Page 69 of Archer

Knox scoffed. “Do they know what you’re in the middle of right now?”

She nodded. “Alexis explained it all this afternoon.”

“What did you say?” I asked.

“That I’d call them Friday.” She released a shaky breath. “Alexis said I should take care of myself. That she’d support me either way, and if we needed to get a new record deal, she’s confident that she can make it happen.”

I liked Alexis more by the minute. “What do you think?”

“Alexis’s a powerhouse, and she’s never let me down. I think that if she says she can get me another deal, she can.” Harper’s voice was steady on the surface, but I caught the tremor underneath. “I just hate to lose this label, because they believed in me from the start. They took a chance on a no-name singer and gave me everything I have so far. I don’t want to lose that.”

“Then you won’t,” I said. “If this goes to plan, you’ll be back in Nashville by Friday with Jeremy Webb in custody. And for the record, you’ve been successful, because you are wildly talented and you don’t give up. If you let them go, it’s their loss.”

Her responding smile was tentative. She wanted to believe me. I could see it in her eyes.

Knox cleared his throat. “So we’re doing this. Tomorrow at sunset?”

“Tomorrow at sunset,” Harper confirmed.

Harper wore cutoff shorts and a loose white tank top for her social media post. Her hair flowed in loose waves around her shoulders, and she’d put on makeup to get camera-ready.

“For the photo,” she explained, catching my stare. “No one wants to see a public figure in sweatpants and a hoodie, even if it’s forty-five degrees.”

I raised my palms in surrender. “You’re the boss.”

“Damn straight.” She winked.

Harper grabbed her guitar from the corner and headed for the deck. I followed, scanning the beach and tree line automatically.

Knox was already in position somewhere among the dunes to the north. Colton sat in Knox’s Jeep down the street to the south, monitoring feeds from his laptop.

Harper settled onto the deck’s built-in wooden bench, arranging her guitar across her lap. The setting sun lit her hair like fire, catching the gold in the red.

She was beautiful.

She was also terrified, though she hid it well.

“You don’t have to do this,” I said quietly. “Putting yourself out there for this guy is too much.” It felt as if we were offering her up to him on a platter, a shiny thing to look at and worship. It made me want to Godzilla stomp through the town until I found him, just to save her from this sacrifice.

“It’s all I’ve got.” She looked up at me. “I’m tired of running. I’m tired of being afraid, and I want my life back. Just, please don’t let him anywhere near me.”

“Not a chance.”

She raised her phone, angling it to capture herself, the guitar, and the ocean behind her. Then, she took a half-dozen shots before she was satisfied.

I watched her copy and paste the caption we’d discussed from her notes app to the post, add the music note emoji, and tag her location.

“Ready?” she asked.

“No. But do it anyway.”

She hit post.

The photo went live on Instagram, instantly visible to her hundred thousand followers.

Including Jeremy Webb.

Chapter 22