by Nash, Willa
“You are supposed to be at school.”
“Sorry.” His shoulders sagged. “Is Duke here? I really need to talk to him but my phone died.”
“No, he’s not. But you can call him on mine.” I opened the door wider and waved him inside. “Come on in.”
Travis didn’t move through the door. Instead he looked across his right shoulder toward the chairs that sat in front of my living room window on the porch. He jerked his chin to the open doorway.
My heart slammed into my throat. Who was out there with him?
I started to close the door when he cursed and muttered, “Savannah, don’t be dumb.”
Savannah? I peered around the corner. A girl was crouched beside a chair, hiding. She looked exactly like the girl in the gallery painting.
When she saw me, her eyes widened. They were as violet blue as the portrait her father had done but rimmed in red from what looked like hours of crying.
Her face was delicate and soft with youth. She was beautiful, even with the lines of stress etched into her pretty features and her shoulders bunched by her ears.
Savannah would become a stunning woman one day. She had the bone structure. Her long, blond hair was streaked white from summer. In a way, she reminded me of me at that age.
Other than the pain that she seemed to carry in those vibrant eyes.
“This is Jade,” Travis said, pointing to me. “That’s Savannah.”
“Hi.” I gave her a little finger wave and the gentlest smile I could summon. “Would you like to come in?”
She shoved off the porch boards, standing and holding up her chin. “Whatever.”
Scared to stubborn in two seconds flat. Teenagers. I moved out of the way so she could follow Travis inside.
“Duke is out looking for you,” I told him. “Your mom went to the station and asked if he’d help find you when the school called her.”
“Shit.”
“Pretty much.” I closed and locked the door, then nodded for them to follow me to the kitchen, where I’d left my phone.
Everly fell into step beside me, leaning in close to whisper, “Think she’s pregnant?”
I elbowed her in the side.
“What?” she mouthed.
I shook my head and laughed because no one but Everly could make me smile in this situation.
Travis was right behind us and Savannah stayed on his heels, like she didn’t want to be more than a foot away from him.
Okay, maybe Everly was onto something. Was something more than friendship happening with these two? It would explain a lot.
“How much trouble are we in?” Travis asked as we reached the kitchen.
I leaned my elbows on the island. “Depends on what’s going on.”
Savannah hung her head. “It’s my fault.”
Please don’t be sixteen and pregnant.
“No, it’s that asshole’s fault,” Travis snapped. “He shouldn’t have come after you.”
I straightened. “Someone came after you?”
“My stepdad is an epic fucking loser,” Savannah said.
It was strange to hear that kind of language from someone with such an angelic face, but there was venom in her tone. Pure poison aimed at her stepdad.
“Did he hurt you?” I asked.
“No.”
“He slapped you.”
Savannah looked out the kitchen window, her features hardening. “It didn’t hurt.”
There was a lie. It broke my heart to see a young woman trying so hard to be strong. She was just a kid.
“She was crying in the parking lot when I got to school,” Travis said.
“Shut up, Travis.”
“No. I’m not gonna shut up. You have to tell someone.”
“It’s fine,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Is that why you ditched school?” I asked Travis.
He nodded. “Her stepdad is a real dick. He was hitting her mom and then smacked Savannah.”
“Is that true?” I asked her.
“Yeah.” She turned those blue eyes to me. “I didn’t want to stick around so I left.”
“Where did you go?”
“My dad’s.”
“Did you tell him about this?” Because Hux should have called Duke, not hidden his daughter away.
“He didn’t know I was there,” she murmured, dropping her gaze to the island where she traced an invisible circle with her finger. “He stays up late working in his studio. I used my key and snuck in to crash in his spare bedroom. He was still sleeping when I snuck back out this morning.”
Why wouldn’t she tell her father? I didn’t have the time to delve into the complexity of that father-daughter relationship. Not when Duke was out searching for Travis.
“Why did you come here?” I asked Travis.
“We, uh . . . we kind of use your barn as a hangout.”
“My barn?” I pointed to my chest, then looked out the window to the building in the distance. I hadn’t ventured that way since my initial walk around the property. “That one?”
“Yeah. Before you moved in, a few of us used to hang out in the old barn. Since it’s pretty much abandoned.”
Well, shit. Travis had been here all day.
“How often do you go there?”
He shrugged. “Couple times a week.”
How had I not noticed? “How— You know what, it doesn’t matter.” We’d deal with the barn thing later. “Let’s just—”
“Who are you?” Savannah cut me off, her words aimed at Everly. It was so abrupt and demanding, I blinked and closed my mouth.
“I’m Everly. Lucy’s best friend.”
“Who’s Lucy?” Travis asked, looking between the two of us.
Son of a bitch.
“Jade,” Everly corrected. “I, uh . . . call her Lucy sometimes? That’s her middle name?”
It came out as a question, not a statement.
Everly turned her face away from Travis and gave me an exaggerated frown, mouthing, “Whoops.”
I closed my eyes and sighed. We needed to rewind today and start over.
The teenagers weren’t buying her lie—no one but a toddler would. Travis’s eyes shifted between the two of us, his expression turning suspicious. Savannah’s shoulders went ramrod straight as her gaze narrowed on my face.
