Chasin continued to stare at her. It hit him just how strong she was, though he knew she’d disagree. How much courage did it take for her to get up, put a smile on her face, write music, and perform in front of a stadium full of fans, when she thought so little of herself?
That realization wasn’t a punch to the gut—it was a kick to the balls. Genevieve was a riddle—remote, yet she put herself on display in unimaginable ways. He’d never written a song, never wrote a poem, not even when it was required of him in high school. He’d never attempted to write a single feeling or emotion onto paper. That didn’t mean he didn’t recognize the beauty of it, the vulnerability. Every time Genevieve sang, she opened herself up. And what she revealed was pure beauty.
“Baby, I get the feeling Bobby’s the most protective person you have in your life.”
Genevieve’s eyes flared at his statement. “If that’s the case, then why’d she quit?”
The sadness in Genevieve’s tone tore Chasin’s heart open. A forlorn pleading he wished he could answer because, at that moment, he’d do just about anything to take away her pain.
Chasin’s phone vibrated on the table, catching his eye. Genevieve used the distraction to put distance between them. Nixon’s name on the screen meant he had to take the call, when it was the last thing he wanted to do just then.
Chasin picked up the phone. “Yeah?”
“We got problems,” Nixon told him.
Yeah, we do. But he suspected Nixon wasn’t talking about Genevieve pulling into herself and locking Chasin out.
“And those would be?”
“Case file’s light. Not only that, but shoddy police work.”
“How shoddy?”
“Total shit show. The only report that’s not total crap is the break-in. But that’s only because the fingerprint tech was thorough, as were the crime scene investigators.”
Chasin looked at Genevieve, who’d put a few feet of space between them. He made a decision not to guard her against his reaction or keep information from her. Whatever Bobby’s reasoning for doing so was her business, but Chasin wouldn’t hide anything from her. Not only did she have a right to know what was going on, they needed her to be an active participant.
“You spoke to him, what’s your gut say?”
“He made detective three months before he caught Genevieve’s case. First, I don’t think he’s taking this seriously, considering the last two letters and gifts Bobby turned over weren’t processed, just filed. And he lacks experience, which is why he’s not taking this seriously.”
“Why the hell would they assign a newbie to her case? She’s a celebrity.”
“Her and about fifty other country singers. To them, she’s just another citizen, her celebrity means nothing. Actually, the opposite—she has money and means, she can afford her own security, and unfortunately Loughry—that’s the detective—is looking at this like an annoyance rather than a threat. Though, he did take the break-in a little more seriously. But now that she’s out of his jurisdiction, he sounded relieved.”
“Un-fucking-believable. What’s Bobby say about him?”
“She doesn’t like him—as in, not at all. She says there’s something not right about the man. And that’s a direct quote. The first time he came to the house, he spent more time staring at Genevieve than listening to her explain the situation. After the third time he came out, he spent that visit as an opportunity to catch a glimpse of Genevieve, so Bobby stopped having Genevieve present for the meetings. Which was a good call, but Bobby reports Loughry wasn’t happy about that. As in, at all. He demanded Genevieve’s presence.”
A slither of worry started to twine its way around Chasin’s stomach. He didn’t like any of what Nixon said.
“We need to run a background check on him,” Chasin announced.
“That’s on the top of McKenna’s list for the morning. Something else—the bodyguard that Bobby and Leslie put on Genevieve without her knowledge has done event security for her in the past. His name is Chad Briggs, Leslie’s brother. From what Bobby said, Chad’s former military and works for a lot of Leslie’s clients.”
Chasin took in Genevieve—stiff posture, deep frown, worry clear as day. He needed to end his call so he could reassure her.
“McKenna running Chad, too?” Chasin asked, and Genevieve’s back snapped straight.
“Yeah, right after Loughry.”
“Move Chad up that list. Gotta go brief Genevieve. Call me in the morning.”
“You gonna tell her?”
“I reckon Bobby had her reasons for keeping Genevieve in the dark. I don’t share her opinion. From here on out, Genevieve is kept appraised of everything.”
