18. Cowboy Vigilante
EIGHTEEN
cowboy vigilante
When we leave the venue a few hours later, everything is different. Brianna’s smile. Her calm energy. The peace surrounding her. This is why I said yes to being her boyfriend for hire.
The event went off well. Brianna surprised the fans with the meet-and-greet, and they went crazier than they did when we arrived. Each fan was respectful and kind and happy to meet her, and no one gave us any reason to blink twice.
It was a perfect night.
The entire ride home, Brianna has a smile on her face. More importantly, she also snuggles up against me, all on her own. I’m not going to say no, that’s for sure. When she moves in close, I wrap myself around her, pulling her closer. The comfortable silence throughout the ride signals to me how safe Brianna feels.
The limo pulls into her driveway, our quiet ride over, but the anticipation of being alone together in her house has me looking forward to the night ahead.
Getting out of the car is a different story. I’m turning to grab her hand when an electric pulse runs down my spine, a rush of adrenaline I don’t understand causing all the hairs on my neck to stand on end. Not a pleasant feeling after what was a pleasant day. I’m on edge, and I can’t understand why.
The only explanation my mind can cling to is the anticipation of the night with Brianna. She’s held onto me for hours, cuddled in close. Looked up at me with warm eyes and a peaceful smile. It wouldn’t mean much under normal circumstances, but the past few weeks have been anything but normal. It must be throwing my instincts all out of sync. I tell myself to relax, enjoy the rest of the night, and brush off the nerves.
We walk hand in hand up the steps to her front door. I have no complaints. Instead I feel like saying, “Finally.” The nagging discomfort lingers in the background, but I shove it aside and squeeze her hand instead. She squeezes back.
As we enter the house, Brianna kicks off her shoes in a way that only someone without a care in the world can do. She turns back, the brightness in her eyes almost stunning me in place.
“I’m getting a big glass of lemonade. Something about a picnic makes me crave it.”
I laugh. “Sounds good. I’ll go change and then join you for a glass. Rooftop?”
She nods a gorgeous smile.
I have a hard time continuing on my path and not just stepping forward and pressing my lips to hers—what I’ve been desperate to do for hours. But I’m not sure she’s ready yet. I feel it coming though. I just need to wait for the right moment. The right sign she wants it too.
I turn down the hallway while Brianna heads to the kitchen. She’s humming—something I know I’ve never heard her do.
“Nice song,” I call back to her. “Someone’s in a good mood.”
“A good picnic will do that to a girl.”
Her laughter after she answers puts a smile on my face.
When I get to my room and see she’s left her bedroom door open—something else I’ve only witnessed one other time in the past month—I know she’s feeling confident these days. It’s open enough that I can make out the edge of her bed and a mess of papers scattered on top of it.
“You must really be feeling comfortable with me now, Brianna, leaving your bedroom door open enough that I can see your bed,” I tease.
But the second I finish speaking I hear glass breaking in the kitchen.
The electric sensation in my spine returns, and I curse myself for ignoring it earlier. Something is wrong. Really wrong. A rush of understanding takes hold like a tidal wave. Brianna didn’t leave her door open. That fact screams at me now.
I don’t even think about what I need to do; I just act. Immediately. I change course and run to the kitchen. Brianna’s standing frozen in place, barefoot and surrounded by broken glass. Her eyes are wide with fear—that fucking fear I thought was finally under control. Not anymore.
Her hands cover her mouth. She shakes her head back and forth in a panic. I can’t let her freak out yet. I don’t know if someone is in this house. All I know is I need to get her out of here.
I take three huge steps across the glass, making it right to where Brianna stands frozen. I scoop her up in my arms, and without saying a word, I turn toward the front door. I still have my keys and my wallet in my pocket, but I pause by the door just long enough for her to grab her bag from the hook. The last thing she needs is for whoever might be here to get her personal information from her wallet.
I manage to open the door and make it down the steps to my truck in the driveway. I’m not wasting time looking for the keys to any of her luxury cars. This is a getaway. I don’t care if the truck is a wreck.
I put her down and open the passenger door. Brianna pulls herself together enough to get in and buckle up. I race around to the driver’s side and hop in, not bothering to start up the car. I shift into neutral and roll back. When we hit the street, I shift into first and pop the clutch, starting the engine up.
Who says this old clunker is worthless, huh? Jacob can shove it, because this baby is getting us out of danger.
Jacob.
His name in my head sets my next steps in motion. Brianna and I haven’t said a word since the glass broke, but it’s time to see if she’s able to handle some direction.
“Bree, call Clinton and tell him what’s going on. I want him on the scene to investigate whatever happened before we go back there.”
“No ... no ... I’m not going back there!” she says, panic lacing every word.
“You won’t. I’m taking you to my place. I’ve kept up on rent, so I still have a room available. No one will have a clue where we are.”
My plan calms her nerves. Out of the corner of my eye I see her pull open her phone. Seconds later, she’s talking to Clinton, telling him what happened.
“I know it doesn’t sound like much, but I never leave my door open. Never. And I didn’t leave a mess on my bed. I don’t want to know what’s in there, or who. Just go—please!”
Brianna listens on her end, staying quiet. Clinton must be giving her reassurances and telling her what procedures he’s following. Something like that, because after a few minutes, she mumbles, “Thank you,” in a weak voice and ends the call. Then she puts her head back against the seat and closes her eyes.
I don’t have to look at Bree to know there are tears slowly rolling down her cheeks. I can see them glistening in the streetlights.
There’s nothing to say at this point, so I reach across the seat and take her hand in mine, as it has been all day. But it’s not the same. This entire day was amazing. We were making strides and growing closer. And now ...
I don’t know how it’s possible, but now things feel worse than before.
