For real, though. A demo? To her? Was he sniffing glue?
She wasn’t anyone.
And she especially wasn’t anyone to trust your art to.
Damon opened her door and waited for her to exit before closing it again. Then he led the way to a waist-high black gate at the sidewalk and let her pass through first. The narrow walkway up the door of the townhouse was shoveled and ice free. One side had what resembled a small garden, though obviously wasn’t in use for the winter. The other side had landscaping that was covered in snow. A security company sign was displayed prominently on a stick at the bottom of the wooden steps.
A cement patio under the front window had a wrought iron table and chairs.
The stairs leading up to the house had a matching wrought iron railing. At the top was a welcome mat. All of it meticulously cleared of any snow and ice.
She took a breath and rolled her shoulders back. Hopefully he had parents and she could put this matter away with some rational words—and maybe a couple thousand dollars.
She knocked on the door.
Good.
It sounded firm and confident. Setting the tone right away.
The door swung open and for a moment Hannah thought she’d made a mistake.
JOHNNY
After dreaming about her for two nights in a row, he was only half surprised at her appearance at his door. As if his internal conflict had beckoned her for the overdue confrontation.
He was however surprised at the anger that rose inside.
Visceral and defensive, it tightened his chest and quickened his pulse.
Her electric blue eyes widened when they connected with his, and her lips parted in a soft startle.
“Johnny?” she asked cautiously.
He clenched his jaw and his gaze swept over her black leather jacker and tight jeans, then to her bodyguard behind her on the stoop.
His stoop.
The one he owned.
“Ashton,” he replied tersely, all previous façades falling away.
She stiffened as if he’d slapped her, eyes narrowing to dangerous slits.
“Or is it Hannah today?” he asked, tilting his head to the side.
She blinked, rolled her eyes, huffed, and leveled him with a glare. A clenched hand lifted, revealing his address written on an envelope.
“We need to talk,” she said, all business.
His gaze bounced from the envelope to her face to the bodyguard at her back.
“Where did you get—” He reached for the envelope, but she held it back.
She arched an eyebrow. “Shawn? Is he the one you talked about on Saturday?”
His stomach twisted and his neck got hot. “You stay away from him,” he warned roughly.
If she was confused by his change in demeanor since Saturday, she hid it well. In fact, she responded as if she expected him to be angry.
She glanced around the quiet neighborhood. “May I come in…please?” she asked tightly.
Johnny eyed the bodyguard again before nodding and stepping to the side.
The suit followed her in and closed the door behind them. He didn’t enter any further, just stood with his back to the door.
Ashton, or Hannah, or whatever she went by, entered his home and paced around the small living area. Her eyes bounced up to the dining table that overlooked the living space. She set the envelope down on the coffee table and crossed her arms over her chest.
“I met Shawn last week on my way home. He introduced himself to me today and must’ve slipped that into my coat pocket. I found it when I got home.” She took a breath and amended, “Piper was actually the one who found it.” She put her hands on her hips. “Which is why I came here. I needed to know how far this had gone. And what I needed to do to keep it from going any further.”
Johnny shoved a hand through his hair, unable to form words.
Shawn had actually done it. He’d gone behind Johnny’s back and talked to the one person Johnny had forbid him from having interactions with.
Okay, maybe “forbid” wasn’t accurate. But it had been strongly implied. And the meaning had always been there in the subtext.
“But now,” she continued, hostility in her tone. “I’m wondering if you guys had some sort of con planned.”
He tore his eyes from the demo and met her gaze. Slowly, he inhaled as he faced her unholy beauty.
“What?” he asked, not sure he was understanding all of her words.
“On Saturday, when I needed help, did you know?” she asked again, her face a mask of cold calculation.
This was the Ashton he remembered. Not the soft, slightly panicked woman he’d met over the weekend. If she had been like this on Saturday, he wouldn’t have had any doubts.
His mouth opened to answer but no words came out.
She pressed her lips together, the only outward sign that she was distressed. “How many are involved? Who else knows?”
He shook his head, his mouth still slightly agape.
She dropped her head back and sighed at the ceiling. Taking a deep breath, she righted herself and tried a different approach.
“Let’s talk about it,” she offered, sitting on one end of the couch. “Johnny?” she asked, eyebrows lifted. “Have a seat.”
It was his home, his couch, his life, and here she was—taking ownership all over again.
Except not this time.
“No, I think I’ll stand,” he said, saltiness evident in his tone. He crossed his arms over his chest.
She narrowed her eyes and he wondered how he’d ever been confused about who this person was. The slight snarl in her lip, the cold detachment in her icy eyes—it was all there. She was a devil woman.
She shoved back to her feet and paced again.
“What do you want? Money?” She arched her eyebrows and shrugged.
“What?” He screwed up his face.
“How much?” she asked flatly.
“I don’t want money,” he replied in disgust. What the hell was she talking about?
“Everyone wants money,” she countered coldly. “Tell me who else you’ve told first so I’ll know how much your silence is worth. And don’t lie to me. I have people who’ll be able to verify.” She cast a look over his shoulder at the bodyguard.
