Chapter 4
“What are you two doin’?”
In the evening, Savvy found King at the dining room table with her mother. They were having coffee and dessert after supper. Everyone else had scattered around the house, so it was just the three of them.
She’d left Zane behind in the living room. Savvy was having trouble adjusting to such tight supervision. She knew it was for her own protection, but Savvy felt trapped.
“Satisfyin’ our sweet tooths. Want some, honey?” Momma asked, nodding to the pie plate on the dinner table.
Barbara Summers was in her late fifties with blonde hair streaked with silver highlights. She had bright blue eyes, a cheerful smile, and she was roughly the same height and weight as Savvy. Evidently, she’d gotten a healthy dose of her mother’s genes.
“Sure.”
Momma beamed. “Have a seat, and I’ll fix you a plate.” She served Savvy a slice. Her mother loved entertaining, and she prided herself on her hostess skills.
“This is the best pecan pie I’ve ever had, ma’am,” King said, around a mouthful. “But don’t tell my momma I said so.”
“It’s my favorite, too,” Savvy said.
“Is that right?”
“Although I’m a pie connoisseur.” She’d eaten all kinds in hundreds of diners across the country. “My second favorite’s peanut butter.”
“You want some homemade whipped cream on top of it?” Barbara asked.
“I surely do.” He held up his plate in anticipation.
Her mother made whipping cream from scratch and added a little bit of cinnamon to the mixture. It was her secret weapon and gave it an extra something. Because it was hand whipped, the final product was much softer than the canned version, and ten times better.
Her stomach rumbled, and Savvy took a bite. At dinner, she’d moved the food around on her plate, but hadn’t eaten much of it.
King tasted the whipped cream and then closed his eyes. “Ma’am, you are spoilin’ me.” He winked at Savvy when her mother blushed.
“It’s my pleasure since you’re protectin’ my only daughter. Just you wait, in the morning, I’ll whip us up a fresh batch of homemade buttermilk biscuits.”
“Sounds like heaven.”
Her mother patted his shoulder. “I’m iffy on the rest of them, but I like this one Savannah, he can stay as long as he likes.”
Momma had never approved of the company Savvy had kept in Nashville. Savvy had even brought a couple of men home for Sunday supper, and Barbara hadn’t been impressed. Yet, somehow King had passed inspection.
King grinned at her like a possum eating sweet taters and Savvy smothered a laugh.
Momma wiped her hands on a dishcloth. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve gotta get these weary old bones to bed.”
“Night, Momma.”
“Sweet dreams, honey.” She kissed Savvy on the cheek.
Savvy inhaled deeply. Her mother smelled like gardenia perfume and home. If Savvy could wrap the scent around her like a blanket, she would. She craved comfort, familiarity.
When she finally pulled away, her mother wore a cat who ate the cream expression, and her eyes danced with mischief.
Lord help me, she wants to fix us up. I’ll never hear the end of it.
Her mother went upstairs. And then it was just the two of them, alone in the dining room.
“I like her. She don’t put on airs.”
“No, she doesn’t. Momma gives it to me straight, and I love her for it.” Savvy had vowed early on to never forget her roots. She remembered exactly where she’d come from and she was proud of it.
When Savvy had been nominated for her first award, she’d taken her mother with her as her date. She’d looked gorgeous. Barbara had gotten a home perm and wore a purple dress paired with matching accessories. Savvy had offered to pay to get Barbara’s hair done and buy her dress, but her mother wouldn’t hear of it.
Of course, the snobby rich ladies walking past them did a double take when they saw her simple wardrobe. Savvy had felt like slapping them across the face, but her mother wouldn’t have approved of such behavior, so she’d held her tongue.
Savvy had settled for lifting her chin and staring them down, putting every ounce of loathing she felt for their privileged hides. You’d think a lifetime of getting everything you wanted would make someone grateful, but no. They felt entitled to pass judgment on other people.
King helped himself to another piece of pie.
“You’ve got a real sweet tooth, huh?”
He winked. “Can’t help it—it’s one of my weaknesses.”
“Yeah, well, I think Momma’s sweet on you.”
“I might just marry her if her biscuits are as tasty as this pie. I’ve been livin’ on eggs, bacon, and beef jerky for years.”
For the first time, Savvy noticed how handsome he was. Since the shooting, she’d been in a fog, and she hadn’t paid much attention to the world around her.
King had a thick layer of stubble on his square jaw, and she idly wondered what it would feel like against her fingertips. He wore a pair of battered blue jeans, work boots, and a flannel shirt.
