by Jen Talty
“I’m not going anywhere and throwing myself into work will be what’s best for me,” she said just as the phone buzzed. She tapped the intercom button. “Yes, Alister.”
“There is a delivery for your father that needs a signature,” Alister, the guard at the security gate who had been with them for as long as Piper could remember, said. The man had to be pushing seventy by now. “But I don’t have one scheduled for today.”
“Do you know what it is?” she asked. Her father hated shopping, so he ordered everything from cereal to computers online. A day without a package when he wasn’t touring, was like a day without song.
Didn’t happen.
Ever.
“I have no idea, but it’s special courier, and there are at least five large boxes,” Alister said. “From what I can understand from their broken English, they said they were supposed to be setting something up in your father’s office, but, Piper, I don’t think your father ordered anything that would require assembly or set up. He was supposed to be back on the road today.”
Derek stood, shaking his head. “Tell them they can leave the delivery at the gate. I’ll have someone bring it to the house.”
“Yes, sir.”
Pop!
Pop!
Pop!
“Get down!” Derek jumped over the desk.
She pushed back the chair and stood just as Derek landed on top of her, sending them both to the floor. Her heart hammered in her chest. Voices echoed over the intercom.
“Shots have been fired at the Morgan Residency. The address is 8675 Row Street,” Derek yelled into his cell phone. His arms circled around her body, shoving her under the desk. “Don’t you move.”
“You’re not leaving me here.” She blinked back tears, realizing that Alister was probably gunned down right at the front gate.
Sirens echoed in the distance. The detective working her father’s case had said when he’d taken her statement at the cemetery, that he’d make sure a patrol car drove by every so often.
“No. But I’m going to stand guard at the door.” Derek pulled out a gun from inside his suit coat.
“Since when do you carry a weapon?” She knew he had an impressive collection of weapons; she’d just never seen one on his person before.
“I’m from Texas. I’ve had one since before I could walk. Now pull out your damned cell phone and call Jaden. Tell him he’s hired. Tell him you’ll go to Montana.”
“I will not go to—”
She cut her words short when she heard tires screeching across the pavement. Popping her head up, she glanced out the window. A white van raced across the driveway, followed by a police car. A second patrol car stopped in front of the house; two cops quickly exited the vehicle with their guns drawn.
“Alister. We need to go help Alister.”
“You’re not going anywhere until a cop is at your side and you’ve called Jaden.”
With a shaky hand, she pulled her cell from her back pocket and tapped on the text Derek had sent earlier with Jaden’s contact information.
Jaden Sawyer poured a hefty serving of scotch in a glass with two ice cubes. He swirled the dark liquid before bringing it to his nose. He closed his eyes, letting his mind float back to the days he’d sit in a smoky bar that smelled of moonshine and stale cigars, contemplating his career, that hadn’t really been by choice.
But by necessity.
When you live on the streets, you don’t have many opportunities and the other options were out of the question.
Lucky for him, he had a voice and he could play guitar. And one day, sitting on a street corner, playing Cowboy Cal’s latest tune, the man himself strolled by, only Jaden hadn’t recognized him as the up-and-coming country star. Not only did Cal drop a twenty in Jaden’s hat, but he offered the kid a chance to sing in one of the bars on the strip. Two weeks later, Jaden found himself sitting in Cal’s home office where Cal offered him a record deal. Jaden would be the first singer to sign with CC Music, and he’d be the warm-up act on the road with Cal right out of the gate.
At the time, all Jaden could think about was a hot shower, a soft bed, and food in his stomach every day. He hadn’t even dreamed he’d make it big. His plan had been to make enough money to always be able to put a roof over his head and when he turned eighteen, join the military.
Not make a million dollars and have to wear a baseball cap, covering up his face, just to go to the grocery store.
He stared out the window. Tiny snowflakes floated from the sky, barely coating the ground. December in Montana could be brutal with piles of snow and bitter-cold temperatures. However, thus far, it had proven to be unseasonably warm.
Until today.
Leave it to the fates to cool things down moments before he would come face to face with the woman he’d spend the last ten years wishing he could forget. If he thought he could have loved being a country singer, touring, and all the things that lifestyle brought with it, he might have taken her up on her offer ten years ago.
Of course, Cal would have killed him. No man would ever be good enough for his little girl.
A knock at the door tugged him back to the present.
He didn’t bother moving from the bar in the living room of his cabin that his boss, Hank Patterson, had set him up in six months ago when he’d hired him based on his buddy, Shamus’ recommendation.
Jaden had left the Army partly for the same reason he’d left the music industry. He’d gotten tired of the grind of being deployed more days than he’d been home. Not that he had anyone to come home to, but how would he ever meet anyone if he never put down roots? Tipping the glass, he took two gulps of courage as he stared at the door. “It’s unlocked.”
“Of course it is,” Hank said as he moved to the side, letting Piper step into sight. “How is it that no one knows you were the Jaden Sawyer. I loved that song, ‘Rough Around the Edges.’ Awesome tune. You’ve actually listened to it with me driving around the ranch. Said you hated it.”
