Bullet Series Box Set Books 1-8

by Jade C. Jamison

  I began focusing past the pain. Okay, we were in the men’s restroom now and it didn’t take long for a chill to settle in my muscles. This guy, a man we’d always affectionately called Rockstar Balboa, was my stalker. I don’t know how I knew at that moment—I just did.

  Rockstar, a guy whose real name was Kenny, had been a roadie for Fully Automatic for the past several years. He’d been one of their most trusted guys, had been hired on when Ethan and I were still married. So what the hell was he doing this for?

  I wanted to ask, but my mouth was still forced shut by his big hand. Did he see the question in my eyes? “Yeah, Val. You’ve flirted with me for years, but I’m not the big bad rock star. I’m not the guy you sing about. And why? Don’t you remember all those times I got you coffee when you were on the road? When I kept you company when the guys had meet and greets and shit like that? Jesus. I thought when you dumped Ethan—finally, ‘cause the cheating bastard didn’t deserve you—I thought you’d see the light. But you just completely ignore me.”

  Wait. What? Had I managed to completely miss the fact that this guy had had a thing for me all these years? My mind reached back. Sure, I remembered him being a little over-attentive on occasion. One time I was sitting backstage with the guys hours before a show started. The initial sound check was done and everyone was just kicking back. It was right before I got pregnant with Chris, the last tour I went on when Ethan and I were still together. It had hurt too much to be with them, because I missed the stage, but I felt like I was being a shitty wife, not going along and supporting him. Well, on that particular day, Ethan was fucking around with his guitar when Kenny had just walked up behind me and started massaging my shoulders. I’d been nervous, because all those feelings had welled up inside me—the gnawing ache of not being able to take my rightful place behind the mike, the coldness from Ethan (although our nights had been particularly hot that summer), and I could sense some tension amongst the guys, even though I wasn’t sure where it was coming from. Kenny, though, was the only one who’d paid me any attention, had noticed that inside I was suffering, and he’d given me a killer backrub. If he hadn’t done it right in front of everyone else, I might have asked him not to, because it felt partly inappropriate, but he’d just barely started when Ethan appeared and said, “Don’t expect me to start payin’ ya as a masseuse too, Rockstar.” Kenny had chuckled and then cupped the back of my neck in his large hand and helped me relax.

  But I could see now how that had been the first of a long line of mistakes with this guy. Oh, don’t get me wrong. His vibes were a little too friendly and touchy after that, and I had to draw a line. I just figured the guy needed to get laid. I didn’t stop to think that maybe the guy figured that, hey, Ethan fucked around on Val, so why couldn’t Val do the same? I just knew that he felt creepy on occasion but he seemed like a genuinely nice guy, so I just tried to firmly ask him to back off.

  Looking back, though, I could see that he’d never quite gotten the message…and now I was paying for that.

  In light of recent events, when thinking that there might be someone watching my every move, I’d never considered him. Nope, I hadn’t considered anyone really, not till recently, and then I’d thought it was Gracie. Oh, how stupid had I been!

  Having convinced myself it was my children’s caretaker, I’d blinded myself to the possibility that someone else was behind it, and now I was in a situation that I feared would have a very unpleasant outcome.

  Had he maybe stepped up his game because he was not part of my road crew?

  Could that be the way I could save myself?

  Somehow I knew that doing what I wanted to wouldn’t be the best course of action. I wanted to fight, to scream, to run, but deep down I knew that would be a bad idea. I raised my eyebrows, and somehow he got the message that I wanted to talk. His voice was low as he pressed his forehead to mine. “You scream once, it’s all over. You got it?”

  Did I look as scared as I felt? Was it a bad idea to show that fear? Like I could help it. I simply nodded, waiting for him to remove his hand. Then I took a deep breath before trying to plead my case. “Kenny, what is it you want from me? Do you want to go on the road with me?” I got the feeling he wanted to tie me up to his bed permanently, eventually performing some sort of taxidermy experiment on me, but I wasn’t going to offer anything remotely sexual or loving. I just needed something to distract him, help him drop his guard enough that I could get the fuck out of there.

