Necessary Detour

by Hornsby, Kim

  Praise for NECESSARY DETOUR

  “From the opening glitz-and-danger concert scene, this story rocked my world! Nikki's insatiable curiosity and prying antics had me laughing, while her deep need for love and stability made her story richly human. Only a man as daring and thick-skinned as sexy Pete could handle such a tough woman let alone penetrate her guarded heart. And while danger lurks around every corner for this burned-out rock-star and this hunk in wolf's clothing, their near-fatal attraction was what kept me wide awake.”

  ~Christine M. Fairchild, author

  Necessary Detour

  by

  Kim Hornsby

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Text copyright © 2013 by Kim Hornsby

  Originally published by Wild Rose Press

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by AmazonEncore, Seattle

  www.apub.com

  Amazon, the Amazon logo, and AmazonEncore are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

  eISBN: 9781503986251

  Cover Designer: Kim Mendoza

  This title was previously published by Wild Rose Press; this version has been reproduced from Wild Rose Press archive files.

  Dedication

  To my father, Gord Hornsby,

  who was a fine writer of letters to the editor,

  newsletter articles, and emails.

  This one’s for you, Dad.

  Contents

  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

  Nikki Crossland’s Hot Crossed Buns

  A word about the author...

  Chapter 1

  Goldy Crossland ran on stage to the thunderous screaming of the Los Angeles crowd. The explosion of applause inside the Staple Center was the tangible evidence of their love for her—love that had fueled her drive over the years to get to this point. Soon she would desert them.

  “Necessary Detour,” she mouthed to the band, not waiting for her ex-husband, Burn’s, reaction to the song choice. It hadn’t been played since she vowed to never give it credit again. Written about a female stalker they’d called Yellow, the hit had been dropped from their repertoire when the stalker slit her wrists at a Goldy concert and bled to death.

  Tonight, for personal reasons, Goldy wanted it to be the final song. A new crazed fan, code-named Shakespeare by the FBI, had threatened to kill her at the end of the concert, and, if he was successful, she was damned well going to have the last word.

  The opening chords filled the cavernous arena and, recognizing the long lost song, the crowd cheered to barely tolerable decibels.

  “You think you got me.

  You think we’re done.

  You think it’s over.

  You haven’t won.”

  Burn’s guitar screamed with the intensity of a locomotive as Goldy scanned the crowd, not knowing if she was staring into the face of the demon. Tonight she dared any one of them to take her on. The FBI had insisted on a bulletproof skin under her costume, and she could only hope that if it came to that, the material would save her life. Knowing that a quick bullet to the chest wasn’t Shakespeare’s style, she stood at the edge of the stage.

  A dozen FBI agents peppered the audience searching for anyone who might have written six months’ worth of heinous letters that threatened to torture his prey with unimaginable creativity. Trickling acid along her face then watching her melt was more like Shakespeare. To capture, torture, then relish in the hours, possibly days, that it took him to claim her life. That was his “fondest wish.” He’d been code-named Shakespeare because he quoted the bard, but there was nothing poetic about his twisted mind.

  Getting closer to the end of the song, Goldy moved to stage left where a stray bullet wouldn’t hit anyone else. With only two lines left, she pulled the microphone away from her lips to make a powerful run to the end. A sharp, burning pain pierced her hand and dominoed along her arm to her shoulder, hitting her torso like a jackhammer. The pain was formidable. Electricity. I’ve been electrocuted. When her brain got the message, the hand flew open and the microphone dropped with a thud to the stage floor. Pretend nothing is wrong. Finish the song.

  Goldy ran over to Burn’s microphone, acutely aware of the one lying behind her, like the pariah it was. Agent Gateman took two steps and stopped at the edge of the stage, seconds from shutting everything down. She shook her head emphatically, calling one last shot.

  Her left arm hung limp as she reached for Burn’s microphone with the right. What if this was the plan? Toy with her, knowing she would persist? Then finish the kill with Burn’s microphone. Leaving it on the stand, she moved in. Hearing the approaching notes, she took a deep breath to make the final run to the end. This time she was careful to keep her lips off the metal.

  “It’s a Necessary Detour

  This detour’s...Necessary!”

  She punched the air with her good arm, stepped wide and threw her head back—her trademark pose that punctuated the final moment of every Goldy concert.

  The applause was deafening. She’d survived the final song, despite what Shakespeare said. “I shall end it all with your final note, my love.”

  The six band members who made up the group Goldy laid their instruments down and applauded with the audience in their adoration of the international rock legend.

  What they didn’t know was that this was not only the last song of the tour, but the final tour in a twenty year career. The final everything. No more CD’s, touring, concerts. No more Goldy.

  “Goodnight, everyone!” she shouted above the din. “I—HAVE—LOVED—YOU!” Gold confetti rained over the masses as she spun a sparkly Frisbee that promised a family vacation to Hawaii.

