” Gemma tightened her ponytail and stepped in front of her mic, center stage.

  Stuffing his in-ear monitors in, and signaling Slade on drums to set the beat, Kyle hollered, “From the top.”

  After hours of smashing out a full rehearsal, twice, and a couple of reworked transitions, wattage from the killer session coursed through Kyle’s veins. He followed Hunter and Gemma into the meeting room next door to grab their gear. It was time to go home. Time to sort out those wedding plans with Gemma.

  He stashed his guitar into its case and clipped it shut. Maybe if he had a nice hot shower with her and gave her a relaxing massage, he’d be able to negotiate the guest list. He wiped his forehead on his T-shirt sleeve. Would some seduction and spicy sex work? Possibly not with Gemma. But at least he’d enjoy the process.

  No. No sex. No excuses. No distractions.

  “What are the plans for tonight? Kar suggested coming over for dinner.” Gemma fanned her face and tilted her head toward the air-conditioning.

  Sweat saturated her shirt, clinging it to her body and showing her slender curves. Damp strands of hair stuck to her neck and her cheeks blazed red. He couldn’t wait to get her home and help peel off her clothes and feel her hot flesh against his. Wait. After their talk, not before. “We’ll take a raincheck. We have plans.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “What plans?”

  “Yeah, what plans?” Hunter ripped on a fresh T-shirt. “And why am I not included?”

  Kyle glared at Hunter, just to jolt his memory. “Umm . . . don’t you have to go play dress-ups with Kara?”

  “Oh yeah.” A goofy grin lit his face.

  Gemma held Kyle’s gaze. His skin prickled. She was onto him. There was no way of keeping secrets from her; she was too perceptive.

  Her shoulders slumped. “We’ve got to talk about the wedding, right? Is that the plan?”

  “Yep.” And you’re not getting out of it this time.

  She bent down to pick up her bag but left it at her feet. She straightened and held out a pale pink envelope. “What’s this?”

  He shrugged. So did Hunter.

  She slid the envelope through her fingertips, a sexy smile curling across her lips. “Kyle, did you write me another love letter?”

  “Umm . . . no,” he said, changing into a clean T-shirt, wishing that he had. He’d written her a few notes and a ton of songs, but he’d never use pink stationery.

  She ripped it open and unfolded the paper.

  Her eyes widened.

  The color drained from her face.

  The paper trembled in her hand.

  A chill shot down his spine. His heart lurched and he rushed to her side. “What is it?”

  He scanned the page. In big black-typed font, he read:

  GEMMA, YOU FUCKING SLUT.

  IF YOU MARRY KYLE, I’LL KILL YOU.

  KYLE’S MINE. Mine. MiNE!

  ALWAYS HAS BEEN. ALWAYS WILL BE.

  CALL OFF THE WEDDING. NOW.

  OR YOU’RE DEAD.

  Chapter 3

  This must be a sick joke. Clutching the letter, Gemma stormed around the studio with Kyle and Hunter on her tail. Waving the pink page at their backup band, crew and staff, her voice sliced through her teeth, “Which one of you assholes did this?” No one confessed.

  That pissed her off.

  She strode over to the bench seats by the window to question Sophie and their security team. But when Sophie saw and read the letter, she turned white. Sam, their head of security, jumped to his feet and phoned the police. Sophie called Bec, their personal assistant, to the studio for an urgent meeting. Gemma’s head spun trying to keep up.

  What the hell?

  “Is this necessary? For one stupid letter?” Gemma shook the piece of paper at them.

  “Um . . . yes.” Sophie’s tone was firm but clipped. “There’s more to it. We’ll explain everything when the police get here.”

  “More to it?” Kyle stepped in beside Gemma. “Like what?”

  Sophie pointed toward the meeting room. “Please, go wait in there. I need to talk to Sam first.”