Savvy thought he looked like the men she’d grown up around, coal miners, steel mill workers—blue-collar types. Every night, she’d watched the men pull into their driveways, dressed in ragged coveralls, weary from a hard day’s work. With their callused hands and battered lunch buckets, they were different from the slick, packaged “cowboys” a girl sees in music videos. Most of the men she spent time with wore expensive clothes. They had all the latest toys—tech gadgets, fancy cars, and liked to advertise their wealth.
King was a different breed.
“Well, I guarantee you’ll love her biscuits because she uses bacon grease instead of butter.” Savvy ate another bite.
The fat had been rendered down, so it didn’t taste like bacon. As a kid, she’d been embarrassed by the grease jar on the counter when her friends had come over, but it was an old-time practice, and her mother wasn’t about to stop because someone made fun of her.
“So, do you cook, too?” There was a crafty look in his eyes.
“Yes, Momma taught me how. We used to make supper together on Sundays. Before my dad died, he grilled the meat, while my mother made the side dishes and I helped her. I haven’t cooked in a while because I never have the time.”
She had at least a thousand recipes saved on Pinterest but never had the opportunity to make any of them. Savvy told herself, one day she’d take a vacation and just rest. She’d putter around in the kitchen, watch television, turn her phone off, and relax.
He considered what she said for a moment.
“Seems to me you’ve gotta schedule the important things. I guess it all depends on what makes you happy.”
Savvy hadn’t been happy for quite a while, even before the shooting.
Somehow, clawing her way to the top had been more fun. Savvy had to defend her position now. What if it all went away?
“I got a busy calendar these days.”
“Maybe your manager should give you a rest.” King scowled.
“You really don’t like him, do you?”
King blinked. “You do?”
She laughed. “Adam’s not so bad.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but does he have to be around?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, your tour has been canceled and you aren’t workin’ on a new album, maybe he could find somewhere else to go.”
“I think he’s worried about me, in his own way.”
“Why are you so loyal to him?”
“He got my ass out of a dead-end job. If it weren’t for him, I’d still be walkin’ around with plates of hot chicken in my hands, instead of a guitar.”
“Eventually, someone would’ve discovered you. You’re so talented.”
Savvy snapped her fingers. “That’s right. You’re a fan.”
He glanced away, and Savvy could tell he was embarrassed, which was even more charming. It was hard to see in the dim light, and his face was partially obscured by the facial hair, but she strongly suspected the man was blushing.
“Yeah, I enjoy your music.”
“Thank you, I’m glad you like my songs. Although, you aren’t my average fan. Most of them are girls and women, ages 13-25.”
According to the analytics anyway. The public relations firm she’d hired had done a deep dive into her fan base, figuring out their demographics, along with their likes and dislikes.
“I bet there are plenty of men, too, even if they don’t admit it.” King winked. “I hope you don’t mind me sayin’, but you're easy on the eyes.”
It was her turn to be nervous. Her mouth went dry. Savvy was used to idle flirtation, but this man meant it. And Savvy found him equally attractive. Unfortunately, things were much too complicated for romance.
She scooted right past the compliment. “There are plenty of talented people waitin’ tables and makin’ venti lattes.”
It wasn’t only about musical ability. Some of it was timing, being in the right place at the right time, and some of her success had been due to luck.
“You’re bein’ humble.”
“Nope. It’s not like I’m the next Dolly Parton or Reba McEntire.”
“Maybe not now, but in the next twenty years or so. One day you’ll be the reigning Queen of Country Music. Mark my words.”
Sometimes, when she closed her eyes at night, Savvy envisioned how her career would go. She imagined all the CMA awards she’d win over the course of her career. And eventually, if she was blessed, a lifetime achievement award.
But more than anything, she wanted to perform at the Grand Ole Opry. A musician had to be invited to sing and it was the biggest honor in country music.
So far, they hadn’t extended an invitation.
And then she noticed something interesting.
While he was talking to her, and eating his food, he also kept glancing out the windows, always vigilant.
No wonder her appetite had returned, and the fog had lifted so Savvy could think again. If King was watching out for her, she didn’t have to be so hyper-vigilant.
“How are you holdin’ up?”
To hell with putting on a brave face and thanking people for their thoughts and prayers.
She sighed. “I’m scared spitless, but I’m no longer a zombie.”
“Fear is healthy.”
“Why?” She’d always thought it was a bad thing. Everybody told people to face their fears.
“It makes you alert and cautious, if you can control it. When I was trainin’ to be a SEAL, we learned how to harness ours and make the adrenaline our bitch.” King squeezed her hand. “You’re strong, you’ll pull through this.”
He sounded so confident, she didn’t want to contradict him, and Savvy prayed he was right. She’d always been a fighter. Savvy wouldn’t have gotten to the top of her industry without having nerves of steel. It was time to get a hold of herself and fight back.
He scooted closer. “Will you let me, and the team work this case?”
Color me confused. “You already are.”
