Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 104448 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 522(@200wpm)___ 418(@250wpm)___ 348(@300wpm)
There hadn’t been time for the words to even sink in until I’d taken the stage. But there, in front of a hometown Atlanta crowd, I’d realized what she meant.
I’d been marked with another red bull’s-eye.
Another target.
Another time someone had proved they could get to me by pressing a tiny rubber stamp onto my skin with permanent ink.
As soon as I’d realized what had happened, I hadn’t been able to help glancing over at Ryan in the wings. My bodyguard had been waylaid by my previous manager, who was there representing another one of the performers at the music festival. Wanda had tried several times to speak to me, but Ryan had made it his personal mission to keep her away, especially before I was due onstage.
When he’d seen my face, he’d known immediately that something serious had happened. Ryan always had the ability to see through my attempts at hiding my emotions… and it drove me up a wall.
He’d already taken a large stride in my direction before someone stopped him, gesturing wildly to the tape on the ground indicating the sight line for the backstage area. Ryan’s square jaw had flexed, and his eyes had darkened. I’d forced myself to look ahead into the tens of thousands of screaming fans at the Shaky Knees festival. The crowd here in the park was pumped, the weather was unseasonably warm, and the sun had been setting in golden peaches and pinks across the concert venue.
It would have been glorious…
If only I hadn’t been ice-cold inside.
Thankfully, the set had gone by fast with all of that energy. I’d allowed myself to get lost in the music, to let it comfort me and help me to forget my troubles, as it always did.
At least until I came off the stage and Ryan yanked me past everyone into the dressing room before barking, “What.”
It wasn’t a question but a command.
My hands shook, and my skin began to tingle with encroaching numbness as the reality of the situation sank in. “It’s fine,” I said automatically. “Really. F-fine.”
His eyes narrowed, but he didn’t speak.
I tried to keep my voice steady. “I think…” I gestured to the collar of my shirt. “Um… behind… over my…”
Ryan stepped behind me and pulled at my collar. When he sucked in an outraged breath, it made it all real. My legs wobbled, and his arm banded around my front. The strong warmth of his touch never failed to make my breath catch, which caused my head to feel even floatier.
I hated feeling weak, hated causing concern and more work for others. And I especially hated the idea of Ryan thinking I was some kind of fragile diva who needed protecting from the big, scary world.
So I shoved him away and took a breath. “I told you, it’s fine.”
“Say that word to me again,” he said in a low voice. “I dare you.”
I closed my eyes and tried to focus. “I’m not hurt.”
“Take off your shirt.”
A huff of humorless laughter came out of my nose. I’d fantasized about my personal bodyguard many, many times in the past year. Fantasies in which he’d said exactly that phrase, among many others.
Never had I imagined it would carry so little lust.
Instead of arguing with him—which I knew would be pointless—I yanked off my sweaty tee and dropped it over a nearby chair. I kept my back to him so he could investigate the stamp, but I watched him in the dressing room mirror.
His face was a full storm. A hurricane band swirling around and around, picking up strength as it circled. His large hands came up to hold my shoulders, one thumb smoothing over the patch of skin just over my shoulder and out of my own sight range.
“Is it the same?” I asked softly, trying to ignore the prickles of awareness from his gentle touch.
He grunted confirmation.
Silence filled the room with jagged tension before he spoke. “This is the third time, Zane. We need to get back to LA and call in a—”
“No,” I said emphatically. “No way. We’re due in Barlo tomorrow morning to see my family for a few days, and I’m not canceling it.”
“We’re canceling it. This is the third time some psycho has gotten their hands on you, Zane, and I’m not allowing you to—”
I whipped around, shaking his hands off me in the process. “Not allowing? I’m not your child, Ryan. I’m your principal, as you remind me on a regular basis. You work for me, remember?”
His eyebrow winged up, and there was the barest hint of a smirk at the edge of his mouth. “I actually don’t work for you.” He paused before casting my own words back at me. “Remember?”
I pressed my lips together in frustration. “Fine. You work for the label. But you’re here for me, for my protection. And the label doesn’t get to decide that I can’t visit my family. I’ve been looking forward to this trip for months, and you know it.”