Chapter Nine
Gideon
The next three weeks are some of the best and worst of my life. Kenna only has one small show that goes off without a hitch, but she's in the studio every day. We spend most evenings at her place or sneaking away to mine.
John doesn't show his fucking face at the show or the studio. I'm guessing the fact that Kane hunted him down like a dirty dog and threatened to rip his dick off and feed it to him might have something to do with that. But I don't mention it to Kenna. She has enough to worry about.
The label is more than happy to work with her directly when we contact them. In fact, I get the impression that they prefer it. That eases a little of the worries plaguing her mind, but there are a thousand more still battling for her attention.
Her stalker sends flowers to the studio four days after the show at Rucker's. Three days later, a stack of pictures shows up in the mailbox. The next week, someone throws a brick through my truck window while it's parked out front. We can't be sure it's related, but no one doubts it.
My friend at the PD scours both sets of photos for prints but comes up with nothing. Not even the damn tape from Rucker's has anything of use. Whoever hung them wore gloves. We ruled John out because he was sitting right beside us that night, but with everything going on, I find myself more suspicious of him than ever.
Something about him doesn't sit right. I just don't understand the fucking purpose if this is him. Especially now when he has to know that he'd be her biggest suspect. Why keep it up? Why risk it? He's not stupid. It's a big risk to take. There's something I'm missing. I just don't know what it is.
It's driving me fucking crazy, though.
As Kenna throws herself into rehearsals for the charity gala, I throw myself into figuring out how to set a trap to catch whoever the fuck is stalking her. The only way I know to do it is by using Kenna as bait, and I loathe that thought. Putting her in danger, even in a controlled environment, doesn't appeal to me. I already regret having her move back to her place instead of into mine.
I'm head over heels for her and falling deeper by the day. I know she feels the same way, but she's still holding a piece of herself back. She has been ever since shit with John went sideways.
I think she's afraid to give all of herself to me when her life is in shambles. I'm trying to wait her out, but I'm impatient as hell. I want every piece of her, and I don't want to wait. I know she loves me. But I need to hear her say it. Until she does, it's going to drive me crazy.
I don't want to force it out of her, though. I want her to tell me on her own. But I'm not sure how much longer I can hold my own confession back. I need her to know that she's got every piece of my heart wrapped around her little fingers.
A week before the big event, my contact finally comes through with the first piece of good news she's had in weeks.
Riley Jamison and Addison Devine pop in at rehearsals to meet Kenna. She's on stage when they slip into the arena with Weston Davies from the Predators and his wife, Laney.
I've done security for Wes before, and his wife and Addison are best friends. She works for Saunders Management, the talent management agency Riley owns. They manage some of the biggest country musicians in the business. Wes put me in touch with her. Once I explained the situation, she and Riley were eager to meet Kenna.
They head in my direction. I meet them halfway.
"Riley, Addison, this is Gideon Carmichael," Wes says. "Gideon, meet Riley and Addison."
"It's nice to meet you both," I say politely. "Thank you for coming."
Addison smiles shyly but doesn't say anything. Wes warned me that she probably wouldn't. She doesn't say much to people she doesn't know. But Riley grins at me, thrusting her hand out.
"I know your brother," she says.
"I'm sorry. I told Ma he shouldn't be allowed out without supervision."
"I didn't say which brother."
"Doesn't matter. It applies to both."
She laughs lightly. "I like you already."
I wink at her, which makes her laugh again.
She turns to peer down at the stage. "Is that her?"
"Yeah, that's my girl."
"Your girl, huh?" Riley smirks at me. "Does she know that?"
"Oh, she knows."
"We're going to get the fuck out of here and let you guys talk," Wes murmurs, holding out his fist for me to bump. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, man. Seriously."
"Anytime, brother."
"Bye," Laney says, waving at me.
"Bye, sweetheart."
He leads her toward the hall as I turn toward Riley and Addison. They're pressed against the railing, listening to Kenna as she belts out Wait for You, a song about her dad. The lyrics are fucking heartbreaking, but she sings it like an old country lullaby. It's hauntingly beautiful.
"She just signed her first deal?" Riley asks, glancing at me over her shoulder.
"Yeah. She should have had one long before now." I know I'm biased, but it's also true. Her voice is phenomenal. She can sing her ass off, and she knows how to play to a crowd.
"Why didn't she have one before now?"
"You'd have to ask her."
"I'm asking you," Riley says.
"She promised her parents she wouldn't sign a deal before she finished college. She graduated three years ago. Her dad died not long later. Her last manager wasn't great. He didn't know how to handle a girl like her," I say frankly. "And John is a fucking prick, excuse my language."
"John Ballentine?"
"Yep."
Riley's nose crinkles. "He's a shark."
"Yeah."