“Yes, we’re protectin’ you, but we can do more.”
“The FBI’s searchin’ for the killer, along with Scotland Yard. And I’m sure they’re doin’ a bang-up job, but how many other crimes are they responsible for?”
She had no idea what the average FBI agent’s workload was like, but she imagined it was heavy. From what the Scotland Yard inspector had told her, they weren’t making any headway either.
“You have a point.”
“If Black Star takes this case, we’ll only have one. Yours. Come on, what have you got to lose?”
Just my life.
***
“Evenin’, ma’am.”
Savvy nodded.
Zane drawled the greeting as Savvy passed him in the hallway. When he saw her and King walking together, a wry grin stretched across his handsome face. Zane raised his brows at King, and they clearly had a silent conversation, but she didn’t understand a word of it.
They were headed up to the second floor. Savvy was going to her bedroom, and King was right behind her.
Before they’d left the kitchen, she’d agreed to King’s proposal. He’d made a lot of sense. Besides, if a group of Navy SEALs, Scotland Yard, and the FBI couldn’t figure this one out, she might as well start digging her own grave.
Zane ambled down the staircase, and she turned to King.
“What was all that about?”
“Nothin’.”
Evidently, it was something, but she let it go. Savvy was about to enter her bedroom when King placed his hand over hers.
“No, I’m goin’ in first.” He sprinted past her. Adam and Emerald had taken the other spare bedroom. Everyone else was sprawled on couches and other furniture.
Damn. The six feet rule. “Why exactly?”
“To make sure the space is secured, and I’m stayin’ the night in here.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I am.” King walked to the opposite side of the room. “Let’s see, there’s a row of windows, and below it a series of shrubs, where anyone could be hidin’. There aren’t even any floodlights on this side of the house.” He peered out the window, before closing the shades once more.
Ugh. No point in fightin’. Savvy already knew she wouldn’t win.
“Where are you gonna sleep?”
“Right here.”
He took the reading chair in the corner and sat with an exaggerated sigh. While it was a large, overstuffed piece of furniture, King dwarfed it with his immense size. It was yet another reminder of how immense he was, like a brick wall.
“And you’re gonna sit there and stare at me…?”
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. “No, I’ll catch up on email first, but at some point, we’ll both fall asleep. However, I’ll be right here, in case something happens.”
So much for privacy.
Savvy had a feeling she was in for a long night. Whenever Savvy had slept beside a man, she’d tossed and turned, unused to having someone else in her bed. Having one stalker-watch her while she slumbered like the military version of Edward Cullen from Twilight was a whole other thing.
She sighed. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I kinda hate you right now.”
King chuckled, far from offended.
Savvy went to the closet and grabbed a couple of blankets. When she handed them over, King’s fingers brushed hers.
Neither one of them pulled away.
In fact, she swayed closer. Savvy had the wildest urge to kiss him goodnight, which was ridiculous. This wasn’t a date, and she had no business entertaining these kinds of thoughts.
“Yeah, um, goodnight.” She backed off hastily.
“Don’t let the bed bugs bite.” There was an edge to his tone she refused to dwell on.
Savvy quickly went through her evening routine. She scrubbed her face, pulled her long hair back in a scrunchy, threw on a pair of leggings along with an old shirt, and climbed under the covers.
She glanced up, and King met her gaze. He suddenly became engrossed with his phone. She picked her Android up from the nightstand and indulged herself in a long scroll through her Instagram feed.
Sleep eluded her for the better part of an hour.
***
Savvy woke up at two in the morning.
A melody floated on the edge of her consciousness, playing through her head, distracting her. Most of her dreams were set to music, and she used the melodies as inspiration.
The only problem was, the ideas were fleeting and drifted right out of her brain almost as soon as she woke. Even though Adam didn’t allow Savvy to write her own songs very often, she scribbled down lyrics and music anyway.
She simply had to write.
Savvy had boxes full of notebooks, all of them contained songs she’d never get to perform. She dragged herself out of bed to capture what she could, the fragments she could remember anyway. It was a cool late spring morning, and she slipped on a hoodie and a pair of socks.
King was asleep across the room.
Sometime during the night, he’d taken off his jeans and shirt, and only wore a pair of boxers. The blanket was half on, half off his body. He was hard and scarred by battle. A healed gash stretched across his torso as though someone had tried to gut him with a blade.
Savvy hissed in sympathy when she saw it. When it was new, the wound must’ve been painful. Savvy wouldn’t have been able to withstand it. She was a baby about pain and hated even getting a flu shot.
Despite the imperfections, he was handsome. Rugged.
Savvy had trouble taking her eyes off him. Maybe having him in her bedroom wasn’t so terrible after all. If they’d met under different circumstances, she might’ve flirted with him.
