Jace, page 30
Luke kept sending him sales numbers. He was excited. Over-the-moon excited. Jace’s relief had nothing to do with the song’s success and everything to do with Krystal. Since the day Luke had handed him the sheet music, he’d known the song was special. But, with all that had happened with Krystal and Tig, there had been some murmurs about it taking a hit on the charts. If the song had tanked, she’d have taken it personally.
No need to worry there.
They were sitting down to their double patty, bacon, and cheese monster burgers when his phone went off. Email.
“Luke’s going to give himself a heart attack if he stares at sales numbers all day.” He opened his email and froze.
One sentence: There’s video footage of her attack with his audio confession.
He stared at it.
Read it again.
Not Luke’s email address. Whose was it? It was series of numbers and letters, nothing recognizable. Was it spam? He hoped like hell it wasn’t. “You were in computer stuff in the military, weren’t you?”
“Cybersecurity.” Sawyer nodded. “Some counterintelligence.”
“Can you tell me what this is?” He handed Sawyer his phone.
Sawyer’s brows rose and his green-blue eyes went wide. “Dummy address. Some hub out there—probably no way to trace it.” He shook his head.
“I thought the security cameras and audio were turned off?” Jace eyed his burger, no longer hungry.
Sawyer stared at him. “Hank said something about turning them on. Reports of break-ins around the festival grounds. Guess he called the security company? Had them turn it on?”
Jace remembered then. That day, talking about ways to get Krystal out of performing at ACMF. Hank had said he’d turn it on. “Guess he did. That’s the only way there can be footage, right?” He waited.
Sawyer nodded.
“Hank’s been so stressed out, he probably forgot. Or didn’t want to watch. Not his daughter.” He ran a hand over the back of his neck. “It was CiCi’s idea to install the cameras, wasn’t it? Never thought I’d be happy about something CiCi King did.”
“She’s…interesting. And my employer, so that’s all I’m going to say.” Sawyer took a bite of his burger.
Jace chuckled. “Fair. Can you figure out who sent this? Hack in, something?”
Sawyer set his burger down. “Does it matter who sent it?”
Jace stared at him for a minute, noting the slight tilt of the other man’s head. The tilt of his mouth. Almost defensive. Oddly familiar. “No. As long as we can get to the video.”
“I can get into the system. I was the one who installed it. It’s password protected, but that’s not a problem. That’s why she hired me. I had the field experience and the tech.”
Jace took a moment to process that. “I don’t want to think this, but what if it’s been deleted by someone?”
“I can recover it.” Sawyer shook his head. “I admit I’ve allowed myself to get invested in this family and this thing with Krystal—” He broke off, the hardening of his face intimidating as hell. “I can’t really afford to lose my job.”
“Understood. I’m calling Hank, forwarding him the email. You won’t get fired when you help him clear Krystal’s name.” Of all the questions spiraling through Jace’s brain, only one needed answering: Did this tape exist? Because, if it did, Krystal would finally have the peace she deserved.
Chapter 19
The flight from New York to New Orleans was a little over three hours. Krystal had planned to spend that time working on a song she’d had bouncing around in her head for the last few days. Instead, she’d fallen asleep. One minute, she’d been sitting across from Jace, watching him pick out a few notes on his guitar, the next she was opening her eyes to him standing over her, smoothing the hair from her forehead.
“We’re here.” His voice was soft, his gaze warm.
She nodded, stretching and sitting up. His jacket, rolled up, slid down the seat back. She looked at it, then him.
He took the jacket, shook it out, and slid it on. He paused, turning into his shoulder. “Smells like you.”
She wasn’t awake enough for this. Him. Resisting. “Sorry,” she murmured.
“No complaints.” He shook his head, holding out his hand and pulling her to her feet. “Good nap?”
She nodded, then shrugged. “I’m not sure I’m fully awake yet.”
He smiled. “Sleepwalking?”
“And talking, apparently.” Don’t smile back. Don’t stare. Don’t… She was smiling. “You?”
“No nap. Or sleepwalking. Or talking.” He shook his head. “Sawyer and I played some cards. I finished a song.” He shrugged, stifling a yawn. “Skyped in to a few international peace summits. That sorta thing.”
She laughed; she couldn’t help it. “Now I feel like a total slacker.”
“You should.” He nodded. “Got everything? Sawyer’s getting the car.”
Once she’d shoved everything back into her backpack, she turned on her phone and followed Jace out the door and down the long set of stairs from the plane to the waiting SUV. Normally, there were no photographers. Even with the uptick in interest from the whole TW Gate—Travis thought he was being funny but the nickname meant she didn’t have to say his name, so she’d taken to using it—most journalists didn’t camp out at airports in the middle of the night.
“Why the turnout?” she asked. “It is like three in the morning, isn’t it?”
Jace nodded.
“People need to get a life.” She yawned, taking his hand to climb into the SUV. “Always the gentleman.”
He climbed up beside her. “No breaks, time off for overtime, either.”
