by Cora Kenborn
“No, I—”
“You what, Phoebe? You thought it wasn’t a priority to inform me you almost gave birth in our house?”
“I didn’t almost…”
He stepped into the room, his palm still connected to the doorframe. “Or maybe you thought the minute Faith told me you were in a hospital I wouldn’t have to sit down before my knees gave out?”
“Julian, you don’t…”
Two more steps inside, and he stood at the foot of my bed, his body heaving with adrenaline. “Or didn’t you think the first thing that entered my mind was that I’d missed the birth of our kid? And maybe the next thought was if I lost you or the baby, they might as well kill me too? Because I’m nothing without you. Nothing, Phoebe.”
One look into his damp eyes severed my resolve. I struggled to rein in my composure. Hearing rustling, I knew without looking he sat beside me.
“Phoebe, how could you not call me? How…” He sniffed, his fingers lightly brushing through the hair matted to my cheek. The rough pad of his thumb caressed along my jawline. “How could you think it wouldn’t hurt to hear it from someone else?”
The rhythmic rubbing of his hand against my face erased all remnants of defiance. My body leaned into him as his other hand gently roamed over my stomach. The roundness filled his hand as if it were molded to his skin. But it was his voice that shattered everything.
“Don’t shut me out. Not when I need you the most.”
“Why do you care what I have to say now? You haven’t listened to me in weeks.” I stared at him, revisiting the argument we’d had relentlessly.
He cradled my face into his hands, the rough guitarist calluses on his fingers comforting my skin. “Come on, baby. You have to admit you’ve been a little paranoid.”
Before leaving New York, I swore I saw my father everywhere. At the park, at the recording studio, in restaurants…the list was endless. When we arrived in Los Angeles, the feeling of being watched got worse. Julian finally had enough and refused to hear anymore. It’d become a major source of contention in our relationship. Especially leading up to his leaving for the publicity tour. It was one of the reasons I didn’t call him. But I sure as hell wasn’t going to tell Faith that.
The elephant in the room now loomed over me.
Do I tell him about the broadcast?
One look in his pleading eyes, and I knew I couldn’t lie. “The movers dropped off the last of the boxes from Jersey, and I happened to catch the end of a news broadcast.”
“It’s just like New York, baby,” he interrupted. “You’ve got to tune it out, especially with all the gangs—”
“They found a girl dumped in Griffith Park yesterday morning, Julian.” When he didn’t react to my satisfaction, I knew the final piece of information would force it. “She had seven stab wounds to her stomach.” His entire body stiffened. “Still think I’m crazy?”
His eyes dropped as his breathing betrayed his conflicting emotions. I could see belief in his eyes, yet his silence refused to give validation to what we both knew to be true.
My father is in Los Angeles.
“Phoebe, are you sure it was seven? Did the anchor specifically say seven? People are stabbed all the time in Hollywood. This isn’t North Carolina.”
I stared at him incredulously. “Are you trying to convince yourself, or do you think I’m that stupid?” I rubbed my eyes and sighed. “I’m in a new city with no friends. I count on you to believe in me and make me feel safe. You’ve made me feel more alone than I’ve felt in a long time.” I swallowed the growing mass of fear in my throat. “I’m not sure what’s going on with you, and it scares me.”
“Phoebe…”
“Let me finish,” I pleaded. “I gave up my life for you, but you won’t let me into yours. I don’t ask for much, Julian. I know your career is demanding, and I respect that. All I ask is that you make me an equal partner in this…this…whatever this is we have.”
His breath fanned against my face as he tightened his grip on my cheeks. Familiar lips skimmed against mine as the heat of his skin melted the protective layer of ice I’d built.
“I love you.” His lips crushed me. The feeling of his hand weaving through my hair and his mouth fusing against mine made me weightless. Instinctively, my arms wrapped around his neck as my fingers brushed over his hairline, eliciting a low moan from his throat.
I should’ve stood my ground, but all I wanted to do was slide underneath him. He continued his assault, alternating between soft, gentle touches and frantic plunders. In between each one, his melodic, gravelly words washed over me.
