Total pages in book: 98
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92972 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
At least not any time soon, not while that fucking monster she dated is still on the loose, sending threatening emails and plotting the strings he’ll pull to get her back. To get her back or maybe make sure that if she’s not happy with him, she’s not going to be happy with anyone.
Ever again.
Another wave of nausea roils through me, making sweat break out on my upper lip as I pace back and forth in front of my bed. Charlotte came to check on me a few minutes ago. I sent her away with a joke about my delicate constitution and all the nachos I ate with dinner, but I’m on borrowed time.
Sooner or later, I’m going to have to go back out there, and Charlotte will see that something’s wrong in a hot second. Bea will probably see it, too, but Charlotte might as well have X-ray vision where I’m concerned. I can’t hide anything from her.
Usually, I don’t want to hide anything, but now…
I can’t let her or Bea go to that concert. Fuck the fans. Fuck the contracts Bea signed with the band. Let the venue sue. Her safety is more important than any contract, and she’s not safe with Kai.
She’s never been safe with Kai.
She dated him for over ten years, and he didn’t hit her until recently.
Yes, he was always a manipulative, controlling piece of shit, but maybe he’s not as dangerous as you think. Maybe the crazy, violent thing he did as a teenager scared him, at least enough to ensure he keeps his nose relatively clean.
A lot of “normal” guys trash hotel rooms, get DUIs, and knock their girlfriends around. It doesn’t make it right, but it doesn’t make them a budding killer waiting for the perfect moment to bloom. He might hate that he’s losing Bea, but he loves his life.
He loves the fame and the money and the attention he gets as the lead guitarist of Violet Widow way too much to do anything to put that at risk.
“But it’s already at risk,” I mutter as I pace faster, the sight of the sun sliding behind the skyline outside my window feeling like an omen.
I only have two days to figure out how to stop Beatrice from leaving. Less than two days. It’s Thursday night, and she, Charlotte, Mack, and their “muscle”—Tara, an Air Force vet with a concealed carry permit—have plans to head out of town Saturday morning. Right around the time I’ll be jumping into a cab to meet the rest of the team at the arena to catch the bus for the airport.
My first instinct is to simply not show up, to call Coach Saturday morning with some bullshit story about a bad case of food poisoning, stay home, and sit on Beatrice until she promises to skip the last two shows. Or go to Mobile with her myself if she insists on honoring her obligation to the band and her fans.
But if I get caught in a lie, that’s it for my career, and selfishly, I don’t want to go out like that, not because of a piece of human garbage like Kai.
Or Henry James Killian, rather.
The moment I read it, the name seemed familiar. Still, I wouldn’t have been able to place it without the rest of the information Blue provided.
But once I typed in Nebraska and the right dates, along with the name, he was right. It was all there in black and white, including several pictures of a very young Kai. He was even skinnier back then, all lanky arms and legs, with none of the tattoos he’s become famous for. His head was shaved in a close buzz cut, and he kept his chin tucked tight to his chest as he was led from police vehicles to the courthouse and back again, but anyone who knows him well would know exactly who that kid grew up to be.
Even with the long hair he’s dyed black. Even with the bright blue contacts he wears on stage, adding drama to otherwise ordinary hazel eyes, his profile is the same.
So is the smirk on his lips when he thinks he’s getting away with something.
I remember the first time I saw that smirk, at a dinner with my parents, where Beatrice dropped the bomb that she wasn’t coming home with us. She’d moved in with Kai that afternoon and intended to live with him from now on, since they’d be going on the road with the band soon anyway. She was nineteen by then. It wasn’t like there was anything my parents could legally do to stop her, and Kai had arranged it so that they were forced to make their arguments in favor of why she should stay home in front of him, where it was awkward for my conflict-avoidant parents to properly make their case.