  He blinked twice. “You think I’m stupid, Val? Why didn’t you make me that offer six months ago?”

  As much as I wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear in hopes of getting out of there alive, I also wanted to be honest. “Look, Kenny, I had nothing to do with the hiring of my road crew. You know that, don’t you?”

  He voice grew colder. “Okay, sure, but you couldn’t put in a good word for me? You didn’t care about me enough to make sure I was part of your crew to begin with? Oh, yeah, I can be your willing slave when you’re chasing your husbands all over the country, but when it’s your own thing, you didn’t give me a second thought.”

  Fear gripped my throat and constricted it. I felt like I couldn’t even talk but I managed to get out a few words anyway. “I guess I didn’t think about it.”

  As though the way my throat felt wasn’t enough, he wrapped a hand around my neck. It was almost as if he could sense my vulnerabilities. “You should have thought about it sooner.” He brought his face close to mine, so close that my eyes could only focus on close-up details. I tried to swallow but my throat muscles couldn’t work against his steely fingers.

  I had to do something or I was going to wind up dead—that much I knew. I could feel it coming off him. Maybe I could flatter him, make him feel better somehow. His fingers began to tighten their grip when I said, “You look different, Kenny.”

  His eyes narrowed and when he spoke, I could feel the heat of his breath on my cheek. “What do you mean?”

  “I haven’t seen you in a while. You—you look like you’ve been working out.” I was exaggerating, but he didn’t need to know that. He did look like he’d toned up some, maybe lost a few pounds, but I knew flattery might throw him off guard.

  He actually smiled and his eyes relaxed. “You can tell?”

  I didn’t want to seem overly eager and fake, so I just said, “Yeah.”

  He smiled and nodded and, even though his hand was still wrapped around my neck, I felt his fingers loosen their grip. That helped me to focus on the possibility that all was not yet lost. I tried to formulate a plan, but I didn’t know how I could get away from him without incurring serious injury.

  Just as my mind started grappling with how to get his hand off my neck while pulling away from him, the door to the bathroom opened. It was then that I realized Kenny hadn’t even thought to secure the door or drag me into a stall. That was how obsessed and overcome he’d been—his only thought had been trapping me so he could grill me. He hadn’t gone much further in formulating a plan.

  And that was his downfall, not anything I could have done.

  The person entering the bathroom was none other than my husband. Kenny was like a doe in headlights. It was as though his plan collapsed around him and he hadn’t formulated a backup, so that was it. He was done. Brad wasn’t a fighter but it didn’t matter. I’d never seen him look before like he did right at that moment. Suddenly, he looked taller, more muscular, and fierce.

  He was scary.

  “Let her go right now, motherfucker, or you’re gonna wish you’d never met me.”

  Unfortunately, just because Brad looked scary to me didn’t mean Kenny was just going to give up. No, instead, he and Brad wrestled a little until the door opened again. At that point, Kenny lifted a leg and kneed Brad so my husband stumbled back. Then Kenny pulled the guy in the doorway all the way into the room, giving Kenny an opportunity to run out. Brad winced and then stood. “You okay?” I nodded. “Call the cops,” he said and ran out the door. />
  I wanted to beg him not to go but he was already gone.

  Chapter Eleven

  I REALIZED MY purse was still hanging off my shoulder, and I began fumbling in it, trying to find my phone. The man who’d just walked in and got shoved aside said, “I guess I should help catch that guy.” I didn’t say anything, because I was thinking I should as well, but I knew Brad would be pissed if I tried to do anything. “I’m pretty sure that guy had a knife.” The guy left the bathroom, and then I knew I would have to do what I could.

  I was right on his heels. The restaurant was big and crowded, but I was still able to spot Brad grabbing Kenny from behind just as the former roadie reached the front doors. Kenny was more doughy than he was muscular (even though I had noticed he’d been trying to slim up of late), and so Brad was able to slow him down when he clutched his shirt. While they struggled, the good Samaritan was able to catch up and try to help.