“Missed you. Need you…” Given another minute, I’d welcome him back into my bed—even in a hospital, so I pulled away. He slumped his forehead against my chin. “Princess, what’s this about anxiety and contractions?”
“That’s what I was trying to tell you. After seeing the broadcast, I had an anxiety attack. This one snuck up on me, and I couldn’t control it.” I shivered, remembering the panic that hit after hearing the details of the murder. “It triggered some sort of false labor, I guess.” He sucked in a breath and winced. “Luckily, Faith showed up.”
“Yeah, about that…”
I glanced up. “You know too?”
“About those two? Crazy, huh?”
I ignored his comment. “They won’t admit it.”
Julian rolled his eyes and tilted his chin toward the door where they stood outside. “Friends, my ass.”
I shrugged and snuggled into him. “Let them have their pretend secret. I’m not condoning what Faith’s doing, but from what I hear, her husband’s a colossal asshole who sticks his dick in anything with a hole.”
“My fiancée is so demure,” he joked.
“You know damn well I’ve never been demure a day in my life.”
“I refuse to comment on the grounds that I don’t know the current coordinates of your stun gun, and I value my nuts.”
“Your nuts are safe. Our kid needs a sibling someday,” I assured him with a grin. We both laughed at my determination to carry a concealed stun gun in my possession, state laws be damned.
He nodded toward the monitor. “Is that sound the baby?”
I rested my hand on his arm as I listened to the soft swooshing sound. “Yes. The baby’s fine. I need to take it easy. I know I promise a lot of things I don’t do, but I promise you, Julian—I’ll protect this baby.”
He brushed his lips across mine again as the ghost dimple I adored sank deep into his cheek. “And I promise I’ll protect you. Now, I need to talk to the doctors so we can get you out of here.”
“Julian, I’ve told you everything already.” I furrowed my brow in confusion.
He grinned and bounced off the bed. “Yeah? Not everything. We’ve got hardcore making up to do. I have to verify with the powers that be you’re up for it.”
“Pig!” I screamed as he slammed the door. My smile quickly faded. We’d just made up, yet there’d soon be another fight.
As soon as Julian headed into the studio, I was headed to Griffith Park.
Chapter Four
Julian
After bringing Phoebe home and checking on her for the fifth time in half an hour, I rested my head against our bedroom doorframe and watched her sleep. A familiar fire in my body ached for her. The woman had a hold on me like no one ever had, but she needed rest.
I still had a hard time believing after all the bullshit in the last two years, fate had somehow intervened and handed me a dream on a silver platter.
Or wrapped in sheets, as the case may be.
Thoughts of going back on tour made me sick. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Protecting my family was crucial. Glancing at her long dark hair falling over the side of the mattress, I tightened my jaw and closed my eyes. I promised she’d be safe, and I’d failed miserably.
I reluctantly pushed away from the wall and walked downstairs, cursing my ignorance. I thought moving her across the country would give us an
advantage in getting ahead of the bastard. The band had talked about making the move to Cali for years, so it seemed like the perfect solution. Opportunities in New York were too limited, and our label, Circa Records, owned an office in Los Angeles.
It’d been hard to leave my manager. I’d been with Helena four years. She’d put up with a lot of shit from me following our bandmate’s death and my subsequent year of asshole antics. I refused to leave without a recommendation, so she’d given me the name of a new manager in LA with her best wishes. Soon, I’d be meeting with Kristina Graham of Graham & Associates Management Agency. Even the name sounded tight-assed. I hoped Miss Graham knew what the hell she was up against.
I barreled into the kitchen and flung open the refrigerator door. Snagging a beer, I popped the top with a flick of my wrist. Taking two lengthy drinks, I pulled out my cell phone.
Missed calls? None.
Why the hell did I pay people if they couldn’t fucking find him? His ass should’ve been the one dumped in Griffith Park—if not burning in hell. Cursing under my breath, I hit another speed dial button.
“Damn it, Bale, I told you I’d call when I knew something.”