“Nothing worse than listening to an old man butcher your song, and I was hoping we could continue to keep that hidden from everyone else. One-hit wonders are meant to be forgotten.” He blinked, staring at the tall brunette with russet-colored eyes that captured all of his attention. He couldn’t look away if he tried. Her plump lips tipped upward into a half-smile, rendering him incapable of thinking about anything but that damned fucking kiss.
He had to grip the bar counter with one hand. The sudden dizziness had been an unexpected phenomenon either based on the whiskey.
Or the very grown-up version of the eighteen-year-old girl that had turned his world upside down.
And then some.
“You had three number one hits.” She held up her fingers, waggling them in the air. “Just saying.”
“That you wrote, so we’ll call them your hits.” Setting his glass down, he inched closer. “I just spoke with Derek. The media is going bonkers over the idea you checked yourself into rehab.”
Her sweet chuckle filled the air like the roar of the ocean lapping at the shore on a hot summer day. “They are always trying to dig shit up on me, so might as well give them something to talk about.”
“All we care about is how we go about finding out who murdered your dad and who is trying to kill you.” Hank set her suitcase by the sofa. “And that starts with misinformation. We need to control what the media thinks and what they report on.”
Her smile faded, and her bottom lip quivered. She and her father had a unique relationship, and close didn’t begin to describe it.
“I’m so sorry about Cal,” Jaden choked out, holding back his own tears for a man that had not only given him a break, but taken him off the streets. Cal gave Jaden a reason to wake up in the morning, and Jaden will never forget the look on the man’s face when he told him he’d enlisted in the military.
He came to understand why Jaden had done it and accepted that Jaden would never sing again. The only thing Cal asked Jaden to consider ha
d been Piper and how heartbroken she’d be when Jaden told her he would be leaving not just the music business.
But her as well.
Jaden tried to explain that there had never been anything between him and Piper; Cal had thought something was brewing. Cal hit the nail on the head, but he also understood Piper would be miserable unless she was behind the scenes, writing songs, and helping to run CC Music. She’d never leave Nashville, or her dad, and while the city had given him a life, he needed out and being a soldier had always been his childhood dream.
But Cal never understood why Jaden never visited him in Nashville and the few times they’d gotten together over the years had been when Cal was on tour, and Piper was at home.
How could he have told him that he’d fallen in love with his daughter after one kiss?
“I tried to make it to the funeral. I really did.”
She nodded, turning her gaze toward the picture window in the front of the cabin. The moonlight caught her dark hair, making it shine. “Derek said you didn’t find out until yesterday.”
“I had planned on going to see you, but then you called me, and here you are.”
“I’ll leave you two alone,” Hank said. “We’ll chat in the morning. Breakfast at my place at nine, and Shamus will be joining us. He’s running point on the investigation.” Hank eased the door closed, leaving Jaden in the room with the woman who had kept him company, even if only in his mind, on many deployments.
She swiped at her face. “My father was very proud of you.”
“I owe him everything.”
“And yet, you never once kept in touch with me.” Planting her hands on her hips, she turned her fiery gaze toward him. “I thought we were good friends.”
He swallowed.
Hard.
“Your father kept me informed about what was going on in your life.”
“So, that’s how you treat friends?”
“If I recall correctly, you slapped me when I said goodbye. Told me you never wanted to talk to me. And you always knew how to reach me, so you could have called if you wanted,” he said with a little more bite to his words than he intended. Cal never knew about the night she’d offered herself up to him like a sacrificial lamb. Or how he spent fifteen minutes with his tongue deep in her mouth and his hand under her shirt.
Had his phone not buzzed in his pocket that night, he had no idea what might have happened. Being with her would have pushed him to stay in Nashville, and he would have been miserable.
Making them both miserable.
“You basically stopped talking to me after my dad’s birthday party. You avoided me at every turn. I was just following your lead.” She hadn’t moved from her spot at the front door, staring him down like a snake ready to strike.
He swallowed. “I’m sorry about being a jerk after we… we…” He scratched the side of his unshaven face, searching for the right words.
“After you felt me up?”
“Not exactly what I was going for, but yeah.”
“Your apology is ten years too late. Where should I put my stuff?” She rested her hand on the top of her suitcase.
“There’s a bedroom at the top of the stairs.” Needing to inhale her fresh peach scent, he closed the gap. “I’ll take that up for you.”
“Thank you, but no. I can handle it. You go back to your scotch on the rocks and while you’re at it, pour me a glass.”
“Since when do you drink scotch?”
“My dad got me hooked on it on my twenty-first birthday.” She shook her head, running her fingers through her long, dark hair. It cascaded over her shoulder to the center of her back.
“He loved that shit.” He inched closer until he stood only a foot away. “I can’t believe he’s gone. I talked to him two weeks ago. I was even planning on a trip to Nashville. I’ve only been out of the Army for six months, and I haven’t… oh, hell.” He pulled her into his arms, running his hands up and down her back. “I hate the fuck out of the circumstances that brought you here, but it’s damn good to see you again.”