“I think we’d better call Duke.” I swiped my phone off the counter but before I could even unlock the screen, another voice came from behind us.
“Well, well, well. If it isn’t my favorite singer. I’ve been looking for you.”
I gasped, my eyes whipping to the intruder.
She stood at the entrance to the kitchen holding a black gun by her side.
Was this my stalker? A woman? I blinked, trying to place her face. Her eyes were a muted hazel color. Her brown hair was shoulder length. She looked like an average, pretty woman about my age.
No. No way.
It wasn’t a crazy fan. Detective Markum was right. I knew her. But what was her name? Julia? Jessica? Jennifer? She’d been one of my backup singers on my second—or had it been my third?—headliner tour.
We hadn’t spoken much at the time and she hadn’t stayed with us for long. Maybe two weeks. Then she’d quit and the label had replaced her with someone new.
That’s how it had always gone with my backup singers. The label insisted on letting some of their talent sing on my tours. It was Scott’s way of auditioning them. If they stood out and had the moxie to move from backup to front runner, the label would fast-track their first album.
This woman had been one of many who’d rotated in and out. I’d never heard from her again so she must not have gotten her album.
But then again . . . I had heard from her, hadn’t I?
Through letters. Texts. Emails.
She’d been the one tormenting me and Everly.
Why?
I’d save that question for later. I stretched my hand across the butcher block for my phone.
&nb
sp; “Don’t.” The woman’s eyes narrowed and she clicked her tongue. Then she lifted the gun, pointing the barrel at my nose. “I’ll take that.”
The gun never wavered from my face as she strode into the kitchen, even as she passed Savannah, Travis and Everly. She swiped up my phone, walked to the sink and dropped it into the drain, turning on the water for a long second. Still the gun didn’t so much as shake in her grip, even as her gaze alternated between me and the sink.
“I locked the door,” I whispered. I was sure that I’d locked the door.
The woman scoffed. “Please. I’ve been picking your locks for years.”
The clank and grind and scream of metal dragging across glass filled the room as she flipped on the garbage disposal.
Fuck. There went my phone.
My eyes shot to Everly, whose face was stark white. Her phone was upstairs on the bed where we’d been talking. Probably beside her can of bear spray.
The garbage disposal stopped and an eerie silence filled the room.
I held my breath, waiting for a bullet to fly from the gun or words to spew from her mouth.
When she spoke, I expected her voice to sound like nails on a chalkboard. But it was soft. Soothing, even. “You don’t remember me, do you?”
I gulped. “No.”
“Cunt.” She sneered and the sweet in her tone was replaced with ugly and bitter. “Of course you don’t.”
What had I done to this woman? How horrible had I been?
How could I not remember?
The tour shows all blended together. We hit city after city as we traveled across the country. There was never any rest. No downtime. The minute the show was over and we were on the bus, I passed out for a few hours just to wake up and work on songs for the next album.
The only people I let travel on my bus were the driver, Meghan and Hank—whenever he felt like acting like my manager and tagging along. All of the other crew members traveled separately.
So if I’d done something horrific to this woman, enough to deserve her brutal punishment, it had to have been at a show.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I don’t remember your name.”
“It’s Jennifer. Jennifer Jones.” She flicked her gaze to the kids, who were huddled together. “You probably think you’re cool, right? Being friends with a famous singer. Be careful. If she thinks you’re a threat, she’ll ruin your life.”
What? What the hell was she talking about? I hadn’t ruined her life. I didn’t even know her.
I took a step away from the island. Away from Everly and the kids. “Please, put the gun down. We can talk this through. Whatever I did, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Let me make it right.”
She brought the gun to her temple, using the metal to scratch an itch as she pretended to think the situation over.
This bitch was fucking crazy.
I shuffled away two inches and the gun whipped my way again. I held up my hands. “The kids don’t have anything to do with this. Please, let them go.”
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.”
Sweetheart. Bile crept up my throat.
Lookin’ pretty today, sweetheart. That would be the caption of me in a pair of sweatpants with my hair all messed up.
You’re getting fat, sweetheart. The caption to a picture of me eating.
Sleep tight, sweetheart. A photo of me yawning as I stepped onto a tour bus.
“Why?” I whispered. “I don’t understand.”
“Don’t lie. You know what you did.”
“I don’t. Please, tell me. What did I do?”
The look on her face turned murderous and the gun began to tremble in her grip. “Admit it. You were so threatened by my talent. Tell them that you were scared I’d steal your fame. I’m the better singer. You know it. I know it. But you were in the spotlight and wouldn’t give it up to someone better. Because if I was singing, the world would see you for who you really are. A fake blonde with a mediocre voice who shakes her tits on stage for applause.”
I cringed. What the actual fuck? She hated me. No, she abhorred me.
“I don’t . . . I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Liar!” she shrieked, earning a gasp as I flinched.
A sob escaped Savannah’s lips. Everly had inched toward the kids and taken the girl’s hand, holding it tight in her grip. Travis, that brave boy, was trying to push in front of them both. But Everly was holding her ground, acting as their shield.
