Synergy: New Adult Romantic Suspense (U-District, #1)

by Ashland, Jodi

  “Don’t call me that.” It wasn’t the word she minded, it was the derisive way he’d said it.

  He gestured to a limo idling at the curb. “You better come with me.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you. I don’t even know you.”

  “Sure you do, sweetheart.”

  She opened her mouth. How could she respond to that? What she wrote in the poem must be true.

  “If you’re not going to retract it, you need to speak with my lawyer. Unless of course, you want your lawyer to speak to my lawyer.”

  “Lawyer? I don’t have a lawyer.” Her voice faltered. He’d struck fear in her with that single word. Worse, she’d just let him know she didn’t have a lawyer. How stupid could she be?

  “We need to go.”

  “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

  “Look, you’re in deep water. Your publicist put out a few posts that all but implied your poem proves the rumors about me are true. We worked hard to put those rumors to bed.

  “Posts? Rumors? I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  “Let’s go.” He gripped her arm.

  “No.” She pulled away.

  His small step forward, the raise of his eyebrows, even his dilating pupils suggested loud and clear that Tucker Calhoun wasn’t used to having anyone say no to him. In a swift move, he reached behind her, locked the inside door, and pulled it shut. It was a childish maneuver, one an adolescent might use when he didn’t get his way, but he’d managed to lock her out of her own store.

  He leaned down and put his lips to her ear. “A couple hours of your time is all I’m asking for. It’s the least you can do for me.”

  He’s right. She’d done the unthinkable. Selena had never thought anyone would really read her book, let alone figure out that poem had anything to do with Tucker Calhoun. And Janet, how could she post things on the Internet after Selena’s own sister Katie had taken her life because of what had been posted for the world to see?

  He took a deep breath. When he let it out, his shoulders seemed to deflate. “The woman who wrote that poem isn’t afraid of me.” He put a finger under her chin and forced her to look into his eyes. The ones full of despair. “You aren’t afraid of me, are you, Selena?”

  She squared her shoulders. “Of course not.”

  He didn’t wait for a reply. He slipped into the back of the limo, next to which was an imposing guy, probably a bodyguard, holding the door open… waiting. Tucker had issued her a challenge, this man whom the entire world knew, but who didn’t know her. Yet he’d found her one true weakness.

  She never backed down from a challenge.

  “MISSING? WHAT DO YOU MEAN my sister is missing?” Detective Neal Hawkins dropped his feet from the top of his cubicle’s desk in the north Seattle precinct office and leaned forward in his swivel chair.

  Selena’s friend and co-worker, Rebecca, spoke so fast, it was difficult to make out all of the words. “I thought it was weird when the bookstore was locked during business hours. I mean, Selena would never do that. So I thought, maybe she was sick, but then I went back to the stock room and her purse was there and she was nowhere in sight. So, I opened her purse and found her car keys, and her wallet, and her cell phone.”

  Neal’s posture went rigid. “Her cell phone?”

  “I know, right? She’d never leave without her cell phone.”

  He pulled his phone out of his back pocket and checked for any messages from his sister. Nada. “Did you try her at home?”

  “Yes, she’s not picking up there either. I checked next door, and the owner said he saw her come in this morning.”

  “Did he see her leave?”

  “No, that’s just it. And worse, her book came in today. The boxes are in the back and opened. She’d already built a front-window display.”

  “That doesn’t make any sense. Are you sure the door was locked?”

  “Yes, I had to unlock the door to get in.”

  “Could she have accidentally locked herself out?”

  “I don’t know, maybe.”

  “What about Brenda? Does she know where Selena is?”

  “She’s camping this week. I tried her cell and left her a message, but I don’t know when she’ll call back or if she even has service.”

