by Julia London
“Open it!” she urged him.
He very reluctantly did so, wincing when he pulled out the paper. “No anthrax,” he said, shaking the paper open. His brown eyes skimmed over the note, his frown deepening as he read, and then his eyes went wide. “Eewe! Now that is just vile,” he said, and clasped a hand over his heart as he looked up at Audrey. “This guy needs to be locked up.”
“Shit!” Audrey exclaimed, surprised and ashamed by the tears that sprang to her eyes. She whirled around, grabbed her cell phone from the end of her bed. She quickly dialed a number, but it wasn’t until she’d told him that a letter had come that she realized she’d called Jack instead of Lucas.
“I’ll be right there,” he said.
She took a breath, then called Lucas. “I got a letter,” she said breathlessly when he answered.
“Goddammit,” he said, sounding irritated. “When?”
“I don’t know. It was just . . . here,” she said, gesturing wildly to the table.
Jack and Lucas arrived at the same time. Jack took the letter from Trystan; Lucas came to Audrey’s side and wrapped his arms around her.
“Don’t pay any attention, baby,” he said. “That sick fuck can’t get near you.”
She wished she could believe him, but he’d obviously gotten close enough to leave another letter threatening to kill her, and she turned her face into Lucas’s shoulder.
“When did it come?” Jack asked, fishing his cell phone from his pocket.
“I don’t know,” Audrey said, lifting her head from Lucas’s shoulder. “I saw it lying on the newspaper that Rich brought me earlier.”
“Rich? The business manager?” Jack asked, frowning a little.
“Yes, the business manager,” Lucas said with a roll of his eyes.
“I thought he headed back to L.A. a couple of days ago,” Jack said before turning around to talk into his phone.
“I honestly didn’t think he was due back until this weekend,” Audrey said to Lucas.
“He came back early,” Lucas said. He put his hand against Audrey’s cheek. “Now listen, you can’t let this sick fuck get to you, because that is what he wants. He wants you to be so rattled that you won’t do the show.”
“Christ, the show!” she exclaimed. Lucas was right—she couldn’t allow this maniac to push her off the stage and into hiding. “But what about security? It’s an amphitheater. Anyone can get backstage—”
“He can’t touch you, Audrey.” This was from Jack, his voice clear and strong and determined, falling over her like a protective blanket. She pushed away from Lucas and looked at Jack, wanting to feel his arms around her, his breath in her hair.
“He can’t come near you, I promise you that.”
There was such hard determination in the way he said it that he made Audrey believe him. He smiled, his expression full of confidence. “I promise,” he said again as Lucas’s phone rang.
Lucas flipped open his cell and moved away from her.
Jack seized the opportunity to come near her, his smile radiating warmth and security as he walked across the room. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she said, nodding.
“Right now, we need to get you to sound check.” He put a hand on her arm and squeezed it. “No worries, all right, starlight? We’ve got this completely under control. The only thing you need to worry about is putting on a kick-ass show.” He turned his smile to Trystan, who seemed as mesmerized by him as Audrey. “Can you help her get her stuff together?”
“Sure,” Trystan said, and began moving about the room, picking up a couple of bags.
“Better give him a hand,” Jack suggested, and Audrey nodded, scooping Bruno up in her arms, her eyes following Jack around the room. When Trystan had her things together, she looked at Jack once more. He gave her a reassuring smile as she and Trystan went out the door. They were met in the hall by two of Jack’s guys, who flanked her as she stepped across the threshold, sandwiching her between them.
“How you doing today, Ms. LaRue?” one of them asked.
Audrey glanced over her shoulder. Jack was watching her, his eyes full of reassurance. “I’ve had better days,” she said, and turned around again, managing a weak smile for the bodyguards.
The local police conferred with Jack and the hotel staff, but they seemed to be getting nowhere. “Maybe it’s a disgruntled employee,” one of the detectives mused. Jack sighed—they’d been through this in Omaha. His own questioning of Rich Later left him wondering, but he couldn’t put his finger on why, exactly.
