George Taniwha, the figurehead of George Taniwha & Sons, was a handsome man with unruly black hair and a welcoming-pleased-to-meet-you beam, much like his son. But also like Hone, those eyes held keen intelligence, and Cassie sensed not much got past him. He stood when Hone guided her into the spacious office.
A large wooden desk held a pile of folders, one of which was open in front of George. The office was functional and gave off a busy vibe that would reassure clients.
“It’s great to meet you, Cassie. I’ve heard a lot about you from June and Samuel.” He stretched out his hand and took hers in a firm grip before gesturing at the pair of chairs adjacent to his desk.
“Good things, I hope.” Cassie sank onto a chair.
George furrowed his brows, studied his son in the way of parents the world over. Hone broke and shifted his weight.
“June said you were dating Manu,” George said.
“No,” Cassie spluttered, her spine going poker-straight to hit the back of her office chair. “We…Manu and I are friends.”
One of those weird growls emerged from Hone, and George straightened, his features shooting to stern. Oh, yes. Parent-mode in full force. Cassie was glad she wasn’t the only one who buckled beneath parental disapproval.
The rumble abruptly ceased.
George studied them with clear expectation. Cassie glanced at Hone, unsure of where to start.
“I need information from Cassie, but she is reluctant to give it to me without a confidentiality agreement in place. She requires a bodyguard.”
The way Hone said this made her feel low, but she had to protect herself, didn’t she?
“I have one here,” George said. “It’s the standard contract our clients sign to protect both us and them.” He opened a folder, extracted a sheet of paper and pushed it over the table to her. “Read it, and if you find it suitable, we’ll all sign and go from there.”
Cassie’s phone rang. “Sorry.” She plucked it from her pocket, scanned the screen. “It’s Emma.”
“I’ll talk to her,” Hone said. “You read that.”
“I’m getting tired of people bossing me about.” Cassie glared at Hone’s father when he had the audacity to chuckle, but handed over her phone to read the confidentiality agreement.
Fortunately, it was in plain English and easy to understand. It was typed on George Taniwha & Sons letterhead, the silhouette of the taniwha drawing her attention. She had a thing for dragons and liked to read shapeshifter romances in her downtime between shows. A secret between her and her e-reader.
The document held gaps to fill in names. Seemed straightforward, and it spelled out what would happen if either party disclosed confidential information.
“Pen?”
She filled in the blanks and scrawled her signature as the office door sprang open. The receptionist scrambled after Emma while Jack shook his head in amusement.
“Are you all right?” Emma demanded.
“I told you she’s fine,” Hone grumbled.
“I wanted to see for myself.” Emma strode into the office and Jack prowled after her.
“Janice,” George said. “Can you come in here and witness a document for us?”
“I’d like Jack and Hone to sign the agreement as well, then I can tell you all together,” Cassie said. “It will be easier that way.”
She watched everyone sign, and the receptionist witnessed the document and left the room.
“Right,” Hone said. “Now tell me why you need security.”
“I’m not a personal assistant to a singer,” Cassie said. “I am the singer. My manager asked me to do two concerts at local vineyards. I’m filling in for a last-minute cancelation. With all that has happened in the last two days, Emma has decided I have a rabid fan after me.”
“No one recognized you at the beach,” Hone said.
“What is your stage name?” Jack asked, expression full of concentration and focus.
This was how Cassie imagined Jack in PI mode.
“It’s Katie-Jo,” Emma said. “She’s big in country music.”
“Country isn’t as popular here, but I wear stage costumes and a wig. It makes it easier for me to have a private life,” Cassie said. “Although it’s not impossible that someone has penetrated my disguise, it’s unlikely. My agent put out the story that I was going home to rest and take a vacation. My official bio says my home is in Washington DC where my parents live. I usually keep a low profile. The only person who knows my identity is Emma.”
“That explains the guitar and the singing,” Hone said. “I heard you and Manu before…” He glanced at Jack and Emma, then his father before shrugging. “You’re good.”
“Thanks.” Her fans enjoyed her singing, but it was nice to have someone who knew her—if two day’s acquaintance counted—tell her she wasn’t wasting time with her music.
Her mother…
Cassie blanked the rest of that thought. Her parents, her mother in particular, didn’t approve of many things. Something Cassie tried to ignore.