“I understand what Bobby was trying to do, but I agree with you, Genevieve needs to know what’s going on.”
Chasin was glad his friend agreed, but even if he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have hidden anything from Genevieve. And when her frown loosened and her body relaxed, he knew he’d made the right decision.
The woman was stronger than the people around her gave her credit for. There was an underlining sensitivity, but she was no sniveling, spineless twit who needed the people she relied on to treat her as such. Chasin would have no part in that, especially if he wanted to earn her trust—and that was step one.
After that, he’d press for more.
10
It was mid-morning and I was sitting with my laptop on my lap, lounging in the sunroom clicking through emails, procrastinating. I had work to do, but before I locked myself away, I needed to talk to Bobby.
Last night after Chasin briefed me—that’s what he’d called it—he repeated that I was safe and no one could get to me. Weirdly, I felt safe, something I hadn’t experienced in a good long while.
As shitty as the call from Nixon was, it’d gotten me off the hook talking to Chasin about us and what had gone down, so I was grateful. But after Chasin did a walk-through of the house, including the bedroom I was sleeping in, the one where we’d spent hours together exploring every inch of each other’s bodies, he left me to go to bed—alone. Without an alarm and the locks being shit, he was sleeping downstairs on the couch.
I didn’t protest him spending the night, mainly because I wasn’t stupid and knew I needed him there. But I couldn’t deny his presence made me feel better.
There was a lot I needed to talk to Bobby about and Chasin was one of those things. I was just worried that with the strain on our friendship, she’d shut me down, which was why I was procrastinating. But before I asked about her opinion on Chasin, I needed to apologize—and I was really afraid she’d shut that down.
I’d spent a good amount of time last night lying awake thinking. Most of what I was chewing on was Bobby and me. Everything she’d said to me was right. All of it was my fault. I’d pulled away. I was a coward and did what I always did and retreated. She needed to know that.
When I wasn’t mulling over what I’d done to Bobby, I was thinking about Chasin’s mother.
The woman wasn’t just a bitch, she was a bitch. Cheating in general was a shitty thing to do, but blatantly doing it in front of your child in your family home, who did that? Talk about a twat.
I understood childhood scars; I wore my own. My heart went out to Chasin. Intellectually, I understood his reaction to hearing me on the phone with Bobby. I just didn’t know what to do with this new information. I was totally confused and wished I could rewind my life two years, grab Bobby, and spend the day dissecting my conversation with Chasin the way one could only do with their BFF.
Five minutes later, I looked up from my laptop when the man himself walked into the room. God, why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? Why did seeing him walk into a room make my heart race?
“Hope you’re not busy,” he started. “I need to talk to you and I asked Bobby to join us.”
Those were the first words he’d spoken to me all morning, even though I’d seen him twice since I’d woken up. Then again, I hadn’t said anything to
him, either.
“I’m not busy,” I told him and closed my laptop.
With a curt nod, he sat in the farthest chair from me, not next to me like he’d done last night. He also wasn’t smiling. I didn’t know if that was because he’d spoken to Nixon again and gotten bad news or if he was pissed at me. Why that mattered so much, I didn’t know, but it did.
“Everything okay?” I asked, proud my voice sounded surer than I felt.
Before Chasin could answer, Bobby came into the sunroom looking like a knockout, though she always did. My friend was gorgeous. We were opposites in so many ways—Bobby was light to my dark, outgoing to my introvert, loud to my quiet. Part of why we’d worked so well together, she was the front person and liked it there, while I preferred to stay in the shadows. The only time our roles reversed was when I was on stage. The rest of the time, Bobby handled everything.
“Jameson Grant’s on his way over to install the alarm. You haven’t met him yet and you need to, so before you get to work I’ll introduce you,” Chasin informed me, but didn’t answer my question.
A ball of uncertainty landed in my belly and sat there like a lead weight.
“And the new locks?” Bobby asked.
“I’ll change the locks while Jameson’s working on the alarm. Also, I’m heading out for a few hours.”
