A Little Night Music

by A. E. Easterlin

“Red. A nice, mellow Cab,” she answered, as he sent her away with a slap on her bottom.

  The sting brought a smile to her face. Not because it hurt but because of the tingly things it did to her girly parts. She was so, so gone. One touch and her mind and body belonged to him.

  “I saw that,” he called as she left the room.

  She cast him a flirtatious glance, her buoyant step making his smile broaden in approval.

  Somehow, they’d make it. Slay the dragons and grab hold of the happily ever after.

  They had to.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kate leaned her head against the back of the tub. Nothing like a bubble bath before a big night to calm the nerves. God, she hoped everything went all right. So much hinged on the amount of money they were able to raise.

  Cash had certainly done his part to put her in a good mood. It still amazed her that it took only one glimpse of him and her heart pounded. One whiff of his cologne and she felt warmth spread throughout her body. He was an ardent lover, the physicality of his lovemaking expressing the depth of his feelings as much as the sweet and sexy words he whispered in her ear.

  She picked up her cell. Two hours until the cocktail party. She’d bought a new dress just for Cash. He swore that with his new glasses he could see far more detail than before. Of course, if he couldn’t appreciate the visual, she was amenable to letting him “see” with his usual tactile method.

  Kate heard the door to the apartment close, and then the bathroom door opened.

  “Hey, beautiful, I’m back,” Cash said as he came to squat by the tub. Kate felt the familiar zing and throb when he leaned in for a kiss. “You ready for the big night?”

  “Yeah, I think I am. Actually, I’m looking forward to it and hearing Allison play.”

  “It’s an experience, that’s for sure. She sends her regards and says to tell you she’s anxious to meet you.”

  “As I am her.”

  Cash began unbuttoning his shirt with a wicked grin. “Got room for me in there?”

  She scooted forward, giving him room to squeeze in behind her. “Only if you wash my back. I always have a hard time reaching between my shoulders.”

  “Aren’t you lucky to have a big, strong man who specializes in soft shoulders to take care of you?”

  At his first touch, Kate caught her breath. “Lucky doesn’t begin to describe it.”

  ****

  Kate glanced around the cocktail reception that night. The affair was strictly black tie, with every mover and shaker in the city in attendance. Some of the attendees would meet Allison at a private dinner at ten o’ clock. For others, this was their opportunity to get up close and personal with a celebrity in the arts. Quickly hemmed in with anxious fans, she was gracious and smiling through the entire hour. Kate bit back a grin. The evening was already a success, and Allison hadn’t even played a note yet.

  She wasn’t surprised at Allison Miller’s popularity. The woman had genuine star quality and was amazing with people. Friendly, warm, down-to-earth. They loved her and she loved them. Kate glanced around the room. The champagne lifted everyone’s spirits, and the decibel levels increased as the hour drew to a close.

  Kate and Allison smiled and posed for the camera, their arms wrapped around each other like old friends, and she couldn’t help but feel she’d met a soul-mate in Cash’s dedicated friend. Tonight would be front page news on TV and the paper. Great publicity.

  As Kate maneuvered through the crowd, she began to feel uncomfortable with all the people closing in. It was hard to describe. Of course, as one of the organizers of the evening, the press and attendees would all want to speak with her. But her intuitive reflexes kicked in. This feeling was different, strange, almost a feeling of malice. She looked around the room. Everyone seemed to be having a good time, and security had checked for weapons, etc. as was required at such an event. Surely no one wished her harm.

  One of the photographers kept following Kate, snapping constant pictures from every angle, herding her toward the edge of the crowd. She searched for Cash. He was on the other side of the refreshment table talking with Brodie Miller.

  “Excuse me.” She elbowed through the foursome standing in her periphery. If she could only get to Cash. It was probably nothing, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right.

  She had almost made it to Cash’s side when the pesky photographer got right in her face and took a picture.

  When Cash noticed, he immediately put his big body in front of Kate, and shot the man a pointed glare.

  “Back off, buddy. Press is over there.” He pointed to the cordoned area at the entrance to the room.