“That’s not good enough. I need to know now.”
There was a pause as a door closed on the other end of the line. “I’m doing the best I can. There isn’t much to go on. It’s like trying to find Waldo in a crowd of goddamn Waldos.”
Pacing, I placed the bottle on the dining room table and palmed the back of my neck in frustration. “Hough, I’m leaving, and I’m no closer to finding this son of a bitch than when I got on the plane in Phoenix. I can’t leave her like this. Can’t you understand that?”
Detective Jaxon Hough of the NYPD lowered his voice. “Believe it or not, I can. I used to be married, remember?” A tired sigh overtook the line. “Look, I want to find him as much as you do.”
“I doubt that.”
“Don’t interrupt me. The man is a waste of air, and not only is it my job, I consider you and Phoebe friends. When someone threatens my friends, I take it personally.”
“Well, take it personal as fuck and find where the son of a bitch is hiding.” I sank onto the leather couch. I didn’t doubt him. Jaxon Hough helped catch my stalker in New York when I trusted no one. I just couldn’t remember the last time I’d slept and wanted to argue.
“Bale? You still there?”
“Yeah, I know. Don’t do anything stupid.” I finished his thought before he could form it. “I won’t be reckless, but I won’t be complacent. I’ve seen first-hand what he can do, Hough. He took a blade to his own daughter. She cost him his freedom, then I put a damn spotlight on her. He’s coming to settle the debt.”
“I’ve got the FBI on this now. Dalton won’t touch Phoebe,” he promised.
“What are you going to do, issue a restraining order?” I laughed. “I can give you seven reasons why you can wipe your ass with it.” I shuddered as the jagged scars on her stomach came to mind. Recalling our conversation in the hospital, I lowered my voice in case she’d woken up. “Look into the Griffith Park Merry-Go-Round murder from yesterday—”
“Julian, that’s not my jurisdiction,” he interrupted. “Call the LAPD, I’m sure they have way more information than—”
I clenched my teeth. “I don’t trust anyone in the LAPD. I trust you. I’m telling you, check deeper into the Griffith Park murder. Phoebe is convinced it’s Dalton’s handiwork. I downplayed it, but it’s right up that sick fuck’s alley.”
“I’ll do what I can.”
I knew I’d pushed him far enough. “Thank you. Call me anytime. I don’t care what time, I’ll answer.”
“You can’t keep her in the dark, Bale.” His tone shifted from friendly to authoritative. “Remember how well that worked with Tanna LeMyre?”
I resented him bringing up my stalker. I’d always regret keeping it from Phoebe. I came close to losing her over it, and I didn’t like it thrown in my face. However, he had a point. “She knows I’m concerned, and I’ll tell her when I know something concrete. Until then, I refuse to upset her and risk the pregnancy. I’ve got a kid to think about, Hough. You have a son, you get it.”
“Yeah, I get it,” he agreed reluctantly. “But I still think having her followed by shady gang members is a bad idea. It’s going to blow up in your face.”
He started to piss me off. “They’re not a gang. With a psycho like Daniel Dalton, you fight fire with more fucked up fire.”
“Man, you can’t keep her in a bubble. No way in hell will Phoebe go for that. I promise, let me break it down for her, she’ll understand and be careful.”
“You won’t break down shit for her, Hough.”
“She deserves to know what’s going on.”
“No. I can’t risk anything happening to her or the baby.” Anger quickly replaced fear. “You’re working for me on the side, right?”
“Right,” he grumbled.
“Which means you do as I say. Am I making myself clear enough for you, or would you like me to send you a fucking email?”
The voice on the other end dripped with ice. “Crystal clear. Don’t worry, Mr. Bale, I’ll do my job per your explicit instructions. Miss Ryan will be taken care of without her knowledge.”
“Was all that necessary? Don’t I have enough to worry about without being concerned about bruising your ego?”
“Man, I like you, but you’re being a real dick right now. Pack your shit, go on tour, and I’ll give you updates.”