She dropped her head on his shoulder, her fingers clutching at his shoulder blades.
“I’m going to find out who killed Cal and if it’s the last thing I do on this earth, I’m going to make the bastard pay.”
Chapter 2
The wind howled, brushing tree branches against the wooden cabin in the middle of what some might call God’s country.
Piper called it hell with a tiny piece of heaven.
The hell was being stuck in such small quarters with the one man that still made her insides turn to mush. It had taken every ounce of energy she had left not to fling her body across the room, hoping he’d hold her for even a single minute. She knew she’d fall apart the second he touched her, and that was exactly what she’d done.
Heaven, of course, was watching the thick snowflakes float from the sky and cling to the trees. As a little girl, her father used to take her north right before Christmas, just so she could build a snowman. They continued that tradition with Jaden for the few years he toured with her father.
And of course, last winter, they had returned to Lake George, New York, and enjoyed the crisp, cool, Adirondack air while not only making a seven-foot snowman but writing what would be her father’s last number one hit.
She reached for her glass of scotch, only to find it empty.
Fuck.
There was no way she’d be able to sleep even a wink if she didn’t at least have one more glass. She’d been tossing and turning for the last hour, smelling the thick pine scent from the sheets on Jaden’s bed.
His bed.
Where he slept at night.
She knew he’d give up his room because this tiny little cabin on the side of a mountain in the middle of nowhere had only one bed.
But shit, she wanted another drink, and she’d be damned if she’d allow him to be the reason she suffered. She’d allowed him too much control over her life for too many years. Slipping from the bed, she found her robe and pulled the belt tight around her middle. Had she really thought about who she’d be spending time with, or where, she would have bought a pair of flannel bottoms with a long-sleeved top. That way, she wouldn’t have to go traipsing around in a pair of boy shorts and a tank top.
Tip-toeing down the steps, she eyed Jaden on the pull-out sofa. His right leg had escaped the covers, as well as his entire torso. She let out an audible sigh, staring at his muscular thigh. Her fingers itched to dig into his flesh.
His six-pack abs out there for her eyes to ogle. Her heart thumped in her throat like a jackhammer pounding away on a street corner. Her temples throbbed as she inched her way toward the bar, which was directly across from Jaden, only two feet from the foot of the mattress. She snagged the bottle, deciding that taking it upstairs was far better than risking pouring a drink right there, but that decision hadn’t turned out like she anticipated.
“Don’t you dare take that without pouring me some.” He fluffed his pillow, bringing himself to a partial upright position. He held out his glass, which was only half-empty.
“How much have you had?”
“I poured this after you went upstairs, so my second, but since I can’t sleep, and it’s your father’s favorite, I figure a few more glasses might be in store for me tonight.” He patted the other side of the pull-out.
She did him a solid and poured a full glass. But no way in hell would she be sitting on the same piece of furniture as him. Plopping herself in the rocking chair next to the front door, she sipped the whiskey, letting it glide across her throat like velvet. While she had acquired a taste for scotch, it still wasn’t her go-to drink, but it had been the only drop of alcohol she’d had since her father had been murdered.
“Cheers to rehab.”
“I’m never going to live it down now.”
“The story will blow over and besides, I figure once the killer is brought to justice, everyone will know rehab was a cover story.”
“Can I a
sk you a question?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” he said, swirling his glass much like her father would have. While she’d been the apple of her father’s eye, Jaden had been the son her father never had. They had a special bond that no one could ever explain, much less understand. Her father had always been proud of Jaden, whether it be in the music business, or in the Army. Sometimes, the way her dad bragged about Jaden made her feel as though Jaden had meant more, but she knew that had nothing to do with her father, and everything to do with her own anger at Jaden’s decision to leave.
“Were you really planning a trip to Nashville?” Did she really want the answer to that question? Did she really want him to tell her she had meant nothing to him? That the kiss they shared was only a kiss of convenience and had no impact on him whatsoever?
He sipped his drink, staring at the ice cubes as they rattled against the glass. He’d always been the contemplative type, which made for a great singer of country music. He understood the emotions that surrounded the human condition.
Relatable. That is what Derek had called him.
And his sex appeal was through the roof with his perpetual five o’clock shadow and dark-russet eyes.
“I was,” he said, right before draining his glass. “Your father told me it was time for me to come home, if only for a few days, and he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I actually booked the plane tickets for next week. I printed them right after I found out he died, as if that would make him return from the dead. They are on the desk in my room, if you wanted to look at them.”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“No idea.” He raised his glass, as if to toast, before downing half in one gulp. “You and your father were the closest thing I ever had to a family.” He rolled to the side, pulling the covers over his half-naked body. “I loved him.”
“I know you did.” She let the harsh liquid flow from her lips, to her esophagus, and down to her stomach in a slow burn that let her know she was still alive and that her father was still dead. “You were like a son to him. And if he never told you, he was always proud of the decisions you made with your life.”