  Kate glanced over her shoulder and met the angry stare of the photographer. There was something familiar about his eyes, but Cash didn’t give her an opportunity to linger.

  The photographer backed away, and she lost sight of him for the moment.

  She, Allison, Brodie, and Cash formed a line as the patrons took sips of their drinks and handed them to the servers. Each one got a handshake and a personally autographed program for the night’s event.

  Allison had barely forty minutes before taking the stage, and she hurried to her dressing room to rest and freshen up. Cash followed Kate around with his hand firmly attached to her elbow. Too many people; too difficult to watch. The determined photographer wasn’t in sight, so she focused on working the crowd. There was so much to do.

  ****

  A concerned frown crossed Cash’s brow. Kate was tense, and so was he. The sixth sense of a trained soldier kicked in. They were being stalked. He nodded to passing concertgoers with a plastered-on smile as he surveyed the crowd for Ragusa’s men. Some in uniform, some in plain clothes, they, too, were keeping a keen eye out for Burgess.

  Yeah, he was here, all right. Cash could smell him. Loitering somewhere in the crowd, waiting to make a move on Kate. Too bad, asshole. He wouldn’t let her out of his sight.

  As soon as they reached the lounge area, he sat next to her, silent, totally concentrated on the next four hours.

  Rush and Jake would both be with them in the VIP box. If Burgess tried anything, he’d have to put down three well-trained former Army Rangers. He didn’t think Burgess would be up for that.

  He and Kate would join Allison and Brodie on stage after the performance, and Kate planned to say a few words to the audience. It was after, during the time the women would leave for the five-hundred-dollars-a-plate private dinner that had Cash worried. Jake and Brodie would go in a limo with Allison. Rush and Cash would ride with Kate. But anything could happen on the road.

  Eight o’clock. Show time. Allison Chandler was magic under the spotlights. She curtsied and spoke into the microphone to thank the audience for attending, expressed her support for Stars of Hope, and took her place at the keyboard. Hands poised above the ivories, she had the audience holding their collective breath in anticipation.

  And then…

  Cash heard the totally American sound of George Gershwin’s “Rhapsody in Blue” fill the night. Steely rhythms, elements of ragtime, Charleston, tin-pan alley, even Cuban clave. The music a kaleidoscope of America with its metropolitan madness. God, Allison was a genius. The crowd was enraptured when she hit the broad, sweeping section that was the hallmark of the piece, ahs and oohs of appreciation swept through the listeners like the celebratory wave at a football game. What an experience.

  At his side, Kate sat entranced, oblivious to the meandering of the stage hands and the incessant snapping of photos from the press gallery next to the orchestra pit. One guy in particular seemed focused on Kate rather than Allison. The creep who had followed her like a shadow at the cocktail reception. What was his problem? If the man had the slightest resemblance to Burgess, he’d be on him like white on rice.

  Allison ended the piece, stood and took her bows, and gestured for Kate to join her on stage. A follow spot lit her way, with Rush and Cash trailing in the shadows. Cash handed Kate a bouquet of
red roses to present to Allison and stepped aside, alert for any movement beyond the seating.

  From somewhere in the crowd a chant began. “The ‘Moonlight.’ Play the ‘Moonlight.’ ” Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata”—Allison’s signature piece, always requested.

  Allison took the microphone from Kate. “You’d like to hear me play the ‘Moonlight Sonata?’ ”

  A roar rippled through the crowd.

  “Then I have a proposition for you,” she continued, as her body turned in a slow circle to encompass all of the audience. “I’ll perform the ‘Moonlight’ on one condition.”

  A moan went through the stadium, and Allison laughed good-naturedly.

  “Come on…one little condition. But first, a story.”

  Again, a groan from all around. She grinned. “Short and sweet, I promise.”

