RAPT - The Price of Love: Everhide Rockstar Romance Book 3 (Everhide Rockstar Romance Series)

by Tania Joyce

  Kyle grabbed his cell phone off the kitchen counter and called Jones. “We got another letter. At our fucking home.”

  “Okay. Okay.” Jones’s monotone suggested he calm down, but there was no way Kyle could. “Call your security team to meet at your apartment. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”

  After hanging up, he slid silently over to Gemma. He drew her into a hug, held her so tight, so close. She trembled against his chest. Clutched at his shirt. Her heartbeat hammered against his. “Kyle, this has to stop.”

  “I know, babe. It will.” He closed his eyes and rested his cheek on top of her head. He’d thought their home was safe, but getting a letter meant the person knew where they lived. His pulse throbbed in his temples. Did they have enough security in place to stay protected? Had he done enough to keep Gemma and himself shielded?

  He wanted to run. Run to the rooftop and scream for this to end. Run after whoever it was and take them down. Run. Just run away with Gemma.

  With apologetic smiles, Lexi and Hayden took off home and left them to deal with the detectives. Sam, Chester and Mick arrived within thirty minutes, and Jones and Morris, moments later. They stood around the dining room table and took turns at reading the letter.

  Jones stood, his feet shoulder-width apart and arms folded, nonchalance on his face. Kyle’s spine stiffened. What would it take for this guy to treat their case with urgency? He hated using his celebrity status for priority treatment, but he’d play that card if he had to. Demanding a new head detective on the case would be his first move.

  Jones stepped forward and slipped the letter into an evidence bag. “They’re getting desperate. Delivering this to your home was a mistake. It should be easy to track. We’ll contact the courier company and find out who sent it.”

  “They’ve avoided being traced so far.” Gemma slumped against Kyle’s arm. The dark circles under her eyes were more evident under the downlights. “What makes you think this isn’t beyond their expertise?”

  Jones half grinned. “I’ve dealt with many stalkers. Eventually, they stuff up. Let’s hope this is the time.”

  Great. Jones’s cocky tone reminded him of his dad’s.

  Kyle closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Taylah loomed at the forefront of his mind. She’d been in Brooklyn, Central Park, Vegas. Tracked him down at the hotel. A shudder slithered through his veins and he caught Jones’s level stare. “Are you one hundred percent certain it isn’t Taylah? She’s everywhere lately.”

  Morris cut in, scratching his well-groomed stubble. “Other than her being a nuisance and a fan, we don’t have any evidence to link her to the letters. No fingerprints, no witnesses or security footage.”

  Kyle leaned forward and gripped the edge of the table. “It’s not good enough.” He clenched his teeth. “She’s a suspect. I don’t want her near us.”

  Hunter, Kara and Gemma didn’t hesitate in nodding.

  Jones sighed and rested his hip against a chair. “I’m not convinced it’s her. But given the heightened circumstances and no other leads, we can issue her with a formal restraining order. Ban her from upcoming shows and events. Stop her from contacting you or coming near your home. If it’s her, the legal warning should be enough to put an end to the letters.”

  “It fucking better.” He drove his fingers through his hair and waved his hand toward the door. “What if she gets into our building, past the front door and foyer? What if the warning has the opposite effect?” His heart faltered at the thought.

  Sam folded his burly arms. “Your place is like Fort Knox. No one unauthorized can get in. I know it’s scary, but she wants to intimidate you. She thinks she’s winning.”

  Gemma wrapped her arms around herself, her voice meek and shaky. “She is. What about our show on Saturday night? How the hell are we supposed to go out in front of a crowd and sing knowing she is desperate?”

  Hunter lifted his chin. His eyes swirled stormy blue. “Gem, this is about you. Us. Our safety. You’re more important than a fucking show. Do you want to cancel?”

  Kyle blinked. Wow! For Hunter to suggest canceling meant he was worried. He lived and breathed performing.

