Chapter Two
Kenna
"Do you really think this is necessary?" I ask Kane, pacing in circles around the chic studio lobby. I'm supposed to be recording. Instead, I'm meeting with a bodyguard because my brother is an overprotective, crazy person. There is no receptionist here, so we have the small lobby to ourselves.
"Yes."
That's all I get from him. A staid, unruffled yes.
I spin to face him, annoyed. Only to find him leaning back on the white leather sofa with his head against the gray wall and his eyes closed. He's not in the least worried about meeting this bodyguard. Ugh.
Why couldn't I have a cat instead of an older brother? That's what I really wanted.
"The least you can do is stress out with me," I sniff, glaring at him.
He cracks a smile. "I think you've got that covered, Kenna."
"You're so annoying. I'm telling Maya you're being mean to me." Nothing much ruffles my brother. But he can't stand when his wife is upset with him. And she loves me, so she always takes my side. It drives him up the wall.
His eyes flash open, settling on me like two fixed obsidian points of malcontent. "I'll tell Ma about the bird."
"You wouldn't."
His eyes narrow infinitesimally.
"Truce?" I bat my lashes at him, which makes him chuckle.
"You're never going to grow out of being a brat, are you?"
"Nope." I plop down on the sofa beside him, huffing out a breath. "I'm worried, Kane. How am I supposed to explain a bodyguard at my shows? Or to the label? Or to anyone?" I just signed my first deal. I'm playing at a big charity event coming up. Having a bodyguard hanging around when I'm not even that famous is going to bring up questions that I don't want to answer.
I'm brand new. The last thing I need is to be labeled as a diva. If they ask about the bodyguard and I lie, that's exactly what they'll call me. A diva who thinks she's important enough to need protection before anyone even knows my name. But if I tell the truth, it'll scare people off. I don't want people afraid to work with me , and I'm seriously worried if they know the truth, they may think I'm more trouble than I'm worth right now.
I have a stalker. Or a creep. Or whatever you call someone who sends you unwanted and threatening gifts. Whoever he is, he's freaking me out. He's stressing me out. And I don't have time for either right now.
"No one has to know he's a bodyguard, Kenna," Kane says, tucking my head against his shoulder. "You can tell them he's your best friend, your boyfriend, your long-lost cousin. I don't fucking care what you tell them so long as he's there and I know you're safe."
"John will be there."
"Fuck John," Kane growls, making his feelings about my manager clear. Not that they weren't clear before now or anything. Kane hates my manager. I think he's hated him since I hired him a few months ago. My brother swears my manager wants to sleep with me. As I said, my brother is an overprotective, crazy person. "I wouldn't trust John with your safety if he was the last motherfucker on the planet."
"Well, I still think he should be here for this meeting."
"Too bad. He doesn't have a say in who we hire to protect you. His job is to manage your career. He has no say about anything else pertaining to you, your life, or how you choose to live it."
"He's been good for my career, Kane. You're going to have to learn to get along with him eventually," I say, shaking my head. "I have a record deal because of him."
"No. You have a record deal because of you." My brother cuts his eyes at me, his expression unyielding. "Your talent got you that deal. All John did was convince a suit to sit his ass in a chair and listen."
Kane has always been my biggest supporter. My entire life, he's been the first person to show up for me. And he's always done it, no questions asked. I love him so much for that. But he is so freaking stubborn! Once he makes up his mind about someone, there is no changing it. And as far as he's concerned, John is a weasel.
I'll never convince him otherwise. No one will. I give up trying and change the subject.
"How are the renovations going?" Our mom has been renovating her place since our dad died two years ago. She's never going to finish it. The work keeps her mind off the fact that she's alone there now.
"I'm considering burning it down and buying her a new house."
"Kane!" I laugh loudly.
"You're laughing, but I'm serious. If she changes her mind one more goddamn time about what color she wants the living room " he rumbles. "Agreeable Gray, Dove Tail, Lakeside Blue, Dirty Martini...Maya just talked her out of Iron Ore. It's fucking black, Kenna. Black!"