  Applause filled the arena’s rafters. “Goldy! Goldy! Goldy!” Searing pain in her left arm reminded her that she’d just been electrocuted. She needed to get offstage. Taking a final bow with her partner and ex-husband, she hugged him with one arm and turned to her audience. The mass of people in front of her had been her reason for almost everything she’d done in the last twenty years. A wave to them, a bow to her band, and then Goldy left the party while she was still having fun.

  Paramedics waited just out of sight, their dark blue uniforms a comfort to her worry. But it was her bodyguard, Dwayne, who lunged to catch her multi-million dollar backside before it hit the floor in a faint.

  ****

  Faces were fuzzy, then clear, like focusing a camera. Why was she lying on the floor in the backstage area of the Staple Center? Quinn was positioned at her left elbow, her tears dropping onto her mother’s sparkly costume.

  “Mom! Mom! Wake up.” The girl’s voice gained volume with every second. No seventeen-year-old kid should have to endure as much as Quinn had in t
he last year.

  “I’m okay, sweetie.” Goldy tried to sit, but one of the paramedics motioned for her to wait.

  “Just let me finish checking your stats. Almost done, Ms. Burnside.”

  The crowd parted and the real Burnside burst through to kneel at her feet. “Nikki!” He used her real name. “What the fuck?” Burn was eloquent in any situation.

  He looked in worse shape than her, but that was no surprise. He’d always needed more coddling than anyone. “I got a shock from the microphone,” she said, “but I’m fine.” She’d hold to the story that it was simply an accident and Burn would believe it. “I’m still on the floor to let the paramedics do their job, nothing more.”

  Burn had been an unintentionally horrible husband—negligent and unfaithful but never malicious. And everything they’d been through in their marriage had been necessary to achieve this end result which she wouldn’t have traded for the world. Her career and her beloved Quinn meant everything.

  “Give her room.” One of the paramedics waved his arms to part the crowd, while the other put away equipment.

  “Thanks for your concern,” she said. Being Goldy had been a sweet ride for a very long time and seeing their worried faces, she was reminded of how much her staff counted on her. For years, she’d signed their pay checks, put food on their tables, financed college for their kids, and knowing all that was going to end for them wasn’t a pleasant thought. But it was a necessary detour.

  “Enough.” She waved away the paramedics and looked to the two bodyguards who rarely left her side. “Help me stand. I have an important announcement to make.”

  Chapter 2

  Nikki kept her eyes lowered as she hurried along the aisles of the Louisa Lake Shop and Go looking for marshmallows. With her chin on her chest, she rounded the bottom of aisle three and ran into a cart coming the other way. Reaching behind to prevent a fall backward, she stuck her fist into a pyramid of canned soup and stumbled back as cans of chicken noodle crashed to the linoleum floor.

  An arm yanked her out of the path of toppling missiles. She tumbled into her rescuer’s firm torso.

  “You okay?” His voice was one day away from laryngitis.

  “Yeah, thanks.” From under her five-dollar baseball cap and through seven-hundred-dollar sunglasses, Nikki sneaked a quick peek and righted herself. He wore jeans, a dark blue T-shirt, and a small metal amulet on a leather rope around his neck, his look reminding her of a middle-aged cowboy from a Ralph Lauren ad. Too handsome for Louisa Lake.

  “Let’s kick them out of the way,” he said. “Like this.” He used his foot to push the cans to the side of the aisle and she copied him. What else could she do? She couldn’t race out the door without calling attention to herself.

  Even though he was probably a customer like she was, suspicion snaked through her. If he’d been following her since Seattle, she hadn’t noticed. But any solitary man raised her radar today, especially after the media’s reaction to her announcement. The Goldy story had taken the front page of all publications, and the world was frantic for news of her whereabouts. Fifty thousand dollars was out there for anyone who snapped a shot of the newly retired rock legend.

  A teenage boy in a Shop and Go green T-shirt jumped in to clear the aisle and re-stack the cans. “Don’t worry about it, ma’am. People do this all the time.”

  She was careful to avoid his eyes. “Really?”

  “Yup. I’ll clean it up.” He gathered soup like he was next in line for a promotion and Nikki smiled at his eagerness. The cowboy had disappeared. She needed to leave the store before anyone else saw her.

  Rounding the aisle, she hurried to the checkout with her bags of marshmallows.

  “Find everything you need today?” The super-pierced checkout girl didn’t look up.

  “Yes, thanks.” From the corner of her eye, Nikki noticed someone move in to line behind her. The cowboy was unloading his groceries onto the conveyer belt—bread, milk, hamburger and buns, bacon, cereal, a pile of frozen dinners, and several cans of chicken noodle soup.

  Nikki slid the divider back to him, their hands almost touching.

  “Thanks.” The husky voice again. “For some reason I’m craving chicken noodle soup.” His voice held a smirk. Damn. She nodded almost imperceptibly. He wouldn’t be paparazzi. They mostly stayed in L.A. and had an aura of desperation and a predatory look in their eyes. Not that she’d looked into his eyes, but he didn’t fit the bill in any way, shape or form. Whoever he was, his groceries indicated he was staying in the area for at least a few meals and not eating fast food out of a rental car in a celebrity stakeout.