  Fire splintered through Gemma’s veins. She was about to protest, say ‘don’t tell me what to do’, but the steely gaze in Sophie’s eyes pulled her up short. Gemma’s grip tightened on the letter, resisting the urge to crumble it and toss it in the bin. Gemma and the guys had received thousands of fan letters over the years, some bordered on obsessive. But as far as she knew, this was the first threat to one of their lives. Her life. Whoever did this had hand-delivered the letter. Gotten close. Too close. It wouldn’t happen again.

  Shit. She didn’t need the added stress before the wedding. So much for going home with Kyle and finalizing their plans.

  She charged into the meeting room with the guys close behind. Once they entered, she slammed the door shut. Gemma tossed the letter onto the table and stared at the pale pink note. “If no one here did this, who did?”

  “I don’t know,” Kyle paced the length of the room, wringing his hands. “Maybe someone in the crowd outside slipped it into your bag when you passed?”

  “I’m sure it’s just another jealous fan, Gem.” Hunter ruffled the top of her head. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Gemma’s head tilted back, and she sighed. Hunter was right. Each of them had received their fair share of crazy fan mail. It’s nothing to be concerned about. “I won’t. I’m not.”

  “Well, I am.” Kyle quickened his stride. His sharp tone cut through the lightheartedness. His jaw tightened and he mumbled under his breath. “Who did this? Who’d want to hurt you? What the fuck?”

  Ergh. She didn’t need him to react like this. She’d seen his jealous and possessive side, and while it’s nice he cared so much, his overprotective nature was a beaver she didn’t want to badger. “Kyle. Chill.”

  His face actually got redder. “How can I? Someone wants to hurt you.”

  She stepped in front of him and grasped his arms. She threw him a cold, hard glare. “We don’t know that for sure. Please, just stop.”

  He took a few deep breaths and shook his head. He sighed and drew her into his embrace. His heartbeat thudded against her ear. “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

  “I know.” She slid her hands up his back and closed her eyes. She inhaled the scent of him, his freshly laundered shirt against the mix of sweat from rehearsal and deodorant on his skin, hoping to find release from her own frustrations, but failed. She clutched at his shirt. “It’s okay. Everything will be fine.”

  She had to believe that.

  Within the hour, Gemma and the guys sat opposite two detectives, Jones and Morris. Jones, with his cheap suit and skinny tie had a permanent sneer stitched into the corner of his mouth. Morris was a spitting image of Chandler in the TV sitcom, Friends, and going by his attire, he lived for the nineties. She puffed at a loose strand of hair hanging over her face. It was nearly eight o’clock in the evening. She wanted to go home, eat and shower, not be stuck here at the studio. This meeting better not take long.

  Sophie, Bec and Everhide’s security team filled every other chair at the round table, worry etching deep furrows into everyone’
s face. Gemma’s gaze continually returned to the letter the police had sealed in a plastic evidence bag resting on top of folders in front of Jones. She’d read it one hundred times since finding it. The words had branded permanently into her mind. If you marry Kyle, I’ll kill you.

  What if someone did want to hurt her?

  Ergh. Don’t think about it.

  She didn’t want management and security to be concerned. Didn’t want to cancel shows. And most of all, she didn’t want Kyle to get overbearing. He’d been tight as a tension cable since he first read the letter. He’d want to take matters into his own hands but dealing with a messed-up letter was out of his control. And when it came to her safety, she knew how to take care of herself.

  Bec tucked her bobbed hairdo behind her ear. Once. Twice. Three times. “I’m so sorry, Gem. We hadn’t told you and the guys about the other letters because we hadn’t heard back from the police. We didn’t know if the letters were serious or not.”

  Wait. What?

  Gemma’s heart throbbed in her throat, tightening every tendon in her neck. She whipped her head in Bec’s direction. “What other letters?”

  Kyle, sitting to her right, clenched his hands on the table. The corded veins in his arms bulged. “You mean there are more?”

  Sophie nodded slowly. “Tonight, was the fourth one we’ve received.”

  Four letters! What the fuck?

  Detective Jones waved his pen toward Bec. “You’re lucky to have a good assistant who noticed the unusual.”

