Chapter 2
Chase
The Harrises’ driver, Teddy, pulls into the driveway of their three-story brick home.
It’s late, and the whole place is lit up like a Christmas tree.
Decorative lights line the walkway and pick out the trees leading up to the property.
I climb out of the car, then hold the door for Mrs. Harris, offering her a hand.
“I can’t tell you how much we appreciate your help, Chase.” Mr. Harris comes around to clap me on the back. “I don’t want to think about what might have happened without your quick thinking yesterday.”
The Harrises had been receiving death threats after the company he owns put in an offer on one of the old buildings in the warehouse district. We were able to identify the culprit—the owner of a neighboring property—and he’s since been detained.
“Just doing my job.” I offer him a firm handshake, then turn to Mrs. Harris. “Best of luck to you, ma’am.”
She clasps her hands together, then surprises me, throwing her arms around me in a quick hug before she steps back and regains her composure. “Thank you, Chase, for keeping us safe. It meant a lot, knowing you were there to protect us. It made a scary time much less frightening.”
I nod politely. “Of course. Let us know if you run into any trouble again. We’re just a phone call away.”
She nods. “Will do.”
I wave, then climb into the passenger seat since Teddy offered to give me a ride back to my place.
“Warehouse district?”
I nod. “That’s right. Fifth and Pine.”
“You got it.” He gives me a wink, and I grin. I dig out my phone and dial my boss to let him know the job is done.
“All clear?” Cassian Rhodes’s voice is curt but professional, as always. He’s a busy man, and this is serious work. People’s lives are on the line.
“All clear. The Harrises are settled back at home.”
“Good. We have an urgent personal-security situation.”
My heart sinks. My ex-bandmate Garrett’s in town visiting family. I was hoping to spend some time with him this week, but work comes first.
“What’s the assignment?”
“Can’t disclose. We’re still working to verify it’s legit.”
Hmm.
We deal with sensitive situations regularly at Heartline Security Group, and Cass knows he can trust me. He doesn’t normally keep details under wraps. Must be a high-powered client.
“Understood.”
“Meet me at headquarters. Eight a.m. sharp,” he barks.
“Yes, sir.” I hang up.
Teddy tunes the radio to an older pop station, then cranks up the volume. Britney Spears is belting out “Baby One More Time,” and Teddy sings along, making me smile. His pitch is spot-on.
The moon is reflecting on the river as we drive along the winding road, and my muscles start to relax.
I’m always tense at the end of a job. I have to be constantly vigilant. With this last one, it wasn’t clear if there was a serious threat, but you never know.
“Did you hear about that?” Teddy glances over.
“About what?” I’m just noticing the song’s over, and the DJ is rambling about paparazzi.
“The Harper Slade scandal. Can you believe it?”
I shrug. “I don’t follow celebrities.” That’s an understatement. I stay as far away from that scene as possible. Growing up the child of a pop-punk legend who’s a grade A asshole will do that to a person.
“You know how Harper Slade and Johnny Sayers have been together for months?”
I shake my head. “Nope.” I don’t fill my head with drivel about tabloid darlings like that.
“Well, they were. At least they pretended they were. There were tons of pictures of them on fancy dates—Disney World even closed for the day so they could be there together. Everyone thought they were the perfect couple.”
“Mmm.” I nod politely.
People love to follow celebrities’ lives. If they only knew all the bat-shit crazy things going on in that world. The big-name stars are all narcissists, just like my dad. Obsessed with their own fame. They don’t care about anybody but themselves.
“Well. It turns out the entire thing was a sham! They were never really dating. Johnny’s been seeing one of his athletic trainers this whole time, and there are dozens of pictures to prove it.”
“Ahh, gotcha.”
He glances over at me, his eyes wide. “No, you don’t understand. This is huge! The whole thing with Harper was fake.”
I nod. “I don’t doubt it.” It’s par for the course. I know from my own stint in show business that everything they do is for the cameras—whatever sells albums. Some of the guys I performed with back then are still slugging it out in that world, and it isn’t pretty.
The slinky beat of Christina Aguilera’s “Genie in a Bottle” starts in, and Teddy turns the dial. “Maybe they’re talking about it on another station.”
I sigh, silently thanking God I got out when I did.
My dad got me into that business. He’d invested in a new group that one of his buddies was starting, and he asked me to join.
At first, I was excited he was finally taking an interest in me after so many years of being ignored.
But it was short-lived; turns out his interests were purely financial.
He never came by to see what we were up to, and when I asked what he thought of our music, he said he hadn’t listened to it and didn’t care to.
Still, I stayed with the group for a while. I’ve always loved music. It was something I could crawl inside of growing up—something that made sense when everything else was chaos. There’s nothing like that feeling of pure joy when people are singing and dancing and making real music together.
That’s where I met Garrett, but the two of us were always the odd men out. Everyone else was corrupted by power and greed—just like my dad. They didn’t care about the music—whether the songs were any good or if they resonated emotionally. It was all about the money and the fame.