  I’d frozen for a moment taking in the scene but I managed to begin moving again. As I got closer, though, a crowd started to form and I didn’t think they knew exactly what was happening. Fortunately, I managed to find the hostess, because she was at the edge of the crowd, and I told her that I’d had a stalker and that guy had just tried to hurt me and was now trying to harm my husband before escaping. She nodded and ran off, I hoped so she could call the authorities.

  The crowd was so loud and thick that I couldn’t get through, but I did hear murmurs about blood. I knew a few people were trying to help, but most of these people were snoopy onlookers, and it reminded me of one time when I was a freshman in high school. There were two boys behind the school building squaring off and sizing each other up. A crowd began to amass and encouraged their machismo until they began swinging at one another. It was then that I realized how much I hated mob mentality (even though, at the time, I didn’t know that was what it was called) and how they fed off of high emotion and spectacle. I felt like I was witnessing it again.

  That was my husband in there, for Christ’s sake, and I needed to know if he was all right.

  A big guy was shoving his way through the crowd, and I saw him finally flash a badge. He must have been an off duty cop, but he planned on doing his job just the same. The crowd loosened their tight circle and let him through, but I still couldn’t see a thing, and I was getting worried.

  The stranger from the bathroom who’d decided last second to help was trying to restrain Kenny near the door with Brad’s help, and both were failing miserably. The cop managed to get them all up, but he acted like he was going to cuff the helpful stranger. Two people kept getting in my way and I tried to shove my way through. By the time I managed to get closer, I saw the cop holding Kenny, but then I saw Brad, and there was blood on his white shirt.

  Lots.

  That was it. I forced my way through the rest of the people then so I could talk to my husband and check on him. The cop was on high alert, though, and acted like he was going to restrain me…until Brad put out his arms in a welcoming gesture.

  It was loud and crazy…and I could tell my husband had lost enough blood that he was feeling lightheaded. I wasn’t even going to ask. I helped him over to a chair while we waited for the chaos to die down, and Brad was out by the time the ambulance got there. I tried to be strong, but I was scared. Really scared. He’d lost a lot of blood.

  The cop told me not to worry, but what the hell did he know? He wasn’t a doctor, and what made me even more scared was that the ambulance guys refused to speculate. They let me ride along, though, and I called his mom while we rode to the hospital. She was a nurse…but more than that, she was his mom, and she needed to know. I prayed under my breath as we sped away from the restaurant, and I just hoped they were fast enough.

  * * *

  The next morning, a groggy Brad made me feel more relieved than I’d ever been in my life. He sat up a little and talked a bit, even though the pain medication made him sleepy. He insisted upon having Chris and Hayley on the side of the bed.

  The doctor confirmed that Brad had taken a knife to his side, low, above his hip. It hadn’t hit any organs, but it had been deep and longish, and he’d lost a lot of blood. The doctor assured me he’d be fine.

  Brad, though…he asked the next day if he’d be good enough to tour in February. The doctor told him he should be, but he had to take it easy for a bit. No strenuous activity for a while until he healed up.

  Thank heavens for Brad. After the hostess had seated him at the table, he’d looked over toward the restroom hallway, waiting for me to get back. He’d glanced at the menu but had wanted to see what I was going to get before ordering, and when he’d been looking to the area where he’d expected me to emerge, he happened to spy Kenny. He hadn’t been sure at first, but then he put two and two together. He’d known Kenny had an unhealthy fondness for me, and after the past two months—and the past week in particular—he didn’t think twice before making his way to the back of the restaurant.

  I vowed to never tell everyone else what I’d been thinking…that my stalker was Gracie. It was bad enough that Brad knew. How stupid had that been? And it had blinded me to the fact that it was actually someone else, someone who was very dangerous. Why hadn’t I ever even considered Kenny? A police officer stopped by later in the day to take statements from us both and told us we’d have to be involved in the trial at some point. That was fine. I just wondered how long Kenny would be locked up when all was said and done.

