Chapter 3
Bronson
I’d been close to taking Lucy out of here last night and driving her to a safe house.
She’d squabbled with me over the sleeping arrangement a little, but gave in when I insisted on sleeping in a cot in her room.
I couldn’t protect her from the spare bedroom, now could I?
Although I had to admit, sleeping had been hard. Or I’d been hard.
It was difficult to lie so close to my celebrity crush, listening to her soft breathing as she drifted into sleep. And even worse when she’d woken up screaming in the middle of the night, reliving the attacks.
Yes, I may have slipped into her bed and comforted her.
But it had only been for a moment before I resumed my appropriate spot on the cot next to her bed.
The morning waves came in hard on the shoreline, salt thick in the air.
I was already dressed, standing at the kitchen window with a cup of coffee in hand, running the route to town in my head for the third time.
Inside the house, I could control things. Angles, access, noise. Outside was a different calculation entirely, and I didn’t like it.
She came around the corner in a sundress the color of warm honey, her hair loose and still slightly damp, looking gorgeous without any effort.
I took one measured sip of coffee and glanced back out the window.
“You’re already dressed,” she said, heading to the coffeemaker to pour herself a cup.
“Been up since five.”
Lucy glanced at me over her shoulder. “Did you sleep at all?”
“Enough.”
That wasn’t entirely true.
Somewhere around three in the morning, I’d given up on sleep entirely and done a quiet perimeter check of the house and grounds instead. Anything to put distance between us, so I didn’t crawl back into her bed again.
I set my mug down and looked at her. “I need you to cancel today.”
She leaned against the counter, her expression shifting. “I can’t.”
“You can. You call the studio, you reschedule.”
“Bronson,” she said my name quietly. “I haven’t written a new song in almost a year. Not since I walked in on…”
Pain ran across her face.
After a few steadying breaths, she continued, “But three weeks ago, I got my magic back. I finally have a song worth taking into a studio, and I need this. I just want something to feel normal again.”
Cal had filled me in on enough of Lucy’s situation that I could fill in the blank.
Lucy Lee had walked in on her husband in bed with another woman. She’d promptly left him, although the divorce process was dragging out.
I didn’t push her for details. The guy was an idiot and deserved to lose her.
And for her sake, I hoped he wasn’t the one behind these attacks.
It was impossible not to see the quiet determination in her eyes.
Lucy was trying to remember who she’d been before Jimmy came along and decided it for her.
“All right,” I growled. “We go. But we do it my way.”
“Thank you,” she gave me a tiny smile, and the relief that landed in her eyes made my chest tighten.
I pulled on the cap I’d set on the counter and watched her take in the rest of my appearance. Wrangler jeans, worn at the knees. My old Johnny Cash tee, faded black from too many washes. A pair of old cowboy boots on my feet that I’d had since high school.
“Why are you dressed like you’re going to a honky-tonk?”
“This is what your new boyfriend looks like,” I informed her. “Ben goes everywhere with you, and he doesn’t look like he’s running a security detail.”
She smiled into her coffee. “Ben,” she said, trying the name out.
“That’s me.”
“Nobody’s going to believe you’re a civilian, Ben.”
“They don’t need to believe I’m a civilian. They just need to believe you’re mine.”
My eyes raked over her. “And nobody touches what’s mine.”
That pulsed in the room between us, a heat that was growing bigger by the minute.
The drive into Tidehaven took fifteen minutes, and I spent the entire way watching the mirrors.
One car stayed behind us longer than I liked, a white sedan that held through two turns before it turned off toward the marina.
Lucy had the window cracked as she watched the shrimp boats come in along the waterfront, their hulls low and rust-streaked, nets folded back.
The town was already awake. Tourists gathered on the sidewalks, and buskers were playing on the pier next to the fishermen who’d been out here since before dawn.
Lucy hummed lightly under her breath, and I wanted to ask if that was the new tune she planned to record today. But it wasn’t my place, so I kept my mouth shut.
The car felt small, and when she shifted in her seat to point out seagulls dive-bombing a family on the waterfront her bare leg brushed the edge of the console. I moved my hand off it without making it obvious.
Last night I’d crossed a line with her, and I didn’t intend to let it happen again.
“You’re doing it again,” she said.
“Doing what?”
“That thing where you look at everything except the road.”
“I’m watching the road,” I rumbled.
“You’re watching the road and the mirrors and that guy on the corner and the truck that just pulled out of the gas station.” She tilted her head. “You’re very busy for someone who’s supposed to look relaxed.”
“I am relaxed.”
She laughed, and the warmth of it filled the car. It did something unreasonable to my concentration.
“People will never believe we’re dating. We should practice,” she told me, her voice soft as silk.
I let out a rough laugh as I pulled into the parking lot. “No, ma’am. No practice sessions. I can be convincing when I need to be.”
The studio was two blocks off the waterfront with a hand-painted sign out front. A man standing outside broke into a wide grin the moment Lucy stepped out of the car.
“There she is,” he said, moving toward her with his arms open. “Our rockstar.”
He was older. Dressed casually. And relaxed.
I was out of the car and at her side before he’d closed half the distance.
Falling into step beside her, my hand settled on her lower back, claiming her as mine.
My posture shifted, the military precision disappearing as I held myself loose and easy, weight dropping back onto my heels, a big smile on my lips.
I added some swagger to my step, knowing that it transformed first impressions.
“Marcus,” Lucy said warmly, accepting the hug and then stepping back into my space without seeming to think about it. “It’s so good to see you! This is my friend, Ben. He wanted to watch me record today.”
Marcus studied us.
I leaned in and pressed my lips to her cheek, slow and deliberate, my hand tightening around her waist. Just a quick claim.