  Gemma stole a glance sideways at Bec sitting next to her. She was a treasure. She’d been their PA for eight years. She knew every detail of their life. Sorted their life. Scheduled their life. Nothing happened to Everhide without Bec knowing about it. She was a crucial employee, as well as a great friend. But keeping something like this from them wasn’t acceptable. “Bec? The fourth?” Gemma’s voice caught in her throat. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  Bec’s eyes glassed over and she rounded her shoulders. “I was following procedures. Until there was a pattern, an actual threat, or a breach in security there was nothing to be concerned about.”

  Kyle jolted forward, redness creeping up his neck. His voice slid through his gritted teeth. “We should’ve been told about any threat.”

  Gemma tensed. He’d hate not being made aware sooner, hate being kept out of the loop. He liked to be on top of everything.

  Bec’s gaze hardened. She leaned forward on folded arms. “I did tell Sam and Sophie. Sam took them to the police. You guys have been so busy. With tour. And travel. And Hunter and Kara’s issues . . . ”

  Hunter, sitting at the far end of the table, stiffened. Gemma’s heart ached. The loss of his preemie son five months ago had affected them all. Now they had threats to deal with.

  Bec continued, not missing a beat. “We didn’t want to worry you until we knew it was a problem.”

  Sam folded his arms, his black T-shirt stretched tight across his bulky biceps. “You guys aren’t naive when it comes to your safety. You know you have extreme fans. We were going through the processes before bringing it to your attention. You can rest assured your security is paramount.”

  The fiery vibe coming off Kyle made the air prickle. Before he did something rash, like fire Sam and their security team for doing their job, Gemma placed her hand on his leg and gave him a firm squeeze. Getting the message to calm down, he flinched and sank back into his chair.

  Gemma let out a slow breath and threw Sam a please-ignore-Kyle smile. Sam took their security to heart. He would’ve told them when necessary. She didn’t doubt their team, not ever. She wasn’t going to let some stupid letters get to her.

  But steam still rolled through Kyle’s veins. His head turned sharply toward Bec. “When did the other letters arrive?”

  Bec counted on her fingers. “The first one arrived after your engagement.” Eleven months ago. “The second arrived after New Year’s.” Almost nine months ago. “The third, last week when we got home from promo tour.”

  “We had a pattern, but no real threat.” Sam splayed his hands and placed them on the table. “But the contents of this letter and it being put directly into your bag, changes everything.”

  Ya think?

  Bec flicked her hand toward the letter on top of Jones’s folders. “You know we keep any letters the admin team and I find and call ‘the crazies’ separate.” Her tone was serious, but light, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Letters that seem to go beyond the weird and normal fan love letters. You know . . . like . . . ‘Oh my God, I’m gonna kill myself,’ ‘I can’t go on living without you,’ or ’I stood outside your apartment for four hours today, hoping to catch a glimpse of you.’ That kind of thing. We have a half dozen archive boxes full.”

  Gemma gaped and her eyes nearly popped out of her head. “Holy shit. I didn’t think we got that many psycho letters.” She’d read a lot of fan mail. Most of it was sweet.

  Hunter jutted his chin toward the detectives. “What’s in the other letters?”

  Detective Morris straightened his thick-rimmed glasses. He grabbed one of the folders from in front of Jones and slid more letters printed on pale pink paper sealed in plastic toward Hunter, but Kyle grabbed them first.

  Damn, he was quick. Gemma leaned into him and read them too. The first read:

  KYLE, HOW DARE YOU GET ENGAGED TO THAT WHORE?

  YOU LOVE ME. NOT GEMMA.

  I’m YOUR TRUE LOVE.

  MARRY ME, NOT GEMMA.

  YOU’RE MINE. MINE. MINE!

  Kyle’s hands trembled. He shuffled the pages ’round. The second said:

  Kyle, don’t do this.

  You’re the love of my life and I’m yours.

  Don’t marry Gemma.

