Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 46751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 234(@200wpm)___ 187(@250wpm)___ 156(@300wpm)
Gideon jerks his head in a nod.
"What am I going to do?" I ask, though I'm not sure if I'm talking to them, to myself, or to the universe in general.
"I'll go through the contract again," Kane says. "I'll go through the contract with the label again too. They can't just pull it just because you brought someone on stage and sang a song, Kenna. But I'll make sure we're prepared in case they try."
"Thank you," I whisper.
"We're going to figure this out," Gideon promises, kneeling in front of me, He slips his hands into mine, bringing them to his lips. "I swear to you, Sparrow. That prick isn't taking a goddamn thing from you. He'll have to pry my boot out of his intestines and dislodge my fist from his throat before I allow that to happen. Everything you've earned, you're keeping."
He's right. I'm not letting him take anything from me. He can throw his fit and have a tantrum because I'm not ever going to sleep with him, and I don't want someone working for me who thinks it's okay to speak to me the way he did today. But he doesn't get to take anything from me.
I've worked for everything I have. I've spent eight years working for it. John showed up at the eleventh hour. He doesn't get to claim credit for the last eight years. And he doesn't get to take anything, not even a freaking paperclip.
"Okay." I exhale a breath, nodding. "So we fight then."
"Yeah," Gideon growls. "We fight like hell."
Chapter Nine
Gideon
The next three weeks are some of the best and worst of my fucking life. Kenna has no shows, but she's in the studio every day. We spend most evenings at her place or sneaking away to mine.
John doesn't show his fucking face. I'm guessing the fact that Kane hunted him down like a dirty dog and threatened to rip his dick off and feed it to him might have something to do with that. But I don't mention it to Kenna. She has enough to worry about.
The label is more than happy to work with her directly when we contact them. In fact, I get the impression that they prefer it. That eases a little of the worries plaguing her mind, but there are a thousand more still battling for her attention.
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.