I bury my face in my hands, laughing. I'll never understand why paint doesn't have normal names. What color is Dove Tail? No one knows! But purple, green, blue, light blue, reddish-orange, we understand that.
He may complain about my mom changing her mind all the time, but we both know he'll paint the living room as many times as she wants to repaint it if that's what makes her happy. He's an amazing son, especially since our dad died. Renovating the house keeps Mom occupied and moving forward. Kane will tear it down to the foundation and rebuild it brick by brick if that's what she wants.
Thank God Maya talked her out of the black paint, though. We are not the Addams Family.
"I'm having goddamn nightmares about paintbrushes chasing me now," Kane grumbles. "They have mouths on their handles and scream the names of paint colors."
"Stop!" I cry, wiping tears from my cheeks as I laugh so hard I can't breathe.
Gideon Carmichael finds me red-faced and wheezing for breath while Kane grins, completely unapologetic. My laughter dies on my lips as I catch sight of the man Bryant Denver sent to protect me.
He is exactly what I expected and somehow nothing at all that I was prepared for. He towers over me, brawny and broad-shouldered, with captivating green eyes and short, dark hair. The edge of a tattoo licks up his collarbone, hinting at more art beneath the expensive black suit he wears so freaking well.
His intense gaze tangles with mine, pinning me to the sofa. Those eyes seem to sift through every thought in my mind, getting right to the heart of me in seconds. No one reads me as quickly, as thoroughly, or as accurately as he does. It's fascinating and terrifying at the same time.
I can't get a read on him, but Lord have mercy. I'm not sure if I want to jump into his arms or hide from him. Both seem like good, solid plans at the moment. He is well, he's something. Fearsome and beautiful and dangerous in ways I can't put to words. And hot. Heat pours from him, searing me everywhere it touches.
I didn't know they made men like him anywhere except in dreams and old movies. My heart feels lodged in my throat. My palms are sweaty. I'm nervous in a way I haven't been in a long time.
"You must be Gideon," Kane says, hauling himself to his feet. He extends a hand, clearly not affected by Gideon's presence in the same way.
Gideon slowly turns to look at my brother, pulling his gaze from mine.
I shiver, wrapping my arms around myself. Now that he isn't looking at me, I want his eyes on me again. I want that heat and intensity.
What in the world is wrong with me?
Get it together, Kenna.
"I am," Gideon says, his voice like silk as he shakes my brother's hand. "You must be Kane Maxwell."
"I am." Kane jerks his head toward me. "This is Kenna."
"Hello, Kenna." Gideon's gaze drifts back to me, settling over me like a warm blanket.
I like the way it feels a little too much.
"Hi."
We stare at each other in silence for another moment.
"Kane said you had to record today?"
"Yes."
Gideon lifts his chin. "Why don't you head on in and do what you need to do? I'll talk to your brother about what's been going on while you handle business."
I narrow my eyes, desire rapidly cooling. Of course a man who looks like him wants to send the little woman away while the men in charge speak. Ugh. Well, I have news for him. I'm the woman in charge here. "He's here as a favor to me, Gideon."
A frown pulls his full lips down. "I'm not sure I understand."
"You won't be working for him. You'll be working for me."
"I'm aware."
"Are you? If you should be talking to anyone, it's me. But you've been here for two minutes, and you're already trying to get rid of me so you can talk to the man in the room about things that impact me, not him."
His expression clears, understanding dawning. "I didn't mean it that way, Kenna."
"No?"
"Of course not. I fully intend to have a conversation with you about everything, but I figured since he's here now and you have to record, he can fill me in on what's been going on while you're recording, and then we can pick up when you get a break." Gideon frowns at me. "I'm trying to make life easier for you. I know this meeting was last minute for you."
