Safe Harbor
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Safe Harbor
Lantern Beach Blackout, Book 2
Christy Barritt
Copyright © 2020 by Christy Barritt
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
Complete Book List
Squeaky Clean Mysteries:
#1 Hazardous Duty
#2 Suspicious Minds
#2.5 It Came Upon a Midnight Crime (novella)
#3 Organized Grime
#4 Dirty Deeds
#5 The Scum of All Fears
#6 To Love, Honor and Perish
#7 Mucky Streak
#8 Foul Play
#9 Broom & Gloom
#10 Dust and Obey
#11 Thrill Squeaker
#11.5 Swept Away (novella)
#12 Cunning Attractions
#13 Cold Case: Clean Getaway
#14 Cold Case: Clean Sweep
#15 Cold Case: Clean Break
#16 Cleans to an End (coming soon)
While You Were Sweeping, A Riley Thomas Spinoff
The Sierra Files:
#1 Pounced
#2 Hunted
#3 Pranced
#4 Rattled
The Gabby St. Claire Diaries (a Tween Mystery series):
The Curtain Call Caper
The Disappearing Dog Dilemma
The Bungled Bike Burglaries
The Worst Detective Ever
#1 Ready to Fumble
#2 Reign of Error
#3 Safety in Blunders
#4 Join the Flub
#5 Blooper Freak
#6 Flaw Abiding Citizen
#7 Gaffe Out Loud
#8 Joke and Dagger
#9 Wreck the Halls
#10 Glitch and Famous (coming soon)
Raven Remington
Relentless 1
Relentless 2 (coming soon)
Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries:
#1 Random Acts of Murder
#2 Random Acts of Deceit
#2.5 Random Acts of Scrooge
#3 Random Acts of Malice
#4 Random Acts of Greed
#5 Random Acts of Fraud
#6 Random Acts of Outrage
#7 Random Acts of Iniquity
Lantern Beach Mysteries
#1 Hidden Currents
#2 Flood Watch
#3 Storm Surge
#4 Dangerous Waters
#5 Perilous Riptide
#6 Deadly Undertow
Lantern Beach Romantic Suspense
Tides of Deception
Shadow of Intrigue
Storm of Doubt
Winds of Danger
Lantern Beach P.D.
On the Lookout
Attempt to Locate
First Degree Murder
Dead on Arrival
Plan of Action
Lantern Beach Escape
Afterglow (a novelette)
Lantern Beach Blackout
Dark Water
Safe Harbor
Ripple Effect
Carolina Moon Series
Home Before Dark
Gone By Dark
Wait Until Dark
Light the Dark
Taken By Dark
Suburban Sleuth Mysteries:
Death of the Couch Potato’s Wife
Fog Lake Suspense:
Edge of Peril
Margin of Error
Brink of Danger
Line of Duty
Cape Thomas Series:
Dubiosity
Disillusioned
Distorted
Standalone Romantic Mystery:
The Good Girl
Suspense:
Imperfect
The Wrecking
Sweet Christmas Novella:
Home to Chestnut Grove
Standalone Romantic-Suspense:
Keeping Guard
The Last Target
Race Against Time
Ricochet
Key Witness
Lifeline
High-Stakes Holiday Reunion
Desperate Measures
Hidden Agenda
Mountain Hideaway
Dark Harbor
Shadow of Suspicion
The Baby Assignment
The Cradle Conspiracy
Trained to Defend
Nonfiction:
Characters in the Kitchen
Changed: True Stories of Finding God through Christian Music (out of print)
The Novel in Me: The Beginner’s Guide to Writing and Publishing a Novel (out of print)
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Epilogue
Don’t Miss the Next Book in the Blackout Series:
Also by Christy Barritt:
The Lantern Beach Universe:
You might also enjoy …
Holly Anna Paladin Mysteries:
The Worst Detective Ever:
About the Author
Chapter One
“Don’t you know you’re killing me? Bringing me so much misery? It’s like I’m dying slowly with every breath I take. It’s a prison for me that you’ve worked so hard to create. You’re killing me.”
People around Bree Jordan screamed as bright lights shone down into her eyes, nearly blinding her. The bass guitar reverberated, every beat matching the rhythm of her heart. Behind her, a huge screen showed images of crime-scene tape. Of flashing police lights. Of a brooding, handsome man standing in the shadows.
Dramatics.
Bree’s producer knew how to put on a show. There was no doubt about that.