“You’re way too chipper for this time of night—morning.”
“Feeling good.” He shrugged.
“Nothing like finishing a song.” She nodded, resting her head on the headrest, another yawn. She had no idea when she dozed off again, but she woke up to the sound of humming. She blinked, adjusting to the dark. Her head was in his lap, which explained why she was so comfortable. His arm lay across her chest, warm and strong, anchoring her in place. It hurt to feel so much for someone after she’d convinced herself something this sweet couldn’t really exist. There was no way to talk herself out of it; it was too real, too embedded in her heart to ignore.
Eight more performances and he was gone.
She rolled onto her side, burying her face in his stomach.
His fingers slid through her hair in long, slow strokes. His humming, deep and smooth, almost lulled her back to sleep. But the lights got brighter and the car slowed.
“Krystal?” he whispered.
“I’m awake.” She stared up at him.
He stared back.
And, if it wasn’t for the flashes of light and sound of voices outside, she would have stayed like that. But Sawyer’s curse, followed by his calm but effective threat to “Step back” had her sitting up and staring out the window.
“What’s happening?”
His hand was on her back. “Something big.”
She nodded, sitting back. “I can’t anymore, Jace.” She shook her head. “I know I’m supposed to be strong, but you know, I’m not.”
“Hey.” He cradled her face in his hands. “This could be good?”
She shot him a look.
He laughed. “Damn, you’re beautiful. Let’s get inside, away from this. Okay?” He took her hand and, slowly, opened the door.
Sawyer and Jerome did their best to push their way through the crush of reporters and cameras, but it didn’t stop her from hearing their questions.
“Now that the video has been leaked, what are your plans?”
“What do you say to those suggesting this video was held until your single was released?”
“Will you press criminal charges against Mr. Whitman?”
“What is your response to Mr. Whitman’s statement?”
She clung to Jace, sliding her arm around his waist and holding on. What were they saying? What video? What statement? By the time they were safely inside the hotel, she was shaking.
“Jace?” she whispered.
“Keep going.” Sawyer was at their backs, steering through the kitchens and to the elevator.
“What’s happening?” she asked as soon as the doors closed. “We were on the plane for three hours.” She pulled out her phone. “Dammit.” It was dead.
“Your family is in the penthouse suite.” Sawyer glanced her way. “I think Hank wants to explain everything.”
She blinked. “But everyone is okay? Right? There’s nothing wrong?”
Sawyer was almost smiling. Almost. “Nothing is wrong, Miss King.”
The doors opened and she headed straight for the penthouse. But Jace hung back.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He smiled.
“You’re not coming?” She frowned.
He hesitated. “After last time—”
“Jace.” She swallowed. She didn’t want to think about last time. Last time, she knew what she had to say. Now? She had no idea what was happening. Having him at her side helped. “Don’t leave me, please.”
He nodded, following, Sawyer trailing behind.
“You good?” he asked, waiting for her nod before opening the door.
Inside, it was quiet. Her father was sound asleep in a recliner. Travis’s legs hung off the end of the couch, his arm thrown across his face. Emmy was curled up in the corner of the couch, wrapped up in a fleece blanket covered in unicorns.
She pressed a finger to her lips and shook her head. They’d been waiting up for her but…
The television was on. Muted. But that didn’t matter.
“That’s…” She stared, horrified by what was playing out on the television. “How did this happen?”
“Baby girl?” Her daddy sat forward. “We tried to call.”
She couldn’t answer, couldn’t look away.
“Her phone is dead,” Jace said.
Tig’s face, his mouth moving. She knew what he was saying. And then, she couldn’t watch anymore. At least she knew, the whole world knew, he started the physical altercation. Even though it had been a week, the force of his blow remained.
“When did this happen?” She sank onto the couch, trying not to see the television.
“A couple of hours ago.” Her father was standing beside her. “It got leaked to the press and, well, hell, it’s all over the place.”
“Daddy, turn it off,” Emmy whispered.
“You okay?” Travis sat up and slid closer, nudging her. “I mean, I know it’s been a week, but seeing it?” He put his arm around her. “No one can doubt you now, Krys. No one.”
It was a shock, yes. Seeing herself flopping around like a rag doll was one hell of a shock. But he was right.
“He said…” She was up, staring at Jace. “He said it was true. He admitted—”
“He did.” Jace’s jaw was locked tight.
“You knew?” She frowned.
“It didn’t feel right to say something without your family.” He shrugged. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t remember moving—making the choice to move—but she was. And she didn’t stop until she was pressed tight against him. She held on, soaking up the strength and warmth only Jace could give her.
“I didn’t need to see the tape to believe you. I’ve always believed you. I always will.” His arms were tight around her. “Whatever you need.” It was a whisper.
The first wracking sobs were a surprise. She didn’t cry. Fine, that was a lie. Considering the tears she’d cried over the last week, it was clear she could cry. But she didn’t like it. This was different.
“It’s okay, Krys.” Travis was worried. “It’s okay now.”
