Page 25 of Protecting Her

“Where could she be?”

“Our contract was up, maybe she took up someone else on their offer?” That snide little brat in me came to life and said she’d climbed over me to get a better deal, but the grown man in me told that brat to shut the fuck up. She wasn’t that kind.

“But our deal was supposed to be one of the best ever offered to a new talent like hers…” Emily started, but I looked away again, shame on my face.

“I hadn’t told her yet. I, uh, wanted to surprise her when I got home.”

“Jesus, Kev! You let her contract run out without talking to her about it? What kind of dick are you?” She was on her feet now, and I couldn’t blame her, not one bit. My behavior did seem a bit stupid now.

“I’m sorry, Emily. I, like you said, I like the surprise part.” Maybe it had cost me more than I’d wanted to give, just to surprise her. She’d surprised me instead.

“How serious are you about her?” Emily asked suddenly.

“I want to marry her. I even bought her ring while I was in England.” I wagged a finger toward a velvet box on the coffee table in front of us. “I guess I won’t need it now.”

“You might not. Let me make some calls, see if we can figure out where she is, at least. We owe her that much.”

“We owe her a lot more than that. She showed me the world could be a much better place, Emily. A place that’s beautiful. I just… I want her back.”

Emily looked at me with sad eyes before she stood up and offered a hug. I took the embrace and gave it back. “Hold tight, brother. I’ll see what I can do.”

The drive to Nashville jarred me back into reality. I passed small towns that were barely hanging on, yet families still kept their lawns cleared and managed. I’d never known a hard day in my life, not like some of these families had known. I’d never had to decide between medicine and food, dying so that I could eat, or going to the doctor to find out why I was ill. I’d never had to put off owning something until I could save for it. I’d never lived without because I could never dream of affording it. Ember had shown me that world, and even with the money that she’d made from her job with us, she was still frugal, as if it all might escape from her one day without notice.

Ember had shown me that people struggled to feed themselves. Sometimes because of bad decisions that left them with no options, and sometimes because a good decision goes drastically wrong. I’d never really thought people chose to be homeless, but she’d been in a situation beyond anything I’d heard of before. What would have happened to her if I hadn’t come along? Would she have been deported?

I didn’t know, but these were things people should know, maybe. So often the less fortunate were shown magazines and programs about the life of the filthy rich, and I’d often wondered why? Was it to encourage them to work harder, or was it that people were so obtuse they didn’t realize not all moms in a checkout line couldn’t afford the magazine much less the palaces showcased within?

Sure, it was nice to daydream sometimes, but did we constantly have to charge premium prices for crap and shove it in people’s faces? I’d been in a magazine a time or two because of some charity event I’d been to or just out with a friend for the night. I’d never thought anything of it, other than it was an annoyance. And what really hit me was the fact that I’d never asked what charity I’d supported with my money. It was just something my crowd did, and we never asked how the money was spent or where it went to. For all I know, it could line some executive’s pocket.

She’d made me think about all of these things, and I’d stupidly, selfishly thrown it all away. I had to assume. Ember loved me, I could see it in her face when she looked at me, though she’d never said it. She didn’t have to, I could read it in her eyes. She wouldn’t have thrown that away for any amount of money or fame.

She’d had a hard life. She still didn’t talk to her mom because the woman had done such a poor job of being a mother. What kind of life must that have been? I couldn’t imagine hating my mother, and I was sure Ember didn’t hate hers, but she certainly didn’t feel she owed the woman anything. I couldn’t imagine feeling that toward my mother.

My mom was a bit of a socialite, but she’d never been terrible. Ember’s mother had left her to fend for herself in more ways than one from the moment she was born. Her ex-boyfriend had wanted to use her but couldn’t figure out how to. When that had failed, he’d tried to force her to be a drug mule. She’d only known love from one person, her grandmother, and that poor woman had left her early. She wouldn’t have left me for money.

I was an idiot for thinking otherwise, but I knew it now. I had to find her and find out why she left. I punched a button on the car’s cellular system and told it to dial Emily. “Have you found anything yet?”

“No, we’re still looking. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.” Emily sounded distracted, so I didn’t keep her.

“Alright. Thanks, Emily. Talk to you later.”

I made it back to the hotel in Nashville, and part of me hoped Ember would have come home by now, but the room was still empty. I went down to the bar and found Sarah there. “Hi, Sarah. Ginger ale, please.”

“Coming up. You heard from Ember?” She didn’t look at me directly, so I knew she had tried to be polite about it. The two had become friends, and if anyone would have known where Ember was, Sarah would have. The fact that she hadn’t made me worry.

“No, what happened? She was gone when I came back from England.” I took a sip of the drink she’d slid over the bar and waited.

“I don’t know. Things looked normal that last night. She sang her heart out, as always, and then this group of women came in from England. Started asking me about her, kind of snide you know? The next thing I know, one of them had slipped in the back to find Ember backstage. By the time I figured it out and went to go pull her out, she was leaving Ember’s dressing room. That was the last time I saw Ember.”

Cold waves of rage washed over me. “An English woman? Did she look like this?”

I scrolled through my phone until I found the picture I wanted. A picture from a detective I’d hired two years ago. When the woman started to stalk me.

“Yeah, her hair was more blonde than this, but that’s her.”

Damnit. The crazy stalker was back.

Ember