“Emma is right,” Hone said. “You can’t go to the concerts on your own, not until we discover if the clown was a coincidence.”
“Clown?” George asked.
“My prowler last night was dressed as a clown,” Cassie said. “He played a creepy song about clowns. I used to laugh about people with clown phobias. Considered them precious. After last night, I have sympathy. I’m not sure how I feel about someone tagging after me all the time,” she added.
“I’ll go with you.” Hone leaned back and stretched his arms above his head. He reminded her of a spring-loaded door. “We’ll keep it casual. I’ll go as your boyfriend.”
His words fell into silence loaded with indecipherable undercurrents. It left Cassie drifting and cranky. She hated people managing her and bossing her around. This felt like a takeover.
“Is that all right with you, Miss Miller-Pope?” George picked up a pen, tapped it on his desktop twice.
“Call me Cassie,” she said. “I guess we can try that and see how it works. Given the weird things happening to me, it would be silly to refuse your help.”
“What about from now until the concert?” Emma demanded. “You can’t be alone.”
“I don’t need a babysitter,” Cassie snapped, stung by her friend’s words.
“Be reasonable. You could’ve been killed when that truck ran you off the road. You’re lucky you got away with bruising.”
Cassie sighed, admitting Emma was right. Things seemed to happen whenever she was alone. “I wanted to go to the house and do more painting. I need to work through my bracket of songs. Rehearse.”
“I could probably shift around my jobs. I don’t mind painting,” Hone said.
“It’s settled then,” George said. “Hone, a word before you go.”
Hone waited while Cassie, Emma and Jack left the office.
“Shut the door behind you,” George called to Jack.
The door closed with an abrupt click.
“June is right. Cassie is a lovely girl.” His father grinned at him. “June is gonna be pissed when she learns about you and Cassie.”
“Dad, I met her two days ago.”
“Your taniwha wants her.”
“Rubbish.” Hone lied without a blink.
“He flickers in your pupils. You’re having trouble controlling him. Jack told me although I see it for myself.”
“Jack is a blabbermouth.”
“Working as Cassie’s bodyguard will give you a chance to get better acquainted.”
Hone grunted.
“You play guitar. Rehearse with her. You might need the additional cover, especially if the venue organizers have hired security already. If you can help with her act that gives you a legitimate excuse to be near her onstage.”
Hone saw the sense in his father’s suggestion. “I’ll ask her.”
“Your mother will be pleased.”
“Dad, I repeat. I’ve known her for two days.”
“I knew your mother for one.”
“You were childhood friends.”
“But I didn’t meet her again until we were in our early twenties,” George countered.
Hone grimaced, having heard the story hundreds of times. “Please don’t tell her anything.”
“Too late,” George said. “June has told Irene about Cassie. She was gloating about the wonderful woman Manu had found. Your mother will want to do some rejoicing of her own.”
“Auntie June will lose her temper,” Hone predicted. “It won’t end well.”
“You’re right,” his father said. “We’ll wait. Besides we have the confidentiality agreement now. I won’t say anything until this is over.”
Hone rolled his shoulders and stood. “I hope we’re overreacting.”
“You don’t think so.”
“I don’t know, but I’ll feel better when Cassie has finished her concerts. I could ask Manu to do a flyover of her property once he is sure his cloaking device is officially working. He said he wanted to do more tests.”
“We’re lucky to have Manu,” his father said. “The boy has talent and strong leadership skills. He’ll be a worthy successor once June decides to pass the mantle.”
“Our people underrate him,” Hone said. “I flew with him the other night. There were no alarms or alerts from pilots or bystanders. His invention works. It’s almost ready for market.”
His father tapped his pen. “Manu rang me. We discussed marketing and checking backgrounds on those who wish to buy units. He wants to check his device in different weather conditions. He said your flight was clear, but he wants to run tests in rain and fog.”
“I didn’t think of that. I guess I’d better get moving.”
“Have Janice swap around your jobs. I’ll tell her not to schedule you for anything for the next few weeks.”
A tap sounded on the door, and when Hone opened it, Cassie stood there. “I forgot to ask for a quote. I mightn’t be able to afford your services.”
“We’ll give you the family rate since you’re Emma’s friend.” His father named a ridiculously cheap rate. “I also expect a signed CD of your latest album. You still have CDs or is your music only available online?”
