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Kai reaches across the center console, grasping both of my hands in his. “I’m going to look into it, but if it is him, then this is a good thing.”
“A good thing?” I shriek. “You made him think you were… that we were…” Unable to put a voice to the words, I instead snap, “You made yourself a target!”
“I needed to see his reaction.”
“And?”
“It definitely annoyed him, but he didn’t give anything away that would confirm he’s your stalker.”
Sighing, I turn my head to look out the window. “What now?”
“Now, I check to see if the band really does have a gig and that he’s supposed to be at it.”
I stare absently out the window as we drive back toward Ridgeway, the hedges on the side of the road zooming by in a green blur. Kai’s hand is still wrapped around mine, his heat seeping into my skin and grounding me.
Only when we reach the city limits of Ridgeway, do I turn back to face him. His face is still pinched, and his hands clench the steering wheel tightly, deep in thought as he navigates the city streets.
“If he is my stalker, then he killed Richard.” I pause, chewing on my bottom lip as emotion swells within me. “He’ll go after you next.”
Squeezing my hand, Kai shifts his gaze to give me a quick look, a soft smile lifting his lips. “He can try. You forget I’m a trained Marine. It would take a hell of a lot more than that suit-wearing prick to take me down.”
Chapter18
KAI
Imanage to keep calm for as long as it takes to get Emilia home, but the second she disappears up the stairs to change, I let loose the storm of emotions bubbling up within me.
“Where the hell have you two been?” Hawk barks out as soon as I stomp into the kitchen. Seeing my expression, his shoulders immediately push back, his anger at me fading away. “What happened?”
“I took Emilia for a hike out near Hollows Park.” He begins to protest, but I cut him off with a wave of my hand. “I know it was stupid. I fucking know.” I wipe my hand down my face as I collapse into the chair at the kitchen table. God, how did I let a pair of green doe-eyes talk me into taking her out of the house? How could I have been so reckless with her life? “Everything was fine until we stopped at a gas station on the way home. One of those ones by the old highway that never sees any traffic anymore, and fuckingStevenwas there.”
My hands ball into tight fists, the urge to go back there and wring his slimy fucking neck overpowering everything else.
“Steven…” Hawk muses aloud, trying to place the name. “The band’s manager? That Steven?”
“One and the same.”
“What the fuck was he doing all the way out there?”
“Claims the band has a gig up in Kimeth.”
“Do they?”
“No idea, I haven’t had a chance to look yet. My main concern was getting Em out of there and back home safely.NowI can pick apart every aspect of his life and find out what I missed before.”
Hawk’s gaze shifts so he’s staring out the kitchen door into the hallway, and I can hazard a guess on where his thoughts are at. “How is she holding up?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to ask him if he actually cares. The concern etched onto his face implies he does, but other than the night he came for dinner, he’s hardly been home since Emilia arrived, not to mention what Emilia told me earlier. Not needing to add the headache from an argument with him to the pressure already forming behind my eyes, I just shrug a shoulder. “As good as can be expected.”
Wanting to get answers ASAP, I grab my laptop from where I left it at the other end of the table and begin searching for Death on a Matchstick’s schedule. It doesn’t take long to confirm that they are performing in Kimeth for the next three nights.So I guess Steven didn’t lie about that.Still. It feels like too much of a coincidence, and I don’t fucking like coincidences.
I frown at the screen, trying to decide my next move. I could just let it go, but it’s not in my nature. Not after… I shake my head, dispelling those thoughts.
“What can I do to help?” Hawk asks, his voice startling me. I’d completely forgotten he was here, but as I glance at him over the lip of my laptop, I realize he’s been watching me and most likely saw where my mind went.
Clearing my throat, I focus back on the screen in front of me. “You can find out what hotel the band and everyone traveling with them are staying at.”
Without another word, Hawk grabs his phone and begins scrolling through it, and for the next hour, he calls around various hotels while I search through everything I can find on social media. For obvious reasons, the band hasn’t made the location of their accommodation public, so it takes a while to figure it out. However, after finding a photo one of their roadies posted a couple of hours ago that showed the stucco wall and tail end of a motel sign, I managed to track down one that looks like it matches the photo. A phone call pretending to be someone from the band’s management company and I confirm Steven Carmichael has successfully checked into room 217. Apparently only the band is fortunate enough to be put up in a five-star hotel, and the rest of the group is slumming it in a motel down the road.