Regret rolled through me. What the hell was wrong with me? Jaxon Hough offered insider police knowledge and a no-strings friendship, and I all but sucker punched him through the phone. The stress got to me, but Hough didn’t deserve what I’d dished out.
“Shit, I’m sorry, you know that—”
“I’ll give you updates. Have a good interview.” A click indicated the call had ended.
Great.
I’d managed to piss off the one person with intel. Brilliant.
Throwing the phone on the couch, I walked to the window and gazed outside. Somewhere out there, a psychopath who tried to gut his own child waited. The concept chilled me. I thought about the impending birth of my own kid. The intense love I already felt blew me away, and it wasn’t even here yet. How could a father torture his own blood?
Cursing, I lifted the bottle back to my lips, letting the room temperature liquid dull the thoughts haunting me. In the pit of my stomach, I knew he waited for the opportunity I handed him every time I left on tour—Phoebe tied up in a red bow.
The beer sloshed in my stomach, and I swallowed repeatedly to keep it down. Sighing, I flipped the cell phone over in my hand a few times before dialing the number I’d hesitated calling.
He answered on the first ring. “Yeah?”
I cleared my throat. “Hey, it’s me.”
“Uh-huh.”
“I need you to do me a favor, and I need you to not ask questions.”
“I’m listening.”
“Remember those friends you told me about last night?”
“Yeah.”
“I need you to call them.”
“What changed your mind?” I heard him take a drag off a cigarette and blow it out.
“I told you not to ask questions,” I hissed in annoyance.
“Well, what the hell am I supposed to tell them?”
“Tell them they’ll be paid well—more than well—to keep an eye on the house and Phoebe. If anything goes down, tell them to do what they do best.”
“Jag, you realize what they do best is illegal, right?”
“No questions, remember?”
There was a low sigh and a pause. “Okay, brother, I want you to understand something. When you tell them to do what they do best, they’ll do it. Completely and without consideration.”
“I get it.”
“Fine. I’ll call you when it’s done.”
“No, I don’t want to know about it. Just do it.” I didn’t give him a
chance to reply. Breathing heavily, I jerked the phone away and ended the call.
Everything I did was for Phoebe’s safety, so why did everything inside me scream to call Zane back and revoke the orders?
I couldn’t turn back now. Whatever it took to keep them safe was worth the risk. I turned back to the window and continued staring at the street. The vein in my temple pulsated and my head throbbed. Surely, I’d taken enough precautions and paid off everyone to have some semblance of peace of mind.
Surely.
***
I stiffened as she slipped her arms around my waist and trailed her fingernails down my ribcage. My breathing halted. A feeling of dread wafted through me.
“Baby, are you okay?” Her soft voice penetrated my shitty mood like an elixir. “You’ve been down here for hours.” I leaned my head against the top of her head and inhaled the familiar scent of her coconut shampoo.
“Yeah. I just have a lot on my mind.”
“Anything you want to talk about?”
For a fleeting moment, I considered telling her everything, easing the burden I’d been carrying. The minute I opened my mouth, I closed it. I couldn’t justify upsetting her. Especially with me leaving.
“No, I’m just thinking about the tour.” I faced her, and the smile she gave me sped my pulse as I took her in. Her dark, tousled hair fell randomly around her shoulders, and her crystal blue eyes weighed heavy with remaining fatigue. She seemed tired and worn. Her face reinforced my choices. “I don’t want to spend my last days standing here talking about me.”
A sly smile danced across her lips. “Oh? Want to take a walk?”
“Most definitely.” My smile widened as I stalked forward, backing her up as my hands guided her hips. “Just keep walking.”
She dropped an accusing eye toward my hold on her waist. “I meant outside.”
“Well, that’s up to you, princess. But the neighbors might talk.”
Her hand darted out, pressing purposely into my chest. “Maybe I don’t want to take a walk with you.”
I lifted a brow. “No?”
“Maybe I want to make you wait to take a walk. You know, something to look forward to.” Her mouth twisted in a grin so wicked, I was hard before she’d finished her taunt.