She nodded, smothering her face against Jace. Get control. “I’m tired. This is a lot.”
Jace was rubbing her back. “That’s an understatement.”
“I know it is, baby girl.” Her father’s voice was soft. “I’m not saying the road will be straight and smooth from here on out, but there’s no denying his guilt. I admit, I can’t watch it, but according to Sawyer, all the proof we need is on this tape. Whoever sent this tape, they’re your guardian angel. One day, I hope I can thank them in person.”
Of course, Sawyer knew, too. Sawyer knew everything. Took care of them.
Squished as she was against Jace, she could see Sawyer. He stood by the door, quietly watching her father. It was a hard look, full of judgment and condemnation and anger. But there was something else, too. Raw and broken and desperate. She’d seen that look on Travis’s face more than once. A son, hungry for approval—even though they hated themselves for needing it.
Sawyer. A couple of years older than Travis. Same height. Same build. Sandy colored hair, not blond. Blue eyes, like her father.
Officer Ramos had planted the seed that horrible night in the hospital. A stranger had seen what was right there, staring them all in the face.
Gently, she pulled herself from Jace’s arms and headed straight for him. The moment he realized it, his expression cleared—blank and impartial. When they were toe to toe, she stared at him, studying every feature. He noticed, enough for his jaw to clench tight.
She shook her head. “Thank you,” her voice cracked.
And so did his blank and impartial shield.
She hugged him and he hugged back. One arm only, but strong and hard enough to lift her off the floor before he let her go. She knew, in her heart, who he was. How could she not? A King, yes. Her brother, too. And, she suspected, her guardian angel. She hoped, eventually, he’d let their father know that. But, for now, she’d leave things as they were. She, of all people, respected that everyone’s timeline differed when it came to working through personal baggage.
“If you’re all good here?” he asked, having a hard time looking any of them in the eye.
“You go on, Sawyer,” her father said. “Can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done for me and my family.”
Krystal saw the slightest tightening at the corner of Sawyer’s eyes. He nodded, glanced her way, and left the hotel room.
“He’s pretty cool,” Travis said. “You know he can play the guitar?”
Krystal smiled, walking back to her family and collapsing onto the couch. “Imagine that.” Music was in their blood. She had a brother. A big, burly, sort of scary brother. Which meant, somewhere out there, was a woman her father must have cared about.
“We’re lucky to have him,” her father said.
“We are.” She nodded, wondering if her father knew he had a son. It didn’t match with the man who had raised her—dedicated to his children. But then, she’d never imagined her daddy’s personal life before he met her mother. Now she had questions. Who was Sawyer’s mother? Had she been someone special? And why hadn’t Sawyer told their father?
“You okay?” Jace asked, his voice low.
She nodded, blowing out a deep breath. “More than okay. Is it wrong to say I’m hungry?”
“About time.” Travis reached for the phone.
“What does that mean?” She frowned.
“You’re getting skinny.” Emmy sat beside her, cuddling close.
“Strawberry shortcake,” Jace said, sitting on her other side. “It’s her favorite.”
Chapter 20
It was all like a carefully planned domino chain. The first one gets tipped, and they all go down, one on top of the other, faster and faster until the very last one. Over the next few days, five other women came forward.
Five.
Becca was the sixth.
Krystal cried for them.
She wasn’t the first. Two came before her—women he’d damaged so badly they’d walked away from their chance at stardom.
Wheelhouse Records disavowed any connection with Tig Whitman. They asked for a meeting, so she and her father had driven into Austin to listen to their plan to support her charity cookbook. Not only would they donate a portion of sales from any musician who chose to participate, they were also planning a charity concert. The whole ride home, the ghost of a new song was flitting through her brain. A new song. A survivor’s song.
“What’s the verdict?” Emmy Lou asked when she walked into the kitchen. “Are we hired, fired, or temporarily unemployed?”
Krystal laughed. “We’ve been extended. Internationally. Twelve stops.”
Emmy clapped, pouring hot water from her teapot into her mug. “Want some peppermint tea?”
“I’m good, thanks.” Krystal started pulling out ingredients.
“What are we making?” Emmy sat on the stool.
She shrugged. “Not sure.”
“You can talk to me, you know. I’d really like it if we had the twin thing that people talk about.”
“That’s harsh.” She stared at her sister. It took a lot to get Emmy Lou riled up. “But you’re right. I’m sorry.”
“I know I’m right.” She nodded. “Now talk to me. We don’t want to go to Australia? We don’t know what to make for dinner? We don’t want to lose Jace but we’re still borderline emotionally constipated and think we can’t have him even though he clearly wants to be had…by you?” She shook her head. “You get what I’m saying.”
She blinked. “Who are you and what have you done with my sister?”
“I’m right here.” She smiled. “I’ve always been right here.” She stared into her tea. “And I might have read something this morning that made me really, really wish you would see what a great guy you have waiting for you.”
“What did you read?” Yes, she would ignore the rest of the statement for now.
