I huddled in the high-backed wing chair in my hotel room, looking through the partially opened blinds at the flashing blue and white lights on the police cars below. My wild hair was still damp from my shower, hanging in curly strings over the collar of the thick terrycloth bathrobe I’d wrapped around myself.

I shook my head and buried my face in my hands. I needed to snap out of it. I had a concert in a few hours. I needed to call Julie.

I didn’t feel much like singing, which was strange. Julie always knew what to say to prop me up. Music is my life, but I never would have made it a career without her. She kept everyone from knowing what a fraud I was. I love music, but music didn’t always love me. I got lucky. I wasn’t better than anyone else out there hawking their songs on street corners, in subways, or at bars.

Knock, knock, knock.

I turned from my quiet reverie toward the door, not even curious enough to wonder who was there. Staring blankly at the closed door, I pulled the neck of the robe closed and gripped it with one hand while the other picked at the terrycloth covering my lap.

Click.

Only one other person had a key to my hotel room. I had sent my second key card with Liam when he went down stairs to talk to the local sheriff.

“Hey, Maggie.” He tossed the key card onto the mini bar as he stalked into the living area, moving into the room with purpose. Liam did everything with purpose. He never made extraneous movements. His quiet presence and all black attire lent an air of danger to everything he did.

“Liam.” I loosened my hold on my collar, relaxing back into the plush chair.

He came to a stop by my side and stood looking out the window behind me. “When you’re ready, I’ll take you to talk to the sheriff.”

“I don’t want to,” I said, pressing my lips together and clenching the neck of my robe again.

He glanced up at the ceiling, took a deep breath in through his nose, and blew it out through his mouth before locking his hands behind his back. “Maggie, this isn’t optional. You have to make a statement.”

“What if there are more?” I fidgeted with my robe again, running my fingers across the knap.

“More what?” He took the seat across from me.

“More guys coming after me.” I squeaked out the last word, my breath catching in my throat as I relived the last few hours. My pulse started racing, and my hands shook as a chill crept up my spine.

“Why would there be more?” He fixed his eyes on me. “Did I miss something? There were only three men in the bus. There was no sign of anyone else.”

“I got another letter.” I blurted out the words, pinching my lips together after.

“What?” Liam leapt to his feet and began to pace back and forth in front of the window. “You just thought to mention this now?”

I nodded at the paper sitting on the end table next to me. “It was delivered to the hotel. The concierge brought it to the door while you were downstairs.”

Liam advanced on the round wooden table and stared down at the folded paper on it. I could feel the vibrations coming off him as his fury rose to the surface.

I rubbed my nose. “If you are as good as Mason says you are, you will find the letter writer and make him stop.” I leaned back into the chair, too exhausted to resent his presence.

Liam used a pen to unfold the letter and scanned the scrawled writing quickly. “Miss Lane,” he looked up at me.

“You might as well call me Maggie.” I interrupted him and sighed. “I get the feeling we will be spending a lot of time together.”

“Maggie…” He looked pointedly at me and enunciated each word very slowly and carefully. “My job is to keep you safe.” His hands were clenched as he stood completely still.

“And you can keep me safe by finding him.” I looked steadily at him. “I won’t have random people trailing me all the time, lurking outside my trailer, questioning my every move.”

“Maggie, if it isn’t me or my men, it will be someone else. Face it—with your fame and lifestyle, you will have security all the time.”

“No.” I shook my head. “Figure it out. Make it go away.”

“You really are prickly.” He looked at me in frustration. “I don’t know why I’m wasting my time trying to protect someone who refuses to protect herself.” Liam turned away, fists on his hips, and hung his head. Muttering to himself, he walked over to stand in front of the window and called his team.

“Mom,” I walked into the bedroom and shut the door.

“Margaret Lynn?”

I cringed. Even over the phone, the sound of my full name from her mouth was like nails on a chalkboard. “Maggie, Mom. I go by Maggie.”

“Such a ridiculous name,” she grumbled. “And Indigo—it’s embarrassing. Your father and I gave you a perfectly good name, Margaret Lynn Lawrence. I can’t believe you’re still gallivanting all over the country, pretending to sing that horrible music, flaunting yourself half-dressed at all hours of the night. We raised you to be respectable, and what do you do?”

“Mom—“

“The way we sacrif—”

“MOM!” I had to interrupt her, or she would go on all night. I had already heard that monologue many times before. “How’s Daddy?”

“Your father is resting. His gout is acting up again. You know his heart is bad. He had the gall to complain about the credit card again.

“Mom, breathe!”

“Well, I never!” Less than three minutes into our call, I’d already offended her. “You could show a little concern. You haven’t even asked how I’m doing.”

“How are you, Mom?”

“Well, since you asked, my arthritis has made it almost impossible to do any work around the house, but I don’t let the pain stop me. I got down on my hands and knees and scrubbed the kitchen floor like I have every day for forty years. My kitchen floor is so clean you could eat off it. No matter what, I don’t neglect my duties.” She sighed, doing her best to sound utterly exhausted. “Now, are you done with that singing thing? Your father would feel so much better if you went back to school and studied something you can use to get a real job.”

“Mom, I do have a real job. I’m good at what I do, and I do well for myself.”

“I know you think so, honey, but we all know it’s not going to last.”

I bit my tongue to keep the peace. “I don’t want to talk about this again. I just wanted to see how you and Daddy were doing.”

“Honey, we’re getting up in years. We just want to see you settled and happy. Have you met any nice young men lately?”

She didn’t understand. She probably never would, but I still tried. “Mom, you know I love you and Daddy, but I need to follow my heart. I may not be the best singer out there, but this is what I love to do. Even if I never make it, I can say I tried.”

Her voice softened. “We just want what’s best for you, honey. You know we love you.”

“I know, Mom. I love you too. Tell Daddy I love him.”

“I will, honey.” She gasped on the other end of the line. “Oh, I hear your father! I need to take him his dinner!”

“Bye, Mom.” I ended the call and fell back on the bed. I loved my parents, but they never supported my desire to go into music. Phone calls to home always left me feeling less sure about my decision than ever. The news, the magazines, and the articles written about me usually said good things. Not the tabloid rags in grocery stores but reputable publications. My sold-out shows all indicated that I was doing the right thing. Even if it wasn’t real, Julie wouldn’t let me make a fool of myself. She hid my mistakes and protected me. Julie was the closest thing I had to anyone who really cared about me.

Knock, knock.

“Yes?”

“Miss Lane—uh—Maggie, may I come in?”

I flung my arms out, my cell phone still gripped in my right hand, my legs bent at the knees with my feet dangling. “Yes.”

Liam pushed the door open a crack and peered around before opening it wider and slipping his big shoulders through.

“Um, can we talk?” he asked as he entered my room.

I rolled over and looked at the man in front of me. He kept pushing. Why does he keep pushing me? “Fine.”

“We need to talk about this letter.”

I flopped back over and rolled my eyes. I didn’t want to think about the letter. I had been on my own a long time, and I knew I would figure it out.