Black and White Page 9

  “Yeah.”

  “How do you know?” Savvy asked.

  Nox sighed. “Ma’am, are you sure you want to hear this?”

  Frankly, King was surprised he was being so careful. Maybe Nox had a soft spot after all.

  Savvy nodded warily.

  “Nobody hires a bad shot. Snipers are trained to be the best, and from what Storm got out of Scotland Yard, this man knows what he’s doin’, and he’s deliberately playin’ with us. I can pick a flea off a dog’s ass at two hundred yards, so why did the shooter hit Gloria instead of you? I think he got paid extra.”

  “To do what?” Savvy’s face went ashen, and King wondered if he should’ve kept her out of the session.

  Nox was silent for a moment. “I’ve been contacted by private parties over the years, people lookin’ to settle a score or make someone disappear. I’ve never taken one of the cases, on American soil at least.”

  King blinked. Wait. What? Nox had been a killer for hire in other countries? He slanted a glance at both West and Storm, and neither one of them seemed surprised.

  Hmm.

  Nox continued before he could ask questions. “Once a man offered me a contract, and he added a sweetener if I was willin’ to take it to another level.”

  “Just spit it out already, Nox.”

  King didn’t want to beat around the bush any longer. He needed some straight answers and a clear plan of action. He was sick of dicking around.

  “He wanted me to make it hurt more, dumbass. The money was for either psychological or physical torture, preferably both.”

  “And did you take it?” King asked.

  Nox sneered. “What do you think?”

  “You didn’t answer me.”

  “Yes, I did, if you were payin’ careful attention.”

  Sweat broke out on Savvy’s brow. “You mean, not only does someone wanna kill me, they want to scare the shit out of me as well.”

  And it was working.

  Nox nodded. “I don’t know who he is, but whoever hired the bastard hates you somethin’ fierce, wants you to suffer.”

  Fuck me. This is worse than I thought.

  King had never had a problem blowing someone away or snapping a guy’s neck. However, he did it with quick, clinical precision. He didn’t want them to suffer or take any joy in their pain. King had trouble understanding someone who’d accept money to torture people.

  He wanted to say something comforting to Savvy, but nothing came to mind. All he had was platitudes and empty speeches. What she really needed was results. He settled for grabbing her hand and squeezing it. Savvy clung to him for dear life.

  Zane raised a brow across the table but didn’t comment.

  Mack spoke up next. “I hate to throw an extra log on this particular fire, but we’ve got another problem.”

  “Lay it on us,” Stormy said.

  “The gunman might be a professional, but there’s a stalker who isn’t. Adam sent me a collection of disturbing fan mail. Most of them were scary, but one guy stood out from the rest.” She glanced at Savvy. “It was the one who sent you the card and flowers.”

  Savvy gulped. “Why? Do you think he’s dangerous?”

  “Yes. I spoke with your staff and you’ve received other notes. The man never signs his name, but the handwriting’s the same, and he’s contacted you many times before. He’s sent a couple dozen letters the past three months.”

  Savvy squeezed his hand harder.

  “Were there any clues left on the envelopes?” Storm asked.

  “No, all of them were mailed from different destinations.”

  Storm sat back in his chair. “Maybe he used a remailer.”

  “I think so.”

  People who were fleeing from a stalker often used a remailing service. They’d take the letter to a different post office to disguise the person’s location. It’s ironic, a stalker would use the same system to keep his activities secret from law enforcement.

  “Did you share this information with the FBI?” West asked.

  “Yeah, but this isn’t on their radar. They’re focused on the imminent threat—the shooter.”

  “If you give me the envelopes, I’ll try to track down which one he used,” Storm said. “But it will be difficult to pinpoint. If I get lucky, maybe they can give us some info.”

  This would be much easier if they were real law enforcement officers and could subpoena people for information.

  Mack nodded. “Thanks, Stormy. I’ll follow up with you when we get done here.”

  “What was the tone of the letters?” Annie asked.

