Page 10 of Before Eve

Grayson’s team knows I took a bus.

Okay, think Eve, think.

There were a lot of buses leaving all throughout the late night and early morning. His people would’ve shown my picture around, but I don’t look anything like my old self.

But let’s say they figured out what bus I took. I changed lines several times to cover my tracks. I was so careful. There’s no way they know I’m here. Plus tomorrow we’ll be in a whole new city.

There’s nowhere you can run that I won’t find you.

Grayson’s voice sneaks in, and I mentally shove him right back out.

I walk from the VIP room. Across the now-empty amphitheater, I catch sight of Ford down by the soundboard and hurry toward him. He’s so concentrated on whatever he’s listening to through his headset, he doesn’t hear me at first.I quietly observe as he slides a few bars and turns some knobs. I bet mixing a live show is incredible.

Ford looks up then, startling us both. “What are you still doing here?”

“I need a ride back to the hotel. I was cleaning the VIP room, and everyone left.”

“Give me a sec, and I’ll take you over.”

With a nod, I back off a few yards and watch as he continues making adjustments to the board.

He finally powers down and grabs his stuff, and I follow him out to an SUV. Neither one of us talks as he drives me the few miles down the road to the hotel.

When I walk into the room I share with Anne, I hear her in the shower.

I dig the duct tape from my duffel and press a piece over the peephole. The one in my bedroom wasn’t covered, and for now, I need to do this to feel safe.

Grabbing the guitar Brynn gave me, I stretch out on my bed and strum a few chords trying to calm my jittery body and rattled mind.

I whisper a desperate, intense declaration, “I’m free, and I will stay that way.”

CHAPTER 6

I toss all night,wake in a cold sweat, and finally get up at six. There are still hours yet before we leave for Memphis, the next city on the tour. So, I pull on a pair of running shorts and a T-shirt, grab my ball cap, and make my way out into the weak light of early morning.

I love the early mornings when no one’s around, and it’s just me and the pavement. I like the solitude and the peacefulness, the speed, wind, and independence. The freedom. There’s really nothing like it.

Still, though, I scan the area as I go through my warm up stretches, looking for anything or anyone odd. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.

“Morning, Blue Eyes,” West says, standing propped against the hotel wall. You look a little tired.”

And he looks a little too bright and friendly for someone who supposedly went out with some friends after the VIP thing and is now up at six in the morning for—I check out his shorts and snug T-shirt—a run, too.

I resist the overwhelming desire to cover my exposed limbs. Up until a month ago, I had never worn or owned a pair of shorts or jeans. Dresses and skirts—it’s what Grayson alwayshad me wear.

West smiles, having no clue what’s echoing through my thoughts. He bends to tie his shoe. This is all so normal for him—the flirting, the friendliness, the openness. Is this who he really is, or more of his “music star” default?

He finishes with that shoe and goes to the other, and I use the moment to openly stare at him. At his black hair that curls out a little from his ball cap, at the stubble peppering his jaw, and at his lightly hairy legs. The tattoo twining his arm draws my focus again, and I find myself wondering how far up it goes under his shirt sleeve.

He stands back up, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a package of gum. “Here, I always chew when I run.”

“No, thank you.”

He gives me a comical look. “What? No candy from strangers or some such thing?”

“No.” I chuckle. “Just don’t want any.”

West tosses one into his mouth. “Mm, cinnamon, my favorite. You’re missing out.” He holds up the package again. “Sure you don’t want any?”