A Hero’s Haven

by Tessa Layne

  K: I don’t kiss and tell :)

  C: I know what that means…

  Kate returned the googley-eyed emojis.

  K: Leaving is going to suck *sob*

  C: Who says you have to leave? Why not open a studio in Prairie? Make the artists come to you… like a retreat

  That was a thought. Kate dropped her head back onto her chair, shutting her eyes and listening to the voices and hammers ringing across the yard. A studio in Prairie. She had enough money she could buy a place, refurbish it even, and develop her own studio. In her mind, she’d been toying with getting into producing, but figured she’d rent time at The Hut, or even RCA Studio B. It had never occurred to her to take it a step further. Although if Reba McEntire could do it, why couldn’t she?

  K: I’ll think about it.

  Her thumb hovered over her contacts list. Should she call her lawyer first? Or her mom? Best to get the worst over quick. She could always talk to her lawyer another time. She scrolled to her mother’s name and pushed the green call icon.

  Her mother answered on the first ring. “Kate?” Her mother’s voice sounded genuinely worried. But not for long. “Tell me you’re through with this immature little stunt.”

  “Nice to talk to you too, momma,” she answered, pushing away the disappointment and trying to keep her voice even.

  “Well? What have you to say for yourself? I’ve been out of my mind with worry.”

  Hardly. Kate rolled her eyes. “I’ve been recovering, momma. Trying to figure out what’s next. And I needed to do that away from everyone.”

  “Your next tour is next.” Helene’s voice grew terse. “We’ve delayed the singles’ release schedule long enough.”

  Kate shook her head, irritation simmering. Why hadn’t she taken control of things sooner? If she’d taken charge of her career like other young musicians, things wouldn’t be so uncomfortable now. “Momma, you don’t understand. There won’t be another tour. It’s over.” Her heart squeezed painfully at the admission she’d been avoiding for far too long. But at the same time, a weight lifted off her shoulders.

  “Nonsense. You just need a rest. And some voice lessons. I wish you’d let me give you voice lessons. How many times have I told you that belting is bad for the voice? You should have listened to me.”

  “Momma, it wasn’t my technique.” She clung to what the doctor had told her. “It was a fluke. Fatigue and illness. I was just, I was just,” her voice caught. “I was just unlucky,” she finished quietly. She could hear her mother glowering into the phone. “Momma? Are you there?”

  “This never would have happened if–”

  “I know, I know,” she interrupted. “If I’d listened to you and studied classical music. But you were the one who put me on the stage at the Grand Ole Opry.”

  “That was supposed to be a trial balloon. A chance to give you stage experience. I never expected–” her voice trailed off.

  Kate sighed. This always came up when they were at odds with each other. “You never expected me to get offered a recording contract on the spot, I know. Look, Momma. What’s done is done. It’s over. And I have a new dream. One that I want to pursue for myself. Not for anyone else.”

  “I don’t know why you’re telling this to me. You fired me, remember?”

  “Momma, please.”

  “Fine.”

  Kate could see her mother’s expression, frowning into the phone and studying her manicure. In spite of that, she still hoped for her mother’s approval. “I’ve been thinking about going into producing,” she said excitedly. “And I want to scout new talent.” She hadn’t even mentioned this to Cheyenne, but she’d love to mentor up and coming young singers. Help them in all the areas where she’d stumbled.

  Silence.

  “Momma? Say something.” Please say you’re excited, and you think this is a great idea.

  “You don’t know the first thing about producing. When have you been on the other side of the microphone? You need to let the professionals do that. If you’re going to insist on retiring, you should try and get a spot on one of those singer shows.”

  Kate cringed. She was done with high profile anything. “You mean like The Voice?”

  “One of them. I’m sure Franco knows people. I’ll see what I can get done. Now, when are you coming home?”