“Well then, cancel the event, Char. I don’t care how many tickets have been sold. She’s not doing it.”
I’m pacing the small living room of what used to be my apartment, so claustrophobic after living in Bree’s huge Hollywood Hills estate for a month. My accelerated heart rate, thanks to Clinton’s call a few minutes ago, only intensifies the closed-in feeling.
“Zack, this event has been booked for close to a year. We can’t cancel it—it’s being televised. This isn’t just a concert. Too many people are involved to back out now. And I’ve already canceled the rest of her events, even her headline spot at the Moonlight Festival in Salt Creek.”
“Come on, Char. I know how this works. Singers are always postponing or canceling events because they’re exhausted or stressed out. That’s nowhere near as good of a reason as this.”
I pause to take a breath, a pointless attempt to calm down. But at least I stop yelling. I don’t want to upset Brianna again. She lost it when Clinton called. Now she’s lying down in my old room resting.
“Someone was in her house,” I continue calmly. “They were in her room. Some sicko was in her most private place. Someone who has nothing but terrible plans they’ve written down and sent to her. Do you know how terrified she is? I’ve never seen her like this. She can’t perform. There’s no way.”
Char remains silent for a while, taking in my words. Absorbing them for the truth they hold.
When Clinton confirmed there’d definitely been an intruder while we were at her watch-party, Brianna lost it. And it fucking scared me. She went almost blank, void of any emotion, staring straight ahead. I led her to my room and helped her lie down. I sat with her until Char finally called, trying to do damage control.
How in the hell do you control this kind of damage?
There’s only one plan on my mind: get her out of this town. Somewhere no one will think to look for her.
“Okay, Zack. I’ll see what I can do on my end, but it won’t be easy. I know this is deep. Clinton gave me all the specifics, and it’s now an official investigation. He’s combing the security video, but it might take a while. There’re hours to go through for each angle. He has the last letter, plus all the newest evidence the intruder left at her house. What do you need from me?”
I breathe a huge sigh. I was worried Char would focus on the bottom line, not on what was safest for Brianna.
“I need you to go to her house and pack her a bag. Comfortable clothes suitable for the outdoors, and plenty of them. Stay with her when you get here while I go pack my own. I don’t want her going back there until she’s ready.”
“Where are you taking her?” Char sounds worried.
“I think that’s best left between Brianna and me. I’ll quote you from the first day I met you— ‘the less people who know, the better.’”
“Yeah, okay. Fine. I’ll be there tomorrow at ten with her bags. And Zack?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for looking out for her. She needs someone like you in her life.”
Char ends the call without giving me a chance to say another word. I don’t think she’d want to answer the question I was about to ask anyway.
Why isn’t it you?
I pocket my phone and walk back to my room to check on Brianna. When I get there, I’m surprised to see her sitting on the edge of my bed, the picture of calm, as if her worst nightmare didn’t just happen .
“Hey. How are you feeling?” I take the spot next to her.
She doesn’t look up from whatever her eyes have locked on—some random place on the floor. “I can’t escape this,” she says, her voice barely audible.
“Brianna, look at me.”
Her eyes come up and find mine. I don’t see the fear I expected to see. I’m actually more terrified by what I do see. Resolution. As if this is her fate.
“You already have, Bree. We got out of there. You’re safe here. Clinton will catch this guy.”
She starts to look away, not even bothering to argue with me, but I can tell she disagrees.
I place two fingers on her chin and turn her focus back to me. “I’m getting you out of here. Tomorrow we’re jumping in my truck and driving to the ranch. No one will find you there. We can stay as long as you want.”
Wonder mixed with awe and surprise fills her eyes—maybe even relief. The look on her face is indescribable. I can’t keep myself from touching her, so I lean in and wrap my arms around her.
Brianna sighs, melting into my embrace.
I reach up and comb my fingers through her hair, my hold on her tightening. Her hands fist my shirt the same way she did that day on the picnic blanket. My heart pounds against my ribs at the simple contact. But what blows my mind is feeling her heart pounding too.
I pull back to look into her eyes and see how she’s doing. Is she still scared out of her mind, or is her racing heart a response to my touch? I don’t have to wait even a second to know the answer, because both of us seem drawn together.
And then our lips connect.
This is our first kiss without an audience—which, no lie, ramps up the pressure.
Brianna’s lips are warm and soft, seeking. She’s still got my shirt in her fist as she pulls me closer.
And then the tether snaps.
My hands are on her cheeks, in her hair, running down her back. My mouth can’t seem to get enough contact with hers, so I’m angling my head for more. She’s doing the same. Her lips are responding to every change in pressure, every motion of my own. It’s more than I remember; more than I imagined. My dreams haven’t been this good.
It’s twice as intense as before.
No—three times.
Hell, I can’t even do this kind of math.
Brianna pulls back just enough to release a breath—one filled with some kind of relief. Then she leans in for more. Her hands grip my neck as she takes control of our movements. I gladly allow her to take this kiss and make it her own. And like the evolution of her music, what started out as a frantic tangle of lips becomes slower, more soulful. Meaningful. Real .
But it’s me who pulls away. Because this kiss could be heading toward so much more.
I don’t want to be the guy who uses her vulnerability for my own pleasure. And I’m not. I know I’m not.
But she doesn’t.
She’s already been used. I don’t want to be added to the list. So I do the most difficult thing I’ve ever done.
I pull away.
I’ve never wanted anyone more than I want Brianna. But I can’t have her like this.
She looks at me, confusion plain on her face. I let my eyes do the talking: I want you. I want us. But not now, not tonight, not like this ...
Instead I say, “Get some sleep, Bree. We have a long drive ahead of us.” I run my fingers along her jaw, over her shoulder, and through her hair. When her eyes smile back at me, I know she understands.
Not tonight. But soon.