  “Heroes come in all shapes and sizes. Men and women, sometimes even children, they make sacrifices most of us can only imagine. They don’t complain, they just do what must be done. Heroes endure, take the next step, achieve the impossible, expect no reward. Stars of Hope meets heroes such as these men and women every day. You and I only rarely. One such family is being honored here this evening. But this family is facing a unique challenge. One which we—all of us tonight—have the ability to help them meet. The family lost their father—he was severely injured in Afghanistan and came home to heal. He was awarded two bronze stars for his heroism on the battlefield but lost the final battle while here at home.” The crowd ah’d.

  “The mother fights her own battle with breast cancer.”

  Another sympathetic, “Ah.”

  “This hero needs us, this family needs us. Stars of Hope needs us.”

  “If you wish me to play the ‘Moonlight,’ it would be my privilege to do so. But it will cost you. At the exits, you will find wooden collection boxes. As you leave tonight—if you enjoy my ‘Moonlight’—I am charging an extra five dollars per person, or per family, whichever is applicable. Honor system if you want to participate. That’s my offer. What do you say?”

  Again, the crowd roared. Cash glanced around. The photographer had disappeared.

  Allison’s performance was magnificent, as he expected, standing ovation and all. Kate made her way to Allison’s side. Two beautiful women, giving of themselves to help others. A warm glow pushed aside his anxiety. If he could just get her safely home… He had a bad feeling something was going to happen.

  Brodie and Jake rushed Allison from the stage and into a waiting limo to head to the dinner. Cash and Rush linked Kate’s arms through theirs and followed closely behind.

  Just as Kate reached the end of the hallway, the obnoxious photographer stepped in front of her, blocking her way. The flash of his camera blinded her. She stumbled, and the camera hit her shoulder, hard. Cash couldn’t get to her fast enough. She went down. The edge of the camera must have hit her arm.

  Almost at her side, Cash heard the man say, “I’m so sorry.” He sounded sincere, but Cash didn’t buy it. Something was off—very off—with this guy. He was fixated on Kate.

  “Rush,” he called his friend, who came immediately to their side.

  He grabbed Kate’s elbow and steered her toward the exit.

  “Are you hurt?” Cash asked as he hurried her along.

  “I don’t think so. Who was that photographer?”

  Cash opened the door to the Suburban and scooted in beside her. “You okay? Let me see your arms.” Bruising was beginning to darken her pale skin. “It’s not bleeding. That idiot should have been more careful.” He turned to Rush.

  “Did you notice his press pass? See what publication he worked for?”

  Rush shook his head. “Nope. Too busy trying to keep your girl on her feet. He does seem to be everywhere we are. We might check the security feeds, just to be safe.”

  “Being everywhere we are is his job,” Kate said. “Let’s don’t irritate the press. The better the publicity, the more money we have for the kids.”

  Rush and Cash shared a loaded glance. They’d be on the lookout for this guy. That was their job.

  Cash worried all the way along the route from the stadium to the restaurant.

  “This is a lousy part of town,” Rush observed.

  They drove through a deserted warehouse district, not for long, only a few miles, but it was dark and uninhabited. Enough that it put both men on edge. To make matters worse, a late night shower pelted the windshield and cut down on visibility.

  Cash glanced at Kate; she must be exhausted. Her head lolled against the seat and bounced as the driver hit a rough patch on the road. Rush sat forward, peering out the window. The rain pelted the roof of the SUV, the storm worsening. Cash noticed the driver peering into the rearview mirror. He had a bad feeling—his soldier’s sixth sense kicking in again.

  Suddenly, a whining zing came from nowhere to end in the sound of metal hitting metal, closely followed by three consecutive pops. He’d know that sound anywhere—gunfire. The left rear tire exploded, shaking the big SUV from side to side. It careened off the concrete curb, sliding on the rain-slicked asphalt surface.

  Cash couldn’t see a thing but automatically grabbed for Kate. Her body slid to the side as Rush reached to right her from his position.

  It happened in the space of a moment but seemed in slow motion. They hit something that propelled the vehicle skyward.

  “Kate!” Cash wrapped his arms around her. Rush threw his body between her and the rear of the front seat. The men held tight as the Suburban rolled. Glass splintered as the driver was ejected through the front windshield. Cash hit the roof, stunning his neck, sending sharp pain shooting down his back and arms. He momentarily lost his grip on Kate, and desperately felt for any part of her body to hold on to.