"You said her last manager couldn't handle a girl like her. What'd you mean by that?" Riley asks, her gaze probing. I have a feeling she already knows everything there is to know about Kenna, but she wants to hear it from me anyway. To see if I'll give it to her straight? To get my assessment? I'm not sure. I don't know Riley, but everyone knows her name and they know her reputation. She's good people, and won't take on an artist she can't fully support.
"She's not a delicate little flower," I say, giving it to her straight. I think she might know a thing or two about being a strong woman. "She knows what she wants, and she isn't afraid to stand up for herself and her music. If you want someone willing to change everything about themselves to fit a mold, it isn't her. She knows exactly who she is and what she stands for. She won't follow along blindly. But if you want someone who knows her shit and is willing to fight for it, that's your girl on the stage. She works harder than anyone I've ever met."
Riley nods, listening to her as she finishes the song. "What aren't you telling me, Gideon?" she asks as Kenna turns to speak to the band. "Why are you here? And don't tell me it's just because you're in love with her. I know better. I have connections too, you know. There are whispers that her brother was looking for a bodyguard for her."
Well, shit.
"Does it stay between us?"
"I can't guarantee that," she says. "But I can promise that it'll go no further than the people who absolutely need to know. And those are the people who will take whatever you tell me to the grave."
I deliberate for a long moment and then say fuck it. If keeping Kenna's stalker under wraps means she loses this opportunity, it isn't worth it. The woman standing in front of me can open doors for her that no one else in this town can. She knows everyone. She's worked with everyone. Her company is the best in the business. Kenna needs Riley in her corner now more than ever. If I can make that happen, I'll do it.
"She has a stalker," I say quietly. "We don't know who it is, but they've been sending her threatening messages and gifts for the last couple of months. At one of her last shows, they slipped into her dressing room and left dozens of photos of her all over the walls."
Riley's eyes widen.
"She fired John right after the same show. He didn't take it well."
"You think it's him?"
"My gut says it is, but all the evidence says it isn't."
Riley nods. "Trust your gut, Gideon. There have been whispers about John crossing lines with clients for a while, but nothing has ever been confirmed. He has an army of lawyers and millions of dollars to throw around, so people tend to tread carefully when it comes to him."
"Yeah, well, I prefer to stomp and make a lot of noise myself."
She grins at me. "I kind of figured."
"Not to put you on the spot, but Kenna could use a manager like you in her corner. Especially right now."
"Then let's go down and meet her, shall we?"
"Riley Jamison?" Kenna squeaks, tackling me as soon as we're in my truck. "You freaking called Riley Jamison?"
I laugh, hauling her the rest of the way across the console into my arms. "Well, I called Addison Devine. She called Riley."
"You're the best boyfriend ever, Gideon." She kisses all over my face, her joy contagious. The meeting with Riley went fan-fucking-tastic. Riley will send the contracts over to Kane to look through before anything is signed, but as of now, Kenna is under new management.
John can get fucked. He may have an army of lawyers and millions to throw around, but his name doesn't carry half the weight in this town that Riley's carries. For now, Kenna is untouchable where he's concerned. If he tries to destroy her career, he'll be sinking his own.
I doubt he'll slink into the shadows that easily, but one of her problems just became a whole lot lighter. Equally as important, she now has someone in her corner who will have her best interests at heart. And Riley damn sure won't be trying to sleep with her. She's happily married to one of the biggest billionaires in the state. A guy.
"Yeah?" I grin. "How about you say that again later when you're naked and riding my cock, Sparrow?"
"Put me back in my seat and drive fast, Marine."
"Fuck, I love you."
She goes still on my lap, her eyes wide.
Shit. I didn't mean to say that. I've been trying like hell not to say it until she was ready to hear it. She isn't ready. I see it written all over her face. The first inklings of panic. Fear. But I see hope mixed in there, too. She wants this. I know she does. She's just terrified to let herself have it.
So I don't even try to pretend I didn't say it or try to lighten the moment.
"It's true," I say quietly. "I love you, Sparrow."
"You're not supposed to," she whispers.
"Not supposed to what? To love you? To say it? To mean it? Too bad, Kenna. Said it. Meant it. Would say it again. I love you."
"Gideon." Tears well in her eyes.
"I know you feel it, too. I'll wait a fucking lifetime if that's how long it takes you to find the courage to tell me." It'll kill me to wait that long, but I'll do it. Forever if that's what it takes.
She sobs, burying her face in my throat.
I hold her against me as she falls apart, crying for the first time since I met her. It breaks my fucking heart listening to her cry like hers is broken. I suppose, in a way, it is. Has she ever properly grieved her dad? Has she cried for any of the things happening in her life now? I don't think she has. She's held it all up and held it all together, trying to be strong for everyone else. Because that's who Kenna is. That's what she does.
She's Atlas, balancing the world on her shoulders so no one else has to do it.