I tried, I mean I really tried, not to react. I even clenched my teeth to stop myself from vocalizing my panic. Unfortunate, because when I spoke, it sounded like I was gritting my teeth—which I totally was—but I wished that Chasin and Bobby didn’t know it.
“What? You’re leaving?”
Chasin’s gaze swung my way, and the instant it did, he lost some of the hardness but none of the curiosity.
“Alec’s coming over with Jonny Spenser. Jonny’s a local cop—good guy, smart guy, totally trustworthy. He’s going to talk to you and Bobby. He needs to be kept up to speed about what’s going on in his town. You’ll have all three of those men here with you while I’m gone and Jameson won’t leave until I get back. We won’t leave you unprotected, not even after the alarm’s in and the locks are changed.”
That made some of my tension ebb, but the vast majority of tightness hadn’t left my shoulders, and no matter how hard I tried to relax back into the couch, I couldn’t. I was freaking out because Chasin was leaving, then I was freaking out because I was freaking out. Why did I care if Chasin left? I shouldn’t have but I did—a lot.
“Nixon called, McKenna ran Chad Briggs. Did Leslie disclose her brother had been arrested on assault charges?”
“Yeah,” Bobby answered and I looked at her. “He was on the job when he was arrested. But Leslie said the charges were dropped once he explained to the cops who he was and what he did for a living,” she added.
My eyes cut back to Chasin to find him studying me and doing it closely. He was also frowning, which was worrisome in and of itself. But there was something else there, too. He looked angry. Not pissed but angry, angry.
“What’s wrong? If he was arrested on the job—”
“If that’s what she told you, then she lied,” Chasin cut me off.
“What?” I asked, and at the same time Bobby added, “That’s exactly the story she told me.”
“Chad Briggs wasn’t arrested on the job. Not even close. He was arrested outside of the bar where he beat the shit out of his ex-girlfriend’s fiancé. That was after he’d stalked the guy for weeks beforehand. After the arrest, the guy refused to press charges and he and Chad’s ex moved fifty miles away.”
“What?” Bobby screeched and immediately moved across the room to my side.
There it was, Bobby always moving in to protect me. I reached out and grabbed her hand, her head dropped to our hands, and her wide, startled eyes came to mine. Had I been such a bitch that my BFF would actually look shocked that I was grabbing her hand?
When her hand in mine tensed, it appeared I’d been an extreme bitch.
“Bobby, honey, sit down.”
“Sit down?”
I felt my lips start to tip up at the sound of Bobby’s shrill tone.
Roberta Layne might be a tiny little thing, with wild blonde hair and more tits and ass than any one woman needed, but when she was on a tear, watch out. The woman could rant. I mean rant for hours. She could also get loud. And when she started, the pitch of her voice rose the more furious she became. Judging by her current octave, on a scale of one to ten—ten being the most pissed I’d ever seen her—she was at a five. The closer she got to ten, the more she hit a falsetto register. When she started channeling Freddie Mercury singing “Under Pressure,” that’s when I knew she’d hit meltdown and was going to blow.
So, with Bobby being halfway to falsetto, I needed to calm her down.
“Bob—”
“No. Fuck no. She lied to me. To us.”
“I know she did. And we’ll figure out how we’re going to deal with that, but you need to calm down first.”
“Calm down? The bitch lied, Viv. And this is not the first time.”
“Babe, you’re getting close to blowing. When that happens, your answer for everything is to burn the house down. I need you calm so we can discuss our options. We also need to call Dom and ask him about my contract and what my options are.”
“Your contract?” Bobby breathed. “You can’t—”
“Yeah, I can. I can do anything I want. But before I tell Leslie to shove her contract up her ass, I need to know first, if that’s what we want to do, and second, if legally I can do that without being sued. But I can’t do that while I’m worried you’re gonna have a stroke. So please, sit down and let’s talk this through.”
Bobby’s eyes were still wide, but it likely had less to do with me holding her hand and more to do with me entertaining the idea of severing my business relationship with B&B—something that Bobby had suggested years ago when we’d caught Leslie in her first lie. But at the time, I was so happy to finally get a break I overlooked the omission, even if it was a big one.
