Chapter Fourteen
Kenna
"You don't have to do this, Clive," I say for the fifth or sixth time since Clive forced me to get in the passenger seat of his SUV. He tied my hands to the door handle once we were inside. I couldn't escape even if I tried. It's not exactly high on my list of things to do, considering we're speeding down the interstate at eighty miles an hour.
"Just stop talking," he says, the same thing he's said every time I've tried to talk some sense into him.
"Whatever he has on you or whatever he's paying you isn't enough for all of this. They know he's involved. It won't be much longer before they figure out that you're his accomplice." I strive to keep my voice calm, as if I'm talking to a frightened animal instead of a dangerous grown man. "You know it won't be."
"Maybe he's my accomplice." Clive glances over at me. "You ever think of that?"
"For about two seconds," I admit. "But you aren't that kind of guy, Clive. You don't want to be doing this at all, do you?"
He doesn't say anything.
"What does he have on you?"
"Everything I own."
I suppose I shouldn't be surprised that he's involved because of money, but I'm disappointed. I've always liked Clive. He's laidback and quiet. That makes him easy to be around. Made him easy to be around.
I'll never look at him the same way again after this.
"Is your stuff really worth murder? Because that's what you're working toward here. Murder. Can you really live surrounded by your stuff when you've got my blood all over your hands?" I ask quietly, wanting him to know exactly what price John wants him to pay for whatever debt he owes. "That's the price you're going to pay for it, Clive."
He shifts uneasily but doesn't respond.
"What does he want with me? Will you at least tell me that much?"
"Don't know." Clive shrugs, exiting off the interstate. "He rambles about you all the time, Kenna. One day, you're the best thing to ever walk the face of the earth. The next, you're a heartless bitch who doesn't deserve to walk the face of the earth. I'm not even sure he knows what he wants with you."
Well, that sounds promising. He's unhinged. Lovely.
Clive takes a right and then two lefts. Like Gideon's neighborhood, the houses here are spread out. At the dead end, Clive pulls into the driveway of one and cuts off the engine.
He nods toward the house. "You'll have to ask him."
The lump in my throat is terror. John is in that house, waiting to do God only knows what with me. To me. I think I'd rather rip out my own fingernails than go in there.
Clive isn't going to give me a choice. "I'm going to cut this now." He tugs on the rope wrapped around my hands to indicate what he means. "Don't try to run. If you do, you're only going to make whatever he has planned harder on yourself."
"I really don't like you right now."
"I know." He doesn't sound like he likes himself much right now, either. Well, good. I hope he chokes on his misery.
He climbs out of the SUV and hurries around to open my door. I pretend I'm going along with him until the moment he lets his guard down to close the door behind me. As soon as his attention splits, I take a giant step, preparing to run for it.
His hand clamps down on my arm like a vise. "Don't do it," he growls, practically dragging me toward the house.
I kick and fight, trying like hell to break free of his hold. But he's like a freaking Red Oak, completely immovable. All I manage to do is tire myself out. I still end up being hauled through the front door of his house.
He drops me in a heap on the floor.
"I told you not to do it."
"Go to hell, Clive."
"She's here," he snaps at someone. "And I'm done. You're on your own from here."
"You're done when I say you're done," John says, his shiny black shoes coming into view. I follow them up, fighting the urge to whimper when my gaze locks with his. Somehow, in the space of a few short weeks, he's turned into a monster to me. And yet, he still looks exactly the same.
He should have horns and claws and fangs dripping poisonous venom. But he's still the short, suave man he's always portrayed. It's a fa?ade, of course. There's nothing beneath that mask but pure evil. Yet he looks the same.
"Hello, Kenna."
"Everyone knows," I hiss.
"Everyone knows what?"
"That you're the one who has been stalking me."
He laughs quietly, pacing across the large living room toward me. "No one is stalking you, Kenna. We were simply trying to make you famous. That is what you've always wanted, right?"
"What? No. Not like this, John! No one wants this." I stare at him in complete shock and disgust. "Why would you ever think that anyone wants this?"
He waves his hand as if swatting a fly. "You wanted a manager who made you famous. I gave you what you wanted." He grimaces. "I was giving you what you wanted. You had the record deal. You had the big show. All you had to do was shut up and show up. The rest would have worked itself out."
