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“Good girl. To demonstrate that you’re not beyond my reach. Your punishments can be delivered anywhere, anytime. Accept my job offer immediately and a certain amount of leniency will be considered.”

If he could break through their security, something was keeping him from just coming in and taking her. Maybe the band’s spotlight really was protecting her. If Roy kidnapped her again, Nathan and the band could hold a press conference, expose him, demand he open up the penthouse for inspection. Their fame alone could wrap him up in allegations, hurt his business, and sever his business connections. Would Roy chance that?

Yeah. He could shut down the gossip with a flick of one of his innovative switches.

“I’m waiting, Charlee, and my patience…well, you understand the limits of my patience. Intimately.”

The last word slithered over her like cold fingers in the dark. She brushed it off. He was boasting his almighty power and attempting to control her with fear. “Fuck you.”

Silence. On the phone. In the endless black suffocating her. She inched forward, straining her eyes uselessly and waving a hand in front of her.

Her fingers bumped a shirt, a solid chest beneath. She screeched.

“Charlee?”

The lights flashed on, blinding and confusing, accompanied by the blare of a bazillion alarms.

Jay stared down at her, the skin around his eyes tight and tinged pink. His arms came around her, and the tension bunching her muscles released in shuddering waves.

His mouth moved, but she couldn’t hear him over the alarms. She slumped against him and looked down at her phone. No live calls. The call log showed on the screen, and the last call was listed eight hours earlier from Nathan’s phone. No unknown callers.Chasing ghosts.

The sirens silenced, but the ring lingered in her ears.

“Are you okay?” His hands moved over her, his gaze searching her face. “I was in the wine cellar. The door locked. I couldn’t get out.”

Automated door locks. She had a sudden dislike for all things electronic. She handed him her phone, anxious to be rid of it. “Roy called.” Her voice quivered, choked. “He’s hacked your automation system.”

74

Five days later, Charlee rested her head against the window, the glass cool against her brow. The activity swarming around the tour buses filled her view from the rear of Vanderschoot’s warehouse loft. The bodyguard had moved the entire household—the band, her, Nathan, Faye, and the ten-man security team—into his two-thousand-square-foot building the night Roy hacked into the estate.

Locating Roy’s RAT proved unsuccessful, so the home automation system had to be dropped offline. Every piece of software and some hardware would need to be replaced. This included HVAC, lighting, shading, security, intercoms, and all personal devices such as laptops, tablets, iPods, and cell phones. Anything with a Wi-Fi connection to the internal network was at risk of infection.

Charlee knew she wore her guilt in dark rings around her eyes, but she tried not to let it dampen her mood and that of the others. On a bright note, the days confined in the warehouse with the band and their personnel had brought her further into their fold. They slept on cots, shared a single bathroom, and no one complained. Jay reminded her they would be living in tighter quarters for the next sixteen weeks.

Nathan and Tony utilized the time surveying tour routes, coordinating watch schedules, and interviewing bodyguards. Once they hit the road, every member of the band would have two personal guards shadowing his every move outside the bus. The interview process was specific and time-consuming, leveraging all of their references to avoid new hires planted by Roy.

The band spent the days practicing their set list. Charlee inked several tats for Rio and Wil and some of the men on the security team. At night, they played a lot of cards. She hoped the easy camaraderie carried over when they climbed aboard the buses.

“Never thought I’d say this.” Nathan braced his forearms on the window sill beside her. “I’m ready to board that bus.”

Apparently after five days in a one-room warehouse, he didn’t share her team spirit.

Outside, roadies and security staff flurried around two sleeper buses. Four Suburbans parked at angles in the rear lot, shoring the buses and creating a barricade against traffic.

At the edge of the perimeter, armed guards held back a crowd of onlookers. Through the duration of the tour, the protective team of twenty would stagger their sleep schedules, utilizing bunks on the second bus with the roadies and Faye, and escort the buses with a moving formation of Suburbans.

What a cavalry they would make. That was the point. Roy wouldn’t risk a physical attack while they were in the blinding spotlight of public attention.

“So you’re ready to get the show on the road?” She bumped her shoulder into his. “Because sixteen weeks on a bus will be better than five days in a warehouse?”

He smirked. “There are curtains on the bunks.”

Ah. He missed his private Tony time. The notion filled her head with images of Jay moving over her in a tiny bunk. A thrill squirmed through her. “Curtains?”

He smiled, huge and full of teeth, prompting them both into a spontaneous burst of laughter. She jabbed him in the ribs.

Across the parking lot, Jay leaned against one of the buses, arms crossed, and head nodding as a tall, lean woman jabbered with animated expressions and hand gestures. A breeze caught wisps of her waist-length blond hair, lifting it around her. She blew it out of her face and looked up at Jay, smiling.