“Are you talking about Dominic Fitzpatrick?” Chasin asked.
“Yes. My attorney.”
“I’m gonna ask that both of you hold off on making any calls. Including to Dominic but especially to Leslie,” Chasin requested.
“Okay, but why?”
“Right now we keep what we know quiet. If you talk to Leslie, she’ll talk to her brother. If you talk to Dominic, he might talk to Leslie, which again means she’ll go straight to her brother. That can go one of two ways. Either we’re accusing an innocent man, which means Leslie would be pissed at the accusation and that could fuck up your business relationship. Or, Chad Briggs is a sick motherfucker, Leslie tips him off, and he makes a desperate play, something at the moment we don’t want him to do. We control the flow of information, we control the plays, which means we control the board and keep you safe. Both of you. Hate to point out the obvious, but stalkers don’t like to be cut off from their obsession. And they don’t like the people who are doing the cutting off.”
“Is Bobby in danger?”
“Possibly. If he feels that Bobby’s the reason he can’t get to you. That she’s the obstacle between you and him, then yes, Bobby’s in danger.”
I shot to my feet, jolting Bobby as I stood, glad that my friend hadn’t sat down as I’d requested, because now it would be easier for me to drag her out of the room, march her upstairs, and lock her in a bedroom.
“What are you gonna do about making sure she’s safe? I want a bodyguard assigned to her.”
Chasin slowly got to his feet. The movement couldn’t be called graceful, he was too big for that, too muscular, but it was fluid—confident, controlled power. Once he was standing, some of the irritation he’d worn on his face when he first came into the sunroom was gone. He wasn’t smiling, but the hardness was gone, and now that it was I realized how guarded he’d been. Then it hit me just how much I didn’t like him hiding from me. I didn’t like cautious withdraw.
Chasin
wasn’t cautious, he wasn’t withdrawn, he wasn’t unsure. He was too honest for that. He felt something and you knew it. He told you straight out, there was no guessing what he was thinking or feeling. Except for that morning—he’d given nothing away.
“Another reason why Jonny’s coming over. He’s got someone in mind, guy named Vaughn. I’ve never met him, so I can’t say much except to say, if Jonny thinks Vaughn can do the job, I trust him. So you should, too.”
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Bobby protested.
“You’re getting a bodyguard,” I returned.
“We’re not wasting resources on me. Everyone needs to be focused on you.”
My body jolted and my hand tightened in Bobby’s which meant I jerked her arm and her body swayed.
“You’re getting a guard,” I insisted. “You’re not gonna be in danger because of me. Don’t bother trying to argue with me. I swear, Roberta, you do and I’ll chain you to a bed upstairs and you know I will.”
The doorbell rang and Chasin’s rumble pulled my attention to him. “You two stay in here while I get the door.”
Chasin exited the room, leaving me alone with Bobby. I used the privacy to my advantage.
“Please, Bobby, please don’t fight with me about this,” I pleaded. “I know you’re pissed at me. I know I’ve screwed up our friendship. I know you want to leave as soon as you can and get away from me. But please stay. Please give me a chance to make it right. I don’t want you to leave and that has nothing to do with me needing my assistant and everything to do with me not wanting physical distance between us. I need you close so I can fix what I broke, but I also want you safe. I would die if something happened to you because of me. Please, Bobby, I’m begging you to stay.”
Before she could say a word, Chasin, followed by two men, entered the room. Two broad-shouldered, tall, good-looking men. One with midnight hair, so black it looked like it had a hint of blue. The color so badass it sent me into deep contemplation, wondering if I should die my hair that color. Bobby’s hand spasmed in mine and I knew she was in her own deep inspection, though I didn’t think she was admiring the coolness factor of midnight black hair with blue undertones. First she had blonde hair and wouldn’t dare change it, and secondly, I knew she was looking at the second man, the one who didn’t have black hair but the bluest eyes I’d ever seen. He was at least ten feet from me and I could see them clearly, that was because they were so blue they looked like jewel stones had been stuck in his eye sockets.
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