“True, but why would anyone do something so overt? Who would believe a person would do such a thing. Unless that was his goal?” Jasmine looked at the second crime scene photograph. The musician had been shot at point blank range in his car outside what looked to be a roadside bar.
“Exactly.” Jared tapped the table with his fingertips and looked from the documents to Davis. Jasmine allowed her mind to wander as her brother contemplated the organization’s involvement in the case. She had to admit, if Nelson was behind killing the people who were suing him, this brand of insanity might just work. He was worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Would he resort to hiring an assassin to take out people who were after his money? It was possible. She’d seen people killed for less. So, yeah, Mr. Music had a motive, and he had the means to hire the job out. As for opportunity? Hell, if he put out the contract, it wasn’t a stretch to believe the assassin would know when to take down the mark. Nelson could even dictate the times, so he had an alibi.
Jared pulled the photos closer and reached for the folder. “We’ll take it. You owe me, and believe me: I’ll collect.” Jared shook Davis’s hand before Jasmine shook the agent’s hand too. She couldn’t help noting the man looked relieved.
Jasmine gathered the remaining paperwork from the table while the men said their goodbyes and made a promise to meet up in D.C. when Davis was settled. She placed the files in her Dolce & Gabbana tote, grabbed her coffee cup and followed Jared out of the door. No more than ten minutes in the FBI’s office and everything she thought she knew about Chad Nelson had been ripped into confetti and thrown in the air. Someone was killing his enemies. Jasmine stood beside Jared waiting for the elevator and finished her cold coffee. She’d grab another one on the way out.
“J, I’m not going to the meeting with Nelson and his people. I have an idea.” Jasmine grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the coffee kiosk instead of toward the SUV. He chuckled and pulled out his wallet when she ordered for both of them.
Jared leaned forward. “How do you want to play it?”
She shook her head and waited until they both had their caffeine fix. “I have an angle, but I need a meeting with him, no reps, no lawyers, no managers, nobody. Just us. Can you arrange that?”
Jared nodded. “Yes, of course. What is the angle?”
“Get me the meeting tomorrow—late morning. I need to check into some things. I’ll lay it down for you tonight. If you don’t like it, we’ll push on with your plan, but I think I have a way to get into his inner circle. Seems to me Nelson is not the only one in that massive business machine of his that might profit from getting rid of these lawsuits.”
Jared stopped and gave her an appraising look. “Very astute, and I like the road you’re traveling. Alright. I’ll handle the meeting and make sure I get Nelson alone tomorrow. Call me when you have the logistics figured out, and we’ll hash out a way forward.”
“Fantastic, but I have a dinner date, so it will be before six or after ten.” She allowed herself a self-satisfied smile.
“Malaki?”
“Maybe.”
“Huh. Guess I’ll have to work on my methods of intimidation.”
She put on her sunglasses and pretended she didn’t notice his laughter.
Chapter Four
Chad drained the last of his coffee. His patience vanished along with the last dregs of the caffeine. “Tell me there is a reason I am awake, dressed, and sitting at a conference table at the ass crack of dawn.” Nobody spoke, but everyone cast furtive glances at each other. For Pete’s sake, the suits obviously had bad news to tell him, but it seemed none of them had the balls to give it to him. Fantastic. Man, he needed sleep. Coming down from the grind of the tour and the last concert was never easy. Add a sprinkle of a long-legged, dark-haired angel who had moves that rivaled Jason Statham, and it equaled an up-all-night insomnia fest. His eyes itched. The unexpected urgent meeting that couldn’t be put off was nothing but a gathering of the legal beagles and recording company suits. He glared at the corporate drones that circled the chrome and glass behemoth someone had the audacity to call a table. How many of these people did he actually know? He honestly couldn’t remember a single name. Sure, he’d seen and talked to several of the lawyers, but Robert Hawkins, the man he paid mountains of money to represent him, wasn’t in the room. Maybe this press of people was what he paid for. But this silent bullshit was for the birds. What in the hell was the purpose of him being here? Hell, he didn’t know, and it was too damn early to try to play mind reader. He dropped his face into his hands and rubbed his unshaven cheeks roughly before he sighed, “Alright. I’m out of here.” He started to stand.