“Are you really that self-involved?” he asked, incredulous. “Why would I want anything from you?” The way he said you made it pretty obvious what he thought of her. As expected, the remark slid right off her Teflon exterior.
“Really?” she replied in dripping sarcasm. “You just happened to be there to rescue me on Saturday? Your little brother just happened to be on my route home? You have no motives whatsoever in making sure I ended up with your address? This isn’t some messy plan to sue me for stealing whoever’s music this is?” she ended by flicking a dramatic hand at the thumb drive on the table. “Too bad for you.” She gestured with a hand. “I’ve already done that one and lost.”
He sucked in a breath to argue but found she had a couple points there. “You don’t have all the facts.”
“You wanna enlighten me, Prince Charming?” She cocked her head to the side.
Johnny snorted. “Don’t try so hard to paint yourself as a damsel when we both know that’s not true.”
“If you knew who I was on Saturday, why didn’t you say anything?” she said, her voice rising. “Why the games?” She hinged forward at the waist. “I told you things,” she hissed in accusation. “Things that need to stay a secret!”
Johnny rolled his eyes because he wasn’t buying it. Maybe the little sister thing was real. Or maybe it was just another gimmick she used to get attention.
She jerked her chin back in realization. “Is this about revenge?”
“Revenge?” Johnny snorted. “No.” He shook his head in disgust. “Not everything is about you, princess.”
“What did I do?” she asked with a shrug. “It must’ve been pretty shitty for this amount of conniving. Did I ruin your marriage
or something? Not show up for a radio interview? Embarrass you in front of someone famous?” She waved her hands palms up in front of her. “All of the above?”
“You’re a real piece of work. You don’t even remember me, do you?” Johnny said the words, knowing for years they were true but feeling that hurtful sting having to admit it out loud. He had been a nobody to her then. He needed to make peace with that.
Ashton shook her head. “I don’t remember most things,” she said, and it had the kind of ring of truth that sounded too real. She rapidly scanned the interior of the townhouse and her gaze paused on his guitar resting in the stand in the living room.
He held his breath for a minute.
The guitar was the one he’d had when they’d first met. Its sound was on her first record.
It wasn’t fancy by any means, but it was and always would be his favorite. A black Gibson orchestra model. The years of wear showed the scratches and bruises of the life of a working musician.
He wondered if she remembered the night she’d sat in his bed, naked, holding that guitar and singing to him.
Because he thought about it all the time.
“I don’t remember you,” she said after a beat, her voice quieter. The admission hurt more than he expected. “But I know that it doesn’t matter. Going with the odds and how you’re looking at me, it was probably pretty awful.”
Johnny wasn’t sure why hearing that didn’t make him feel any better.
Just then the door opened, or it tried to, but it bumped into the bodyguard, who moved to the side and let Shawn in.
The facilitator of Johnny’s current problem.
Shawn frowned in confusion at the bodyguard, and then his gaze drifted to Ashton. All the color drained from his face, and his round eyes darted to Johnny.
“Oh my God,” Shawn whispered.
“Oh, He can’t save you now,” Johnny cautioned.
Shawn dropped his bag on the floor and his hands came up in a placating fashion. Though he couldn’t figure out which person to direct them to. He faced Johnny, then Ashton, then the bodyguard in quick succession.
“I-I-I can’t believe you’re here,” he finally spit out, obviously speaking to Ashton. He spun to Johnny. “It’s her. I told you it was her.”
Johnny ran his tongue over his bottom lip and nodded once.
Shawn shoved both hands through his hair, unable to conceal the sheer joy on his face. “Did-did you listen to it?” he asked Ashton cautiously.
For the first time since Johnny had opened the door, he saw a crack in her exterior as she looked at his younger brother.
“No,” she said after a beat. “I haven’t listened to it.”
Undeterred, and oblivious to the tension in the room, Shawn eagerly grabbed the envelope off the table and removed the thumb drive. “That’s fine. You can listen to it here and then I can get your reactions up close.”
“Shawn,” Johnny tried to get his attention.
“This is better, actually,” Shawn continued, a slight tremor in his voice, which was pitching a little higher. “I mean, I would have invited you over earlier today if I’d known you would say yes.”
“Shawn,” Johnny said louder and sharper.
It got his attention.
“Read the room, bud.”
Shawn’s hands dropped to his side and his shoulders dropped. “I don’t understand. If you’re not here about the music, then why are you here?” he asked.
“I think…” Johnny said with a slight grimace. “That she’s here to pay us to keep quiet? Did I get that right?”
Ashton glared at Johnny.
“Pay us?” Shawn repeated, confused and devastated all at once.
For a split second, guilt sliced through Johnny. But the sooner Shawn figured out who Ashton James really was, the better for him. In the long run.
Though watching him find out that the artist he looked up to was a lying, selfish, horrible person kind of hurt like hell.
Silence descended like a thick fog as Shawn stared at Ashton, waiting for a response.
Finally, she took in a deep breath and let it out. “Who have you told? I really need to know how far this goes. Please.”
Her tone was different than the last time she’d asked that question.
“No one,” Shawn replied roughly. “Just Johnny.” He waved a hand in that direction. “And he didn’t believe me until Saturday when he saw you at the school. Even then, he told me not to do anything about it.” He shrugged helplessly. “But I didn’t listen.”