  Of course Selena’s best friend wouldn’t be available at a time like this. Neal swiped a hand down his face. Okay, this can’t be as bad as it seems. Selena had done something stupid and locked herself out of the store. That’s all there was to it. She was excited about her book, probably walked across the street to show someone, and accidentally locked herself out. This wouldn’t be the first time Selena had done something impulsive without thinking it through. “When did you get in?”

  “At eight.”

  Neal glanced at the wall clock. It was ten-fifteen. Selena had been gone for over two hours without keys, money, or a cell phone. “Could she be at one of the stores nearby? Maybe she wanted to show her book around?”

  “I’ve checked.”

  Neal wrestled between being relieved Rebecca was thorough and upset because the possibilities of where Selena could be were dwindling fast. “Have you checked her place?”

  “No, I was going to swing by at lunch. I still have a key from when she needed me to water her plants when she flew out to Seattle to visit you in the hospital.”

  “Close the store now and go see if she’s home or at one of the neighbors.”

  “But she’ll get upset if I close the store.”

  Neal shook his head. Was the girl really that clueless? “If she’s hurt, Selena won’t care if the store is closed.”

  “Right. Okay, I’ll go now. I’ll call you when I get there.”

  Neal slammed the phone down after Rebecca hung up.

  “What’s up, Hawk?” Riley, his partner, glanced up from his computer screen.

  “Selena’s missing.”

  “How long?”

  “Two hours.”

  Riley leaned back in his chair. “No cause for alarm.”

  “Her purse was locked inside the store. She doesn’t have money or a phone.”

  “She’s probably with a friend.”

  “Probably.” This was the first time Neal could relate to the numerous phone calls the office received for missing persons; parents or spouses thinking their loved ones were dead on the side of the road, abducted, or even murdered. Dispatch would get a doozy or two each day and share them at the water cooler to entertain anyone who would listen.

  This time, he wasn’t entertained.

  His sister was out there somewhere.

  Where would she go?

  Selena was excited about her book. She’d want to show it off to others. She always arrived at the store an hour before it opened. She’d want to share her excitement, but there would be no customers before business hours. So she’d walk outside, go to a nearby store that was already open. She wouldn’t want to leave the store unattended. So she’d pull the door closed, maybe lock it, and then realize she’d left her keys behind.

  Though Selena was in San Francisco and Neal was in Seattle, there were still a few things he could do from here, right now. He turned to his computer and typed the address to Selena’s bookstore into Google Maps. He hovered over the nearby businesses and called Lola’s Toy Stop, One of a Kind, Jackson and Polk, Yap Wraps, and Kara’s Cupcakes.

  One call after another was a bust. No one had seen Selena this morning. Two people mentioned seeing a limousine nearby, but didn’t know if it had anything to do with Selena. Suzie at the Ghirardelli Ice Cream and Chocolate Shop went on and on about how happy she was that Selena’s book was doing so well. It took him five minutes to politely end the call.

  Neal rubbed his left shoulder, the gunshot wound a bitter reminder of why he was sitting here filling out paperwork instead of working cases. He pulled out his keys and unlocked his desk drawer. The bottle of Vicodin sat there, still full. He reached for the ibuprofen instead and swallowed two wit
h his cold coffee.

  The clock read ten-thirty-three.

  Only eighteen minutes had passed since Rebecca’s call.

  Time was his worst enemy.

  Where the hell is Selena?

  “WHERE ARE WE GOING?” After two hours on the road, each sizing the other up, Selena began to worry when there was no destination in sight. Stupid of her to be asking the question now.

  Tucker didn’t seem the least bit worried. “We’re heading to Los Angeles.”

  “L.A.? That’s over five hours away.”

  “That’s where my lawyer is.”

  “You can’t take me all the way to Los Angeles.” Her voice rose an octave. “You’d said it would only be a few hours, not the entire day. This is kidnapping. Take me back now.”

  “Kidnapping?” Tucker rubbed the back of his neck and his left hand balled into a fist. “This doesn’t even come close to kidnapping. You got into this limo of your own accord. We’re going to Los Angeles to clear this up once and for all.” His words were forceful, final.

