“It took a while, but my lawyer found your real name through your ISBN.”
“I bought them before I decided on Kay Sutherland.”
“I like your real name better.”
“Yeah, well I like my privacy better.”
He raised his drink in agreement. His cell phone rang, the ringtone some country song. He glanced at the number before picking it up. “Yeah, Pops, what do you need?”
That sounded heartless.
“Again?” He raised his eyes to the ceiling. “When will you stop—it’ll have to be Tuesday. I’ll see you then.” He hung up, shoved the phone in his pocket, and returned to staring out the window.
Great, more silence.
She ran her forefinger over her thumb in tiny circles. “Can we listen to some music?”
“Don’t like the quiet?”
“Not particularly.”
“I’m not listening to pop.”
“Well, I’m not listening to country.” She crossed her arms and peered out the window.
After another two hours of the riveting sound of tires on the beat-up highway, Selena was relieved to see the exit to Los Angeles. As they entered West Hollywood, the skyscrapers of L.A. towered overhead, blocking out the sun and casting a permanent shadow over the city. She preferred the low buildings along Fisherman’s Wharf. “So what does your lawyer want from me?”
Tucker turned to her and smiled. “Not much. Just two million dollars.”
HE HAD TO BE JOKING. But the seriousness of Tucker’s expression told Selena otherwise. When the bodyguard opened the door for her, she stepped out of the limo. A monstrous building loomed before her, its large windows and dark metal façade reflecting the Los Angeles skyline. The sign for the restaurant on the bottom floor read Chaya Downtown. Selena nearly gagged from the odor that wafted out the door as she followed Tucker into the Japanese restaurant.
Ugh, seafood.
She couldn’t tolerate the smell, taste, or texture of seafood, let alone sushi. She walked along the concrete floor breathing through her mouth. The place was packed with people in back-to-back tables. Obviously, this was a great restaurant for those who liked raw, stinking fish.
The place was fairly classy. Thank heavens she was wearing a pair of work slacks, low-heeled sandals, and a red fitted blouse. If she’d been wearing jeans—oh who was she kidding? Tucker was wearing jeans, and no one seemed to notice him.
Which is odd.
Why weren’t people staring at the famous country singer? She glanced at his face to find him wearing a pair of dark glasses and chomping on gum. His mouth slanted sideways as he chewed it open-mouthed. He looked strange. Without his cowboy hat to draw attention and with that goofy grin on his face, why would anyone think he was a star?
Tucker had the dumb-ass act down perfectly. He’d even changed the way he walked. He’d erased that long arrogant stride, with his hands in his jean pockets and his thumbs hanging out, and replaced it with a slouching stroll that said he was going nowhere fast.
The bodyguard escorted her and Tucker into a private room in the back. As soon as the door closed, Tucker transformed back into himself. “Selena Hawkins, this is my lawyer, Robert White.”
“Mr. White.” The name contradicted his black suit, sparse black hair, and what seemed to be beady black eyes. Maybe they were just really dark brown, and her hyperactive imagination was getting the best of her.
The lawyer didn’t bother to get up. “Please have a seat, Miss Hawkins. Tucker, pour the lady some wine.”
“No, thank you.” Selena put her hand over the glass. No doubt the bottle of wine was as expensive as Mr. White’s shiny black suit. Water was all she planned to drink. She needed to keep a clear head.
Tucker didn’t sit. He stood with his arms crossed and one foot pointing toward the door.
Mr. White bit into a piece of shrimp bloodied with sauce and threw the tail into a saucer. “Your little book of poems seems to be a hit. However, the last one has put us in a bit of a bind.” His voice lacked the southern charm of his client’s.
“You’re worried about Tucker’s image?”
Creases formed between the lawyer’s brows for a split second. “You two have talked?”
“Yes, and I can’t imagine how this could possibly hurt Tucker. If anything, it should make him more popular.”