But I held her for a second too long, because I didn’t want to let go.
“Ben,” he extended his hand. “Didn’t know Lucy was seeing anyone.”
“Keeping it quiet for now,” I said as I shook his hand, and let the smile reach my eyes just enough to seem genuine.
Lucy’s cheeks flushed pink. “Shall we go in?”
Marcus nodded and led the way, and I kept my hand where it was, leaning heavily into the protective boyfriend act.
The studio was quiet, with soundproofed walls.
Equipment filled every surface. Cables were coiled on the floor, and the two session musicians she’d hired were already set up.
I clocked the exits in the first ten seconds. There were two doors and three people, not including me and Lucy.
And there were no blind spots if I positioned myself on the chair next to the control board.
I settled there and watched, playing the ever-patient, supportive boyfriend role.
After a little small talk, Lucy walked into the recording room and transformed.
Here was the superstar I’d watched on stage.
She picked up an acoustic guitar from the stand near the mic and said something to the fiddle player that made him laugh. Then she pulled the strap over her shoulder and adjusted the mic height, looking completely at ease.
She started with the melody I’d heard her humming in the car, and I understood why she’d been itching to get it recorded.
Lucy could belt out a tune that made the whole world stop and listen.
And I caught myself getting trapped in her spell while they went through multiple recordings of the song.
Damn, she was amazing.
She caught me watching through the glass and held my gaze for a beat longer than she should have, long enough that she lost track of her song mid-lyric and started laughing.
“All right, boys. We need to start over.”
Then she looked right at me. “Ben, stop watching. I can’t concentrate with that look on your face.”
Hm. She might have a point. I was staring at her like I wanted to devour her.
Marcus came to sit beside me at the control board. “She hasn’t sounded like that in a while,” he said quietly, more to himself than to me.
I didn’t answer, but I understood exactly what he meant.
“Small Town Rambler,” he continued. “It’s going straight to the top of the charts. Did she base it off you?”
I slid my eyes off the exit doors and glanced at Marcus for a second. “Naw.”
“Because you’ve got that drawl. You sound a little bit like Nashville.”
“Yup. I’m right next door.” If you count one state away as right next door.
“And there’s that line about finding a country boy down at the county fair. Is that how you two met?”
Marcus sure was prying. He was a regular ol’ gossip.
I glanced at him again. “Naw. We met at a bar in Nashville. I took one look at her and danced her right into my arms. She hasn’t left my side since.”
Marcus grinned, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
Cal had already cleared the man. But there was something about him that I didn’t like.
It was shortly after that conversation that I noticed the breach for the first time.
The studio’s back hallway door was open.
Marcus and the musicians were in here with me, and no one had left recently, which meant someone else was in this building.
Damn it. Why did she have to be so resistant? I needed a two-person team minimum. If I left to investigate, no one would be watching over her.
I stood up and stretched, checking Marcus and the musicians for any reaction. Nobody looked up.
Then I slipped off for a “bathroom break,” walking the whole perimeter of the studio inside and out.
When I got back Lucy was still singing.
Then, an hour later, it happened again.
My eyes had been trained steadily on that door the entire time.
But Lucy had started the last take of the song with a hearty, “This one’s for you, Ben,” her voice sliding straight into my soul, and I’d taken my eyes off the door long enough to watch her sing the song right at me.
The song did sound like it could be made for me.
My cock inched up as her velvety voice played my heart, pulling me in.
This woman was going to be the end of me.
By the time Lucy stopped singing and I managed to look away, the damn door was open again.
Someone was in here with us.
I stood up abruptly, and Lucy looked at me with wide, startled eyes, her melody trailing off.
I smiled casually and waved her out of the sound booth, ignoring the heavy pulse in my veins. All I wanted to do was pull out my Sig Sauer and clear the building.
But that wasn’t how a boyfriend should act.
So I said, “Hey, hon. Weren’t we going to go meet Valerie soon? I lost track of time.”
I moved closer to Lucy without making it obvious, reducing the distance between us, and she registered the shift immediately.
The lightness in her eyes dimmed, and she stepped out of the recording booth.
“What is it?” she asked, low enough that only I could hear.
“We should go.”
She thanked the musicians and gave Marcus a peck on the cheek, promising to book another session soon.
“Stay close,” I rumbled as we headed outside.
Marcus chattered happily at her side as we walked out.
The afternoon light had shifted towards early evening, shadows stretching across the sidewalk in front of the studio.
I kept Lucy close, my arm wrapped around her waist as I scanned the area.
Dipping down to brush another kiss across her cheek, I kept my boyfriend act in place as my eyes roamed the street.
A camera shutter clicked from across the road as a man on a scooter fired off a dozen shots.
He was gone before I could react.
“Fucking asshole. That’s the same guy from last night.”
Evidently, he owned more than one camera.
Despite being fairly certain that he was the studio intruder, I still got Lucy back in the car without wasting any time.
“Well,” Lucy said, as I started driving home. “You’re going to be famous now.”
“You okay with it?”
She considered it for a moment. “We’ll be on every gossip site by midnight. My publicist is going to call me.” She glanced up at me. “Are you okay with it?”
“Doesn’t matter to me.”
“It might matter to people in your life.”
I tried to imagine the folks on Red Oak Mountain and how they’d react.
“They’ll survive,” I growled.
The most important thing was getting her home to safety.
If these paparazzi didn’t watch out, I was going to accidentally shoot one of them.
“Can we find out who the photographer is? I want to warn him off.”
I didn’t know if it had been just the paparazzi in the building with us today, or if there had been two intruders.
But someone had been watching us who had no business being there.
Cal was wrong.
Lucy needed to be in a safe house.