  I couldn’t worry about it, though. I left Barb, the kids, and Gracie behind in the room and walked into the hall. I dialed the number for my ex-husband and felt knots in my stomach as I waited for him or Jenna to pick up the phone. I spied Chuck out of the corner of my eye. I had just assumed he’d left after Kenny had been arrested, but he was standing guard of us outside in the hall. Again, I appreciated it, considering the love of my life was in a weakened state. I smiled at him, waved, and then focused again on the ringing in my ear.

  When my ex-husband answered, I said, “Hey, Ethan. I know you’re expecting Chris on the twenty-third, but I wondered if we could bring him on Christmas Eve instead?”

  “Come on, Val. I thought we were past this.”

  “That’s not it, Ethan. Brad’s in the hospital.”

  I could hear his skepticism leave his voice when he said, “Which one? I’ll be right there. What the fuck happened?” I told Ethan he couldn’t just hop in the car and come right over, and that was why I was asking for an extra day. I explained the events of the last few days, offering to let Ethan keep Chris an extra day or so, and, when I finished, he said, “He’s okay, though, right?”

  “Yeah, he’ll be fine. The doctor said he can even go on tour as planned.”

  There was a pause as it washed over him. “Tell him I’m glad he’s all right and I guess I’ll see you guys in a couple days. Tell Chris I can’t wait to see him, too.”

  “Thanks, Ethan. I will.” That hadn’t been as hard as I’d expected. Ethan and I had had a hard time communicating since I’d left him, and most of that had been my fault. I’d been so angry with him—bitter to the core—and I hadn’t been able to let it go. Since having Hayley, though, some switch had flipped inside me, and I’d been able to find forgiveness.

  So I walked back in Brad’s hospital room, feeling happy and at peace. Ethan’s response also made me feel better, knowing that he once again considered Brad his brother and wanted him to be okay. More than that, though, crazy Kenny made me remember that life is precious. I took too much for granted nowadays, and having a wakeup call like that was exactly what I’d needed. I walked back in the room, grateful and happy to have all these people in my life.

  Barb stood back talking with Gracie while Hayley sat on Brad’s chest—away from the wound—and patted his cheek. Chris sat next to him on the bed, chattering away. I approached both women and, when they looked at me, I said to Gracie, “Thank you for taking such wonderful care of my babies.” I turned to Barb. “And you. Thank you so much for giving
birth to one of the best men on the planet.” She smiled and pulled me in an embrace.

  “Thank you for making him happy.” She kissed me on the cheek and I smiled back.

  Then I turned around and walked over to my husband and kids. I patted Chris on the head and he leaned over, resting his head on my hip. Hayley looked up at me and grinned, but she wasn’t budging. She had the most important man in her life as a captive audience, and I think she was thrilled with the notion. I grabbed Brad’s hand. “How you feeling?”

  “Tired. Beat up.”

  “You want us to leave so you can rest?”

  “Hell, no. I can rest when I’m dead.”

  I leaned over and kissed him on the forehead. “I love you, Brad Payne. Thanks…for saving me, for loving me, for…everything.”

  “Ditto, babe.” He smiled at me and then leaned Hayley forward and down so he could kiss her on the nose. She giggled and then I laughed. This Christmas might have had its rough spots, but being surrounded by the three people I loved the most made it one of the best holidays ever.

  Slash and Burn

  Chapter One

  NICK CHANNING GRIPPED the pencil in his hand so hard his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t sure why this whole fucking process stressed him out, but it did. He looked over to his right—first to Brad and then to Val. They were being polite. They sat quietly, listening to the guy in front of them fumble and stumble all over his bass guitar, trying to do God-knew-what.

  Maybe that was what was making him feel like he was sitting on a chair full of needles. They were giving each person five minutes to impress them, but Nick knew in the first thirty seconds if they were any good or not. This guy? Well, he definitely had the look. Long, wavy black hair, some seriously cool ink, even a nose piercing. His clothes were spot on. Hell, the guy could have been a stand-in for Brad. But his playing? Well, the sad fact of the matter was it sucked. The guy not only could barely find his way around the four strings on his piece, but he was making Nick feel like the bass should be a banned instrument. What this guy was doing was a crime to mankind.