That got one hell of a response. Every swinging dick in the room started to speak at once. Kirk, Chad’s road manager, personal assistant and long-time friend, put his fingers to his lips and shredded the air with an earth-shattering whistle. Huh, looky there. The suits can be trained. They shut up and gawked at Kirk like he’d grown three heads.
“Ladies and gentlemen, the man who pays your salaries asked you a question. My bet is you lawyer types have the scoop.” Kirk pointed to the man in the middle of the table. “Mr. Lawyer, answer Chad’s question, please.”
Well shit, he needed to give Kirk a raise. Chad swiveled his head to the pudgy jowled man in the three-piece suit. If the damn thing were white, he’d look like Boss Hog from that old show, The Dukes of Hazzard. His band watched a shit-ton of old TV shows on Netflix while they were traveling. He closed his eyes and rubbed them. Maybe he needed to cut back on binge watching 80s sitcoms.
Boss Hog cleared his throat. Chad opened his eyes and swept a disgusted look around the room before he leaned forward and waited for Boss to explain this shit show.
“Well, Chad, we are waiting for several more people to arrive. I understand they have been delayed. I can only give you the most basic details.” The condescending tone chapped his ass. Yes, he was raised in Tennessee. Yes, he had an accent and was country to the core, but he was also the man who built his brand. Enough of this shit.
“You know, that doesn’t work for me. As of last night, I’m done with my tour. I have interviews to prepare for, then I’m disappearing for a while to rest and write music. Either you tell me what the hell has your balls sweaty, or I’m out of here. In case you’ve forgotten, you work for me, I don’t work for you, nor do you dictate that I show up for a meeting that isn’t.” Chad changed his gaze to the record executives he saw huddling in the corner of the room against the wall. “Nor do you. My contract is being renegotiated as we speak. I have fulfilled all my contractual obligations. You don’t have any reason to be here. Spill the shit, or I’m rolling.”
“You can’t leave.” A slender man, all of maybe twenty-five years old, spoke up.
“Oh yeah? Watch me, Bubba.” This shit was over.
“I mean you can, but you shouldn’t. What your management team isn’t telling you is you are in danger. There is a situation, and it doesn’t appear like a simple stalker. There have been serious threats, Mr. Nelson, and you could be in serious trouble. Your management team has hired Guardian Security to oversee your safety. They have been delayed to coordinate with the FBI.”
“What’s your name, Bubba?”
“Lance Meade.”
“What do you do, Lance Meade?”
The kid turned red and gave a small laugh. “I… ahh… I’m an intern. Here for the experience. I’m in law school.”
Chad turned his glare to ten other suits at the table. “None of you have the balls to tell me what’s going on? I had to grab a clue from an intern?”
Boss Hog floundered, gaping at him before he turned a warning glare toward the kid with the balls. “Well, we didn’t want to worry you.”
“You didn’t want to worry me? That’s bullshit. You wanted to muscle me into whatever agenda you have built that will benefit you. I’m country, sir, not ignorant.” Chad stood and put his hands on his hips. “All right, gentlemen, it’s time to play hardball. I want all
the information you’ve got. You will brief me before the people from…” Chad looked at the kid again.
“Guardian, sir.”
“Right, Guardian, get here. As a matter of fact, Lance, be a good boy and go tell the secretary to make the wonderful people from Guardian comfortable when they get here. I’ll send for them when I have the entire story and not one second before.”
“But Chad, you don’t want to make this guy wait. He’s one of the most powerful men in the country, if not world. You could jeopardize their involvement,” Boss Hog squealed.
“Then you better talk fast.” Chad’s head whipped to the door at the sound of the deep voice. He couldn’t help the laughter that escaped.
