A hand shot through the crack of door, gripping it and preventing it from closing.
She gasped, frozen to the seat, as Nathan wrestled to close the door. His free hand stretched for the gun at his hip.
The knuckles around the door frame were grooved with callouses. Callouses from guitar strings.
She clamped down on Nathan’s hand over his holster. “It’s Jay.”
Nathan squinted at the door and let go of the handle.
Jay’s drawn face lowered into view. His gaze moved through the car and stopped on her. A tornado of emotions whipped across his weary expression. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and he ducked his head, wedging into the third row behind her. The leather seats creaked as he scooted in, Tony following.
Colson steered them into the concert traffic, and Charlee decided to be the first to break the tense silence. “I said not to follow me.” Sandwiched between Vanderschoot and Nathan, she kept her eyes on the windshield.
“And I said you were not to leave my sight.” His deep, dominating tone caressed her back, the bastard.
“Are you still high?” Good grief, she sounded petulant. Maybe she was. She shifted to look at him.
“I’m coming down.” He studied her face, his own pinched in pain. “I’m so sorry.” A whisper.
She would find out shortly how sorry he was. She turned back and looked into Nathan’s soft blue eyes. Looked at the envelope in his breast pocket.
His fingers were hesitant as he pulled it out and handed it to her. “It’ll be obtuse, you know. Anything in writing will be worded in a way that won’t implicate him for what he’s done or plans to do.”
Flipping the white envelope over in her hands, she nodded. “I know.” She couldn’t stop the resignation from dulling her voice. “I’m expecting a legal-team-approved death threat.”
64
The god-awful regret constricting Jay’s voice snapped when he heard the bleak acceptance in Charlee’s. “What death threat?”
Bile flooded the back of his throat. She’d already endured so much misery. His aftershow performance settled around him like a miasma. Shame constricted his heart and darkened the very fiber that made her soul shine. He did this. He was no better than Roy.
Her fingers flicked over the controls on the roof until dim light illuminated the envelope in her hand.
“What is that?” He didn’t like the way she held the corners, not opening it, as if there were a bomb inside. “Is that from Roy?”
Her shoulders twitched, and she hunched slightly to the right, toward Nathan.
Nathan touched her hand. “Want me to read it?”
She shook her head. “I’ll do it.”
So Jay was the only asshole she was ignoring. He earned it, but he didn’t have to fucking like it.
She held up the nondescript envelope to the light. White. Standard size. No writing or logos. Was it a correspondence from Roy? A swarm of hostility took over his muscles, tensing him from neck to feet. “Did you see Roy? Was he here?”
She picked at the sealed flap, shoulders bunched to her ears.
His hands clenched with the urgency to be closer, to hold her pain for her. “Vanderschoot. Switch with me.”
The guard swiveled his balding head, looking around the tight seating arrangement, probably wondering how he would maneuver a switch while the vehicle was in motion. “Right now, Mr. Mayard?”
Charlee let her head fall back and glared at the roof. “Jay, would you please just sit there—” she let out a ragged, drawn out exhale “—and shut the fuck up.”
His face caught fire, his shame reigniting. If he were perfect, she’d be too good for him. He was far from perfect. “I deserve your anger, your hate, and anything else you want to throw at me.” None of that mattered while her life was in danger. He needed to be very clear, make her understand. He couldn’t face losing her again. “My fuck up does not change your need for protection.” He shifted to the edge of the seat and the force of his breath ruffled the crimson river of hair flowing over her seat back. “I employ your protective team, so I need to know what the fuck is going on.”
He snapped his fingers at Vanderschoot. “Switch.”
The lean man folded his body and crawled to the back beside Jay.
“Thanks.” With a lot less grace and an unnecessary hand on Charlee’s shoulder, Jay tumbled into the second row.
Gorgeous blue eyes narrowed on him, stealing his breath. Her lashes fluttered closed through a deep breath. “I’m pissed. Hurt. Ashamed…Frustrated.” She glanced out the windshield and whispered, “Blue ovaries frustrated.”