by LJ Evans
“I’ve never even met the woman.” Dani was shaking her head at the improbability of it.
“It’s easier for her to strike out at the person replacing her than the person she loves.”
Dani grumbled sarcastically, “That’s not love.”
I nodded. “It’s not, but in her twisted head, it is.”
“What are we going to do?” Dani asked, looking up at me with wide eyes. The planner without a plan. The person in charge without an answer. It wasn’t a role she relished. It wasn’t a role that fit her. It wasn’t a role that fit me either.
“That’s exactly what we need to discuss.”
My brain was already reeling with ideas, thinking three steps ahead to every move and countermove we could make with an unpredictable, wild woman on the loose.
Dani
THE ARCHER
“Dark side, I search for your dark side,
But what if I'm alright, right, right, right here?
And I cut off my nose just to spite my face,
Then I hate my reflection for years and years.”
Performed by Taylor Swift
Written by Swift / Antonoff
I eyed the clothes I’d flung away in Nash’s hotel bathroom. I had no desire to put any of them on again. Just the thought of the smells made me want to return to the toilet. But I couldn’t leave the room in only Nash’s T-shirt.
He seemed to realize the same thing. “Stay here. I’ll go get your suitcase.”
“Is there a robe in the closet? I can use it to go to my room.”
He shook his head. “No. I don’t want you near a room with your name tied to it. Stay here.”
Then, he was gone, leaving me to my swirling stomach and thoughts of a woman I didn’t know putting poison in my drink. I pulled myself up to my feet and stared at my pale reflection again. Another fucking bathroom that wasn’t my own with someone I didn’t recognize staring back at me as I faced the fact I hadn’t wanted to face before. Faced the word I hadn’t ever wanted to tie to me. I was a victim. I’d been a victim a year ago, and I was a victim now.
I’d denied it, even when my therapist had held it out in front of me.
I hadn’t been afraid when Fenway first cornered me in the elevator at The Oriental. I’d just been annoyed. Frustrated that I was having to fend him off for the hundredth time.
I pushed at my lips, watching them move in Nash’s bathroom mirror, but I wasn’t seeing them. I was seeing him. Me. An elevator.
Fenway’s words, fueled by alcohol and lust, echoed through my head. “I was wondering when we’d finally have some privacy.”
“It hasn’t ever been on my must-do list,” I told him dryly with every ounce of disgust I could roll into the words.
“You’ve got such a goddamn mouth on you. Let’s see if you can use it for something actually worthwhile,” he said as he hit the elevator stop button.
Stunned by his words, I didn’t react, allowing him to close the distance that remained between us with barely a step. He locked one hand on my thigh and one on my shoulder.
“Are you insane as well as drunk?” I asked, shoving at him, but his fingers were like meat hooks, pushing into the nerve endings until they almost spasmed. It was then the fear settled in, working its way into my entire body, limb by limb, and making the moves my dad had taught me fade from my mind.
He rammed himself against me, setting his repulsively moist mouth on mine, shoving a slobbery tongue against my lips. I recoiled, teeth hitting his tongue and his lip, head hitting his nose, and causing him to swear.
“I’m going to teach you to play nice, Daniella,” he growled. “To crawl like someone should have taught you a long time ago. Teach you your place on your knees with my belt wrapped around your neck.”
I shoved him, using what arm strength I had as I tried to get some leverage, but he simply slammed me back against the elevator wall. One hand held me there while the other squeezed my breast as his knee crashed into my pelvic bone, sending a wave of pain through me.
I reached up and raked his hand with my nails, and he grunted in disbelief and displeasure. It caused him to loosen his hold just enough that I could elbow him in the side and try to sidestep him. He grabbed me around the waist and slapped me with such force that my head flung backward and hit the wall. I kicked out with a stiletto-clad foot to hit his knee, allowing me enough space to reach the controls and unstop the elevator. I hit the mezzanine button just as he grabbed at me again from behind.