Yet, as she stood in front of the audience, only one thought echoed in her mind. Is this all there is?
Wealth, fame, and beauty were supposed to be the pinnacle of success. If that was true, why did Bree feel so empty right now?
As the song ended, a chilly breeze swept around her, pushing her hair from her face. She couldn’t have asked for better timing. It was almost like a wind machine had been turned on, adding to the drama of the moment.
It may have been fifty degrees outside, but the breeze coming off the water had more bite to it than a shark at feeding time.
That hadn’t stopped the crowds from coming. Last Bree had heard, six thousand tickets had been sold. She was wrapping up her role as headliner for the first annual Lantern Beach Music Festival.
“Bree . . . Bree . . . Bree,” the crowd chanted.
She swallowed hard as she tried to see beyond the bright lights to the crowd.
Was he here? Her stalker?
He seemed to be wherever Bree went. Always there. Always watching.
“You okay?” Lloyd Marks, one of her guitarists, nudged her. She couldn’t hear him, not with the in-ear monitors plugging her ears. But she’d read his lips.
Bree snapped back to the present, realizing her preoccupation had taken over. These people had paid to hear her sing. That’s what she needed to do. She couldn’t just stand on the stage and let fear get the best of her.
Right on schedule, her drummer, Bobby Dee, pulled out some beach balls and threw them into the audience. She could hear the screams of pleasure. She could barely see the balls bouncing in the air. But she could feel the excitement around her.
Excitement because of her.
You’ve got everything you ever asked for. Don’t blow it, Bree. There are thousands of hopefuls who’d gladly take your place.
Bree nodded at Lloyd, letting him know she was ready to continue. Then she plastered on a smile. She needed to put on the show of her life right now and hide any hints of her inner turmoil. Her fans deserved that much, at least.
The strains of her next song began. The audience recognized the tune, and their cheers grew louder.
Bree sucked in a deep breath before belting the first lyrics. “You think you know me, but you don’t. You think I am lovely, but I’m not. You think you’re awesome, and I think you’re hot. So why don’t we just see what we’ve got?”
She inwardly cringed at the lyrics. Bree had begged her manager, Emerson, not to make her record this song. But he’d insisted the catchy beat would be a hit, despite the dimwitted lyrics.
He’d been right. This song had been a smashing success. Number one on the Billboard Hot 100 for the past month. It had propelled her to new heights of fame.
I think you’re hot, so why don’t we just see what we’ve got?
Certainly, people had more depth than this? Bree didn’t want to bite the hand that fed her, but she wasn’t sure these lyrics were what she wanted to be known for.
Despite that, she kept singing. Kept putting on a show. Giving her fans what they wanted.
She’d left everything behind to pursue this career.
And every day Bree asked herself if the sacrifices were worth it.
The song ended, and Lloyd strummed his guitar, showboating in front of the crowds. He knew what the fans wanted. The cheers from the throngs fed him, egged him on. The man was a true entertainer.
As Bree’s fans moved closer to the stage, security guards pushed them back. The bright lights still blinded her, but she could see the hands reaching toward her from the front row.
At one time, she wouldn’t have feared those hands. She would have understood her fans’ adoration. She’d had her favorite singers as well.
Now, she didn’t know whom to trust. Everyone seemed suspect.
Bree’s gaze went to a man leaning over the stage. He was blond, with harshly gelled hair and pale skin.
It wasn’t his hair or skin that drew Bree’s attention, however. It was the look in his eyes. Something about the man seemed off.
Or had her stalker just messed with her head?
“Bree!” The next moment, the man tried to scramble onto the stage. One of her bodyguards grabbed him, yanked the man’s hands behind him, and led him away.
Bree’s heart thrummed in her ears.
How did she know it was safe here?
The concert area was outside. She might as well be a bottle on a fence post.
Sweat formed on her brow. Suddenly, this show seemed like a very bad idea. What had she been thinking when she agreed?
“One last song,” Lloyd mouthed to her, as if he could sense her anxiety and distraction. “You’re a star, Bree. You can do this.”
The band knew about the threats. Bree had no choice but to tell them after her last concert had been evacuated because of a false bomb threat. Was her stalker behind it? She didn’t know for sure, but she had to assume he was.
“Anyone want to be my boyfriend?” Bree asked, keeping her voice low but perky—just like she’d been trained.
The line was rehearsed. Had been spoon-fed to her. Had been written as a lead into her next song.
She hated it.
But the crowd loved it. They yelled. Screamed. Threw the beach balls into the air.
