And the lingering hum of fear of collateral damage. Ruby Jane had called Knox with an update on the Bryant League. According to her, the two men in the photo had vanished, which meant they could be anywhere.
Not necessarily Vegas, but…
“There he is!”
Knox turned to the voice and spied Rafe, limping just a little as he walked down the corridor. Katherine, his wife, and little Tori were with him, and when Tori saw Knox, she broke into a smile and a run.
He scooped her up, amazed at how easy it was to sink into the idea of having his own beautiful, dark-curly-haired daughter. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Are you here to see the Yankee Belles?”
He put her down. “I guess so.” He tried to keep a smile, but oh, yes, this night would hurt.
“Still walking?” he said to Rafe.
“I’m going to be on ice for a month, but thanks. I’m just glad to have lived through it.”
Katherine gave him a hug, kissed his cheek, leaned back, her eyes warm. “How did things go in New York City? Did you find what you needed?”
“Yeah, thanks for the introductions. Detective Rayburn was a big help.”
“He helped me track down Rafe years ago when he tried to hightail it out of town after crashing into my hotel.”
Knox looked at Rafe. Who lifted a shoulder. “It really wasn’t my fault. But I did get the girl, so…”
And Knox knew Rafe didn’t mean for his words to pinch, but…shoot, why couldn’t he get the girl?
Rafe stepped up beside him and looked at the assembling crowd. The pre-music was still playing, a giant disco ball lowered from the ceiling, the floor of the arena crowded as the audience was let in. A giant black stage now jutted from the side of the arena, massive speakers and spotlights angled around to hit the metal rafters.
Only the lights from the hallways would be lit once the concert started, which meant he could hide in the back.
Wow, he was pitiful. Maybe he should just leave, pull the Band-Aid off fast, live with the fact that Kelsey really meant her words.
I’m just trying to be honest, Knox. It can’t work.
“I can’t believe our little plan paid off. I thought for sure it was a long shot—bringing Gordo back and me riding him. And it looks like the Yankee Belles will be a hit.” Rafe turned to him. “So all we need now is for you to say yes as our Director of Livestock.”
Knox nodded, looked away. Not if he had to endure this every night. “I’ll let you know,” he said, glancing up at Rafe.
Rafe considered him a moment, then, “You know, I can study a bull, watch his moves, even feel his breathing and how he stands in the gate to get a sense of how he’ll buck. But then, I just have to let go and let the instincts take off. Let the bull take me where he wants—and just hold on.”
Knox stared at him. “Is that some sort of metaphor for, Take the job, Knox?”
Rafe grinned. “Or maybe, follow your instincts, hold on, and don’t let her go?” He patted Knox on the arm and held out his hands for Tori and Katherine. They headed into the arena.
Knox stayed in the periphery, wishing he knew what instincts to hold on to. Because half of him wanted to run.
The other half couldn’t move, especially as the lights dropped. As the familiar a cappella voices lifted, as the Belles walked onto the stage in the dark, their song haunting and beautiful, the blend of female voices finding his soul.
The drum rolled, the lights came up, and there she was. Her beautiful hair was down, curled in soft waves around her face. She wore a white shirt, and her legs looked about a mile long in her cutoff shorts and fringed boots.
No, he couldn’t trust his instincts at all, because the strongest one told him to rush the stage and take her in his arms.
* * *
So sweet bull-doggin’ man, take me home tonight
Sing me a song, pull the stars from the sky
Make me believe your words, that everything will be all right.
Cowboy don’t lie—Take me away and make me fly.
* * *
He should leave. Right now. But just watching her up there in her element, wooing the audience, had lifted his heart right from his body. He’d even stepped out of the hallway, into the darkened crowd, as if pulled by her voice.
They finished their first song to the screams of the audience, then Kelsey took the mic, waving, introducing the band, then diving into the next song.
He knew them all. The one about the high school crush, the high energy songs everyone liked to sing along to. His gaze began to roam the crowd, landing on the security guards posted in the tunnels. Four tunnels plus the one behind him. Tate was probably backstage.
He barely noticed when the song ended and Kelsey took the mic. “We’re changing things up tonight. I usually sing the song written by Glo Jackson, but tonight, she’s going to take the mic for that one, and I have something new for you.”
One of the stagehands brought a stool out onstage. Kelsey sat on it and picked up the guitar from its stand, slipped it over her shoulder. Took a breath.
“This is actually the first song I’ve ever written. See, up until recently, I couldn’t write songs…too much stuff on the inside holding me back, I guess. But I realized that I was tired of my past cluttering my future, so…anyway, once I figured that out, this song sort of came out.”
She let her pick strum along a few chords.
His gaze landed on a security guard in the lighted tunnel closest to him. He wore the dark pants and white shirt of arena security, but something about him…
“This song is for all those who want a second chance at their first love. Who wish they’d said something differently, maybe turned around and tried again. Who realize that they made a mistake…”
He tore his gaze off the man and back to Kelsey, so sweetly sitting on the stool, her knees drawn up. He could picture her sitting across from him at the family campfire.