“I’ll have some sent to you,” Cassie promised. “Thank you.”
“Nice to meet you, Cassie. Hone, text me Cassie’s number. I want you to check in with me morning and night. Call if you need support. I can send Emma or Jack to give you a break.”
“Will do. Where to first?” he asked Cassie.
“I’ll check out of the motel. There is no way I can stay there now without having nightmares. Will June be okay about it?”
“I’ll ring her,” his father volunteered. “She’ll want to beef up her security anyway.”
“Thanks, Dad. I’ll talk to you tonight.” He ushered Cassie from the office. “Do you need more paint?”
“If you’re helping me—yes. I’ll need more brushes and another paint roller as well.”
Cassie tensed as she unlocked the door to her grandfather’s house, half expecting more sheep or something worse. Incredibly aware of Hone behind her, she concentrated on foot placement while her pulse raced. She peeked down the passage. Nothing scary apart from a dust bunny. She put down her bag and the can of paint she carried to plug in the alarm code, suppressing her groan at the protest of bruised muscles. She’d been better.
Once the beeping ceased, she turned to Hone with a grin and more than a hint of relief. “The alarm seems to have done the trick.”
“Good. Where do you want me to paint?”
“Could you paint over the graffiti in the kitchen? I’ve decided to rip out the kitchen units, so don’t worry about them. I want to cover all the graffiti first.” She wandered into the kitchen and wrinkled her nose. “I forgot. The walls need prep before painting.”
“No problem,” Hone said. “You’re paying my wages.”
“I have an idea of how much security guards cost because my manager whines about the expense. Your father gave me a huge reduction.”
“You got the friend discount.”
“Which reminds me. I should check in with Kevin about Saturday night, and I’ll organize the CDs for your parents.”
She rang Kevin. “Hi, Kevin. Is there anything I need to know about the first concert? Who do I report to?”
“I’ll meet you at the Matakana vineyard. The organizer is Charlie Blake. I’ll text you his details, so you can discuss musicians and lighting et cetera.”
“You’re coming to New Zealand? I thought you said the place is a dump and you wouldn’t be seen dead here.” Another contentious subject between them. She loved her birth country and had hated leaving. Kevin, a Los Angeles man, liked big cities and fast action.
A snort escaped her. Probably why their plain vanilla sex hadn’t done it for them and he’d strayed elsewhere.
“You’re my client. I’ll be there Friday.”
Translation: he was worried she wouldn’t resign her contract. She grimaced. Jeez, when had she become so cynical about the music business?
She shoved aside her battle of should she, shouldn’t she resign with Kevin to concentrate on her upcoming concerts. “Can you bring a selection of my CDs for me?”
“Sure.”
“Okay, I’ll see you there then. An hour before kick-off okay?”
“That will work,” Kevin said. “What about musicians? Charlie said they’d find someone for you, but you’d need to contact him before the gig.”
“I’ve decided to do an unplugged version of my songs. Just me and my guitar. If I change my mind, I have a few contacts here I can tap as backup.”
“Chosen your songs?”
“Yes, Kevin.” She suppressed her sigh. She didn’t need micromanaging for this show. In her earlier days, she’d leaned on Kevin, but she’d grown lately and wasn’t the same naïve girl. “Don’t worry. I’m organized and will do you proud.”
“These shows are important, Cassie. Don’t make the mistake of taking them lightly. They’re a test to learn if your music translates to other markets. You need to pick your songs carefully.”
“Kevin.” She didn’t try hiding her indignation. “I am always serious about my career because I wouldn’t have one if I didn’t have fans. I won’t screw up.”
There was a pause, and she pictured the silent counting Kevin did when things weren’t going his way, the sweep of his hand through his overlong blond hair. “All right. Give me a call if you need anything. I’ll be in touch. Wait—what are you doing about costumes?”
“Sorted.” She didn’t tell him she had changed up her look, wanting to save herself a lecture.
He paused again, and Cassie fought the urge to giggle. Kevin wasn’t sure what to do with this new version of her. Before they’d split, she’d never argued or made her own decisions. She liked herself much better now even though the changes had come from a place of pain.
“Call me if you need anything.”