  We’re meant to be together.

  End it with Gemma. end it now.

  You’re mine. Mine. MINE!

  Gemma’s heart stampeded like fans breaking through crowd control barriers at a concert. She sat on her hand to hide the shakes. The third read:

  Gemma, you ho. you’re nothing but a fucking slut.

  break off the engagement now.

  kyle and i will be together.

  i love him more than you ever will.

  leave him now, bitch.

  Kyle’s mine. Mine. MINE!

  Nausea pooled in the pit of her stomach. Her throat, tight and dry, hurt when she swallowed. Each letter got more violent. Aggressive. The one tonight . . . threatening. Someone wanted to kill her. Someone wanted Kyle. Shit. He had the kindest heart and soul of anyone she’d ever known. He was a gentleman, passionately loyal and sincerely devoted. A true catch. And he was hers. They had millions of fans and followers. How would the police find who’d sent the letters?

  She glanced at their security seated next to Hunter to gauge their take on the situation. Sam had his game face on. Chester, her bodyguard, sat meek and quiet, but his eyes were alert like a lightning bolt, ready to strike. Mick slowly rubbed and rolled his hands together, his eyes on the detectives, taking in every word. Their intensity added a new level of concern. Not what she was looking for.

  Worse yet, the continual edgy glances from Kyle and Hunter did nothing to keep her nerves at bay. Her breath quickened, her pulse jumped. More than one letter. A threat on her life. Fuck! No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t stop a sliver of fear seeping into her skin. But that was as far as it would get.

  Hunter reached over and grabbed the pages. He read them and let out a short, sharp laugh. “I can’t believe someone is obsessed with Kyle. Are you kidding me? I’m the hot one. Where’s my psycho fan letters?”

  Bec glared at Hunter, a snigger curling the corner of her lip. “You want to read some? Next time you come into the office I can grab the boxes if you’d like?”

  “Maybe I will. Just for some kicks.” Hunter returned the sarcasm.

  Detective Jones tapped and spun his pen on the table. Tap. Spin. Tap. Spin. Tap. Spin. “I wouldn’t joke about this, Mr. Coll
ins. It’s now serious.” His sharp tone was loaded with an I-won’t-tolerate-any-nonsense, you-listen-to-me and let’s-follow-the-rules attitude.

  “Good luck with that.” Gemma smirked and shook her head. Did this guy know who he was dealing with? Hunter rarely did serious.

  Jones gathered the letters and piled them with the latest one. “We’ve had the first three letters analyzed by forensics. The report came back yesterday. We know they’re printed off the same printer, with the same ink, on the same paper, and have been sent in envelopes from the same batch. But there are no fingerprints, no saliva, nothing. Makes it near impossible to track. The postmark on the letters is Manhattan-based. The letter you got today is addressed to your manager’s office, exactly like the others, but not posted. The person behind this knows what they’re doing and knew where to find you.”

  A chill slithered up Gemma’s spine, settling in the base of her neck. Speculation rattled her brain. Who could’ve done this? She glanced at Sophie; it couldn’t be her. She was gay. It wasn’t Bec; she ran their lives and was in love with Matty, her boyfriend of four years. Maybe it was someone here at the rehearsal studio who had lied. This wasn’t funny. She was paranoid enough without suspecting everyone she knew. God! If this kept up, she’d turn into a recluse.

  Jones leaned forward, pen poised over his notepad. “Gemma, is there anything unusual that happened in your whereabouts today?”

  Taking a steady breath, she smoothed her hand over Kyle’s thigh. She could feel every rigid muscle through his jeans. She didn’t need him to pick up on her own doubts. But touching him helped ground her, helped her sift through her mind. “I went to Nina’s dress shopping with my best friend and stylist, Kara. My bag was with me, in the same room, the whole time. When I came to rehearsal, Sophie put my bag in here. The only crazy thing that happened was when I arrived here, I waded through a group of fans. Maybe one of them slipped it into my bag without my knowing.”