Chapter Eleven
Gideon
"What is that?" Kenna cries, jolting upright as the window alarm begins to wail from the bedroom.
"Shit." I vault over the back of the couch, sprinting into the bedroom. I rip the curtains open, fury churning through me when I see the handle of the knife still sticking out of the window where someone tried to use it to jostle it open.
I grab my phone and sprint out of the room. "Go in the bathroom and lock the door," I order Kenna, tossing the phone to her. "Call Kane and don't come out until he or I come and get you."
"Gideon!" she cries. "Don't go out there."
"Lock yourself in the bathroom, Sparrow. Now."
Distressed tears well in her eyes, but she scurries to obey this time. I wait only long enough to ensure she's on her way and then race out of the apartment, eyes peeled for anyone who doesn't belong.
It's overcast out, the moon hiding behind thick cloud cover. Even the lights in the parking lot seem dim. I do a quick scan but don't see anything moving. I sprint around the side of the building just in time to see a thick shadow slip into an alley across the street.
I take off after it, vaulting over a bush. I land on the sidewalk, damn near rolling my ankle. I don't stop running, my feet pounding against the pavement as I race across the street and then slip into the alley. It's pitch black, not a fucking thing visible.
"Fuck," I mutter, slowing my steps. I scan the shadows, trying to pick them out. The entire damn alley smells like an unwashed asshole and cat piss. If I find this fucker, I'm kicking his ass for dragging me back here. And then I'm killing him. Painfully.
My head is on a swivel the entire time I'm in the alley, but if he's hiding in here, he doesn't make a sound, and he doesn't move. I come out the other side and jog down the block, checking every shadow. But there are residential buildings crammed in between record stores and tourist traps everywhere. He could be hiding anywhere.
Motherfucker.
I spend another few minutes looking and then circle back to the alleyway. I lurk in the shadows for a few minutes, watching to see if anyone comes out of hiding further down the street, but no one does.
Whoever slipped into the alley is gone now.
I fucking missed him by seconds.
I fight the urge to put my fist through the wall and jog back toward the apartment.
I stop at the window long enough to retrieve the knife, using my shirt to carefully pluck it from the window. Hopefully my contact at the PD will have better luck with it than he's had with anything else I've given him. And then I circle back to the front door.
I freeze halfway there, my blood running cold.
The door is standing open. I know I closed it.
"Kenna!" I roar, racing forward with my heart in my throat. I don't take a breath. I'm too goddamn afraid to breathe. Jesus Christ. I left her in there alone. If he touched her. If he hurt her "Kenna!"
I pound on the bathroom door, praying to God she locked herself inside. Praying she's safe. Please God, let her be safe.
"G-Gideon?" she says.
My knees go weak. I damn near sink to the floor as relief surges through me.
She fumbles with the lock, trying to open it.
"Don't open it yet, Sparrow. Someone was in the apartment."
"What?" she cries.
"Just stay in there and let me check the apartment, okay?"
"Okay."
I drag myself away from the door, quickly moving to the bedroom. I check the closest and then silence the window alarm before moving back into the living room. I'm halfway across the damn room when I see the fucking box sitting on the couch.
I stride toward it, pissed all over again. I use the edge of a blanket to knock the top of it off.
Cold rage rips through me.
There's a dead sparrow lying at the bottom, surrounded by photos of the two of us.
There's also a note.
Amidst the triumph of the sparrow's flight,
Its voice now still, ended in the dead of night.
There's a date typed beneath the note. Two days from now the day of the charity event.
Jesus Christ.
This motherfucker is threatening to kill her in front of thousands of people.
Five minutes later, I've wrapped the fucked-up box in a blanket and hid it in the back of my truck so she doesn't see it. Some things, she doesn't ever need to know. Some things, I'll never let her see. This is one of those things.
I check the rest of the apartment to make sure there are no other nasty surprises and then rap on the bathroom door again.
"Open the door, Sparrow. It's me."
She fumbles with the lock before throwing the door open.
I charge straight through, dragging her into my arms. She burrows into me, shaking like a little leaf.
"Gideon. I was so worried."
"I know, Sparrow," I murmur. "I know." I press my lips to her forehead. "I need you to get your shit together. Whatever you need until we can get you all packed up. You're not staying here any longer. It's not safe."
"Are you " She blinks owlish, suspicious eyes at me. "Are you asking me to move in with you, Gideon?"
"No, baby. There's no asking involved. I'm telling you that you're moving in with me. I don't care how long you have left on your lease here. I'll pay the fee to break it. But we're getting you the fuck out of here. Now."
She doesn't argue with me. After this, I don't think she wants to argue. She scrambles to pack up enough shit to get her through the next few days while I step out to wait for Kane.
I already texted him to let him know that she's okay. But when he screeches up not even two minutes later like his tires are on fire, I realize that I probably should have called him.