“Can’t help you,” Rich said cheerfully when Jack asked about the letter. “I just dropped the paper off and went to the gym. Someone else must have brought it in.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, eyeing him curiously. Was he nuts, or was the guy wearing eyeliner?
“Weird, huh?” Rich remarked, and at Jack’s look, he laughed.
“You’re barking up the wrong tree, pal. Why would I want to hurt Audrey? She’s my meal ticket.”
It was true, and Jack had nothing, really, but a funny feeling. At the same time, he hadn’t ruled out Lucas. That guy was intent on exploiting Audrey, and Jack wasn’t sure how far he would take it.
As usual, the letter was handed over to law enforcement, who made lots of noises about looking into it, but Jack knew full well that the minute the tour left town, the letter would drop to the bottom of their priority list.
Fortunately, in spite of the letter—and the inability of law enforcement to catch the bastard—Audrey’s show went off without a hitch.
Frankly, Jack was amazed by Audrey’s ability to adapt to anything in the course of a performance. He’d heard grumblings from the band and the dancers about the song “The Roar of an Angel” not coming off right. It seemed to him that it had sounded rougher each night, but in Cleveland, Audrey substituted one of her old ballads for the song. She walked out onto the stage wearing a long silky dress, carrying a guitar. And with just that guitar to accompany her, she sang a lusty, soulful song about secret love. It was, at least to Jack’s way of thinking, magical.
He knew the letters frightened Audrey, but when she was working, she seemed okay, focused and determined to put on a good show. And over the next few days, she seemed to work around the clock. On the way to Pittsburgh, she rode in the bus with the musicians and changed out “The Roar of an Angel” with the old ballad, but put the ballad to a different beat. In Pittsburgh, she and the dancers revamped the routine to fit the new song, practicing up until show time.
She was completely engrossed in the change to her set, and the latest letter seemed to be a distant memory. The only thing that visibly upset her was the phone calls she had been getting from her family. This, Jack surmised from the number of times she said, “Mom!” into the phone.
Jack heard and witnessed it all—he was loath to leave her, given that two letters had found their way to her—but he was just as loath to hang around. The truth was that after that fabulous night in the park, he and Audrey rarely had a moment to speak. It was impossible—they were surrounded by assistants and hairdressers and dancers and managers and talent agents and musicians and a whole host of people with official titles whose names he could never remember.
He began to think that maybe it was better this way. He was realizing that it was damn near impossible to be near her and not want to touch her. He had no idea when he had crossed over from being mildly attracted to aching for her, but it had happened, and he wanted to kick his own ass for it. He couldn’t help admiring the shape of her face, the curve of her hips, the gentle slope of her shoulders. He’d come to detect her scent among so many, the faint smell of magnolias, just like those that grew in his grandmother’s garden and marked the memory of his youth.
He wanted her, just like the world wanted her. He wanted her so much that he was beginning to have very erotic dreams of her, of Audrey on his lap, gloriously naked and riding him with enthusiasm. Worse, he was having daydreams of her, imagining them in various settings—walking in
Central Park in New York, or running on the beach in Malibu, or even at dinner with his friends.
Such daydreams were uncharacteristic, and in this case, really out of the question. He wanted her, but he worked to convince himself that the want was the product of being in close proximity to a beautiful woman. This was not something that could ever work out between the two of them. There was the problem of Bonner, and her fame, and so many other things that it made Jack crazy to think about it.
So he kept his emotional distance.
But on the way to Atlantic City, where she was scheduled to do two shows, Audrey made a call to someone who made her smile, and when she hung up, she asked Courtney to arrange a car for her when they reached the hotel.
“A car?” Lucas asked from his perch in the living area’s captain chair, where he was strumming on a guitar. “Why do you need a car?”
“One of my scholarship kids lives near the shore. I want to surprise her.”
Lucas shook his head. “We haven’t got time for that, baby.”
“I have time for it. I am free tomorrow morning. I don’t have to be at the theater until three.”
