17. Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Seventeen
Levi
A fter Lara told me that Mason was going to be fine and Evie was in his room with him, Tucker closed the door to my office and plopped down on the couch I’d shoved against one of the walls. I stayed behind my desk, but propped my feet on it and leaned back in my chair.
“Evie convinced her mom to go to rehab,” Tucker said as he pulled his laptop out of his bag. “So that’s one less thing we have to worry about.”
“I wasn’t planning on worrying about Trudy Hayes,” I said. “Between this shit with Evie, the Cobras causing trouble, and Jenna’s wedding, I got plenty on my plate.”
“About Evie—” Tucker began.
“You already texted me about you two talking about us sharing her,” I said. “She’s probably fucking Mason right now, so we’ll see what happens after that. No need to talk it to death.”
My little brother gave me a knowing grin and I flipped him off. He returned the gesture and booted up his computer.
“I was actually going to say that I had a chance to do some digging into what’s going on with Evie, and I might have a lead,” he said.
I didn’t bother asking if he’d found the information legally or not. Yeah, I wanted the Riders to get into more legit stuff, but we weren’t ever gonna be choir boys. We’d take a stand on the things that mattered, like trafficking and drugs, and try to avoid the sort of shit that’d get us jail time, like stealing cars and selling the parts. Tucker was good enough at what he did that he wouldn’t get caught, and he only used his skills for good. Like finding out who’d been harassing Evie.
Or transferring money from a local white supremacist group to the NAACP.
I didn’t think I’d ever been prouder of him than when he told me about that.
“What’s the lead?” I asked, glad to have something to focus on that didn’t have me thinking about what, exactly, Mason and Evie were doing.
It was one thing to see another guy’s dick when you were sharing a girl, but it was something else to get a hard-on when you and your brother were supposed to be talking business.
“Becca James.”
“Who the fuck is Becca James?” I asked.
“A journalist.” After a moment, he added, “Well, maybe that’s being a little too generous. She’s paparazzi.”
“What does she have to do with Evie?” I asked, my patience stretching thin.
“She’s a gossip columnist in Nashville who writes for whatever news outlet—and I use that term loosely—will pay her,” Tucker explained. He turned his laptop so I could see the picture on the screen.
Becca James looked like she was a little older than me, with dark hair and severe-looking features. She wasn’t ugly, but she definitely wasn’t in Evie’s league looks-wise.
“What I’ve found so far is a dislike of Evie that borders on hatred.”
I pulled my feet off my desk and sat up straighter, surprised by the intensity of emotion that went through me. It was more than just wanting to fuck Evie, or wanting to protect her because men who hurt women were the worst sort of cowards. This was being pissed because someone just didn’t like her.
“Go on,” I said, my voice tense.
“At first, there’s just the usual shit, but about two years ago, she went from writing about who Evie was spotted having dinner with to ‘who is Evelyn Hayes fucking.’ And most of the time, it’s worded in a way that doesn’t show Evie in the best light.”
“So Becca’s jealous?”
“That’s what it sounds like to me,” he said. “But then, around the same time news broke about Evie catching Randall cheating, Becca starts dropping hints about Evie’s past.”
“Trudy.”
“Yeah. Shit about how Trudy was a teenage mom who doesn’t know who Evie’s dad is, rumors about Evie’s life growing up. The sort of stuff that, if it was written by a legit reporter, would make people sympathetic toward Evie. Instead, it’s all twisted to fuck with Evie’s reputation, to make it seem like she deserved Randall cheating.”
“It’s something,” I admitted. “But do you really think some reporter crossed the line from writing shit like that to writing threats?”
Tucker shrugged. “She’d have the resources to find out where Evie lived. And since she never threatened Evie in her articles, she probably wouldn’t come up on anyone’s radar.”
“Especially since most people would assume it was a guy.”
“If it is her, she’s covering her tracks pretty well,” Tucker added. “I didn’t find anything on social media where she’s talking about any sort of violence toward Evie, or even scaring her.”
“That might explain the threatening letters,” I said, “but not someone breaking into the house. Unless that had nothing to do with Evie and everything to do with Trudy. Who knows the sort of people Trudy’s involved with.”
“You think Randall’s the more likely suspect?” Tucker said. “I’m digging into him too, but the letters happened before the breakup, so that doesn’t really fit time-wise.”
“Keep looking into both,” I said. “And if there’s anything—”
“Holy shit,” Tucker cut me off.
“What is it?”
“Becca James isn’t in Nashville,” he said. “According to social media, she checked into the next town over the day after Evie got here.”
I thought for a moment before asking, “Do you think you’d be able to get more from her if you talked to her in person?”
“Definitely.” He grinned at me. “We all know I can charm the pants off pretty much anyone.”
“You should probably keep everyone’s pants on,” I said dryly. “But yeah, why don’t you head over and see if you can find her. Use your gut when it comes to how much to tell her.”
“You think we should tell Evie?”
“I think she and Mason are busy right now,” I said with a laugh.
“You know what I mean.”
“I do,” I agreed. “But no, I think she’s got enough on her mind with her mom and everything. If something comes of it, we’ll let her know, but there’s no point in bringing up Becca if it ends up being nothing.”
“All right,” Tucker said, getting to his feet. “I’ll get what I need and head out. Probably be back sometime tomorrow.”
As he left, I found myself wondering if I should hope the reporter was behind all of this. While I wanted Evie to be safe, a part of me couldn’t help thinking that, if she didn’t need us to protect her, she might have second thoughts about being with us. Maybe that made me a selfish bastard, but there it was.
I wasn’t ready to risk losing her yet.