  “Fine.” Selena threw out her hand. “Give me your phone then.” To her surprise, he unlocked his phone and handed it to her. She’d expected him to ask who she was calling. He never did. He just leaned back and looked out the window.

  She didn’t quite know what to make of Tucker. He was hurting, of that she was sure. And he was angry with her for writing the poem about him. Of that, she was doubly sure.

  She never should have published that poem. It was one thing to write it for herself. Something about his anguish when she was feeling the same way seemed to help her at the time. Like she wasn’t the only one in the entire world lost without the one she loved.

  Writing her poems had been cathartic. Publishing them had been a way to finally get past her pain. But releasing the poem about Tucker had been plain stupid. She hadn’t planned on putting it in the book to begin with, but Janet had convinced her to do so.

  What was Janet up to? Was she using rumors about Tucker to help the sales of the book? The cowboy hat on the front cover made a whole lot more sense now.

  Selena felt the sudden need to make this right. But how was she going to do that? What did Tucker’s lawyer want? When she’d been standing outside the limo, deciding whether to go with Tucker, she’d told herself it was sensible to find out what the lawyer wanted from her.

  But the reality was that she went with Tucker because she was drawn to the man with the gorgeous gray eyes. Her life had been turned upside down, had all but come to a stop, until she’d written down her feelings. Her new book had brought meaning to her life again, but Tucker Calhoun brought something else to it entirely. Her body had thrummed with excitement and something oh so female when he’d stood before her reading her words in that velvety voice. She’d reacted to his song in kind, but now she was reading something else from him entirely. This man was lonely, and so was she.

  Tucker turned and caught her looking at him. For a brief moment, they just stared at each other. It wasn’t a harsh stare, no sizing the other up. His eyes were soft, understanding. Almost as if he understood her loss. He broke the silence. “You haven’t made your call.”

  “Oh, right.” She smiled and held up the phone to call Rebecca to tell her why she wasn’t at the store. Only problem was, Rebecca’s cell number had recently changed, and Selena had no speed dial to resort to. She dialed the store and was surprised when Rebecca didn’t answer. Selena waited and waited for the machine to pick up, but it never did. Stupid answering machine. She really needed to replace it.

  Finally, Selena called her best friend, but had to resort to leaving a message because Brenda was camping with her family. “Hey, it’s me. I’m on my way to Los Angeles with Tucker Calhoun.” Selena glanced at Tucker to see if he would object to her using his name. He didn’t seem to care. “Anyway, it’s a long story. I’ll tell you later. Can you call Rebecca and let her know I won’t be home until late tonight? I forgot my cell phone and don’t have her new number. Thanks, gotta go, bye.”

  She handed Tucker the phone and he slid it into the front pocket of his jeans.

  Selena realized that if Tucker had come from Los Angeles that morning, he had to have left for her place at the crack of dawn. “Why does my poem bother you so much?”

  “I have an image to uphold.”

  Normally she’d believe that, in a heartbeat. Of course one of the hottest up-and-coming country singers had an image to uphold. But once again, his eyes gave him away. “Worried that pain and vulnerability might make you look bad?”

  He turned to the window and clasped his hands together. “Something like that.”

  “I really didn’t think anyone would read my book, let alone know it was about you. Are you sure this is as bad as you think it is?”

  His head snapped in her direction. “It’s in the papers, on TV, and all over the Internet. Every commentator and gossip columnist is speculating about the woman I’ve lost. They’ve dug up my divorce, think that I—you know the rumors.”

  “No, I don’t.” She glanced down at her hands. She couldn’t tell him about Katie. “I don’t get on the Internet. No social media accounts, no email. I had to have my friend upload my book for me.”

  “You’re telling me you didn’t know the success of your book was because of the poem you wrote about me?”