“You’re going to wish you hadn’t done that, you little bitch,” he said as his fingers tore at my dress, smashing me face-first into the door. He leaned his body and his erection against me as he reached for the buttons again.
Fear and anger and panic pounded through me as I tried to pull my body and his away from the control panel. The doors dinged and slid open, a startled couple standing there…
I escaped while he shouted out from behind about me trying to mug him.
I ran to the bathroom and called Mac.
I’d been pale and shaky in that bathroom mirror, just like now. I hadn’t even realized I was crying that day until I’d seen my reflection.
While today I hadn’t been grabbed or kissed or yelled at, I’d been silently attacked. My body had been brutalized, and I’d been humiliated. My legs started to give out, and I sank onto the edge of the tub, a cold numbness invading my body and mind.
The door opened, and Nash walked in carrying my heavy suitcase. It was heavy enough that I always dragged it on the rollers. Not Nash. Not the SEAL. Not the best of the best of the best. He carried it like it was nothing more than a bag of bread.
He saw me sitting and did a double-take. He came toward me.
“What happened?”
Nothing. Everything. Nothing. I shook my head.
“You look even paler than when I left.” He stepped closer.
Pale. Yes, I was pale. The word “victim” was spinning around in my head, sliding over my body in a way I wanted to shrug off. I was unsure how to incorporate that word into my self-image.
“Why don’t you stay here? I’ll go talk with Brady and the team.”
I shook my head. Victims became survivors. Being a survivor wasn’t a word I wanted tied to my name either, but survivor was easier for me to shoulder. I had survived. I would survive again.
“No, I’m going,” I said.
I pulled myself up and walked past him to where he’d left my suitcase. I unzipped it, found the items I needed, and then went back into the bathroom. I put a hand on the door and waited for Nash to leave.
He stopped in front of me, cupping my cheek. “You’re gonna be okay.”
It was the same statement he’d made outside my room the night before, as if he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that when I got to the other side of this, I’d be whole. But I’d just realized, I wasn’t. I’d already been burnt into pieces. Images of Nash and the SEAL team documentary flew through me. I wasn’t ringing any damn bell yet. I wasn’t going to go down without a fight. I could come out of the charred ash stronger.
Nash stared into my eyes for a long time, as if he wanted to tell me something else, but then, he pulled the door from my grasp and shut it behind him.
I pulled on my underwear, strapless bra, and the sundress I’d pulled out of the suitcase. It was October, but it was still warm in Florida, and better yet, it was loose, which I needed on my stomach that still felt bloated and sore.
I slid on a pair of flat sandals, brushed my teeth, and washed my face to remove the remaining makeup that had smudged under my eyes with my half-hearted attempts at the restaurant and in the shower earlier. I looked at the mess that was my hair but didn’t have the energy to even put it up in a ponytail. There was a numbness dragging at my insides as unfamiliar words still swirled through me and around me. They’d have to take me as I was at the moment. Victim. Survivor. Dani.
When I opened the door, Nash was righ
t there, as if he’d been listening to make sure I didn’t hit the ground. I was grateful and annoyed all at the same time. But it was hard to work up the wall of hatred I’d been presenting to him for weeks. Not after he’d been so damn kind.
After he’d seen me at my worst and stayed.
After he’d shown me his own scars.
The fissure that losing Darren had caused in his soul had been open and gaping in front of me when he’d talked about the medal earlier, the guilt bubbling through his every word. He’d survived, too. I didn’t think of him as less because of it. He was more. It made me determined to be the same. More.
I opened the door to the hallway, and he came with me. He started toward the emergency exit, but I grabbed his arm, shaking my head. “I can’t do the stairs.”
I didn’t want to say I was too weak. But it was the truth. My body was weak. But that would pass.
“I can carry you,” he said. And he would, but I’d been humiliated enough for one day. I’d been weak enough for a day.