  Rush seemed to lose consciousness, tightly wedged between the console and Kate. She hadn’t spoken, had given no cries of fear. Silence. Horrible silence. Cash narrowed his gaze and made an effort to focus.

  The SUV came to rest on its right side, the smell of oil and gas wafting up through the twisted metal, the sizzle of dying electrical connections sparking, then fading as the truck settled. Rush was unconscious. Kate, too. Cash shook his head, attempting to clear his mind, and heard the door being pried open. As he turned toward the figure outlined in smoke, the familiar metal stock of an AK-47 came his way and connected with his chin.

  He heard the snap of metal against bone, felt the agony, then…blackness. His last cognizant thought was the name of the woman he’d sworn to protect.

  “Kate.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kate opened her eyes cautiously. Pain. It hurt. Where was she?

  As she gradually came to, she tried to touch her forehead—she had one hell of a headache—but she couldn’t lift her hand. She couldn’t move at all. Her body was strapped to some sort of gurney.

  What had happened?

  Where was she? Where was Cash? Rush?

  The blurry image of a man hovered over her. She squinted as she tried to make out his face, and as he came closer, fingers of ice-cold fear clutched her heart.

  Clark. He’d found her. He had her.

  For a moment, she was paralyzed with the realization. She had to get a grip, pay attention. This wasn’t the Clark of old—even at his most selfish, he hadn’t been cruel. This Clark was a devil. There was no doubt in her mind he meant her harm.

  “Clark,” she croaked as her stomach rolled and bile clogged her throat. She swallowed, fighting against the nausea and confusion clouding her brain. “Where are we? What’s happening?”

  His menacingly handsome face came into focus as his hand smoothed the hair from her face. “It’s okay, baby. You’re with me now. You’re safe. There was an accident, but you came out of it just fine.”

  “An accident?”

  She tried to sit but felt the pull of something buckled around her wrists, and began to struggle.

  Am I hurt? Is that why I’m tied? I remember getting in the c
ar with Cash and Rush…I felt so tired. I couldn’t keep my eyes open. Her head felt so fuzzy, it was hard to think.

  “You’re going to be just fine. I’m going to take care of you. It’s good you were sleeping. Your body being relaxed helped protect it in the crash.”

  “Cash? Rush?” Again she tried to sit up. “Are they all right?”

  “They’re fine, baby.”

  His voice sounded strange, and she narrowed her eyes, trying to bring him more clearly into focus. “Clark, what are you doing here, and why am I with you? Did you call an ambulance?”

  “No need. Now that we’re together again, you’re going to be just fine.”

  Her hands jerked against the restraints. “Clark, please, take them off. Why did you put these on me?”

  “I just didn’t want you to fall off the gurney. If you promise to be good, I’ll remove them. You’re going to be a little woozy for a few hours yet. Don’t worry, everything’s going to be okay. Clark’s going to take care of you. When you’re feeling stronger, we can get out of this place. We can go home.”

  “Home? What are you talking about?” One of them was very confused.

  “To our home. You’re going to love our house. I’ve got it all fixed up just the way it used to be—our furniture, the paintings. All your favorites. I saved everything. It’s going to be just like it was before.”

  Was he crazy? Why couldn’t she think straight? What was he saying—taking her back to their home, recreated, like a movie set in some crazy horror flick?

  That’s when reality began to sink in. Clark. The gunshots. The rollover accident. Rush unconscious and Cash dazed, hurt, calling her name.

  She was in the hands of a madman.

  Kate closed her eyes, willing herself to stay calm, controlling her panic, forcing her features not to reflect her terror, when all she wanted to do was scream for Cash to come and get her—to save her from this lunatic.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Clark.” She made an attempt to reason with him. “Our house is gone. We don’t live together any more. You didn’t want me, remember? You said you couldn’t handle it—my illness, the scars from the surgeries. You brought me home from the hospital and left.”