"What the fuck is going on?" he demands, stomping toward me.
I place my finger to my lips to silence him and lead him to my truck. "Someone tried to open the back window. When I chased him, someone else slipped into the house and left this on the couch," I say, opening the blanket to let him see what's inside. "Whoever left it knows I call her sparrow."
"Jesus fucking Christ," His face drains of color as he peers into the box. "Has she seen it?"
"Fuck no. She isn't going to see it either. That's the last thing she needs right now." I flip the blanket back up over the box. "I need you to get it to my guy at the PD."
"You know they won't just let this one go and hope you handle it like they did the fingerprints. They can't. There will be thousands of people at that event."
"Do you really think now is the time to worry about keeping this quiet?" I ask, brow arched. I'm fully aware that Trent, my guy at the PD, won't be able to explain this one away. They'll have to get involved. There is no choice. But I don't fucking care if the whole goddamn world knows someone is hunting her. We tried it her way. All that matters is keeping her safe. "This isn't just some overzealous fan or someone with a crush. This is her life. And he's threatening to kill her in front of thousands of people. We need all hands on deck. Nothing else matters."
"Agreed." He blows out a breath. "Never fucking thought I'd see the day I regretted not listening to John."
"He wanted to go to the police," I say. Kenna told me that before, but I'd set it aside. It was a stupid thing to do. So was ruling him out or treating this like any other stalker situation. This one is different because there are no obvious suspects, no one who has inserted themselves into her life or tried to garner her attention. Most stalkers thrive on that attention. They want to be noticed, hate rejection, or are extremely codependent. This one doesn't check any of the boxes. He wants to remain a mystery. That's not typical stalker behavior. That's indicative of someone with a bigger plan.
"Yeah, when the poem showed up, he suggested taking it to the police."
"How'd he react when Kenna said no?"
"He wasn't thrilled."
I jerk my chin in a nod, pulling my phone out to pull up the camera feeds from the living room and front door. It doesn't take long to find what I'm looking for. Not even five minutes after I ran out, someone approached the door. He kept a hat pulled down low over his face, obscuring most of it. Big, dark glasses and a beard cover the rest.
"Does he look familiar?" I ask Kane.
He watches the feed twice all the way through. "Maybe, but I can't place him. There are a lot of people at her shows. It's definitely not John, though. He's too fucking tall."
"Yeah, about six inches too tall."
Kane snorts.
"When you drop this shit off, ask Trent to look into anyone John has ties with who fits this general description," I say. "Focus on anyone who would owe him. Dig up anything he can find. And tell him I need him to move his ass."
"What are you thinking?" Kane asks, lifting the box from my truck and carrying it over to his. He places it carefully in his back floorboard, taking care not to jostle it too much.
"Not sure yet," I mutter, which isn't entirely true. The pieces are beginning to snap into place, and the picture they're forming is even more fucked-up than I realized. My gut says this is John because it is. But we cleared him of putting those photos in the dressing room because he's not the one who did it. Just like he wasn't in two places tonight.
I chased someone into the alley and someone else put that fucking box in her apartment. I'm guessing the shadow I chased was her former manager. And whoever he's setting up to take the fall is the one who put the box on her couch. He suggested going to the police because he knew she wouldn't do it. And on the off chance she did, the evidence wouldn't point to him. It'd point to his fucking stooge.
If we can find that prick, we can nail John's ass to the wall. He's the one I want. He's the one behind this shit. I'm not sure what his endgame is here, but I don't think he intends to actually kill her. Is he trying to set himself up to be the hero? Is that his plan? Pretend someone wants to kill her so he can swoop in and save her life? Then she'll fall right into his arms and land on his dick?
If so, he really fucking hates me. And he's going to be sorely disappointed when he realizes that I'm not just sleeping with her. I'm her bodyguard, too. I can't wait to ruin his fucking plans and his life.
And I really can't wait to see his face when he realizes that even if I weren't here, she still wouldn't fall into his arms. He doesn't stand a chance in hell. Not now. Not ever. If he wanted a shot with her, he never should have become her manager. She'd never cross that line. Her career means too much to her. And honestly, even if he weren't her manager, he still wouldn't stand a chance in hell with her. He isn't man enough for a woman like her.
"Your sister is moving in with me," I tell Kane.
"Oh, really?"
"Mmhmm. She isn't safe here."
"She can always come stay with me and Maya."
"Your sister is moving in with me," I repeat, pinning him with a hard look.
"This grand plan of yours better include a ring on her finger, Carmichael. Otherwise, me and you are going to have problems."
"Shit. You think I'd let it end any other way?" I give him another look. "As soon as this is over, you and I will be having that conversation."
"No need. You already have my blessing." He clamps his hand down on my shoulder. "She chose well. I actually don't hate you. So how about you don't fuck it up?"
"Don't plan on it."
"Smart man."