Her eyes moved to Johnny, looking for honesty and verification.
He hadn’t told Shawn about helping jump her car. He didn’t want to have to answer any uncomfortable questions that he didn’t have the answers to. Like, why was she so different in that moment than the woman he remembered? And was it real? Or did she just get a lot better at faking things?
Shawn took a step toward her, speaking excitedly.
“I was just so happy to finally meet you. I never thought I’d get a chance to, and then one day, I saw you get off the train. I wasn’t looking for you. Ashton, you have to believe me. I would nev—”
“Please don’t call me Ashton,” she stopped him. She regarded both of them carefully. “I haven’t been Ashton James in a very long time. And I have no intention of being her again.”
“Okay,” Shawn replied, confusion clouding his brow. “But I…” Shawn’s sentence trailed off as he lost the thought.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a beat.
When she opened them, Johnny could see a crack in her cold exterior.
“Maybe we should talk.” She sat down on a chair and waited for Johnny and Shawn to join her.
Shawn took no issue with sitting down, but Johnny still wasn’t thrilled about being bossed around in his house. He stood still for longer than necessary to make his point.
To her credit, she didn’t challenge him or get huffy.
He took a seat next to his brother on the couch, facing the former pop star.
“My name is Hannah,” she said calmly, carefully. Conflict waged a war in her pale blue eyes, and her hands clenched into tight fists in her lap. “Ashton James was a stage name. I left that life behind for a lot of reasons. But the most important one is to keep someone I care about safe.”
She locked eyes with Johnny.
The little sister.
He lifted his chin slightly but kept his mouth shut.
“If the media or paparazzi were to find out my name and where I live now, it could create…certain complications.”
Shawn fidgeted in his seat.
“Do you understand what I’m saying?” she asked them both, but her eyes remained on Shawn.
“I haven’t told anyone,” Shawn said, defeat in his voice. “I wasn’t planning on telling anyone. I just really wanted you to hear my stuff.” He laughed in a self-deprecating way. “You’re my idol. I was hoping you could give me some pointers on how to get better.”
Her expression softened further even as uncertainty rose in her eyes. She opened her mouth to say something when Shawn cut her off.
“I prayed for you. Specifically you. Seeing you get off that train was like God Himself telling me I was on the right path.”
That was news to Johnny. He had no idea the kid had likened this run-in with divine design.
“Oh, Shawn,” Hannah replied with a sad chuckle. “The only kind of messenger I’ve ever been is a harbinger.”
Johnny hoped the shock he felt at her words didn’t show on his face.
Because…holy crap.
And also, what the hell?
Her eyes darted to his, and for a moment, they were in the same breath again. Just like on Saturday. It was a quick and instant connection that sent lightning down his arms to his fingertips. Her mouth held the hint of a smile, like they were sharing a secret.
And weren’t they?
“I have to ask. How much will it take to keep this secret?”
&
nbsp; “Nothing,” Johnny answered honestly. “We don’t need your money to keep a promise.”
She studied him for a long moment. “I wish I could believe you. But I think I’d be more comfortable if you took the money.”
The truth in that statement made him sad. And feeling sorry for Ashton James was the last thing he ever expected to feel. He rebelled against the feeling.
“Maybe you’ll just have to trust us,” he countered with an edge in his voice.
“Hmm,” she murmured, unconvinced. “But you really hate me. And from personal experience, that can be tricky to control.”
Johnny inhaled sharply at her almost bored-sounding declaration.
“I know that money won’t make you feel better about whatever it is I did,” she continued, those crystalline eyes narrowing in on his soul. “But it might keep you from trying to get revenge.”
Shawn’s head swiveled sharply between them.
“I don’t want revenge,” Johnny said thickly.
“They all want revenge,” she replied sadly.
“If you don’t give me an amount, I’ll just decide what seems fair and bring a check by tomorrow.” She rubbed the tops of her thighs with her palms.
“Check?” Johnny frowned, trying to keep up.
“Well, I’m not gonna Venmo it to you.” She snorted.
He wanted to repeat that he didn’t want her money. That the only thing he wanted was for her never to have moved to this town in the first place. Or maybe that Shawn had never recognized her. Or better yet, if Johnny would have turned down that gig years ago that caused them to cross paths.
He didn’t say anything, though. She took his silence as agreement and stood, signaling the end of their conversation.
“Ash—H-Hannah,” Shawn said quickly. “Please. Take the demo.”
“She can’t,” Johnny answered for her while holding her eye contact. “It’s a liability.”
“But I’m not gonna sue,” Shawn said. “It’s a gift.” He looked back and forth between Hannah and Johnny, pleading.
“Shawn,” she began, sliding her hands into her pockets. “I’m not a good person. I’m not even an okay person. Whatever your brother told you about me…” She lifted her eyes to the ceiling, and Johnny got the distinct impression she broke eye contact with Shawn so that she could finish her thought. “It’s all true. Actually, I’m worse than whatever he said, so please listen to him.”
Key Change: A Slow Burn Rockstar Romance (Common Threads Book 3) Page 7