She's still bawling when her phone rings. As soon as it stops, mine starts. I ignore it, and then hers starts again.
"Fuck," I growl, fishing it from her back pocket as she buries her face in my chest, oblivious.
Kane's name flashes across the display. I swipe to answer, holding it to my ear.
"What's up?"
"I need Kenna over here," he says. "It's important."
"Can it wait? We're kind of busy."
"No. They just sent a revised contract for the charity event. They want it faxed back tonight. And I just got an email from Saunders Management we need to discuss."
"Shit." I glance down at her. She's still sniffling and shaking in my arms. "We'll be there soon."
"Everything okay?"
"Yep," I lie and then hang up before he can ask any questions.
I toss her phone into the passenger seat, and tuck her chin beneath my chest, rubbing her back. "You're going to be okay, Sparrow. Everything is going to be okay."
"I'm s-sorry," she cries quietly.
"You don't owe me any apologies, baby. Not now, and not ever." I press my lips to her crown and hold her until she's ready for me to help put her back together again.
An hour later, I drop her off at Kane's to deal with the contracts and then head to the office to check in with Zayne and Zion. It's been a good week since I've been there. I've had other shit to do. More important shit, frankly.
Zion is MIA, but I find Zayne getting ready to head out.
"Where are you going?"
"To Emma's."
I narrow my eyes on him, suspicious as shit. Last I checked, she was still avoiding him. She's been avoiding him for weeks. Zion and I are taking bets on how many times she turns him down before he gives up. "Did she finally agree to go out with you?"
"Not yet."
"Then why the fuck are you going to her house?"
"I'm just goin' to check on her."
"Does she know you're checking on her?"
He shrugs noncommittally.
"Jesus Christ, Zayne." I scrub my hands down my face. "You know this is called stalking, right?"
"I'm not stalking her. I just want to check on her. Once I know she's okay, I'll leave."
"How the fuck is that not stalking?" I growl.
"Okay, fine. Maybe it's technically stalking. But I'm not going to do anythin' crazy. I just want to make sure she's okay."
There's something in his eyes I've become acutely familiar with. It's the same damn thing I see in mine every time I look in the mirror. My older brother is in love. He may be a lot of things, but he's not generally obsessive. He's acting like a fucking madman because this girl matters to him. Perhaps more than anything has ever mattered to him.
Nothing ruffles Zayne. Nothing shakes him. He's solid. He does what the fuck he wants to do and says what he wants to say. He doesn't mince words and doesn't particularly care if he stomps all over your feelings. He's direct and to the point and always has been. He drives Zion nuts because he's more likely to rattle skulls than listen to explanations. But he isn't typically irrational. This is a new side of him.
One I understand because I see it in myself. If I couldn't be near Kenna, there's nothing I wouldn't do to spend five minutes breathing the same air as her. Love makes all of us a little crazy, doesn't it? Most of us are just fortunate enough to get to be crazy together. He hasn't had that opportunity yet. Right now, this is all he has. Checking on her from a distance is all he can do.
"Are you stayin' or going?" he asks, his key in the door.
"Uh, I'm going with you." Someone needs to go with him. Just in case he decides to do something even more illegal than he already is.
Jesus Christ. I can't believe I'm aiding and abetting this shit. But I get it. Christ, I get it.
He shrugs like it doesn't matter to him one way or another and then motions me out of the office.
I follow him out to his truck.
"How's your case going?" he asks once we're on the road.
I grunt instead of answering.
"How's Kenna?"
I grunt again.
"Well, you're pleasant fuckin' company." He shoots me an inquisitive look. "It's that bad, huh?"
"Something like that."
I haven't told my brothers that I'm in love with her yet. I keep meaning to have that conversation, but I can't ever seem to catch them in the same place at the same time. When I do, it never seems like the right time. I'm not really worried about what they'll say. Frankly, I don't care anymore. She's mine, and that's just how it's going to be. But with everything so fucked up right now, I don't want to give her anything else to worry about. If they get pissy about it and she finds out, she'll be upset.
Not that Zayne has a whole lot of room to talk right now. We're on the way to stalk his I don't even know what the fuck she is, actually. The fucked-up irony of this situation isn't lost on me. I'm aiding and abetting my idiot brother while trying to protect the love of my life from the same thing. On the surface, it looks fucking terrible; there's no disputing that. But there's one major difference. Zayne isn't a psycho.
He would never hurt Emma. She could turn him down every day for the rest of his life, and he'd never lift a finger to hurt her. He'd never send her fucked up poems and dead birds. He'd never take dozens of photos and send them to her just to scare her. He'd spend the rest of his life doing exactly what he's doing now stealing what glimpses of her he's able to take and hoping they're enough to sustain him until he's allowed to see her again.
"How often do you do this?" I ask when he pulls up in a residential neighborhood and parks along the curb.
"Too often," he mutters, scrubbing a hand down his face. "And not nearly often enough."