  Kate seethed. But not so much at her mother as herself. She’d let her mother take over everything, again. But not anymore. “Momma, I have to run, but I’ll be in touch. Talk soon.” She hung up and threw the phone over the rail into the dirt. She never should have confided in her mother. How many times did it take for her to learn? Her mother would never be emotionally available to her. That realization became all the clearer as she spent time with Cash. He got her. He listened. And offered words of encouragement and support at every turn.

  Kate returned to strumming, running a scale and letting the music settle her. Her phone rang from the ground. Let it ring. It was probably her mother calling back to lecture her. She continued to noodle around, getting up the courage to hum a little when the phone rang again. She forced her attention to her fingers.

  The fourth time the phone rang, she set down her guitar and hopped off the porch, picking up the phone. “This better be good, Chey, because I just got off the phone with Momma, and I–”

  “Are you crazy, Kate? Did you even think about the ranch? That video already has half a million views.”

  “What do you mean?” she said slowly, mind spinning. “What video?”

  “You sound good, by the way. Better than I expected. But are you ready for the onslaught? Why didn’t you tell me you were doing this?”

  “Cheyenne. STOP.” Pain stabbed through her throat as she raised her voice. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Hey Kaycee,” a voice Kate didn’t recognize called out.

  A man rounded the corner of her cabin, camera in hand, chewing on a toothpick.

  Kate went cold, dread flooding her. Oh God, she was going to be sick. How had she been tracked down? Worse, who had betrayed her? “Who are you,” she asked hoarsely.

  “C’mon, sweetheart,” he said taking a step closer and raising his camera. “Can’t you smile pretty for one pic?”

  CHAPTER 23

  Cash’s vision spotted. What in the everloving fuck was a guy with a camera doing talking to Kate? More importantly, why did she look terrified? He rushed the guy, taking him down in a tackle that would make a linebacker proud, rolling as he landed, then hopping to his feet, ready to go again.

  “What the fuck, man?” the man sputtered, sitting up.

  “Don’t move, or I’ll break your face,” Cash ordered.

  The man’s camera lay at his feet, and he picked it up, searching for the memory card. Popping it out, he pocketed it. He’d destroy it later. Right now, he wanted to get this scumbag as far away from Kate as possible. Dropping the camera, he crushed it with his boot heel, just in case there was additional memory in the device.

  “Hey! That’s a five-thousand-dollar camera. You can’t do that.”

  Cash widened his stance and crossed his arms. “Considering you’re trespassing and the sign at the entrance to the ranch says trespassers will be shot, you should be glad I didn’t rearrange your face.”

  “I’m just doing my job,” he whined.

  “And I’m just doing mine.” Cash grabbed the man by his collar and hauled him up. “We’re going to take a little walk.” He turned to Kate who stood off to the side, wide-eyed. “Don’t move,” he growled. “I’ll be back.”

  He turned for the main ranch, pulling the man along. “Who’s paying you?” Cash asked as he kept his pace swift, not caring the man was stumbling over his feet.

  “N-N-Nashville Examiner.”

  “And how much were they offering?”

  “Twenty-k for a close-up.”

  Motherfucker. He let off a string of expletives as they crested the rise. How had this guy managed to make it this far into the
property with no one noticing? The old familiar guilt pressed against his sternum. Would he never be able to keep the people he loved safe? “You go back to your bosses and any of your friends who might be lurking around, and you tell them to stay the fuck away from Resolution Ranch. Any more of your type come crawling around here, we’ll shoot first and ask questions later.”

  Who in the hell had let it out that Kate/Kaycee was here? As far as he knew, there were only a small handful of people who knew that Kate was Kaycee. No way would Travis or Elaine let it slip. They knew how valuable Kate was to the ranch. Sterling? Emma? He chewed on that for a moment as they reached the yard between the barn and the main house. Was this some kind of a publicity stunt? But it could backfire. Not to mention, everyone in the know had signed non-disclosures. What about Kate’s friend? Cheyenne? Was this a ploy to flush Kate out? Or was the breach more insidious? Was some crazed fan stalking her again?