I turned and headed to the elevator. I didn’t have my phone with my meditation app, and my palms were already sweating. I’d just relived that entire night at The Oriental in my head. It wasn’t a great time to be climbing back into—what had Nash called it—a rattle trap.
But I wanted to face it.
I hit the up arrow. The doors sprung open, and I walked in with Nash following me. He inserted a key card that was required to access the top floor and then pushed the button. The doors swung shut, and I closed my eyes, letting the sensation hit me. My heart rate spiked, making it hard to breathe, but I focused on just doing that. Inhaling and exhaling.
Then, there were fingers tugging at mine, a warm, gentle hand holding my sweaty one. When I slowly opened my shut lids, Nash was close. Not close enough to cause alarm, but close enough to hold my hand and then to reach out and grab the other one as well. He ran a thumb along my palm.
“Just look at me,” Nash said, requiring me to meet his green gaze. “Tell me something about your life. Something from your childhood,” he said.
My childhood. Mac and me running through the club, taunting each other about who was the best tennis player in the world, me or him. “Mac hated when I beat him at tennis. When he turned thirteen, he thought it was time to become a “man” and make sure his skinny sister didn’t win any more matches. So, he started working out and had Dad add a bunch of workout gear to the game room. He worked out for hours a day. But when the tennis tournament came, I still beat him. He’d spent time building muscle, but I’d spent time on the courts.”
Nash chuckled, and it sparked a light somewhere inside—not a flame to add to the wreckage, but a way out, guiding me. The elevator came to a stop, the door swung open, and Nash put a foot in the opening so it wouldn’t shut. He let go of one hand, ran it over my hair, and then pulled me toward him. He placed a kiss on my forehead. Soft. Tantalizing.
“You did great.”
I hadn’t freaked out, and I hadn’t had my app, but I’d had this imposing man instead. I needed to be able to rely on myself. To trust I could do it on my own, because I wouldn’t always have Nash to ride the elevators with me.
He let me go, and we made our way to the penthouse where Brady and Lee waited. Every team member we passed was on high alert, nodding, speaking into their earpieces, letting them know we were coming. It was completely different from two days before when Nash hadn’t even arrived in Florida yet.
When we walked in, Brady was at my side in an instant. “You look pale. How are you feeling?”
Burnt to a crisp, I wanted to say, but the worry in his puppy dog face was just too much for me. I forced a smile. “I’m okay. Nothing like a deep cleanse to help you lose a few pounds.”
“As if you need to lose any pounds,” Lee said with a frown. I didn’t, but that hadn’t been the point in saying it. I think he knew that.
We made our way into the living area where Tanner, Alice, and a man who reeked detective were waiting for us. The man asked more questions than we had answers for. He asked if I’d be willing to give a urine sample, and when I agreed, he handed me a bag that I went and filled the best I could.
After, he thanked us all for our time and said they’d be on the lookout for Fiona to bring her in for questioning. Seeing as she hadn’t signed her name on the typed note delivered to the front desk or the one at the venue the day before, we had no actual proof it was her.
The door had barely shut behind him when Lee said, “I think Dani should go home.”
I shook my head.
“I think everyone should go home,” Nash said with force.
“No way,” Brady objected. “We only have three more concerts on this leg. Then, we’re off for the music awards and the holidays.”
“Was Fiona on board when you made the arrangements for the tour?” Nash asked.
Everyone looked at each other, the uncomfortable truth hitting them.
“She knows your every move. It’s ridiculous to think she hasn’t already set out traps at each of the next locations. She’s probably been planning this longer than you,” Nash continued.
“The restaurant wasn’t a planned stop,” Brady protested.
Nash was quiet for a beat and then said, “You’re right. It wasn’t.”
His wheels were turning. I could see it as clear as day.
“Just say whatever it is you’re thinking, Otter,” I told him.
He glanced around the room, uncomfortable in a way I never saw him. “The officer was right. How do we know this is even Fiona?”
Tanner scoffed. “What are you trying to say?”