Oh hell, you’d like to do a lot more than flirt, girl. Who are you kiddin’?
Before Savvy knew what was happening, she drifted closer to him. She wondered how his beard would feel? And what would it be like to rest her head against his broad chest?
Savvy shivered as a spark of awareness traveled up her spine.
She shouldn’t be ogling him. Getting involved with someone who held your life in their hands, was the embodiment of a stupid decision.
And what if he had a girlfriend? Or a wife? Savvy didn’t see a wedding ring, but it didn’t mean King wasn’t taken.
Savvy switched on a lamp and sat cross-legged on the floor. She hauled the guitar onto her lap, strumming softly, so she wouldn’t wake him.
Savvy concentrated on the words, the sounds drifting through her head. She kept the notebook beside her, stopping every once in a while, to jot down the melody. Writing was a bit like trying to catch fireflies and tuck them into a Mason jar. She’d chased after the glowing bugs as a child while they drifted away, always beyond her reach.
“What are you playin’?”
Startled, Savvy looked up to see King standing over her. She hadn’t even heard him get up.
How long have I been playin’? According to the alarm clock on the nightstand, an hour. Time drifted when she composed, and she got lost in the music, oblivious to the rest of the world.
She turned her attention back to King. Bare-chested and barefoot, he was a sight to behold. He’d thrown on his jeans but hadn’t buttoned them yet.
Looking at him, all half naked like this, bathed in moonlight made her mouth go dry. He could take a girl’s breath away.
“I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”
“Not at all. Am I interruptin’ you?”
“No, I’m due for a break.”
He nodded to the guitar and sat across from her. “I don’t think I’ve heard this one before.”
“You haven’t. It came to me tonight.”
“What’s it called?”
“I don’t know yet.” Sometimes Savvy couldn’t predict where a song was headed, or what cords her fingers would find.
Although, the tune was real soft, kind of mournful. She had a feeling this was a song about loss. In the past few days, some of her innocence had vanished, and Savvy doubted she’d ever get it back. Even if she survived, she’d never be the same.
“Is it gonna be on your next album?”
She shrugged. “I doubt it.”
“I like the songs you write, the best.”
“Really? Nobody else does.”
Most critics thought Savvy was a pretty face with a pleasant voice. Almost like the musical equivalent of a mannequin, merely a vehicle for the song the record label wanted to push. Judging by the quality of her albums, Savvy couldn’t hold it against them. Her tunes were catchy but lacked meaning.
“Because they’re fools.”
She set the guitar aside and placed the notebook beside it.
“Mind if I take a look?” he asked.
“Be my guest.”
“Hmph.” King flipped through the pages. He paused to touch the most recent one, almost reverently. “This just came to you.” He shook his head, a smile on his lips.
“Do you write? Or draw?”
King shook his head. “No, but my wife was an artist. I used to stare at her paintings for hours, wonderin’ where the ideas had come from. One day, she had a blank canvas, and the next, there was a complete work.”
“She sounds talented.”
“Yeah.” King sighed. “She was amazin’, like you. You’re both special.”
King was easy to talk to, and he appreciated her work, but not in a creepy obsessed way. She could get used to having him around, and Savvy had a feeling they might become friends.
“Thank you. How’d you get interested in my records in the first place?”
King cleared his throat before he spoke. “Nicole introduced me to your music.”
“What’s your favorite song?”
“Lonesome Wind.” He bent his head and smoothed a hand over the carpet beneath them.
She sucked in a breath. “I wrote that.”
“I know.” His grin was playful.
“It wasn’t ever released.” Adam had slapped it onto the tail end of her album, like an afterthought.
“Which is a damn shame, considerin’ it’s the best song on Saturday Night Sparkle. Don’t get me wrong, I like all of them, but I love Lonesome Wind.”
Savvy cleared her throat. “You said your wife’s a fan. Did she—”
“Was a fan. Nicole died a couple of years ago.” The pain in his eyes was palpable. Savvy could almost reach out and touch it, as though it had become a part of him.
“I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” He swallowed. “Anyway, whenever Nicole worked on a project, she played music in the background. She liked your songs best.”
It’s funny. Other people’s art stimulated her own creative process as well. She drew inspiration from movies, television, arts, and crafts, you name it.
“I took her to one of your concerts in Richmond.”
“Yeah?”
“The corner of his mouth lifted. “It was supposed to be her birthday present, but I got a kick out of it, too.”
Savvy would’ve given anything to see King surrounded by a crowd of teenage girls, singing along with her.
“I think my legs are going numb.” She stood and hit the light switch on the wall. All of a sudden, Zane’s puppy started barking.
And then she heard the crackle of breaking glass and that familiar dart-like sound.
Oh God, the shooter’s back.