"Jesus, man. You're so fucked."
"You think I don't know that?" He shoots me a death glare. "I've been fucked since she walked through the doors."
I shake my head, leaning back against the seat with my eyes closed.
A few minutes later, a call rings through his speakers.
"Zion," he mutters, pressing the button on his console to answer.
I close my eyes again.
"What are you doing?" our little brother asks.
"Stalking Emma."
"Why do I bother asking you questions when I know damn well you're going to tell me the truth?" Zion mutters into the phone. "I refuse to be your accomplice, motherfucker."
"Don't worry, I'm not doing anything illegal."
"Except stalking," I remind him, peeling one eye open to look at him.
"Fucking hell. You roped Gideon into helping you?" Zion growls. "What the fuck, Zayne?"
"I'm not helping him. I'm just enjoying the shitshow." I'm full of shit, but Zion doesn't know that. And what he doesn't know is always amusing for me. Stressing him out is peak entertainment.
"Uh, fuck both of you. This isn't a shitshow. I don't need help. And it's only illegal if the stalking is unwanted."
"We have got to get you a law dictionary," I say, yawning. I'm fucking exhausted. "Stalking is stalking. It's all illegal."
"You know what I mean."
I shrug, closing my eyes again. Frankly, I'd take Zayne's version of stalking over the shit I'm dealing with any day of the week.
"Hasn't she shot you down every time you've asked her out?" Zion asks. "I'm pretty sure that puts whatever the fuck you're doing in unwanted territory."
"She takes care of her grandma and her grandma's twin sister."
"Awesome. You're going to get your ass kicked by two old women when they find out. Gideon, please record this for my viewing pleasure."
"I'm not going to get caught. My point is that she's been turnin' me down because she's busy taking care of them."
"Or maybe she just doesn't like you."
"Plausible," I agree.
"Does anyone like him?" Zion asks. "Or do we just tolerate him because Ma said we have to at least pretend we like him?"
"B. The answer is B."
"Obviously. Not even Ma likes his ass. She just pretends because she feels guilty that she loves him less than us."
"Curse of the first child," I murmur. "They're always the forgotten, unloved ones."
"Especially when they look like him."
I chuckle.
"I called to tell you that you have a new client," Zion says when Zayne studiously ignores us. He's gotten good at that over the years.
"Can't take it. Busy."
"You don't even know who it is."
"Don't care. I'm busy. You're going to have to handle this one."
"She's a model."
"Don't care," Zayne says, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel. "She could be the fucking Pope, and I wouldn't care. I'm busy. You handle it."
"Fuck, fine," Zion growls, clearly not thrilled. "But I'm telling Ma you're stalking Emma."
"I'll tell her that you're the one who set her shed on fire."
"That was ten years ago."
"She loved that shed," I murmur. "She could be ninety and still be pissed."
"Fuck. You're both assholes," Zion swears.
"You're welcome for the model," Zayne says before Zion hangs up on him, making me laugh.
"He's going to snap one day, and it'll be your fault."
"I didn't hear you takin' his side."
"I like stirring the pot." I shrug, my eyes still closed. I've been keeping the peace between the two of them when they're at each other's throats for most of my life. A motherfucker needs some kind of entertainment when they're getting along.
Zayne laughs quietly, and then his phone buzzes. I crack my eyes open, looking out the window. A delivery truck parked down the road prepares to pull off as my brother taps out a text. He tosses his phone in the console just in time for it to pull off.
I don't have to ask to know the pretty brunette standing in the driveway on the other side is Emma. It's evident in the way he sits upright, staring right at her.
"Gran!" she shouts as she marches up the sidewalk. "What in the world did you order from China this time?"
"She's cute," I say.
Zayne shoots a deadly look in my direction.
"I'm just saying, I get why you're all fucked up over her." I shake his head. "Jesus. I didn't say I wanted to sleep with her."
"Try it, and they'll never find your body."
A smile ghosts across my face. "So, it's like that, huh? You're serious about marrying her."
"Yeah."
"What are you going to do about the fact that she won't give you the time of day?"
"Don't know," he growls. "She likes me."
"You sure about that?"
He sends another dirty glare in my direction, making me chuckle.
My mind drifts to Kenna and her fears. "Want my advice?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"You invited me on this little criminal mission."
"Uh, no. You invited your damn self."
I flip him off. "Cut off her escape route. If you're in her face all the time and her back is against the wall, sooner or later, she'll have to stop running and face whatever the fuck is going on between the two of you."
It's all we can do. Force them to face us and the way they feel about us. When they can't run from it, eventually, they have to deal with it.
Christ, I hope that's true.
If it isn't, Zayne isn't the only brother who's going to end up with a broken heart. I am, too, because my girl hasn't stopped running from her feelings either.
I'm a little afraid she might not ever stop.