Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103008 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
“Harley has one of the most recognizable faces on the planet,” he reminds me. “It could’ve been a staff member or anyone.”
“We have to move him somewhere else,” I say. “Somewhere safe.”
“Do you know where you could go?”
Hotels aren’t safe. Public places aren’t safe. “I’ll call Trav.”
“Keep me updated.”
We end the call, but instead of calling right away, I start packing. I can call Trav from the road.
“How did your belongings get spread from one end of the room to the other already?” I call out to Harley.
“Umm, Brix?” My man’s voice is trembling and scared, and I tell myself to try to stay composed.
When I look up, he’s holding the card that was on the cart. “What is it?”
He holds it out to me.
On the inside, in the same script, is written: You can’t run.
My heart stops dead, but I can’t let Harley know how much I’m panicking. I need to be bodyguard Brix right now, not boyfriend Brix.
“We need to leave whatever we haven’t packed yet and go.” I quickly zip up his suitcase even though there’s still clothes scattered around the place.
I throw on my pants and shirt from yesterday as fast as humanly possible. My duffle bag sits by the door, still practically untouched from when we arrived. It’s been a clothing-optional few days.
“It’s him, isn’t it?” Harley croaks.
“We don’t know that for sure.” Oh yeah, we know it for sure. I just don’t want to freak Harley out more than I have to.
“I thought it was weird that it said it was from the label. It doesn’t sound like something the label would do. Especially because we’re in the middle of disputing the next album.”
“Maybe it’s a peace offering from them, but we need to be extra cautious.”
“A peace offering that says I can’t run? Please tell me what you think is going on.”
I sigh. “We need to leave, and we need to leave right now. That’s what’s going on.”
“Where are we going? Back to the house?”
“No. I’ll call Trav, and we’ll go to one of the Mike Bravo safe houses.”
“What about the album?” He’s still thinking about work? I shouldn’t be surprised. Harley is his job.
“On hold.”
Harley screws up his face.
“For now,” I clarify. “You can’t do anything until you hear back from the label anyway.”
Harley wrings his hands and chokes out an “Okay.”
I approach him. “Remember what I promised you? I won’t let anyone hurt you. Ever. Everything will be okay. I promise.” After a quick kiss to the top of his head, I clear the room in record time.
Getting to the car is an entirely different story.
On our way to the elevators, a trio of twenty-something women come from the opposite direction. It’ll take less than a second for them to recognize Harley, so I grab his arm and turn him toward the stairs.
“We’re on the twenty-second floor,” he complains.
“Look on the bright side. You’ll get your cardio in for the day.”
I put my Glock in the waistband of my pants and take Harley’s suitcase from him.
At about the fifteenth floor, the loud bang of a door closing filters up the stairwell, making us pause.
“What do we do?” Harley whispers.
I peek over the railing as two kids’ laughs echo around us. Then another door opens and closes.
“Keep going.”
My heart pounds, and as much as I’d like to blame exertion from running down the stairs holding my duffle bag and Harley’s luggage, I know it’s because I’m worried for Harley.
Someone wants to hurt him which makes me ragey. I want to be out there looking for this guy, but I also don’t want to leave Harley’s side.
Harley’s sweating by the time we get to the fifth floor and glaring at me like he does his personal trainer.
“At least it’s down and not up.”
“Shut up,” he mumbles.
It’s hilarious, but I don’t dare laugh.
We finally make it to the car in the underground parking garage, but I tell Harley to stay back as I check it out.
I check under the hood, under the body, and then the driver’s side for any loose wiring or signs the car’s been tampered with.
There’s no such thing as being too careful when it comes to Harley’s life.
“Are car bombs really a thing?” Harley asks. He sounds more doubtful than scared, so that’s a bonus.
“In my line of work? Yeah. But right now, I’m just being cautious. No one should know this car, but no one should’ve known we were at this hotel either.”
We leave the hotel and get on the road with no real direction of where we’re going.
“Do you want breakfast? We can get something on the way.”
He shakes his head.
“I’ve gotta call Trav. Do you want me to pull over so you don’t have to listen?”
“No. I need to. I want to know what you find out.”
“Good or bad?”