Eventually I told my dad I wanted out, but he said I’d be in violation of my contract. My own father threatened to sue me if I left, but I’d had enough. I walked right off that stage, enlisted in the Marines, and swore I’d never set foot in his world again.
It was the best decision I ever made.
The Marines taught me leadership. Discipline. Attention to detail. I learned to protect and serve and take accountability for my own actions.
My one regret was leaving my baby sister, Lexie, behind.
She was eight when I left—and it broke my heart.
She was basically raised by our aunt, since my dad was too preoccupied with his own career to take care of her.
I managed to stay close with her over the years, and I still try to give her as much support as I can, but I know it wasn’t the same as being there.
She’s twenty-five now—a grown woman who’s tough as nails. But she followed in our dad’s footsteps: She plays guitar for The Lost Souls—a rock band at the top of the charts right now. She was even named guitarist of the year by Rolling Stone magazine a few months back.
I couldn’t be prouder of what she’s accomplished, but I worry too.
I know from experience how that business will eat you alive if you let it.
The only saving grace is that her band’s on Garrett’s label.
He’s an honest, stand-up guy who treats his people right.
But I know she’s still hoping that someday her accomplishments will earn her our dad’s respect.
Unfortunately, that’s never gonna happen.
The man doesn’t care about anybody but himself.
Teddy pulls up to my building, and I thank him for the ride. When I open the door to my one-bedroom apartment, I relax even further. Everything’s in its place, and I close the door and shut out the world.
I turn the lights down low and set the teapot on the stove to boil. Then I grab my mug, a small plate, and a bag of chamomile tea and set them together on the counter.
It’s well past midnight. Lexie’s done with her show by now. I sit down to send her a quick text while I wait for the water to heat up.
ME: Did you rock Austin, TX?
She played Moody Stadium tonight. It’s their last show before heading home to Chicago for a few nights. Dots show up as she texts me back.
LEXIE: OMG. So hard.
I grin.
ME: My little sister. Setting the world on fire.
LEXIE: Aww. So what’s the man got you doing this week?
She knows I deal in security, but I keep the gritty details to myself. I don’t want her worrying about me.
ME: Some personal-security situation, but it’s hush-hush. Not sure yet.
LEXIE: Hope she’s hot!
I roll my eyes. Lexie’s not much of a romantic herself, but she’s pushing hard for me to find someone. She thinks I’m lonely. Maybe I am. But I don’t date around. If I’m with a girl, I’m serious about her. That’s how it is for me.
ME: Very funny. You guys headed back to Chicago tonight?
The teapot whistles, and I move to grab it, then fill my mug and dip the tea bag twice. My phone pings again as I bring it to the table.
LEXIE: Yeah, three shows at a smaller club back home, then we’re back on the road. But get this…
More dots. I wonder what the big news is.
LEXIE: Dad’s gonna come and see me play on Friday!
That fucker. He’s getting her hopes up all over again, but the man is never gonna show. He doesn’t have one ounce of genuine compassion in his body, and he wouldn’t waste one precious minute of his time to actually show up for his own kid.
Lexie was two when our mom died of cancer. She never saw how callous he was through her entire illness.
I start to text her back, then pause. I don’t mean to crush her dreams, but I need her to understand the reality of this situation so she isn’t blindsided.
ME: Lexie, you know he’s gonna flake again, right?
LEXIE: No, I’m serious! He canceled some event for The Riot just so he could be there.
The Riot’s our dad’s band. They were huge in the ’90s, by anyone’s measure, and their fame didn’t make living with the man any easier: You can just imagine the fucked-up hellscape created when you give a full-blown narcissist a taste of real-world success.
The fact that he would even suggest he’d change plans for her has me reeling. I’m sure his event got canceled for reasons out of his control and now he’s trying to save face—telling himself it was his idea all along. The man has zero intention of seeing her play. I know this for a fact.
I text her back, trying to strike the right tone.
ME: I hope he keeps his word for once. I do. But don’t you let it get you down if he doesn’t show, all right? I’m gonna be rooting for you, and I’ll be in the front row at every show in the five-state area when you guys come back this way again. Deal?
LEXIE: Deal.
I bob my tea bag, then lift it out gently and set it on the plate. My phone pings once more as I take a sip, but it’s not Lexie.
CASS: We have confirmation. I need you in first thing tomorrow.
ME: Affirmative. Who’s the client?
I set my phone on the table, lifting my mug to sip my tea.
CASS: Harper Slade.
I do a spit take, and my mug wobbles in my hand, sending searing hot water straight into my lap.
“Shit!”
I leap to grab a towel to dab at the spill, but I’m still in shock.
This can’t be happening. Why would a megastar like Harper Slade set one foot in Cupid City?
But there it is, right there on the screen, her name glowing up at me.
I scowl at it.
I never push back against my boss without good reason; I do what he needs me to do, when and where he needs me to do it.
But this one’s not gonna fly. There’s no way in hell I’m signing up for the shit show that is this woman’s life.
ME: This one’s not mine. You’ll need to find another guy.
His reply comes swiftly.
CASS: Nonnegotiable. I need you here at 8 am sharp.
Ohh, fuck me.