Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
Carlene sat cross-legged on the bed with her laptop propped on a pillow, half a sandwich beside her, and a headache that wouldn’t quit. She’d told herself she would rest when the audit finished, but rest felt impossible. The hum of her computer was the only sound in the room.
Her inbox was a battlefield. Messages from the label, the legal team, Tony, and now a new one from an address she didn’t recognize. The subject line read: You don’t know the half of it.
Her pulse jumped. She hovered over it, debating. Opening anonymous emails was risky, but curiosity won.
Inside was a short message. They’re deleting the originals. Look at drive R_C-9825. If you want proof, move fast.
Attached was a screenshot of a file directory, a timestamp, and one word typed beneath it...Soon.
She sat back, heart thudding. Someone inside Reed & Carr was warning her. Or baiting her.
Her first instinct was to call Tony, but she stopped. He’d loop in the label, and by the time the lawyers finished talking, the evidence would be gone. She needed to move quietly.
Carlene typed quickly, launching the forensic software she’d installed earlier. She copied the directory into the search path and hit enter. The progress bar crawled, each percent taking too long.
Her phone buzzed.
Jami:
You eat yet?
She smiled faintly despite herself.
Barely. You?
Coffee counts, right?
No, it doesn’t.
Then I’ll make you a deal. I eat, you sleep.
Not happening. Got a lead.
Want help?
She stared at the words. He meant it, she knew he did, but the thought of pulling him deeper into her mess made her stomach twist.
Just focus on the music, Jami. I’ve got this.
He didn’t reply right away. Then her phone buzzed again.
You don’t have to keep proving that. I already know.
Her throat tightened. She stared at the screen until it dimmed, then set it face down on the bed. He had no idea how close to the truth that cut. She’d been proving herself for so long she’d forgotten what it felt like not to.
A soft chime from her laptop pulled her back. The scan finished. The directory was real. And so were the deletion requests, all queued to wipe at midnight.
“Not a chance,” she murmured.
She launched a data capture, redirecting the files to a secure mirror drive. The progress bar climbed slowly. Too slowly.
Her nerves buzzed. She walked to the kitchenette, grabbed the last of the cold coffee, and drank it straight from the cup. The bitterness grounded her.
The mirror finished. She checked the transfer logs twice, then zipped the files and sent them to her offsite backup. Her stomach unclenched only when she saw the green check mark.
It was done.
The adrenaline that had kept her upright started to fade, replaced by exhaustion. She sat back against the headboard, the weight of the last few days pressing down all at once.
Her phone vibrated again.
A text from Tony this time.
Vivian says great work today. She’s impressed.
Carlene smiled faintly. She didn’t care about Vivian’s approval. What she wanted was for this to be over, for the story to shift back to where it belonged, on the music.
Her gaze drifted toward her phone again. She wanted to text Jami to tell him she’d pulled another thread in the web Reed & Carr had spun. To hear him say something simple and warm that would ease the edge of her loneliness.
Instead, she opened her notebook and jotted down every detail of the email, the server, and the timestamp. Work first. Always work first.
Still, her mind wouldn’t stay quiet. She thought about the way he’d looked at her that morning, steady and concerned, his voice softer than it should’ve been when he told her she didn’t have to do this alone.
The words had stayed with her.
She closed her eyes for a moment. The sounds of traffic outside came faintly through the cracked window, the rhythm slow and familiar. For the first time since she’d left Miami, she let herself wonder what it would be like to stop running on adrenaline and actually let someone in.
Her phone buzzed one last time.
Jami:
Goodnight, Carlene. Don’t forget to breathe.
She smiled, small and tired, and whispered into the quiet,
“You too.”
Then she turned off the light, slid under the blanket, and let herself drift. Sleep came easier this time. But somewhere between awake and dreaming, she saw his face again, the softness in his eyes, and the truth she’d been trying to deny finally settled deep inside her.
She wasn’t just fighting to protect the band anymore.
She was fighting to protect the man who’d somehow stolen her heart.