  Selena shook her head. “I didn’t know.” Is that all people care about? Gossiping over who the poem is about? All of her heartache and loss was in that book, and all the readers cared about was the girlfriend of a country star. “I never should have published that book.”

  “You mean the poem about me.”

  “No, I mean the whole book. I should have known people would be so heartless. On the Internet, people say whatever they want. They don’t worry about hurting your feelings the way they would if they said it to your face.”

  The lines around Tucker’s eyes softened.

  Selena looked out the window and let the cars speeding in the other direction turn to a blur until she was looking and thinking about nothing. Her stomach started to grumble. She decided to help herself to a soda and poured it into a glass. The only thing she’d eaten that morning was yogurt and a banana.

  Tucker grabbed two pieces of ice and dropped them into her drink.

  “I didn’t ask for ice.”

  “Want me to take them back?”

  “No.” She pulled her drink out of his reach because she wouldn’t put it past him to lean forward and snatch them out of the glass.

  His intense eyes stared into hers as she took a sip. “So who’d you lose, your mother?”

  She sucked tiny soda bubbles into her lungs and couldn’t catch her breath.

  He grabbed the glass from her two seconds before she would have spilled it on his crotch, then handed her a napkin while her coughing fit continued.

  She stared at him, waiting for her breathing to return to normal. He actually looked concerned, which was surprising, given that he was willing to sue her, but apparently it wasn’t okay for her to choke to death.

  He remained silent.

  She hated silence. Silence gave her too much time to think. And whenever she did think, she’d think about Katie, and the guilt, and the pain. She ran her finger up and down the condensation on the side of the glass. “It was my younger sister.”

  He gave a slight nod.

  “I had a hard time with it. She was my best friend. My old boss gave me a journal, said it would help. I stared at it for days, not knowing what to write. Then one morning I woke up with words swarming in my head. I spewed them out as fast as I could, and when I read them back, I realized it was a poem, about my sister.”

  “It helped?”

  “Yes, the pain in my chest”—she put her fist to her heart—“seemed a little lighter.”

  His eyes locked on her fist. Normally she’d be annoyed with a man who stared at her chest, but Tucker wasn’t here. He was somewhere else… with the woman he’d lost.

  She le
aned over to the window. They were in the carpool lane of I-5, hauling ass compared to those in the other lanes. When she sat back, suspicion swirled in his foggy eyes.

  “I break women’s hearts every day. You’re the first to write a poem about me.”

  “I don’t have a crush on you, if that’s what you think.”

  “I’m getting that impression. Then why’d you write it?”

  She wasn’t sure if she should respond. Maybe telling him too much would give him ammunition to use against her.

  He leaned forward. “I won’t tell anyone.”

  “Not even your lawyer?”

  “Not even him.”

  Should she trust him, this total stranger? Something about Tucker made her think she could. Neal was always telling her that she was too trusting, too naïve, but she had to follow her gut. “About two months ago, a friend of mine said she was tired of me being depressed, that a year and a half was enough, and she dragged me to a concert.”

  “I wasn’t on tour.”

  “It was the Summer Nights special that CBS recorded in Las Vegas. Her uncle works for the network and knows she’s a huge country fan.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “I prefer pop and alternative.” His bleak expression suggested he was into pop music as much as she was into country. “Anyway, you sang Come Back to Me, the most beautiful song I’d ever heard. Something in your voice spoke to me.”

  His brief smile faded.

  “And then I heard it again when my friend recorded the concert on TV. I understood your pain.”

  “And so you wrote the poem.”

  “And so I wrote the poem.” She wasn’t about to tell him she’d watched the recording about a dozen times, or that his words had haunted her dreams. “My friend Brenda found my journal one day and read it before I had a chance to stop her. She said I should get it published. I just laughed, because I’d tried to get two novels published before and that came to nothing. Then she suggested self-publishing. What did I have to lose? So I did it under my pen name, Kay Sutherland. Which reminds me, how did you find me?”