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might be dealing with more than one person?”
“Ms. Wade, we don’t know at this point, but we’re preparing for all scenarios.”
Kurt looked to me. “You okay to leave tonight?”
I liked that he involved me in the decision versus just telling me what to do. “Yes, I would rather not be here if that woman is still on the loose. Or any of her accomplices.”
“Hopefully not after tonight, ma’am.”
Hopefully.
Kurt’s brows furrowed. “Doesn’t all this seem kind of convenient? I mean, we’ve been trying to get something on her for a while now, and on the last night of the tour, she conveniently hands over her identity.”
From the look on Steve’s face, he’d already thought of this.
“Yes, Mr. Hendrix. I don’t believe we know the entire story yet.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kurt
Motherfucker.
Rage surged beneath my skin, but I tried like hell to rein it in. Someone got through security and into my dressing room. From Steve’s tone, I knew he wasn’t sold on this bitch handing over her identity so easily.
Thank fuck this tour was over. Otherwise, I’d be canceling it. We were loaded up on the plane and about to take off after haphazardly throwing stuff into suitcases. I knew Sawyer was upset because she never tried to refold or organize any of my shit.
As we ascended into the air, I squeezed Sawyer’s hand. “I’m sorry for not telling you.”
“I know. And you had good intentions. Just, please, don’t do it again.”
From the way she picked at her fingernail, I could tell she was torn up inside. I needed her to trust me. “I won’t. I don’t want to lose your trust.”
“You haven’t. You won’t. We’re still trying to find our rhythm. We disagreed; you heard me out. And we came to a solution.”
This was still all foreign territory to me. With my parents, they fought, my dad stormed off, and my mother cried. Nothing was ever solved when I was a kid. This was different. It made sense. It wasn’t drama filled with threats and empty promises. And most importantly, there was forgiveness.
Sawyer looked me in the eye and then gave me a small smile. It broke my heart to see her so sad. “Have you heard anything from Steve?”
I pulled out my phone and looked at the screen. When it rained, it fucking poured.
Doug: I’d like to meet for dinner to celebrate your birthday and discuss our arrangement.
“Cocksucker,” I spat.
“What’s wrong?” Sawyer focused her attention on me.
“My father is looking for his yearly dinner date.”
“What does he want every year? Why?”
Sawyer knew about the dinner date, but I hadn’t gone into the specifics about why. After the one time we talked about it, it never came up. And he wasn’t worth the breath.
“Money. He threatens to send stories about Mom’s attempted suicide to the papers. So I pay him because I don’t want Mom to suffer.”
Sawyer’s eyes flashed with anger. “He’s a sperm donor douche canoe.”
Even in a time as serious as this, my girl could get me to smile. “Will you come with me this year?”