“We’ve got airtime on two radio stations in the morning,” Lucas said. “You don’t have time to go running off to pat little kids on the head.”
Audrey’s hands stilled. She slowly turned and gave Lucas a look so cool that even Jack flinched a little. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that,” she said softly. “And just so we’re straight, you have two radio stations in the morning, Lucas—not me.”
“No, we have two radio stations in the morning. They both expect you to be there.”
“Only because you told them I would be there. But the spots are about your music. Not mine.”
All of the bus inhabitants, smelling a good fight, looked from Audrey to Lucas and back again. Courtney was the most interested, and Jack had the feeling she fed off these arguments. Personally, he wished for once Audrey would plant a stiletto up the guy’s ass, but in the end, Audrey did what she always did—she pressed her lips together and remained quiet.
He hated Bonner.
Hated him so much that he got the name of the kid from Courtney, and called and arranged the whole thing, including a car to drive Audrey the next morning.
If Bonner wouldn’t take her, he damn sure would.
Fourteen
At five-thirty the next morning, Audrey’s cell rang so obnoxiously loud that she almost killed herself trying to get to it so that it wouldn’t wake Lucas.
“Hello?” she hissed into the phone. “Gail?” It had to be Gail. Only her family would call at such an ungodly hour, probably needing money or something.
“Hey, sweet cheeks.”
The sound of Jack’s voice made her pulse surge, and she quickly fought off the covers. “Jack?” she whispered as she retreated to the bathroom. “Has something happened? Did I get another letter?”
“No, Audrey, no,” he said. “Everything is cool. When is the car picking you up to take you to the radio station?”
“Six-thirty. Why?”
“Wanna play hooky?” he asked softly.
A dangerous, inappropriate image swam through her head. “What did you have in mind?”
“Be downstairs in half an hour and I’ll show you.”
She wanted to, ah God, she wanted to. But how could she? “I don’t know,” she said, her voice full of the disappointment she was feeling.
“Do you want to see your scholarship girl?” Jack asked. “Because if you do, I have arranged everything.”
Audrey gasped with surprise and delight. “You did what?” she squealed. “Are you kidding?” She instantly sobered. “Shit! I can’t go. We’ve got radio this morning—”
“No, Bonner has radio. Let him do his own airtime without you for a change.”
The suggestion was strongly appealing. She didn’t like the way Lucas booked these sorts of things and then told her after the fact. And she would give anything to see her scholarship girl.
She couldn’t believe Jack had done this for her, and smiled. “I’ll be down in twenty minutes.”
She had no idea how she did it—brushing her teeth and hair, dabbing on a little makeup and dressing at the same moment, then dashing off a note to Lucas to tell him he was on his own and to please feed Bruno. That would infuriate him. Nevertheless, in twenty minutes, she was striding through the slot machines to the front door.
He was there, leaning up against a blue car, one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, his arms folded across his chest. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, and his dark hair looked as if he’d run his fingers through it. He grinned when he saw her and straightened up.
“Okay,” she said breathlessly, feeling strangely giddy. “I just have to hit the gift shop.”
He didn’t ask, but with his hand on the small of her back, he directed her to a row of shops inside the Taj Mahal. Audrey flew into the first one, picked out a stuffed bear, a T-shirt, and a pair of flip-flops. “This isn’t exactly what I wanted to take, but it will do,” she said as she signed the slip the woman behind the counter handed her.
With her sack of cheesy gifts, Audrey allowed Jack to lead her out to the car. She noticed as they strode up to it that it was the sort of car she would have driven pre-smash hit days.
Jack opened the front passenger door. Audrey peered at it. “This is the car?” she asked, hearing the disbelief in her voice.
“Yep. I thought we’d go with something small and unremarkable.”
He’d just hit another home run, then. “But . . . who is driving?” she asked, eyeing the car suspiciously.
“I am. How long has it been since you were in a Ford Taurus?”