Kane places a hand on my arm, cautioning me to ease off. "She works in a man's world," he says. "She's had to fight for her place every step of the way. She doesn't mince words or put up with any bullshit. If she feels like she's being treated differently because she's a woman, she'll speak up."
"Don't apologize for her," Gideon growls at Kane. "She did nothing wrong."
"Apologize?" Kane laughs abruptly. "I'm simply warning you that my baby sister can be a badass when she needs to be. She knows exactly who she is and what she's worth, and she doesn't tolerate bullshit, especially when it comes to her career. I won't ever apologize for that, and neither will she."
"Good," Gideon grunts, his eyes still locked on me. Appreciation glints in their depths and something curiously like pride. "She shouldn't."
Well, he's growing more interesting by the moment.
This is bad. Really bad. The last thing I need is to fall for my bodyguard. But somehow, I can already see it happening. This man is going to be a problem for me. A very big problem if I let him.
I can't let him. I won't let him.
Love is supposed to be patient and kind and all of that stuff. And maybe it is. Maybe it's the most wonderful thing in the world. But then it ends, and it's painful and awful and something you never recover from. Just ask my mom. She's been grieving for two years. She'll never stop.
"Go lay down your first track, Kenna," Kane urges me. "I'll fill him in on the details, and then you guys can talk."
I reluctantly agree, trying to figure out how the heck I'm going to wiggle out of hiring this man. The worst thing I can do for me is hire him. But I can't deny that I need him.
Being stalked sucks.
An hour later, the first track is laid, and Gideon's still waiting in the lobby. I reluctantly step out to meet him.
"You sing like a fucking angel," he mutters.
"Thanks." I stand awkwardly near the door to the sound room, eyeing him. Kane likes him, which is saying a lot because Kane never likes anyone. But I'm still worried that hiring him would be the worst possible thing for me.
He makes my stomach flutter with nerves. I haven't felt those for a man in ever, actually. My whole life, I've been too focused on music to worry about dating. I always figured I'd make time for it later. And then my dad died, and I decided that I didn't want to make time for it.
I threw myself into my career.
Making a career in the music industry in a city like Nashville isn't as easy as it sounds. There are hundreds of girls just like me out here trying to do the same thing. And unlike me, a lot of them aren't curvy. We may live in an age of body positivity but record execs don't always see it the same way. They want a pretty face and a body that matches.
I refuse to change mine just to fit a mold that artists like Cami Reynolds have been trying so hard to break. I'm not trying to be a supermodel. I'm trying to be a singer. My voice and my songs should be enough. If they aren't, then I figure that label probably isn't where I belong in the first place. But it's been a steep hill to climb.
"How long do you have before you have to be back in there?"
"Depends on how long it takes the band to get their portion laid down. We're laying one more track today."
He jerks his chin in a nod. "We've got time to talk then. They usually take a while to get it right."
"You've worked with musicians before."
"A few times," he says with a grimace.
"I take it we're not your favorite clients."
"Politicians are my favorite."
"Really?" I laugh, surprised by the answer. "Why?"
"Everyone hates them. It makes them paranoid. They're far more likely to listen to what the fuck I have to say as a result. I can protect people who listen. I can't protect people who don't listen." His gaze slides across my face. "Which are you going to be, Kenna?"
"I haven't hired you yet, Gideon."
"You need me."
"Says you."
"Says the dead bird that arrived on your doorstep," he counters. "Whoever sent it isn't fucking around, Sparrow. They're dangerous, and they know where you live. That's pretty fucking serious."
"I know," I whisper, shoving my hands behind my back to hide the way they tremble. He's not telling me anything I haven't thought about obsessively since I opened that damn box and found the bird. The dead flowers, I could write off. They were in my dressing room. Anyone could have slipped backstage at a show and put them in there. The poem has had me looking over my shoulder since I got it. But the bird? It showed up at my front door. I can't stop thinking about that fact.
Coupled with the poem telling me that someone is watching me from the shadows, it's all I've been able to think about. I've been staying with Kane and Maya ever since it was delivered. I'm afraid to go home. I'm afraid to be alone. I'm afraid, period. And I hate that.