Bree pulled herself together as Lloyd began the intro. “Boyfriend” was supposed to be her next hit, and it had just about as much depth as the last number she’d sung.
“I want to be your girlfriend. Do you want to be my boyfriend? Together, I think we could be something special. Yes, we’re the recipe for successful.”
Bree did her best to give her fans exactly what they wanted in a show. They wanted to be entertained. To feel like they knew her. To feel like they were living out songs vicariously through her.
But halfway through the intrepid lyrics to “Boyfriend,” a new sound filled the air.
Bree froze. That wasn’t feedback from the guitar. It wasn’t Bobby Dee hitting the bass drum a little too loud. Nor was it an audience member who’d brought a noisemaker.
It was—
“Get down!” Before Bree realized what was happening, someone tackled her.
One of her bodyguards.
The sound filled the air again.
It was a gunshot, she realized.
Somebody was shooting at her.
“We’ve got to get you out of here.” Dez Rodriquez hovered over Bree, determined not to let his emotions get the best of him. He’d had plenty of practice on the battlefield. A clear head and sound logic were the key to survival right now.
However, the beachfront concert was supposed to represent the American dream, not the war-ravaged countries he’d fought in.
He’d been hired to do one thing: protect popstar Bree Jordan during her concert. Had anyone imagined it was going to turn into this? How could they?
Using his body as a shield, Dez moved beside Bree. Thank goodness he’d worn a bulletproof vest. If he died in the line of duty, he’d imagined it happening while at war or while overthrowing a corrupt government or taking down a dictator. Not while guarding a pop princess.
More gunfire came from the direction of the ocean.
The audience ran. Scattered. Panic filled the air. More people onstage ran, yelled.
His colleagues would handle the pandemonium in the audience. He needed to concentrate on Bree, despite the fact that she looked like the woman who broke his heart. Every time he saw her, bad memories filled him.
Dez shoved the thought aside and kept moving, kept hovering, kept guarding her life with his own.
Before he reached the edge of the stage, something sliced his shoulder.
He grunted.
A bullet had grazed him.
He glanced at Bree. She appeared to be okay.
That was all that mattered right now.
Finally, they reached the oversized speakers at the corner of the platform. An officer there helped Bree down the steps. Dez followed behind, keeping an arm around her.
He had to get her out of sight.
Remaining low, they reached the backstage area. It wasn’t secure back here. The large screens that had been set up would offer little protection—only a false sense of security. As he glanced up, he saw the holes the bullets had cut through the material.
Dez kept moving until they were behind a vehicle that had been left backstage.
Bree would be safe.
For now.
Chapter Two
As more gunfire rang out, Bree squeezed her eyes shut. She wanted this to be a nightmare. But it wasn’t.
People were hurt.
And it was her fault.
“Are you okay?” Her bodyguard kneeled in front of her, his brown eyes searching hers.
She nodded, but her head spun. “I . . . I think.”
“Stay here.”
She nodded, but, as the man started to rise to his feet, she grabbed his arm. “Don’t leave me.”
His gaze softened. “I won’t. I’m just seeing what’s going on.”
Bree�
�s eyes sank, and she sucked in a breath when she saw his shoulder. “You’re bleeding.”
He glanced down and shrugged. “The bullet just grazed my arm. It could’ve been much worse. I’ll worry about that in a minute. We’re going to make sure nothing happens to you first.”
But the world felt like it was falling apart around her, and she was powerless to do anything to stop it. A cry escaped her lips.
In the background, she heard one of her songs blare through the speakers.
You’re killing me.
Somehow, a recording played.
The song was supposed to be used for the encore. Bree was going to step out and the recording would fade as live music took over.
Fans had loved it at her other concerts.
Now it seemed like a sad testament to a shallow career—one that would end in tragedy.
The lyrics rang out. “I’m dying. I’m dying. I’m dying because of you.”
Bree’s muscles turned to gelatin at the irony.
Dez ignored the pain that ripped through his shoulder. He had to concentrate on keeping Bree safe.
He thought this assignment would be easy. Mostly, it involved keeping this woman’s adoring fans away from her.
No one had anticipated this.
Memories of the battlefield continued to haunt him. Especially that last black ops mission he’d been a part of. The one where his leader, Daniel Oliver, had died.
Only moments before a bullet had taken his life, Daniel had rushed past Dez and whispered a secret. A secret that no one except Dez knew—not even the other members of his SEAL platoon.