“Dude, did they cast you for the next Men in Black movie?” The guy was decked out in all black—as were the four men who flanked him. Not a speck of color. Black shirts, ties, and suits. The badge and shoulder holster that flashed a matte black grip when the man unbuttoned his jacket and sat down sealed the bad-ass persona.
“I’m Jared King, CEO of Domestic Security for Guardian International.” Jared gave a wry glance around the table before he continued. “Your handlers have retained Guardian to protect you. We believe there is a credible threat against you, but we need to talk privately. Your minions are unwelcome and unwanted.”
Well, that set off another round of geese squawking. Good lord, the man caused a clamor. Chad motioned to Kirk and the man rent the air with another ear-shattering whistle. The man-in-black’s smirk turned into a genuine smile when the babbling ceased immediately.
Boss Hog cleared his throat to speak, but Chad held up a hand and silenced him. “Nothing. Not another word until we talk—alone.” Chad motioned toward the newly arrived MIB clone.
“Chad, you can’t do that. You need legal representation.” Boss Hog’s squeal made Chad’s shoulder’s raise around his ears. Sharp and flat at the same time and three octaves too high.
“Dude, I haven’t done a damn thing wrong, and there are threats against me. I don’t need a lawyer to complicate anything. Now you and your cast of thousands get out and don’t come back in here until I call you.” He motioned toward Kirk. “Get ahold of Millicent and get her down here.”
“Who is Millicent?” Mr. King, at least Chad thought that was what the guy had said his name was, asked as he leaned forward and accepted a folder from one of the other walking mountains he had with him. He watched the door shut behind Kirk, who was the last person out of the room.
“Millicent Wicker. She’s the president of my PR firm. Keeps me out of the news unless I want to be there. She’s damn good at her job. If this shit is going to blow up, she needs to be ahead of it.” Chad drew a deep breath and released it slowly, bringing his heart rate to a near normal level.
The man across from him nodded his head slowly and motioned toward one of his men. Chad started to ask the man who in the hell would want to hurt him when he was stopped with a raised finger. The motion shut his mouth and pissed him off at the same time. The man motioned toward the speaker phone in the middle of the table. That simple movement set two of his team into motion. One man unhooked the speaker phone and took it outside. Through the glass door that separated the conference room from the holding area, Chad watched as the phone was deposited rather unceremoniously on a couch in the hall. Another man unplugged wires and disconnected the huge television and computer system at the end of the conference table.
“I’m not a fan of monitored conversations.”
Chad shook his head and leveled a confused look at the man across from him. “This must be a serious threat.”
“While I am concerned about the threat to your safety, my primary concern will be to ascertain whether or not you are guilty of murder.”
Every nerve in his body clenched and he stopped breathing, waiting for the man to explain or laugh or something… “What?”
“The FBI thinks you’re implicated in not one, but two, murders.”
“Murder?” The damn FBI thought he’d killed someone? Well, he had… when he was enlisted, but hostile conflict notwithstanding, he hadn’t so much as made an aggressive move toward anyone in years. He stared straight at the man across the table who’d dropped that bombshell. The direct gaze said more than his words did. “You think I killed someone? That’s… how… what in the fuck is going on?”
The man smirked at Chad. “Not a murder, Mr. Nelson. Plural—two murders. Both were people who had lawsuits pending against you.”
Chad’s head whipped around to where the lawyers had been sitting and then back to Mr. King. “What? Who? What lawsuits?” Hell, he was being sued? Probably, it happened all the time. But… how… when… by who? How in the hell could someone think he’d do that? He shook his head and stared at the conference room table. He lifted his gaze and leveled it on King. “Dude, I swear on my daddy’s grave, I have never killed a soul that the government didn’t order me to kill. I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. Do I need to get a lawyer back in here?”
“You have that option, but right now you are not a suspect, more of a person of interest. My job here is to determine if you did, in fact, murder or hire the murders of Natalie Plate and Jarvis Colston.”
“Natalie? Nat is dead?” Chad wrapped his arms around his gut. Fuck, he was going to be sick. Now that he thought about it, he knew Nat was suing him. He also knew she didn’t have a leg to stand on. Well, according to his lawyers she didn’t. He’d forgotten all about the lawsuit she had against him.