  “Expressions of love at first, and then the subject became progressively more disturbed when Savvy wouldn’t respond.” Mack licked her lips, glancing at Savvy uneasily. “He also made some concrete threats.”

  Savvy ran a hand down her face.

  Mack spoke up again. “Has anyone heard of erotomania?”

  They all shook their heads.

  “The gist of the disorder is, a person has a delusion about a celebrity. He thinks the actress or singer loves him, even though they haven’t even met in most cases.”

  “Then how did he get fixated in the first place?” King asked.

  “The stalker invents a connection.” Mack turned to Savvy. “For example, he might think there are coded messages in your lyrics, meant just for him, that kind of thing.”

  “So, now there’s a stalker and a gunman?” Zane patted Savvy’s shoulder. “Sorry, darlin’, but you’ve got rotten luck.”

  Savvy nodded. “Tell me about it.”

  Mack frowned. “I think so. Regardless, we should be trying to find him. If he hasn’t done anything to hurt Savvy yet, it’s only a matter of time before he tries.”

  Savvy placed her head in her hands.

  King squared his shoulders. “Then we’ll eliminate him, too.”

  “Fantastic. Maybe we should divide up the work? Some of us will track crazy pants, and the rest will take on the shooter,” Zane said.

  “I like it. Storm and Mack, you’ve got the stalker?” West asked, and they nodded. “King and Zane are in charge of guardin’ Savvy until we find the gunman.”

  “Damn straight. We’ve just gotta flush this guy out of the bushes somehow.” King wanted to get his hands on the man.

  “I’ve got an idea,” Nox said. “Although, I don’t think you’ll like it.”

  West waved a hand. “Go ahead.”

  “The only connection we’ve got to the guy who wants Savvy dead is the gunman, so our best bet would be to draw him out.”

  “Over my dead body,” King growled.

  “What?” Savvy asked. “I don’t get it.”

  “If you were to perform again, he’d take another shot at you,” Nox said.

  “No,” King snapped. “It isn’t an option. We’ll find another way.”

  A silence fell over the room. Savvy was shivering like she was cold and everyone else glanced around uneasily.

  “Let’s talk about somethin’ else,” Annie said brightly. “Savvy, do you know any self-defense techniques?”

  Savvy blinked. “Hmm?”

  Annie asked the question again, and Savvy shook her head. “No, I’m a singer, not a fighter. Although…naw, it would never work.”

  “Come on,” Annie said. “Tell us.”

  “I have a very powerful voice.”

  “Wait. Can you shatter a glass?” Zane asked. “Like one of those opera singers?”

  “No, but I can hurt somebody’s eardrums. I sing from the diaphragm, so I’ve got a lot of power.” She laid a hand on her stomach. “If I hold a high note for a long time, it hurts a bit, particularly if I’m off key.”

  Mack nodded in approval. “I think you could use it to your advantage if anyone corners you. It might startle the guy and give you the opportunity to escape."

  Savvy nodded. “Oh, and I have a deafening scream.”

  “Hello.” Nox smirked.

  King kicked him under the table, and
not just for the innuendo.

  “What the fuck was that for?”

  “Guess,” King growled.

  “Get it together,” West growled.

  Mack turned her attention to Savvy. “You should scream or sing, whatever you can manage to throw him off guard, and then kick him in the balls and run.”

  King winced. Even imagining it, hurt.

  Annie nodded emphatically. “Yup, it works on all of them.”

  Her eyes went wide. “But it won’t come to that. I won’t have to fight him, right?”

  “Let’s hope not.” Mack managed a reassuring smile.

  “No, it won’t,” King said. “I’ll take care of the bastard.”

  “Okay, let’s divide up the duty,” Zane said loudly. “Let’s talk about shifts and perimeter sweeps.” They moved on to making a schedule, but King’s attention kept straying from the task at hand.

  Savvy sat there quietly, biting her lower lip. Her eyes were wide, frightened, and he ached to comfort her.

  He vowed he’d never let anyone lay a hand on her.