"How? When I was bleeding to death in front of thousands of people?" I growl. "That was your big plan for making me famous? Killing me?"
"I wasn't going to kill you, Kenz."
"Don't call me that," I snap. "I hate that stupid nickname. And that's exactly what you were threatening to do, John. Do I need to recite the lines of your threats so you recall exactly what they contained?"
"It had to seem believable. Get her up, Clive."
"If you want to keep your hand, don't even think about touching me again," I growl, whipping my head in Clive's direction. "I can get myself up."
He nods, waiting for me to drag myself to my feet.
"What do you mean, it had to seem believable?" I ask John. If he's going to kill me, the least he can do is tell me everything first.
"You were supposed to go to the police like I suggested, Kenna. They were supposed to splash your name all over the fucking news. The whole world would have been watching that concert tomorrow, waiting to see what happened. And when someone took a shot at you, the whole world would have been on your side." His lip curls in disgust. "But you can't even fucking follow directions."
"You're insane!" I cry. "Someone was going to figure out it was you, eventually. The police would have figured it out, John."
"They can't track anything back to me." He smirks, his icy eyes cold. "You think this is my first time in the saddle? We've been turning bitches like you into stars for years, Kenna. All of the evidence points to one of your little fanboys. Once the police found the gun we stole from his collection, it wouldn't have taken them long to find everything else we've set up to ensure he's the one who takes the fall. He has a ticket to the show tomorrow and everything."
I gape at him, horrified. He moves people around the board like chess pieces. We aren't human to him we're just pawns. Kane was right. He is a horrible person, one of the worst I've ever met. From the sounds of it, this isn't the first time he's done something like this. He's been manipulating people and playing games with their lives for God only knows how long.
I can't believe I ever trusted him, and I can't believe I was ever that na?ve. He isn't a manager he's a monster.
"Your plan will never work. I'll never go along with it, John. I'm not going to let you ruin someone else's life just to make me famous," I say, drawing a line in the sand. I realize that puts me at risk when my hands are tied, and it's two against one. But sometimes, you have to do what is right even when it's not easy, even when it means risking everything.
"The plan has changed, Kenz." He smirks again, striding toward me. "I told you that you couldn't afford to pay what you'd owe if you fired me. You fired me anyway and replaced me with Riley Jamison."
"W-what's the new plan?"
"Everything you wanted is about to disappear. You're going to confess to hiring our little scapegoat to stalk you. And then the guilt is going to become too much." He reaches into his pocket, rattling what sounds like a pill bottle. "You're smart enough to work it out from there."
My god. He's going to kill me and try to make it look like I did it to myself. That's his big plan. That's his punishment. Everything he's done since I fired him was just to keep us busy. He had no intention of following through on his threats about tomorrow. He's just been waiting for an opening, terrorizing me in the meantime just because he can.
"They'll find your body in the bar where you first met him. It's poetic, really. Ending it where it all began."
"You're insane," I breathe again.
He strides toward me, reaching out to touch my cheek. I rear back, refusing to let him put his hands on me. He doesn't get to touch me. Not now. Not ever. I'll fight like hell before I let him put a single freaking finger on me.
"It's really a shame you started whoring yourself for your bodyguard," he mutters, his upper lip curled. He must notice my surprise because a mocking laugh falls from his lips. "What? You thought I didn't know who he was? The information wasn't hard to find. I am curious, though. Are you fucking him as payment, or do you really think you're in love with him?"
"Fuck you, John," I whisper, disgusted that I ever trusted this man or thought he was worthy of respect.
He laughs again. "You say that now, but when I saved you tomorrow, you would have fucking loved me."
My stomach churns at the thought of ever loving this man. My mind spins at the confirmation that he does want to sleep with me. He's wanted it all along. He was just playing the long game, hoping I'd fall into his arms after all of this was said and done.
"Never," I say, my voice firm. "Even if I didn't love Gideon, I could never love you, John. The thought of your hands on me makes my skin crawl. It did before I met Gideon. It certainly does now."
Hatred boils in his eyes, the first true emotion I think I've seen from him since the night I pulled Gideon onto the stage. As a matter of fact, I think hatred is the only true emotion I've ever seen from him. He hates that I don't belong to him and never will. Not because he loves me but because I'm a shiny new toy to him. Something for him to play with until the next shiny new toy captures his attention.