“Executed. A bullet through her forehead.”
Chad closed his eyes and swallowed hard. His gut clenched tight, and he pushed back the rolling sensations that hit him. Thank God he hadn’t had anything to eat, or he’d have lost it. The FBI thought he’d killed the woman who’d given him his first recording contract. No… just… no.
“She gave me my break in Nashville. She got greedy. I fulfilled my contract. She didn’t have a case. I would never hurt her.”
“What about Mr. Colston?”
Chad pulled his eyes back to the man across from him. “Who?”
“Jarvis Colston. He was also suing you. He said you stole a song he pitched to you seven years ago.”
“Mr. King, I refuse to listen to other songwriter’s songs. My administrative staff returns all sheet music or tape submissions to the artists. All my music is my own. If he is suing me, it is without merit, and every piece of mail I get is logged, opened, photographed, and if it is music, returned with a delivery confirmation of the rejection. I never listen to submissions, and that’s a fact. I insisted on that clause when I signed my first contract. I don’t collaborate or sing other people’s music.” Chad dropped his head into his hands and took a deep breath. Of all the things that could have happened at this meeting… hell… how do you process shit like this? “What do I do?” Chad lifted his head and waited for an answer.
“Let me do my job. I’ll handle the investigation. If you’re guilty, I’ll prove it. If not, my organization will track down and bring in whoever is out there killing your enemies.”
“Enemies? Hell, man, enemies try to kill you. These people only wanted money, which I don’t fucking care about because I have more than I could spend in three lifetimes!”
“Exactly. Enemies try to kill you. You have legitimate death threats against you which my organization is also investigating.”
“So you’re what? You’re guarding me?” Chad was fucking lost. Murder, death threats… hell, when did his world turn into… this?
“One of our best security specialists will be assigned to you until we finish our investigation on the murders and the threats against your life. Until that specialist arrives, you will have a team assigned to protect you from whoever is stalking you.”
“Who would do that? Threaten me? Fuck, man, I just want to write music and sing.” God, please just give me one solid piece of information to wrap my head around.
“We don’t know. We have a profile, but undoubted
ly, it is someone with insider knowledge of your schedule.” Mr. King looked at his watch and opened the file. “We have a lot to go over, Mr. Nelson. This will be our initial interview. Everything you’ve said and are going to say will be a matter of record. As I stated before, at this time you are not a suspect. I will not be advising you of your rights unless you implicate yourself.”
Chad closed his mouth. Literally. He was lost in a tornado of emotion and information. “I don’t need a lawyer. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Jared King nodded and grabbed a Mont Blanc out of his jacket. “Alright, let’s start from the beginning.”
Chapter Five
Jasmine opened the door to the outer offices that Jared now occupied. Her brother’s team was still working at ten thirty at night. Reggie, one of the team members who had been with Jared longest, smiled at her and waved her through to her brother’s office. She peeked in to see Jared with his feet propped up on the desk. His view was fixed out the window, and his cell was against his ear. She crept in the door and stood silently, not wanting to interrupt his call. He must have caught her movement out of the corner of his eye. He looked over, did a double take and motioned her in.
“I’m sure whatever you decide will be fine.” Jared lowered his eyes as a smile crept across his face. “Babe, seriously, you have expert assistance. You’ve reached a consensus. Just pull the trigger and submit the request to purchase the buildings.” Jared listened for a moment, shook his head and laughed. “Christian, the money has been allotted. The buildings are structurally sound. There is enough room for expansion, and they are located in the heart of the area you are trying to reach. Pull the damn trigger.” Jared paused and glanced at Jasmine before his gaze focused out the window again. “Alright. I love you, too. See you soon.”
Jared hung up and turned back toward her. “What have you done?”
“What? You don’t like it?” Her hair was now streaked with dark red lowlights and lighter red-gold highlights. The length was cut in a new style with bangs. She’d altered her conservative makeup while channeling her twin sister. The results were rather dramatic.
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