  ***

  An hour later, Savvy sat in the living room.

  She’d pulled out her guitar and notebook, scribbling down notes as she composed. She was trying not to think about the psycho and the shooter hunting her.

  Somehow her problem had doubled in size today.

  In fact, the only two things that distracted her was contemplating the kiss she’d shared last night with King and playing her guitar. Savvy was wondering if it would happen again.

  No, not wondering. Wishing.

  She’d chosen music over the man. For now.

  “How are you doin’?” King joined her on the couch, after a while.

  “Just fine.” It was a lie, and they both knew it, but he didn’t call her on the fib.

  “Will you answer a question for me?” Savvy asked before she lost her courage.

  “Sure. What is it?”

  “Why are you so hellbent on protectin’ me?”

  “Well, I—”

  “No, don’t say this is a job because I saw your face the other night. This case is personal for you. Why?”

  King averted his gaze. “Because I lost somebody I care about, someone I should’ve protected, and won’t make the same mistake again.”

  “You’re wife?”

  He nodded.

  “But you don’t even know me.”

  King peeked at her underneath his lashes. “That ain’t true. I’m learnin’ a bit more about you every day. And I’m very familiar with your music. I have a feelin’ you put little pieces of yourself into it.”

  He wasn’t wrong. Performing was emotional, but writing music was even more so.

  “I guess you have a point.”

  “Your voice got me through her death, you know.” His voice was harsh, roughened by emotion. “It’s the only thing that gave me any solace. I played your songs again and again while I thought about her, and it helped me through the grief.”

  Savvy was glad she could give him some relief from the pain, even in some small way.

  “How did she die?”

  He shook his head. “No, I don’t wanna talk about it. I’m sorry.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push you.”

  “You didn’t, it’s just a sensitive subject. I try not to talk or even think about it. Maybe someday soon, I’ll tell you what happened, but not yet.”

  She nodded. “Well, I’m glad my music means somethin’ to you. Speakin’ of, why don’t you sing with me?”

  He held up his hands. “Naw, I ain’t gonna hurt your ears with my caterwaulin’.”

  “You have a pleasant speakin’ voice, so you’re singin’ can’t be that terrible.”

  “Accordin’ to the fellas, it is. They say I can’t carry a tune in a bucket.”

  Savvy giggled.

  His expression softened. “Damn, I love your laugh.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah.”

  He scooted closer, and Savvy had the wildest urge to rest her head on his shoulder, sink into King, and share her burden with him. She didn’t know why, but she trusted this man. Unlike everyone else around her, he didn’t want anything from her, other than to keep her safe. Sure, King was getting paid, but it wasn’t nearly enough to risk his life.

  “I haven’t had much reason to laugh these days.”

  “Then talk to me. Tell me what you’re worried about.”

  Did he really want to listen? Or was he only being polite? But she could see the sincerity in his eyes.

  “If I do, you gotta sing with me. Deal?”

  “I see how you are,” he teased. “You’re blackmailin’ me.”

  Savvy wanted to kiss him again so bad, it hurt, but she shoved the impulse down. He hadn’t brought it up. Maybe he wanted to forget about the whole thing?

  “I prefer to think of it as a negotiation. Come on, let’s do this.”

  She started playing Lonesome Wind, and he joined in. She winced when he didn’t hit the right notes. Regardless, she plowed through the song, plucking her guitar.

  “Well?” he asked.

  She opened her mouth to lie, but Savvy dissolved in a fit of giggles.

  “I’m sorry, but you’re…”

  “Awful? Like nails on a chalkboard?”

  “No, not at all.” She couldn’t even respond with a straight face.

  “Alright already. I sang for my proverbial supper. Tell me what’s on your mind.”

  I might as well say it out loud.

  “I wanna do my entire record.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I mean the whole damn thing.” She sighed. “I used to read these articles about Prince. Once he left his label, he did the whole shebang—he wrote all the songs, sang lead vocals, played guitar, you name it. The man even did his own sound editing. I wanna put my heart and soul into a record. It’s my dream, and I’ve been thinkin’ about it for years.”

