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Her stalker sends flowers to the studio four days after the show at Rucker's. Three days later, a stack of pictures shows up in the mailbox. The next week, someone throws a brick through my truck window while it's parked out front. We can't be sure it's related, but no one doubts it.
My friend at the PD scours both sets of photos for prints but comes up with nothing. Not even the damn tape from Rucker's has anything of use. Whoever hung them wore gloves. We ruled John out because he was sitting right beside us that night, but with everything going on, I find myself more suspicious of him than ever.
Something about him doesn't sit right. I just don't understand the fucking purpose if this is him. Especially now when he has to know that he'd be her biggest suspect. Why keep it up? Why risk it? He's not stupid. It's a big risk to take. There's something I'm missing. I just don't know what it is.
It's driving me fucking crazy, though.
As Kenna throws herself into rehearsals for the charity gala, I throw myself into figuring out how to set a trap to catch whoever the fuck is stalking her. The only way I know to do it is by using Kenna as bait, and I loathe that thought. Putting her in danger, even in a controlled environment, doesn't appeal to me.
I'm head over heels for her and falling deeper by the day. I know she feels the same way, but she's still holding a piece of herself back. She has been ever since shit with John went sideways.
I think she's afraid to give all of herself to me when her life is in shambles. I'm trying to wait her out, but I'm impatient as hell. I want every piece of her, and I don't want to wait. I know she loves me. But I need to hear her say it. Until she does, it's going to drive me fucking crazy.
I don't want to force it out of her, though. I want her to tell me on her own. But I'm not sure how much longer I can hold my own confession back. I need her to know that she's got every goddamn piece of my heart wrapped around her little fingers.
A week before the big event, my contact finally comes through with the first piece of good news she's had in weeks.
Riley Jamison and Addison Devine pop in at rehearsals to meet Kenna. She's on stage when they slip into the arena with Weston Davies from the Predators and his wife, Laney, in tow.
I've done security for Wes before, and his wife and Addison are best friends. She works for Saunders Management, the talent management agency Riley owns. They manage some of the biggest country musicians in the business. Wes put me in touch with her. Once I explained the situation, she and Riley were eager to meet Kenna.
They head in my direction. I meet them halfway.
"Riley, Addison, this is Gideon Carmichael," Wes says. "Gideon, meet Riley and Addison."
"It's nice to meet you both," I say politely. "Thank you for coming."
Addison smiles shyly but doesn't say anything. Wes warned me that she probably wouldn't. She doesn't say much to people she doesn't know. But Riley grins at me, thrusting her hand out.
"I know your brother," she says.
"I'm sorry. I told Ma he shouldn't be allowed out without supervision."
"I didn't say which brother."
"Doesn't matter. It applies to both."
She laughs lightly. "I like you already."
I wink at her, which makes her laugh again. "Is that her on the stage?"
"Yeah, that's my girl."
"Your girl, huh?" Riley smirks at me. "Does she know that?"
"Oh, she knows."
"We're going to get the fuck out of here and let you guys talk," Wes murmurs, holding out his fist for me to bump. "Let me know if you need anything."
"Thanks, man. Seriously."
"Anytime, brother."
"Bye," Laney says, waving at me.
"Bye, sweetheart."
He leads her toward the hall as I turn toward Riley and Addison. They're pressed against the railing, listening to Kenna as she belts out Wait for You, a song about her dad. The lyrics are fucking heartbreaking, but she sings it like an old country lullaby. It's hauntingly beautiful.