  “Two dollars and thirty-two cents.” The checkout girl put the marshmallows in a small plastic bag.

  Nikki’s fingers went for her Amex card until she remembered how easy it would be to trace. The cowboy cleared his throat, and Nikki glanced back before thinking. A grin teased the sides of his mouth as he pretended to be interested in the rack of magazines.

  He knew who she was. Shit. Did he?

  She had to get out of there. She shoved some cash to the checker. “Thanks.” Not waiting for the receipt, Nikki grabbed the bag and rushed through the doors. She’d outrun him to the car. If he chased her, he was bad news. Photographers had ditched groceries before to get a shot of Goldy. It was still possible he was simply someone who recognized her. Or that he was only a man flirting in the grocery store.

  Was it only a matter of time until they discovered Goldy was hiding in northeastern Washington State? She hoped not. And she hoped to hell she was wrong about this guy. The last thing she wanted was to return to L.A., and to the fallout of what she’d created in the last few days.

  Hurrying to her black, nondescript SUV, Nikki switched the grocery bag to her other hand and was reminded of her diagnosis four nights earlier. “Use the hand, but carefully,” the doctor said. “And hope the nerves weren’t damaged.” The blisters were healing nicely after two days in the Los Angeles hospital but the FBI still hadn’t solved the mystery of her stalker. Los Angeles didn’t feel safe anymore, and Louisa Lake was as close to a home as anything, especially now that she’d given Burn the Beverly Hills house in the settlement.

  She closed the car door and waited for Quinn to exit the hardware store. Why had she risked stopping in town? Quinn wanted a can of paint to redo her bedroom at the lakehouse and needed a fishing license, and Nikki relented.

  While waiting, she realized they’d forgotten marshmallows in their frenzied grocery run that morning. Toasting marshmallows to golden brown, squishy perfection over the fire pit was tradition at Louisa Lake, and Nikki was determined to proceed as normal this week for her daughter’s sake. Just because the previous twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of subterfuge, didn’t mean they couldn’t assume a low level of normalcy now that they were almost in the clear. Before the soup fiasco. Ugh. The only better way to call attention to the fact that Goldy was in the Shop and Go would have been an announcement over the intercom and a spotlight.

  Jamming the key into the ignition, she watched Quinn stroll across the parking lot swinging the can of paint, oblivious to the emergency at hand. She’d probably chosen shocking pink or lime green, given Quinn’s excitement about an entire week with her mother before starting university. Her mood had sunflowers and popsicles written all over it. She’d been singing along to the radio all the way from Seattle, harboring most of the excitement for the twosome, even though Nikki was making a valiant show of enthusiasm.

  “Get in, sweetie.” Nikki threw open the passenger door. “We might have one behind us.”

  “Fuck.” Quinn slammed the door.

  “No F-word or we’ll have to start the swear jar.” Nikki’s voice was light and singsongy in spite of her worry about the cowboy.

  Luckily Quinn was used to avoiding the press. She’d grown up comparing it to a game of dodge ball, the Burnside Family always “it.” Today, the game had higher stakes.

  If Nikki’s cover was blown this earl
y, she didn’t know what she’d do. There was no plan B. Besides, she wasn’t just avoiding the media. Shakespeare was still out there, and Quinn had no knowledge of a stalker. She only thought there was the usual advantage to avoiding the media bloodsuckers, both geographically and strategically.

  Louisa Lake was twenty-three miles long with a two-mile expanse at its widest. From the air, it looked like a scraggly feather with numerous small bays and inlets on one side.

  In the past, the Burnsides had often arrived by float plane to avoid the town. The property’s appeal had been the lake’s remote location and ultimately the inaccessibility of the land where they built the house. One side of the lake was not reachable by road and half of the remainder was barely accessible on old logging roads. That left a small patch dotted with cabins and houses at the feather’s base. The town.

  Navigating along the road that hugged the twinkling shoreline, Nikki thought about how she’d run out of the Shop and Go. “I might’ve been too paranoid, honey, but Gateman asked that we lay low.”

  “Shhh, Mom. This is my favorite part.” Quinn sang to a Beyoncé song, her voice slightly off-key—a fact that made Nikki both relieved and wistful.

  Louisa Lake was surprisingly quiet on that late August morning as Nikki closed the distance between herself and the lake house. Her small dog, Elvis Pugley, hung his mug out the back window, ears flapping in the wind.

  “The smells flying past his nose have to be promising good times,” Nikki laughed.

  Quinn looked back and giggled. “Good times that involve chipmunks and lots of barking.”

  Turning onto an old logging road that followed the shore, they sang along to the radio.

  The bumpy surface narrowed at the two-mile mark and branched off in several directions, the farthest road leading to both her place and one other property that shared the small bay. Now that the owner of that house was elderly and incapacitated, the road was rarely used.

  Once inside the locked gate, they navigated another quarter mile of bumpy terrain until the dark green metal roof of Birch House was visible through the trees. Birch House. When she and Burn built it seven years ago, he’d named it for the trees that surrounded the property. Nikki simply called it home.