I'm not someone who scares easily. I'm not intimidated often. Nothing slows me down for long. I've been chasing my dreams since I was sixteen, and I haven't stopped once. I want this more than I've ever wanted anything. But now that it's right here in front of me, I feel like it's one stiff wind from blowing away.
"I can keep you safe, Sparrow," Gideon says. "But you have to let me do it. Your fans aren't your friends right now. Until we find out who is behind this, you have to keep them at a distance. Everyone in your life is a suspect."
"My family wouldn't do this," I argue, adamant on this point. "Kane and Maya and my mom would never do something like this. Ever."
"I can agree on that point," he concedes. "Your brother wouldn't do it. I don't know his wife or your mom, but I think we can probably rule them out, too. What about your band? Manager? Assistant? Friends?"
"My friends wouldn't do this either. They've always supported me. My manager is the one who got me the record deal, and he wanted me to go to the police about all of this. I don't have an assistant. And my band stands to lose as much as I do."
"Exes?"
My cheeks heat. "No."
"No? You can't be sure, Sparrow. One may hold a grudge. I'm going to need names so I can check into them."
"I mean, no, it can't be an ex because there are no names, Gideon. I don't have any exes. I've never dated."
"Never?" His brow rises.
"Don't you dare judge me. I've been busy!"
"I'm not judging. I'm fucking impressed." He holds up his hands, his expression full of sincerity. "Figured men were beating down your door for a chance with you." His gaze rakes over me, that same intensity from earlier searing me. "I would have been."
I swallow hard, my heart pounding an erratic rhythm. Pure giddiness shoots through me at the confirmation that this man finds me attractive. He's feeling the same pull I do.
I slam the lid on it. Hard.
"If we're going to be working together, that's all it can be, Gideon," I say, narrowing my eyes at him. "Work."
"Sounds like you just hired yourself a bodyguard, Sparrow."
"I " Well, crap. I guess I did, didn't I? "Don't make me regret it."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"Somehow, I doubt that," I say dryly. He strikes me as the kind of man who does exactly what he wants when he wants. He doesn't make apologies or take prisoners along the way. No one tells him what to do, and nothing stands in his way.
He grins at me, humor in his gaze.
"I meant what I said, Gideon. This is just work. Nothing else."
"You know what they say about all work and no play, Sparrow." He paces toward me, each step slow and deliberate, as if waiting to see if I crack like an egg and run like a coward. But I'm no coward. I don't run from anyone. He stops inches from me, looming like a wall. I hold my breath as he reaches out to tip my head back until my eyes meet his. "It makes Kenna a very cranky girl."
"Gideon," I say, trying to warn him to behave. His name comes out sounding more like a needy moan, though.
His wicked smile lets me know he's on to me. He knows I'm attracted to him. I think he may even know how much I'm attracted to him, darn it. But I'm not sleeping with him. I don't care how gorgeous he is or how much my body might want to betray my good sense.
That way lies madness. And I've already got way too many problems to add falling for this beautiful, infuriating man to the mix.
"Don't worry, Sparrow," he breathes, brushing his thumb across my bottom lip. "When you're ready to fall, I'll be here to catch you."
"I "
He steps away, moving back to the opposite side of the lobby. "I should start today," he says as if he didn't just throw my entire world out of orbit. "We can tell people whatever you want to tell them to explain my presence, but you'll be with me twenty-four-seven until we catch this guy. Hopefully, that'll be before the charity event." He turns to look at me. "You should make a show of moving back into your place. Maybe it'll draw him out so I catch the bastard."
Twenty-four seven? My place? Is he suggesting that he's moving in with me?
"What?"
"You heard me, Kenna." He grins, clearly enjoying this a little too much. "As of now, we're roomies."
"We are not roomies," I protest. "I live in a tiny one-bedroom apartment!"
"Then I guess it's a good thing I don't snore, isn't it?"