  “Then you should go for it.”

  “Adam doesn’t agree.”

  “Adam can go fuck himself.” He frowned. “I know he gave you a break, but why does he get to control the rest of your career? Fuck that.”

  She bit her lip. “You make it sound so simple.”

  But what if it was?

  Savvy hadn’t gone into debt. Unlike other celebrities, she wasn’t into fancy cars and designer labels. Savvy owned her house, and while it was nice, it wasn’t a mansion. She’d also bought herself a Kia Sorrento, and it was paid for. Granted, she’d gotten all the bells and whistles, but it was hardly a luxury car.

  If she wanted to experiment, she had the money to make it happen. And it wasn’t like her latest record was burning up the charts anyway. Savvy wasn’t enjoying herself, or making gobs of money, so what was the point?

  “It is. Life is short, so you gotta do whatever brings you joy.” There was a haunted look in his eyes. “And never let it go.”

  What if she slowed down? Took the time to enjoy herself, too. Maybe she could spend more time with her momma? Have a meal with her on Sundays? Instead of a string of broken promises.

  She bit her lip. “I feel like a phony most of the time.”

  Singer/songwriters were considered true artists. She didn’t feel like a “real” country music star, because she hadn’t used her own material.

  “You’re the real deal, alright, but I don’t think you’re listening to your own instincts.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  She’d wanted to break free for a couple of years now. Maybe that was the real problem. Her heart was no longer in this, and everyone could see it. Sure, she still worked hard, but Savvy wasn’t invested in the music. Sometimes, Savvy felt like she was going through the motions.

  Savvy dragged a hand through her hair. And yet, doing her own thing was scary, too. What if people hated it? What if they hated her for changing?

  “It looks like I’m at a crossroads.”

  “Those are never fun.”


  “You’ve been at one before?”

  “Yeah, when West offered me a spot with Black Star. I could’ve kept goin’ in the Navy, did my time until I was eligible for my pension, but I just couldn’t. After my wife died…”

  “Nothin’ was the same?”

  “Yeah, I felt empty. I needed a change—a new place, another job. Freedom.”

  “I know what you mean.” Savvy yearned for it, too. “And you don’t regret it?”

  “Hell no. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I traded stability for somethin’ that ain’t a sure thing, but I haven’t been this content in a long time.”

  Maybe it was time to make a change, to go out on her own. Even if she failed, Savvy would have a ball in the process.

  ***

  It was the middle of the night and Savvy couldn’t sleep.

  HQ was quiet. Everyone else, including King, had gone to bed ages ago.

  Savvy had spent the rest of her day with the team, and she’d enjoyed herself the entire time, which was strange. She was supposed to be hiding out at HQ, but she hadn’t gotten much of an opportunity to socialize these past few years, especially with real people who didn’t want something from her. She’d loved learning more about them and spending time with King had been priceless.

  Her phone buzzed, and she picked it up off the nightstand.

  Still up?

  Savvy didn’t recognize the number. It wasn’t in her contacts list.

  Who is this?

  You know who I am.

  Tell me. Savvy didn’t have time for games. This was a private cell phone, and she guarded it zealously. Had one of her friends gotten a new number?

  I missed you the other night. You left the hotel.

  Because somebody shot at her.

  Chills raced down her spine. Was this the stalker? Or the shooter? Savvy had a feeling the hitman wouldn’t announce his presence with a text message. Crazy pants it is.

  Did you send me the flowers?

  You know I did.

  How did you get this number?

  A friend of yours gave it to me.

  You’re lying. Savvy scrambled out of her bed, holding onto the phone gingerly as though it were a bomb.

  I never lie. Have you been thinking about me too?

  She shuddered.

  It was ridiculous, she knew he wasn’t here in the room with her, but his messages popping up on her personal cell phone was unnerving. He’d violated her space, inserted himself into her bedroom at night.