  His lungs emptied at the thought of someone stalking Kate again. But he couldn’t rule it out. And he wouldn’t take any chances with her safety. Not this time, not ever. His mind raced as he dragged the man down the half-mile-long drive to the road. First things first, he had to make sure Kate was safe. He could ask all the questions later.

  When they reached the edge of the property, Cash gave a giant heave and hurled the man under the wrought iron arch. “Don’t even think of coming back. If I see your face within spitting distance of this property, I will kill you.”

  The man’s face grew ugly. “You can’t do that. I’ll have you hauled up on charges.”

  “Good luck if you’re dead, asshole.”

  He remained under the arch, arms crossed, until the man climbed into his car and drove away. The entire walk back to the main house, he scanned every bush, every rock, looking for anomalies that would indicate another trespasser. The yard was deserted, so he took the porch steps by two, knocked once, then pushed open the door. Travis stood at the kitchen counter, afternoon pot of coffee in hand. “What’s up?”

  “We have a mole.”

  Travis’s expression instantly became guarded. “How so?”

  “I found some cockroach of a photographer harassing Kate, calling her Kaycee and demanding a photo. He’s on the payroll of some rag called the Nashville Examiner.”

  “Goddammit,” Travis bit out, face pulling tight. “I was worried something like this might happen. I’ll call Weston.”

  “Do that. Where there’s one, there’s bound to be more. I know a safe house. Kate and I will be gone in less than twenty.”

  “The timing couldn’t be worse.”

  “Keep my wages, hire some extra help. I’ll be in touch.” He spun away before Travis could say more. Not that it mattered. Travis knew what needed to be done as well as he did.

  Ten minutes later, he crested the rise overlooking the shallow dip in the landscape where the little cabins were sited. He paused to count the day laborers. Nothing that raised a red flag there, nor did he see other movement around Kate’s place. He could see her pacing her porch, shoulders tight, shaking her head. Taking off at a jog, he hurried back to her. “Grab your things.”

  She started at the sound of his voice and turned, face filled with fear. “What?”

  “You heard me. You have exactly two minutes to grab a change of clothes and meet me back here.” He held out his hand. “And give me your phone.”

  She pulled her hand out of reach. “Why?”

  “It might be hacked. We can’t risk anything right now.”

  Her face became fiercely determined. “Cash–”

  “Now,” he growled. They didn’t have time to fuck around. And he be damned if she got hurt again.

  Mouth flattening, she handed him the phone. He turned it off and stowed it in his pocket. “Two minutes.” Without giving her a chance to answer or object, he turned and stalked to his cabin.

  Cash went directly to his closet and pulled out his go-bag. Some habits died hard, including this one. Grabbing his Stetson and a jacket, he was back out the door in less than a minute. If they didn’t bug out now, they’d pick up a tail on their way out of town, and that definitely wasn’t happening. Not on his watch. Heck, they should have been gone ten minutes ago. But when he came in sight of her cabin, she was still standing where he’d left her, hands on her hips. Didn’t she understand the urgency? “Kate. Let’s go,” he hollered as he reached the porch.

  She glared at him. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s going on. I’m not going to run anymore, Cash.”

  “Now is not the time to have this conversation,” he gritted.

  “I think it’s exactly the time to have this conversation,” she shot back.

  “Not when your safety is at risk, and we don’t know why the paparazzi suddenly know where you are. I’m not risking something happening to you again, Kate. Now get your things.”

  She fisted her hands on her hips. “Your growly voice isn’t gonna cut it with me, buster. I’m not one of your commandos.”

  He hid a smirk. She’d be adorably funny if the situation wasn’t so serious. “I’m not messing around, Kate.” He looked at his watch. “We’re leaving in less than two minutes. You can choose to pack a bag or not. Your choice. You can choose to walk next to me, or I will sling you over my shoulder. Your choice.”

  The look she flung at him was scathing.

  Too fucking bad. He stared back, equally determined. “Ninety-seconds, Kate.”