He doesn't love. He doesn't know how. He wants to sleep with me only because he thinks he has that right. It's not true desire and it doesn't even have anything to do with me, not really. I could be anyone, and he'd want the same thing. It's about control and power. He wants it. And he hates that he doesn't have it.
"You've always been a heartless, mouthy bitch."
"You should know all about being heartless, John. You wrote the freaking book. And as for being a bitch." I smirk. "Well, you've been one your entire life. But it means something else for you, doesn't it?"
He lifts his hand as if he's going to strike me. I throw myself backward, out of harm's way. He grabs for my arm, trying to keep me from running and all hell breaks loose.
The windows shatter and the front door splinters. People flood into the house, coming from every side. I only have eyes for one of them, though.
"Kenna!" Gideon roars, running straight for me as Clive drops the knife in his hands and tries to make a run for it.
John grabs for me again, wrapping his hand around my upper arm.
Gideon sees him with his hand on me and launches himself at him. Within seconds, John is on his back with Gideon on top of him.
"You son of bitch!" Gideon roars, slamming his fist into John's face. "Don't put your fucking hands on her!"
John doesn't stand a chance of getting Gideon off of him. He's a foot shorter and a hundred pounds lighter. He's soft where Gideon is unyielding. My former Marine is a beast. My former manager might as well be a kitten in his grasp.
Gideon hits him again and then again.
None of the cops in the room seem like they're in a big hurry to stop him.
"Kenna." Kane places his hand on my back. "We need to get you out of here, baby sister."
"Kane!" I cry, flinging myself at my brother's chest.
He hugs me to him, his hold hard. I feel his relief and his fear in the way he clutches me to him. He was worried.
"Let's get you out of here," he says, pulling back.
"Someone needs to stop Gideon before he kills John."
"If Gideon kills him, he'll be his own damn fault for pissin' him off."
I glance behind me at the man towering over me. I've never met him before, but I see enough of Gideon in him to know it's his brother. They share the same nose, same lips, and same broad shoulders. "Zayne?"
"Hey, sweetheart. How you doin'?"
I pull him into a fierce hug. "I'm so sorry about Zion. Is he okay?"
Zayne stands stiff for a moment, as if he isn't used to being hugged by random women. And then he returns the embrace, patting me on the back. "Yeah, sweetheart. He's going to be fine."
Relief washes through me in a warm flood.
"Can you pull your brother off that psycho? I'm going to be really upset if I can't marry him because he's in jail for murder."
A grin spreads across Zayne's face. "You're goin' to marry the big idiot, huh?"
"I mean, probably." I shrug. "Depends on how much he annoys me on the way to the altar. He's kind of bossy."
"Kind of bossy?" Zayne snorts. "He's going to command armies in hell one day, Kenna. Just you wait."
I crack a smile as Zayne strides to Gideon's side, trying to pull him off John. It takes him, Kane, and an officer to get my man off my former manager. He's so mad. I don't think I've ever seen him so furious before.
John is bleeding and unconscious. I have no sympathy for him. If I'm supposed to feel it, oh well. After everything he's done, he doesn't deserve it and I refuse to feel bad for not having any for him. Sometimes, you have to lie in the bed you make. He made his. I hope the freaking blankets smother him.
Gideon tries to fight free of Zayne's grip, still snarling and furious. I've never seen him like this before. It breaks my heart a little. He's been through so much today. First, his brother, and then this. He could have lost two people he loves in a matter of hours.
He needs me to put him back together again.
"Gideon," I whisper, stepping up in front of him. "I need you."
His head whips in my direction, those captivating green eyes settling on me. He falls completely still, just immediately quits fighting. "Sparrow," he rasps, a tremor running through him.
"I need you," I whisper again.
I've always known Gideon was larger than life, but I see it in action as he shrugs off three grown men like they're toddlers and comes charging toward me. Within seconds, I'm in his arms, his face pressed to my throat.
"Sparrow," he whispers, his voice shaking. "Christ, Sparrow."
I cling to him. And for the first time, I realize that it's finally over. I'm safe. And we're free.