Oh my god.
I didn't hire a bodyguard. I hired a crazy person.
Fifteen minutes later, my phone dings, alerting me to the fact that John has arrived. Great. This is going to go well. He really wants me to let the police handle it. "My manager is here."
"Where?" Gideon glances toward the sound booth as if searching for him.
"In the parking lot." I shove my phone back into my pocket, taking a breath.
"He doesn't need to know who I am."
"Seriously?"
"This doesn't work if everyone knows the truth, Sparrow."
"He isn't everyone, Gideon. He's my manager."
"Kane doesn't trust him."
"Kane doesn't trust anyone!"
"Until we rule him out, he doesn't know."
No wonder Kane likes Gideon. They're two peas in a paranoid pod. "Fine. Then what are we telling him and my band, Gideon?"
"That's up to you."
"Well, you'd make a terrible assistant." And I don't actually need one, anyway.
His grin makes my knees weak. He's way too handsome for his own good. And for mine. Definitely for mine.
"Kane suggested saying we're dating."
Oh, jeez. Why aren't my brain and mouth connected?
"We can go with that."
"Or long-lost cousins."
Gideon grunts noncommittally as the door to the studio swings open, and John comes strolling in. Unlike Gideon, John isn't tall and brawny. He's a short king. He's handsome, I suppose. But he uses too much gel in his hair if you ask me. His teeth are a little too white, too.
He takes one look at Gideon sitting beside me and rakes the sunglasses from his face. His smile goes with them.
"Hi, John." I smile, waving at him.
"Kenna. Why aren't you in the studio?"
"Oh. The band is doing their part right now."
"Ah." His blue eyes shift between me and Gideon as if waiting for an introduction.
"John, I'd like you to meet Gideon. Gideon, this is my manager, John. John, Gideon is my "
"Man," Gideon growls. "I'm her man."
Oh, I'm going to kill him. I was going with cousin, not boyfriend. But that ship has sailed now. If I try to call it back, I'm going to look like a lunatic. Or blow Gideon's cover before it's even in place.
My foot accidentally on purpose slips, kicking him in the shin.
He doesn't even bat a lash.
Surprise flares in John's eyes before he manages to school his expression. He shoots Gideon a smile. "Well, then, it's good to meet you, Gideon. Our girl here doesn't share much about her personal life. It's good to see she actually has one." He laughs, tucking his sunglasses into his pocket. "I was beginning to worry."
I exhale a tiny breath, relieved. That went better than I thought it would. John can be single-minded. I think he may be more focused on my career and getting me to the next level than I am sometimes. He works his butt off and expects me to do the same. I figured he'd look at a boyfriend as a distraction. He's intimated as much before. But maybe now that I've got the record deal, he's easing off a little.
"Let me worry about her personal life," Gideon says, his voice firm. He's staring at John exactly like Kane does, as if he's a bug he wants to squash. "You worry about her career."
"That's the plan," John says before turning to me. "Are you ready to get back to work, Kenz?"
I barely contain a grimace when he uses the nickname he gave me. It doesn't even match my name, but he insists on using it.
"We need to discuss your setlist for tomorrow."
"Yeah." I pop up from the sofa, eager to put a little distance between him and Gideon before Gideon says something crazy. I've known the man for all of two hours, and I already know he's a menace.
He rises to his feet beside me, snagging my hand. Before I can even react, he tugs me into his arms.
"Relax," he mouths. Half a second later, his lips come down on mine. He lingers just long enough to send a powerful jolt through my system and make it look believable and then releases me.
I stumble, partially because I'm caught off guard, partially because an electric current still runs through me, throwing the whole world off-kilter. There's no way I'm going to survive him. None at all.
"See you soon, Sparrow," he says, one corner of his lip quirked up as if he knows exactly what I'm thinking and finds it hilarious.
I add an item to my to do list. Find whoever is stalking me, and then kill Gideon Carmichael slowly and painfully.