She laughed. “At least one hundred years,” she said, and climbed into the plain car, tossing her bag onto the backseat.
It almost felt like they were Bonnie and Clyde, making a grand getaway. “She knows we’re coming?” Audrey asked, trying to make her unruly curls look presentable in the visor mirror.
“Yep. Katie Parmer’s mother is waiting for her daughter’s idol to show up.”
“How did you know it was Katie?” Audrey asked.
“I sweet-talked Courtney into making a couple of phone calls,” he said with a wink.
“Oh my God. You did? Did you have to sleep with her?”
He laughed. “No . . . but she didn’t let me off cheap. She called your foundation and they figured out who it was and called Katie’s mom. I understand this is supposed to be a surprise for Katie and twenty of her closest friends.”
“I can’t believe you did this,” Audrey said, her smile broadening, her heart and skin warming with delight.
He shrugged. “I thought it would mean a lot to the girl, and you, well . . . you looked like you really wanted to meet her.”
“You have no idea how much I do! Jack . . . this is so . . . nice.”
He laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I can be a nice guy when I want to be.”
“But this is above and beyond nice. And I intend to enjoy every last moment of it because Lucas is going to kill me when I get back. I left him a note and told him he was on his own with the radio.”
Jack kept his gaze on the road before them, but she saw the muscle in his jaw flinch. “That can’t be too big a deal, right?” he asked evenly. “He’s promoting his new CD, isn’t he?”
“Yes,” she said, and sighed. “You don’t know Lucas. He can get really insecure about his talent and he just feels better if I’m there, you know? It’s a support thing.”
Jack looked at her, his blue eyes full of something she couldn’t quite read. “I think he’ll live.”
“I don’t know,” she said, dreading the scene when she came back.
“Who knows? Maybe he’ll finally figure out that he has to learn to stand on his own two feet,” he said. “You don’t owe him a career—you’ve got your own to build.”
“But you don’t know what all he has done for me,” she said, fe
eling a little defensive of him. “It’s okay,” she said quickly before Jack could argue. “I really want to meet the scholarship girls. And if I don’t take this opportunity, when will I have another one?”
Jack said nothing.
Audrey’s cell phone rang. She fished it out of her bag and winced. Lucas. She put the phone back in her bag, unanswered. But she felt another nail in a coffin she hadn’t even realized she was building—or really, even thought of building—until perhaps that very moment.
The phone continued to ring. Audrey smiled a little at Jack. “Thanks,” she said, meaning it. “This means so much to me.”
His jaw relaxed a little, and he smiled. “Don’t thank me. It’s a good thing you’re doing.”
Audrey grinned. Jack did, too.
He couldn’t help himself. When the girl smiled, she could melt the polar ice cap.
The drive to Katie Parmer’s house was short—too short, really—but well worth the trip. He’d never seen a child’s face light up like Katie’s did when she saw Audrey walking up the sidewalk to her door. The girl’s face turned up to the sun like a daisy, her smile as brilliant as a handful of stars. Her wide blue eyes never left Audrey, and when Audrey sat cross-legged on the floor and asked Katie to sing for her, Katie filled her lungs and sang like she was auditioning for American Idol—which, if she kept this up, she would be one day.
Several young girls gathered around as Audrey showed them some basic chords on Katie’s guitar. When Katie’s mother—also glowing with delight, Jack noted—invited them to enjoy a cake she’d made, she seemed overwhelmed when Audrey hopped up and insisted on helping her. She got the paper plates and plastic forks, arranged the paper napkins in a fan on the kitchen table, and helped serve Kool-Aid punch to the kids.
With ten other girls and several admiring parents looking on, Audrey ate cake and asked the girls questions about themselves. Did they like music? Did they mind their parents? Did they have boyfriends?
Then it was their turn to ask Audrey questions.
Did she have to take music lessons? Did she get in trouble with her mom for dancing? What was her favorite song? And then came the inevitable question from Katie. “Is he your boyfriend?” she asked, pointing to Jack as a chorus of giggles filled the room.