She looked up then, as if searching the audience, and his breath caught.
What if—
No. She was just performing, acting like—
“I can’t see beyond the front row, but…Knox Marshall, if you’re out there… This is for you.”
He couldn’t move.
She began to strum, adding a beat with a thump on her guitar body and moving slightly to the rhythm. Looked up at the audience, her eyes clear and full. Then leaned into the mic and released her beautiful voice.
* * *
He said hold on to me, and don't let go
Don’t be afraid, don’t say no.
Hold on, lean in
What if I said yes, what if I believed
What if I reached back until I could see
That my tomorrow was with you.
* * *
He couldn’t breathe, his chest so tight he thought it might simply close in on him.
Kelsey.
She hit the chorus, and his eyes freakin’ welled up.
* * *
My mind said no.
My heart said yes…
My mind said whoa…
My heart felt his caress.
Hold on, lean in
* * *
He couldn’t tear his eyes off her, but something in his periphery buzzed his attention away, just for a second.
The security guard. He held—
The man had a rifle. And maybe that wouldn’t have stunned Knox if he hadn’t seen the tattoo—a swastika between his eyebrows—hadn’t recognized the scar across his chin.
No. What—?
He swiped up his phone and pushed through the crowd toward the platform that ringed the arena, his eyes on Vince Russell.
He speed-dialed Tate, who of course didn’t pick up. “Tate, I’m here, and so is Vince Russell. The jerk isn’t dead—”
Someone jostled him, and he dropped the phone.
But he left it, refusing to take his eyes off Russell who had stepped into the shadows, climbing up the steps.
&
nbsp; Probably to send a well-aimed shot into Kelsey’s head.
He started to run.
* * *
He said don’t cry, honey, you’re safe with me
My love, babe, can set you free
Hold on, lean in
* * *
He broke through the crowd. “Russell!” He hoped his voice rose above the song, hoped that Russell heard him enough to stop, to know he’d been spotted.
* * *
What if I said yes, when he asked to dance
What if I reached out, grabbed hold of his hand
Said my tomorrow was with you.
* * *
It worked. Russell popped up on the far side of the wall, and for a second, Knox’s body shook with the image of Russell aiming into the crowd.
But the man jumped the wall and took off down the corridor.
Yeah, run, buddy, because I’m comin’.
Knox broke through the crowd and took off.
Russell’s footsteps pounded down the hall, and Knox glimpsed him headed toward the exhibit area.
Which led into the cordoned-off backstage.
Nope.
Knox sprinted down the hallway, past the concession stands, the T-shirt and souvenir booths. No one seemed to care about his pursuit until he realized that Russell was wearing a security uniform. Probably people were simply staying out of his way.
“Call security!” he shouted to a hot dog vendor.
He rounded the curve of the building. Russell had vanished.
The exhibit area was lined with rows and rows of stock—calves, steers, quarter horses, and bulls. But Gordo’s pen sat in the middle, set apart from the rest beside a sign with a listing of his legendary accomplishments.
A row of sheep pens bumped up to the temporary wall that led to the backstage area. Knox slowed, giving a cursory search for Russell.
Certainly Tate had posted guards at the backstage entrances.
He stopped at Gordo’s pen. The animal stood in the middle, staring at him through the bars, dark, glassy eyes in his. Knox was breathing hard, searching for security. Please.
“I know you.”
The voice emerged from behind Gordo’s sign.
Knox stepped back, on the other edge of the ten-by-ten pen. The shooter held his rifle on Knox, and he wasn’t a weapons expert, but the thing had a scope, a handgrip, and looked like a semiautomatic.
Thank You, God, that Russell hadn’t pointed at the crowd.
“And I know you, Vince Russell,” Knox said. He lifted his hands, more instinct than surrender, something he’d do to calm Gordo.
The animal grunted, shifting to stand between them.
“You came to see AJ. Tried to scare him,” Russell said, a slight accent to his voice. His dark hair hung uncut and greasy, tucked behind his ears. Graying, colorless tats squirreled up his forearms.
The thought of this man beating…raping…
Knox fought to keep his breathing even, to think. “Clearly not enough. I heard you were dead.”
“Yeah, well, you can’t believe everything you hear.”
Apparently.
And from the nearby backstage wing he heard the last of Kelsey’s song.
* * *
So I will trust you, I’ll give us a try.
Take my love baby, please don’t let it die
There is no tomorrow, not without you.
* * *
“I’m not going to let you hurt her again.”
“This thing will shoot right through your champion bull here, no problem, and come out the other side.” He pointed the rifle at Knox, through Gordo.
Knox drew in a quick breath, but kept his voice cool, even. “Go ahead and try, buddy. But I can promise that both Gordo and I are tougher than you think—” With a shout, he exploded. He hit the cage to scare Gordo and dove for the floor.