  Kyle jammed his hands on his hips and bowed his head. Had it come to this? Canceling shows? He looked up and met Gemma’s gaze. A cocktail of fear, hate, fight, and frustration swirled in their depths. “It’s up to you, Gem. We could take off for a few days, go out to the mountains, somewhere no one knows we exist. I thought about going to the beach house, but if the stalker knows we live here, they might know about our house out there too.”

  “I recommend you stay put.” Jones butted in. “You have better security here.”

  “So what?” He threw Jones a cold stare. “You just want us to stay locked up in our home and do nothing?”

  Jones jabbed his finger against the table. “My advice is the same as it was in our first meeting. Make sure your trusted network of friends and family know of the situation, inform them to be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, and until we resolve this, be diligent with your security measures.”

  “We’re doing that.” Steam shot through Kyle’s veins. He’d had enough of Jones’s blasé approach. “We need to do more. This is code red. Do you need more resources? Should we hire private investigators?” He thumped the back of the dining chair, shoving it into the table. “I need you to convince me that you’re doing everything to catch this psycho.”

  He didn’t want to lose his cool, but he didn’t want Gemma to get hurt. It terrified him more than anything. He was desperate to protect her. Catch this stalker and lock them away for good.

  Redness flushed Jones’s neck; his jaw ticked. His eyes darted over their security team and back to Kyle. Resting his hands on the table, Jones leaned forward. “While I feel that I have much more serious cases to work on, you and your A-list friends are a priority. Morris is working with forensics. Marshall is monitoring your social media. I’m investigating every lead, every bit of CCTV footage, and interviewing every hint of a suspect. We’re not sitting around, twiddling our thumbs, drinking coffee and eating doughnuts. Got it?” Jones picked up the evidence bag with the letter in it and headed for the door. He turned to Sam and pointed at Kyle. “Keep this one under control. We don’t need anyone to do anything stupid.”

  Sam huffed. “I’ll do my best.”

  Morris scurried out the door after Jones. Kyle couldn’t close the door behind them quick enough.

  “Kyle, what the hell?” Gemma snapped the second the door clicked shut. “You shouldn’t piss Jones off like that.”

  “Someone needed to light a fire under his ass.” He stepped toward Sam, Mick and Chester. What else could they put in place? He’d never live with himself if Gemma got hurt. “Maybe we should hire a private investigator as well.”

  Hunter grabbed bottles of water from the fridge and handed them out. “Is that really necessary? Jones said he was doing everything.”

  Sam cracked the top off his water bottle. “I’m with Kyle. Jones seems to be dragging his feet. I’ll make some calls. See if one of our guys can take this case on. This close to your wedding, being in public might not be the best idea. I think you should seriously consider canceling the show this Saturday. Lie low until after your honeymoon. That might make a difference.”

  “Hello?” Gemma hollered from the end of the table. “I’m right here. Do I not get a say in the matter?”

  “Of course you do.” Kyle eased over to her side. He scooped his hand underneath her hair and massaged her neck. Every muscle was riddled with knots. They were so tense he thought they’d snap. “I think Sam’s right. We should cancel our show. Just to be on the safe side. Let’s focus on our wedding. Nothing else.”

  Gemma closed her eyes and pursed her lips, tight. She took a few deep breaths and turned to him. Her beautiful emerald eyes turned dark, like murky water at the bottom of a well. “Let me think about it.” Her voice was soft but strained. “Let’s not freak Sophie and Kate out with a PR nigh
tmare just yet.”

  He pressed his lips to her forehead and drank her in. That was Gemma. Always considering other people before herself. She never liked to put anybody out. He cupped the back of her head and drew her into his embrace. “Okay. Let’s sleep on it. No rush.”

  The only thing he wanted to rush was the end to the threats. He wanted to marry the girl of his dreams. The three of them hated canceling shows, but this would be for her safety. Gemma would be mulling over what to do, thinking of the pros and cons. Tonight, after everyone left, he had to convince her the show didn’t matter. Not to him. Nor Hunter. She was all they cared about. He might be in for an uphill battle, but it was one he had to win.

  She came first. Always would. No matter what.

  Somehow he’d get his way.

  No compromises. Not this time.

