Page 117 of Hideaway Heart

“Coming right up,” she said with a smile. Her black collared shirt had Kate stitched on it in gold letters.

While I was sitting there, a text came in from Zach Barrett with Lawrence Hooper’s flight information. I scanned it quickly. No surprises—he’d flown in on Thursday, the same day Kelly had arrived, the day she’d posted the selfie that revealed the house address. He must have seen the photo and jumped on a plane first thing.

Then I looked a little closer.

The days made sense, but thetimesdid not. His first flight had left Nashville around nine a.m., long before Kelly had posted that photo.

What the fuck? How had Hooper known where she was going? Who’d tipped him off?

I recalled asking her who knew she was coming up here, and her answer had been her parents, her assistant, her manager, and Duke. But that was Friday afternoon, and according to Kelly, Duke had only learned of her whereabouts that day. And she’d claimed everyone else could be trusted.

So who’d leaked her location? And why? For publicity? Money? To keep tabs on her? It was going to gnaw at me until I had an answer. I needed to get ahold of Hooper and convince him it was in his best interest to be up front with me. But how was I going to find that asshole?

While I was thinking about it, the guy next to me held up his credit card and waved it around. “Hey, can I get my check?”

“One second,” Kate answered, typing something into the computer. When she returned, she took his credit card and looked at it. “James Bond? Is that really your name?”

“Sure is, sweetheart.”

James Bond?

I gave the guy a sidelong glance. White skin. Blond hair. Tall and beefy, like a bouncer. Was this the asshole who’d tried to get ten grand out of Kelly?

“Cool name,” I said. “So are you a spy?”

He looked over, his eyes raking over my build and my tattoos. He sat up a little straighter, puffed up his chest. “No. I’m in private security.”

Boom.

“Oh yeah? Like a bodyguard?”

“Yeah.” He tried to suck in his gut.

“So have you ever guarded any big name celebrities?”

“Tons of them,” he boasted. “But they all suck.”

I laughed like he’d said something funny. “Anyone I’d know?”

He rattled off a few people I’d never heard of. And then. “I worked for Pixie Hart too. The singer.”

“Oh yeah? My kids like her. She seems nice.”

“She’s a bitch just like the rest of them,” he said, and I had to fight the urge to punch his fucking lights out. “She fired me for no reason.”

“Seriously?” My beer arrived, and I wrapped my hand around it so tight I thought the glass might splinter.

“Yeah. Couple of the other guys on the team were doing some shady shit, taking money for tipping off the paparazzi and whatnot, but it wasn’t me, and I got fired anyway.”

“So the paparazzi were paying the security team for tips?”

He shook his head as he signed his check. “Fuck no, those guys don’t have any money. It was her ex-boyfriend paying the guys to leak the info.”

Deep breaths. In through the nose. Out the mouth. “Her ex-boyfriend paid the security team to leak information to photographers? Why?”

“Who knows?” He put the pen down. “Probably just to fuck with her. The guy’s a douche bag.”

“The world’s full of them,” I said, getting off my chair. Tossing money onto the bar without even waiting for my food, I bolted from the restaurant with my phone to my ear. Kelly’s voicemail picked up, and I left a message. “Hey, baby, it’s me. Please call me when you can.” Then I tried Marius and got his voicemail too.