A shot flared off.
He rolled, came up hot a few feet away from Russell.
Knox couldn’t look toward the pen—just launched himself at Russell.
Russell was already crumpling. Knox landed on top of him even as Russell slammed the butt of his gun into his shoulder.
The hit barely registered, not with all the rage behind Knox’s punch. He slammed his fist into Russell’s face, saw the man’s head snap back. Reared back for another.
Someone caught his wrist. “Knox! He’s down!”
“Not down enough!” But hands came around his shoulders, jerked him back, and he landed on the floor. Watched as a security guard retrieved the rifle, as Tate grabbed Russell and jerked him over, onto his stomach.
The man had been shot in the leg. Not a life-threatening wound, but enough to slow him down.
Tate had a knee in his back, and the first guard handed him a zip tie.
Knox was breathing hard. “You got my message?”
“No. I saw you from backstage, all lit up and dangerous as you took off.”
Knox scrambled to his feet, but his head rushed with the adrenaline of the moment, and he had to lean over, grab Gordo’s pen.
The bull looked over at him, nudging his hand with his snout, unhurt.
Knox could have wept with relief except— “Did Kelsey see?”
“I don’t know.”
Tate handed off Russell to his other security guard as two more arrived.
“He needs medical help. And call 9-1-1. He’s a fugitive.”
Tate looked at Knox. A slow smile spread across his face. “Would you like a backstage pass?”
Knox took a breath. Then followed his instincts and nodded.
Kelsey opened her eyes and raised her gaze to the audience. The applause thundered around her, but for a moment, she’d forgotten them all. Just listened to her song, rising lonely into the rafters.
Hold on, lean in.
Only it wasn’t her voice in the final notes, ringing through her.
Something deeper, in her bones, in her soul.
Hold on. Lean in.
Yes.
She breathed it in one last moment, then let out a smile, raising her hand. “Thank you!”
She put the guitar away and called Dixie and Glo forward. “We’re so glad to be here tonight. It’s my first appearance after the bombing in San Antonio. We’re thanking God that no one was seriously injured. And we thank you for your support tonight.”
More cheers and she launched into their sing-along song, something fun and upbeat. But even as she pasted on a smile and led the crowd in “Let him go, go go, bye, bye,” she stared out into the darkness and…
Knox was right. It wasn’t enough. Sure, she was grateful for the fans, the following, but…the music, the applause was just a taste of what she truly longed for.
Hold on. Lean in.
She pumped the air, grabbing the mic, but inside heard the words of the woman back at Benjamin King’s house.
There’s… only one thing that will satisfy. And that’s God’s love.
Oh, she could not—would not—start weeping onstage. But she wanted it. All of it—yes, Knox and the life she’d tasted, but even more, the love she’d seen from him, from his family, from…maybe even from Hamilton when he’d shown up all those years ago to stand by her. And Dixie and her family, and Glo and…
Yeah. God had shown up, over and over again, through the people who loved her.
She finished her song, the truth welling through her, nourishing her.
The crowd applauded, and she stepped back, introducing Glo and her amazing song.
Then nodded at Glo to take the mic. Picked up her guitar.
Glo blew out a breath, smiled, and lifted her voice.
* * *
She met him on a night like any other
Dressed in white, the cape of a soldier
He said you’re pretty, but I can’t stay
She said I know, but I could love you anyway
* * *
Kelsey’s eyes filled, the song finding her cracks, so much want, so much hope.
Gl
o unsheathed the mic from the stand and walked to the middle of the stage.
* * *
So they started their own love song
Found the rhythm and tone
He said he’d never found anyone
Who made him want to come home
* * *
Kelsey looked away from the audience, away from Glo. Closed her eyes into the song. Glo’s voice rose, sweet, vulnerable, touching down into her soul.
* * *
She…don’t wanna cry,
But she ain’t gonna fall for another guy.
It’s too hard to be apart
Not after she’s waited for…one true heart…one true heart…
* * *
She glanced at Dixie, into the bridge, and then her gaze landed on Tate who stood just offstage in the shadows, his arms folded, his face tight, gaze pinned to Glo.
Clearly listening.
Glo stood in the middle of the stage, her face lifted, her eyes closed.
* * *
He said I’m leaving, baby don’t cry.
No, Stay with me, please don’t die.
Always, forever, together, with me
She lay in his grass, clutching eternity.
* * *
When she opened her eyes, tears edged them.
* * *
She…don’t wanna try,
It’s too hard to fall for another guy.
But you don’t know if you don’t start
So wait…for one true heart…one true heart…
* * *
The music faded out and she bent her head.
The crowd erupted, but Glo looked over at Kelsey, something sad and broken in her expression.
Maybe they were all showing up with their best performance, trying to hide the broken places inside.
Knox Page 25