  Chapter 12

  Gemma hated it. Her home had become a prison, a mental mind fuck, one she desperately wanted to escape. She could perform in front of thousands, speak her mind, stand up for what she wanted, thrive on her ambition, and inspire people. But a few threatening letters had derailed her.

  Swiveling to and fro on the leather office chair in her music room, Gemma strummed her acoustic guitar, the low, slow chords filled the room. It was two o’clock in the afternoon. Today’s rehearsal had been canceled. Kyle was out running errands and getting a haircut. She was home alone, and the day had been nothing short of unhinged.

  The letter delivered to their home last night had frayed her grip on sanity. Sophie’s call from her office around lunchtime had made it even more threadbare. Two more threats had arrived, postmarked a day apart, but they must have been caught in the postal system as they were delivered on the same day. After Sophie read the letters out, each one more violent and horrific, Gemma told her to send them straight to Jones. It sickened her to the stomach, but she didn’t want Kyle to know. Didn’t want him to worry and become more fanatical about her safety than he already had.

  She was over it.

  She’d had enough of his possessive, obsessive, intrusive need to protect her. Walking out the front door without security was impossible. The mounting threats had unnerved her. She just wanted them to end, get her life back.

  She let her eyelids drift shut. Just for a few seconds. Usually, having the place to herself was bliss, but since a letter had arrived at their home last night, the stillness and the silence hovered with an eerie edge. Slimy tentacles slid around her spine. Every rattle in the air-conditioning vents, every gust of wind against a window, every creak in the timber staircase made her halt. Wait. Listen.

  Damn it.

  She couldn’t wait for vacation. Her honeymoon would be the perfect opportunity to put the threats behind her, wind down and start afresh. A much-needed retreat to regather her strength. With Kyle.

  It couldn’t come soon enough.

  Cradling the body of her guitar, her other hand glided along the neck. She hummed a tune. Hmm mm mm m mm mmm mm

  Not afraid to admit I’m scared of the dark,

  Not afraid to admit I don’t like being apart.

  The front door’s keypad beeped. The door opened.

  Creeeak.

  She froze, held her breath, and waited for footsteps. Waited. Waited.

  Waited.

  “Gem, I’m home.”

  Her breath rushed from her lungs. Kyle. Thank goodness. I’m such an idiot.

  She rolled the knot from her shoulders and stretched. Working her fingers over the frets, more lyrics came to mind.

  All night I lie awake thinking of you,

  When I’m alone there’s nothing I’d rather do.

  A riff jumped into her head. She worked the strings, the chords, playing different combinations until the tune took form. She strummed over and over until she loved the sound, the tone, the feel. She grabbed a piece of music staff paper off the desk and scribbled the notes and lyrics onto it before jumping back into playing.

  Am I foolish for feeling this way?

  Am I foolish for loving you each day?

  She felt his presence in the doorway, standing, watching, but she didn’t look up. The music had taken over. She didn’t want to lose the melody flowing from her fingertips.

  She slowed the tune down, dragged out each strum. He slid into the room, picked up her electric, plugged it in, and sat on the stool next to her. He just watched her play. Read her notes. Got absorbed by the tune, just like she did.

  He positioned his hand over the strings, watched her hands more intently and joined in. Within a few minutes, he mimicked her perfectly. The long, drawn-out electric sound blended seamlessly with the acoustic. Soulful like the blues, sad like love lost, slow-burning like longing for your soul mate. It matched her mindset perfectly. Sweet but twisted, like a romance novel mashed with a psychological thriller.

  Lyrics rolled off her tongue.

  We have a love, yeah, the crazy kind,

  We have a love, yeah, that blows my mind.

  I don’t want to scare you, but it’s so intense,

  I’ll always be with you, until the end.

  ’Til the end.

  Her heart constricted and ached. She had to get these words out. Words that corrupted her thoughts. She pictured her stalker, how obsessed they were with Kyle, and then herself, knowing how much she loved him and couldn’t bear losing him. She and the stalker—they were alike. It scared the wits out of her. She played, strumming, striking and shredding out notes. Her breath heaved in time with the tune. The pinch in Kyle’s brow grew deeper. The music had taken over.