“I’m afraid not, Miss Hawkins. You see, we’ve spent a lot of time and money creating his image and dispelling the rumors. You’ve made people question whether the rumors are true again, and we need you to fix it.”
“It’s too late. It’s already published.”
“Go public. Tell people it’s not about Tucker. You used a couple of words that happen to resemble him and his music and that’s all.”
“I can’t do that. It would be a lie.”
Mr. White fell silent. He swiped at a piece of hair that had fallen from the comb-over he was using to cover his receding hairline and turned to Tucker for a rebuttal.
Tucker didn’t move, didn’t utter a word.
The lawyer’s dark eyes returned to hers. “The alternative will be much messier, Miss Hawkins.”
Selena crossed her arms. “And what alternative might that be?” As if she didn’t already know.
“It seems you’re costing my client a lot of money.”
“Two million dollars?” she shot back.
His hand paused on its way to his mouth. “Precisely.”
“How could I have affected Tucker’s sales that much?”
“I have very precise charts on Tucker’s sales projections. After your book released and your publicist’s strategic posts, Tucker’s sales started to lag. I’ve determined over the next five weeks, Tucker will lose over two million in sales if we don’t do something to reverse it.”
“And you plan to sue me if I don’t do what you want.”
“I see you’re a smart woman.” He smiled and licked his finger, like a cat that had just eaten its prey.
“I see you’re a smart man, Mr. White.” Selena clamped her hands together on the table and leaned toward him. “So let’s see if you understand this. If you take me to court, you will have to prove that what I’ve said is false. And you can’t do that, because your client has confirmed that everything I’ve written is true. I will then have to hire a lawyer, and I’ll sue for legal expenses. This is a lose-lose situation for you.” She hoped Tucker’s lawyer didn’t call her bluff. Like she had any money to hire a lawyer.
Mr. White leaned back, his superior smile turning into a grim line.
“I can see you understand.” Selena stood and walked out with her head held high, her shoulders back, and what she hoped was a look of confidence on her face. Inside, her stomach was churning.
She stepped out to the busy Los Angeles sidewalk, inhaling car fumes and not having a clue where she was. To top it off, she had no purse, no phone, and no way home.
Crap!
What was she going to do now? Should she go back in and ask Tucker for a ride, or find another way home? She walked to the corner, debating what to do next.
A seventies-era lowrider pulled alongside her, the bass so loud she turned toward it. The classic car was jet black, with windows tinted dark enough that she couldn’t see inside. Its chassis practically scraped the asphalt, and the bright silver rims of the tires continued to spin even when the vehicle came to a stop—right in front of her.
The window opened and the music went off. “Need a ride, sister?”
The small tattoo on her right shoulder was nothing compared to the tattoos—or maybe it was a single tattoo—that ran down the entire length of the man’s arm, the black ink contrasting sharply with his pasty skin. He wore dark shades and had a gold stud in one ear, making him look like a washed-up rock star twice her age.
“No, I’m good.” She forged a polite smile and started to step back from the curb.
He lunged out of the window, grabbed her arm, and pulled her toward the car.
ABOUT THE
AUTHOR
Award-winning author Jodi Ashland has an undergraduate degree in Management Information Systems from Pennsylvania State University and a Masters in Business Administration from the University of Washington. As a Navy brat, she moved around the world every few years before settling in the Pacific Northwest, where she now lives with her husband and children. Jodi loves spending time outdoors, including gardening, skiing, kayaking, hiking, and camping. During rainy months, she enjoys curling up with a great book or pounding the keyboard to get those pesky characters out of her head and onto virtual paper. You can visit her online at http://www.jodiashland.com.
Table of Contents
DEDICATION
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 20
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
CHAPTER 29
CHAPTER 30
CHAPTER 31
CHAPTER 32
CHAPTER 33
CHAPTER 34
CHAPTER 35
CHAPTER 36
OBSCURITY
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Synergy: New Adult Romantic Suspense (U-District, #1) Page 33