  With a little growl, she stomped her foot and rushed inside, letting the door slam behind her.

  He’d make it up to her later. Once they’d gotten to the bottom of this. But for now, he was sticking to his guns, even if she didn’t like it. “Sixty-seconds,” he hollered.

  With fifteen seconds to spare, Kate stepped outside, still fuming, a bag slung over her shoulder and a guitar in hand.

  “What’s that?” He motioned to the guitar.

  She made a face. “What does it look like?”

  “Uh-huh.” He shook his head. “A guitar is a dead giveaway.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not going without it.”

  “Kate…”

  Her jaw set stubbornly. “I’m not. My grammy left me that guitar when she died. It’s coming with us.”

  At least she’d agreed to go without him resorting to carrying her. “Fine. But it stays in the trunk until I say so.”

  She nodded once, mouth thinning.

  He held out his hand. “C’mon. We don’t have time to waste.” He hustled her over the hill and back to the main house, putting their bags in the back of his SUV. He walked around and held open the passenger door. “Get in.”

  “Cash?”

  “Get in. We can talk when we’re on the road.”

  Shaking her head and muttering under her breath, she accepted his help up. By the time he slid in behind the steering wheel, she’d buckled herself in. The engine roared to life, and he jammed the vehicle into reverse.

  “Where are we going?”

  No doubt about it, her tone of voice screamed he was in the doghouse. He’d live with the consequences as long as it meant she was protected. “Someplace safe.”

  CHAPTER 24

  Ooh, the nerve of him. You can walk, or I’ll carry you. Who did he think he was, going all bodyguard on her that way?

  Kate stared out the window, refusing to look over at Cash. Well, he had been a bodyguard, the pragmatic part of her pointed out. And he cared about her, so it stood to reason he’d be concerned.

  Still…

  Kate hated that her old life had come crashing down on her new. Hated it. What kind of a fool had she been to think her fame wouldn’t catch up with her? That she could have a normal, quiet life away from the public eye? That she wouldn’t be ratted out by someone looking to make a fast buck?

  She’d created an unrealistic bubble and stupidly pulled others into it. And now she was forced to run out on the people who’d helped her the most. The shame of it roiled her stomach as the scenery fl
ew by in a blur.

  The Flint Hills glowed spring green in the afternoon sun. If she squinted, she could almost imagine she was in Ireland, but for the calf-cow pairs that dotted the landscape at intervals. Her mother’s voice sounded in her head. Even bad publicity is good publicity. She’d ignored plenty of trolls up to this point, so why did this matter so much more? If she wanted a more private life, then what did it matter if the world knew she could no longer sing?

  The thought niggled at her uncomfortably.

  “Can I have my phone back, now?” she asked quietly after they’d been driving over an hour.

  Cash gripped the steering wheel and stared straight ahead, pushing their speed on the empty back roads. “Not until we know for certain it hasn’t been hacked.”

  “You honestly think my phone was hacked?”

  Cash glanced over, his expression clearly stating that yes, it was a possibility. “I’m not ruling anything out.”

  “I doubt it would be. I purchased a new phone in Kansas City, on my way here in January. I needed a break from my mom and Franco,” she admitted shamefacedly. Of course, now that Helene had her number, her mother would be back to her overbearing ways in no time.

  “And it’s been in your possession the whole time?”

  “Well, at the ranch.”

  “Have you downloaded any apps or clicked any strange email links? Like from your bank or credit card company?”

  “Umm, no?”

  “Just making sure. If there’s spyware on your phone, once it’s on, someone could track your movements.”

  “That sounds very James Bond.”

  “It happens. But it sounds like your phone isn’t the culprit.” Cash slipped a hand inside his jacket. “Here.” He handed her the phone. “Don’t tell anyone where you are.”

  She snorted. “Because the middle of nowhere is somewhere.”

  “Loose lips sink ships.”

  “Whatever you say, mate.” She saluted him and turned on her phone.

  The phone lit up with texts from Cheyenne and her mother.