Page 8 of Carte

She arched her brows. Then, she turned and walked away from me again.

I didn’t follow her this time.

I caught the eye of a man standing in the shadows and jutted my chin. He can take care of her until she was ready to come to me. I will stop at nothing until I keep my promise and keep her safe.

***

“What do you think?” Chace asked in my ear.

“It’s too early to tell,” I muttered into the phone, my eyes going over the fifth video of Harley's concert.

I’ve been at this for hours. I’ve watched every second of Harley Thorne’s last five concerts, trying to find… something.

Anything.

It was clear Harley was the whole package. It was no mystery why she was on a fast track to become one of the great ones.

She was not only beautiful, but stunning. Her eyes were mesmerizing even up from the stage, and a video.

But her voice. Fuck me, her voice.

It pulled you into her, holding a power over you, until you were kneeling before her in the hopes of her gracing you with one look into her eyes.

I could see why she was on a fast track to the top, leaving everyone in a trance. I could also see why she became a fixation of a sick fuck, who took her lyrics, her music, and her existence way too personally.

That troubled me.

Those types usually started slow, sending letters, or leaving comments under the social media posts. Then that turned into sending gifts.

Gifts then escalated into visits, or in the case of celebrity concerts, premieres where they made sure to make their presence known. They did anything to be acknowledged by the person.

Then it spiraled, progressed into break ins to see where the person of their fixation lived, to immerse themselves into their most personal space.

After that, the full-blown stalking came. Once they didn’t get what they wanted or needed from a person who was their center of attention, it came to an end. Not, however, by them finding a new pastime to occupy their mind.

No, the end was never pretty, and it always made your blood turn cold.

The problem was, with Harley, there was no natural start, to call it that. There was no logical progression.

The threat came out of nowhere, and it became full-blown with step three and four occurring a week ago. They were in her home. They also left a shit ton of stuff, from stuffed animals to jewelry and lingerie.

None of which Harley knew. And she wouldn’t find out just yet.

The label wanted her to be focused on her tour. I wanted her to breathe easy for a few more days until she trusted me enough, and until I could have at least a few answers for her.

But there was nothing that either of us could see.

“I don’t like this.” Rustling came over the phone, and I could hear Chace moving. “Alina is pretty freaked out. She wanted us to take Harley and hole up in the cabin. Even ranted about me reaching out to Dante and see if his old contacts were crackling.”

Alina, Chase’s woman, was a good friend of Harley’s. That was how I got into this gig.

Alina came to my door a month ago, scared out of her mind because she overheard Tim talking on the phone with the label and words like Harley, threats, and safety were thrown around. When she asked Tim what it was all about, he tried brushing her off.

What he didn’t know was that Alina came from the Family. The Italian kind that didn’t take no for an answer. Sure, she walked out when she was young, and she never had anything to do with it, besides the blood ties, but she grew up in the thick of it, and she picked up a thing or two.

Needless to say, Tim spilled the beans, and Alina came to me.

Once Tim caved and informed the label of the level of fucked up shit that was happening, it took all of thirty minutes for them to demand my ass in their offices. However, they didn’t want to sign off on the security, much less the level I provided in the fruitless hope of things calming down.