Nash glared at him. “I’m pretty damn sure she wasn’t in that restaurant today.”
“Because you’re too perfect to have missed it?” Tanner all but snarled.
“Because it wasn’t planned, and there were six of us there in addition to Brady, Lee, and Dani in a space the size of a cottage,” Nash said, crossing his hands over his chest.
“Brady has eaten there before. Every time we hit Tallahassee,” Tanner said. “She could have easily been in the back. We didn’t check all the employees.”
Nash’s turn to scoff. “Now you’re suggesting she had a job there?”
“She didn’t have to have a real job. She could have pretended to be an employee.”
Everyone was quiet, but I could feel the doubts rolling through Nash, and it was raising my own red flags. He was right in many ways. It was almost impossible for her to have walked into that tiny space, poisoned my drink, and then waltzed out with no one the wiser. I also had a hard time buying that a small, family-owned restaurant like that one would have been duped into thinking Fiona was part of their staff. But what did that mean? It could only mean that someone in the room had been involved. It made my blood run cold. Someone here had done this to me…
“If I go home, she’ll just redirect back to you,” I said to Brady.
“You’re suggesting I should cancel three concerts? Let my fans down?” he demanded.
“Cancel, postpone, rearrange, whatever works, but yeah. I wouldn’t show up at any of those venues or hotels as planned,” Nash said calmly.
A silence settled over us as we all struggled with the consequences.
“I refuse to give her more power by letting the world know she’s sending me running,” Brady said.
“Every battle has moments where you need to withdraw. Pause. Regroup. Every damn plan I’ve ever had laid out for me has changed once we were in the thick of things. It isn’t a weakness. It’s a way to live in order to fight back with an even better plan. You don’t want to just continue to throw smoke bombs and pray for an escape route to appear,” Nash said.
Everyone knew the truth except Nash. If Brady canceled or even said he was rescheduling, everyone would think he had a drug or alcohol problem. Plus, he’d lose fans. Nothing pissed people off more than having paid good money for a concert that didn’t take pl
ace. Ducking out of the limelight would only allow anger to stew and fester into rumors we wouldn’t be able to shake.
“Can’t we just hire more security?” Brady asked.
“Throwing more bullets at the problem doesn’t always mean you’ll succeed in hitting the target,” Nash grunted.
“Sounds like ringing the bell to me,” Tanner said provocatively, eyes squinting in Nash’s direction.
Nash didn’t even flinch, but I did. I wasn’t a quitter. I’d just talked myself into being a survivor who walked up the mountain, but I also knew Nash was right. We needed a better plan of attack instead of continuing to move blindly into the fray.
“We don’t have a SEAL team here, and even if we did, putting SEALs in front of Brady while he’s trying to sing to a crowd is definitely going to get the press talking, wouldn’t you say?” I responded so that Nash didn’t say something to inflame the situation more.
Lee looked to Brady. “We’ll just say there was an unforeseen event. It’s really the best option.”
Brady tweaked his bracelets and looked out the window, frustration rippling off of him. I moved over to him, placing an arm over his shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay.” It sounded a lot like what Nash had told me just a few minutes earlier in his room.
“I hate this,” Brady said. I understood it with every inch of me. “What happens after the music awards? It isn’t like those are new events either. We’ve had those scheduled for over a year.”
“Hopefully, the police will have caught up to her by then,” Lee said.
The resignation in the room was heavy. A barbell that couldn’t be lifted.
“I suggest we split up,” Nash said.
“What?” Tanner looked momentarily thrown. “How does that help? We’ll only spread our resources even thinner.”
“Take everyone with Brady. Go somewhere Fiona doesn’t know about. If Dani is okay with it, I’ll take her with me. We’re only a forty-minute drive from my place.”
My brain stumbled over his words, causing my body to stiffen. Nash had a house? A house somewhere near Tallahassee? He’d been staying with Tristan for over a year, even when he was off. I shook my head in disbelief, and Nash mistook it for my disagreement.