“I will, Kevin. Thank you.” She disconnected and set her phone aside. While her muscles ached, it was time to get painting. If she ran through her songs at the same time, she’d be doubly productive.
Cassie worked for an hour and decided, during that time, to swap the songs around. Yeah, start with the cover song to get the crowd excited. Not a Beatles’ song though. A Crowded House song—one from a famous New Zealand band—might go down better with the home crowd. She sang the lyrics of the song, silently giving thanks for her exceptional memory when it came to music. Once she learned a piece, it stuck in her mind.
“That sounds good,” Hone said from behind her. “You have a beautiful voice. You want me to play guitar with you? I’m better than Manu.”
She laughed. “You both possess impossibly big egos.”
Hone shrugged. “I heard what you’re singing. You want to go all the way through with music to check your timing or whatever?”
Cassie set down her paint roller. “All right. It would be good to do a run-through. I usually chatter between songs, so I’ll add that in as well.” She checked her watch as Hone picked up her guitar.
“Hi! I’m Katie-Jo, a country singer from America. Most of you won’t have heard of me, but that’s okay. I’ll let you judge me by the music. This first song has been a favorite of mine for years. You probably recognize it.” And she launched in to Crowded House’s Better Be Home Soon.
As soon as she started singing, Hone added guitar backing. She jerked her chin in approval and yahooed inwardly. He was right. The man had skills.
She continued her songs, adding snippets about the music and with her own songs, how she came to write them and some of her Katie-Jo journey. Even though Hone didn’t know the songs, he picked up the melody and had few missteps. He even harmonized in the choruses. When the final note drew out and faded, he grinned.
“I’m in awe.” His big hands caressed her guitar, and she grew hot all over.
She averted her gaze before she self-combusted. After their kiss this morning, her imagination jumped ahead in leaps and spurts, right into dirty, sexy acts with Hone. In bed. Against a wall. She didn’t care. She’d been kidding herself with Kevin. Hone’s kiss had left her more satisfied than any sweaty sex with her ex.
“Thanks. Anything to improve or suggestions to change around my selection?”
“No, you’re good. Will you let me go onstage with you?”
“If you can manage playing for a crowd. Kevin won’t let me hear the end of it if you freeze.”
“I can handle myself. You want me to start ripping out the kitchen units?”
“Sounds good.” Cassie picked up her roller, her mind skipping ahead. Excitement filled her, and she hadn’t experienced this anticipation for a long time. She was right to stand her ground, despite Kevin’s objections. While she enjoyed performing, it was the writing and shaping of new songs that made her happy. There was no reason she couldn’t do what she wanted—write songs and sell the rights. Kevin could still be her manager. Yeah…she could write a few country tunes and write to please herself—see how that worked. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have enough money. Her parents had taught her the benefits of saving and prudent investment.
She could do whatever she wanted. Something to consider.
* * * * *
“Hey, boss.” A strong thump on the door accompanied the salutation.
Matthew looked up from his papers. “Herbert.” The guy was big with shoulder-length brown hair and cauliflower ears. The oily strands accentuated rather than hid the defect. “You have something to report?”
“I did what you said. Woman has moved out of the motel. She’s staying with some guy.”
“Still in Papakura?”
“Yeah. Red Hill area.”
“Is she scared?”
“Keeps checking over her shoulder. The guy she’s with is some kind of private investigator. I followed them to an office. Had to hang back. The guy is watchful.”
“Where are they now?”
“At the house in Clevedon. Think they’re painting. Leastways they carried in cans of paint. Installed an alarm too. You want me to keep following ’em?”
“Yes, please. Keep back. If you have an opportunity, give her another scare. Don’t take risks, but I’d like to keep her on edge.”
“Will do, boss.”
“Good. Anything else?”
“Nah. Crop’s good. Another week, perhaps two, and we should be harvesting.”
Matthew tapped his fingers on the desk. “I took a look last night. Another week should do it. Keep me posted about what she’s doing.”
“Will do.” Herbert ambled away.
Matthew stared after him, thankful he’d employed the ex-rugby player. The man might look big and stupid, but he had a brain, the ability to think for himself and make good decisions.
All he needed was time. One month for planning, to finesse his ex-wife. One month until he left for South America.
Just one more month until he gained every dream on his bucket list.
His son. Money. Victory.