  More words rolled off her tongue.

  Those eyes on you, when you walk into a room,

  That’s me watching, everything that you do.

  Have I gone crazy? Am I out of my mind?

  Can’t go to sleep without you by my side.

  All through the night, and throughout the day,

  You’re all I want, yeah I’m here to stay.

  Am I foolish for feeling this way?

  Am I foolish for loving you each day?

  Every breath hurt. Kyle just let her play, following her lead.

  Don’t want to scare you,

  Our love is intense.

  I’ll always be with you,

  ’Til the end. The very end.

  She stopped and stared at Kyle. A tear slipped down her cheek. The concern darkening his eyes tore her heart. She didn’t want him to worry. She just needed to vent via music. Get what was in her head out.

  He brushed her tear away with the pad of his thumb, his touch warm and soothing. “Feel better?”

  “Yeah. Needed some therapy. Churning out music and pouring out stupid lyrics always does the trick.”

  “They’re not stupid.” He skimmed her pages. “They’re a little dark, but we can turn them into something awesome.”

  “You don’t like my tune?”

  “I do. Kind of. It needs work.” He hooked the guitar out of the way and kissed her lips. “I’m glad I heard it. I know you’ve been bottling things up when you don’t have to. We are beautifully intense; our love is scary awesome, and I’m here for you no matter what. I love you. Always.”

  She lowered her gaze, closed her eyes. Tears burned and threatened to fall. He could be so wonderful and understanding one minute, overbearing and suffocating the next. Playing down her fears over the threats and being afraid of getting hurt had thickened the wall around her heart. She didn’t want to push him away; she just wanted to keep the peace, keep him happy, stop him worrying, and get married.

  She should tell him about the new letters, but she couldn’t face any more shackles weighing her down. Nothing else could be done anyway. So there was no point.

  He clutched her hand and entwined their fingers. “I know this isn’t the best of times to bring it up, but we need to talk about the wedding. Something’s come up.”

  “It’s okay. You don’t have to tiptoe around the subject anymore. I’m down with it as long as there are no more change
s.”

  Before Kyle could say another word, her cell phone rang. Her ringtone “Evil Women” by Electric Light Orchestra sent it vibrating across the desk. Great! Her mom.

  Kyle glared at her cell phone as if it was pure poison. “Why’s she calling now? It’s not her scheduled time.”

  Gemma suspended in limbo, deciding whether to take the call or not. “We’ve been in Vegas. Photographed everywhere. There is tons of gossip online about what we did at our parties. It’ll be driving her insane, wanting to know the inside scoop.”

  Kyle puffed through his nose.

  Her mom would be itching, covered in hives. Desperate to feed off their lives like the parasite she was.

  Gemma sighed and swiped the screen, putting the call on speaker. Best get this over and done with. “Mom, how are you?”

  “Gemma.” Janine’s shrill voice grated down Gemma’s spine like metal teeth on steel. “That bitch of an assistant of yours hasn’t put my calls through for two days.”

  God, she loved Bec. “Bec’s doing her job. She’s paid to keep people like you away.” Ever since her mom had tried to sell her out to the tabloids again, Gemma had cut her off.

  Her mom’s voice pitched higher. “You went to Vegas? For your bachelorette party? And I wasn’t invited? I’m hurt, Gemma. Really hurt.”

  Gemma coughed, and she couldn’t keep the sting out of her voice. “You’re not hurt. You’re pissed because you missed out on a free trip, booze and fancy accommodation. Or was it the chance to have your photo with me splashed across the Internet?”

  Gemma wished one day her mom would call and apologize for the awful things she’d done and make steps to mend their fragile relationship. But it never happened. Things just got worse. During their last tour, when Gemma had made an effort and caught up with her in Florida, she’d hired a photographer to sneak photos of them in the restaurant. Her mom’s latest fiasco was an online betting game to see how long Gemma’s relationship with Kyle would last. Gemma owed her nothing. Not even the time of day.