“I’m sorry.” My chin began to quiver. A deep hopelessness settled in my heart. The only thing to do was make sure Jennifer’s anger stayed focused on me. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You had me fired.”
“No, I didn’t. I swear. The label didn’t let me pick backup singers.” Otherwise, I would have had Everly with me on every tour.
But this was still my fault. I’d been so wrapped up in my own career, I hadn’t seen what was happening on my own goddamn tour.
Someone had fired this girl. My guess was Scott. And that motherfucker had blamed it on me.
“Such a liar.” Jennifer shook her head. “Just like Meghan. I’ll shut you up like I did her.”
Ice raced down my spine. “What do you mean? Meghan committed suicide.”
Jennifer smirked. “Did she?”
No. My stomach plummeted. This crazy bitch had killed my assistant. How, I wasn’t sure. But there was no mistaking the evil glint in her eyes. The pride in her actions.
She’d killed Meghan. And she would have killed Everly.
“Why? Why Meghan?” I asked. If I could distract Jennifer, maybe Everly and the kids could make a run for it.
“She belonged in prison,” Jennifer said. “She embezzled over fifty thousand dollars from her former employee. Something they never realized. But I found the money. I saw her spending cash and hiding it in her house. Under her mattress of all places. People think they can keep secrets when no one is watching. But I’m always watching.”
Had Meghan stolen from me too? It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. The only thing I was worrying about was getting the others out of here.
I swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
“I want your life. And I would have had it if it weren’t for you. So since I can’t be a Lucy Ross, I’ll rid the world of Lucy Ross instead.”
It had always been coming to this. Always. Maybe the reason I’d run from Nashville was because I’d known, deep down, the death threats hadn’t been in jest. It had always been about my life.
“Please,” I whispered. “Let them go. Then you can do whatever you want to me.”
“No,” Everly protested. “Lucy, no.”
I looked at her, my eyes pleading for her to get the kids out of here.
She shook her head and her eyes filled with tears. Maybe she knew what I was about to do. Maybe she was just terrified.
Please.
A tear fell down her beautiful face as she nodded.
Then I looked at Travis.
He would grow into a good man. Regardless of the trouble he’d been causing lately, he’d become a man like Duke.
My Duke.
I wouldn’t get to tell him I loved him again. I wouldn’t get to fall asleep in his arms. I wouldn’t get to write a song that encompassed the wonder that was Duke Evans.
But there was only one option here.
I wouldn’t let this bitch harm Travis or Savannah. They had their entire lives to live. And Everly wasn’t going to end up like Meghan.
I faced Jennifer, determination coursing through my veins. Along with defiance and a hatred of my own. This bitch might end me, but she was not hurting the ones I loved.
She noticed the change in my expression and for a brief second, her nasty scowl flashed with disbelief.
I gave her a fake smile. “Fuck you, Jennifer.”
Her lip curled and she aimed the gun at my forehead.
The kitchen erupted into chaos.
“Run
!” Everly screamed, shoving the kids toward the living room. Savannah had been holding Travis’s hand and as she moved, she cried out and pulled him with her.
I lunged at Jennifer, my hands stretching for the gun, just as a flash caught the corner of my eye and a crash filled my ears.
I would have tackled Jennifer, taking us both to the floor.
Except at that moment, a large body threw itself into my path. A body that belonged to the man I loved. Duke had burst through the back door of my tiny farmhouse and thrown himself in front of me.
Just in time to catch a bullet.
Chapter Twenty-One
Duke
“Why did you do that? Why did you—” A choked sob came from Lucy’s throat, cutting off her words as she pressed a dish towel to the blood soaking my shirt. Tears streaked her gorgeous face.
“I’m fine.”
“But why did you do that?” she wailed, her hands shaking.
I used my good arm to push up off the floor, ignoring the searing agony in my shoulder and ribs, then took her chin in my hand. “Baby, look at me.”
“Stay down.” She shook her head as the sobs kept coming. “Everly! Call an ambulance!”
“They’re on their way.”
Her voice was closer than I’d expected and calmer too. She met my gaze from the edge of the island, her eyes wide and her face drained of color. She swallowed, then her focus shifted past Lucy and me on the floor.
To the other body in the room.
The one swimming in a pool of blood.
I’d caught her bullet in the shoulder. She’d caught mine between the eyes.
“She shot him,” Lucy muttered, the towel digging deeper into my wound. “She shot him. She shot him.”
“Holy fuck.” Travis appeared at Everly’s side. He looked at the dead woman, lifted a fist to his mouth and gagged.
“Everly, get them out of here.”
No one moved.
“Everly,” I barked, causing her to jerk and blink into focus. “Please.”
“Come on.” She nodded and turned, taking Travis’s shoulders in her hands and pushing him away from the horrific scene.
When I heard the front door open, I heaved upright and pressed my back against the island, wincing as I tried to breathe through the pain. The shot had been close range, and the bullet wound hurt like a son of a bitch. It didn’t help that I’d broken some ribs when I’d jumped in front of Lucy and smashed into the side of the butcher block.
