Broken: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 3) Page 15

  While Beth and Gina are bonding over reception plans, my phone vibrates with an incoming message. Thinking Jonah might be trying to reach me, I check it. It’s not from Jonah, though. It’s from Miguel. That can’t be good.

  You might want to get back here. All hell’s breaking loose on your boy.

  Shit! I look at Beth, ready to apologize for ditching her.

  Beth looks like the weight of the world has been lifted off her shoulders. “You have to go, don’t you?”

  I nod. “Yeah. Sounds like there’s trouble back at the house.”

  She reaches for her purse. “Then let’s go.”

  I feel a pang in my chest as I realize just how much I miss Beth. I miss seeing her every day. We hurry back to Clancy’s so I can turn her over to the watchful eyes of Sam, who’s loitering near the front entrance, watching for her.

  “It’s about time!” Sam says, as we reach the front doors. “I was about to put out an APB.”

  “Ha, funny,” I tell him. When Beth gives me a tight squeeze, I whisper in her ear. “Elope, got it? No worries, no pressure. Tell him tonight, all right?”

  She nods. “I will. I promise.”

  Chapter 23

  I make it back to the rental house in record time. The second I hop out of my Jeep, I can hear the ruckus coming from inside the house. Numerous voices, all shouting, and it’s impossible to make out what they’re griping about. Miguel wasn’t kidding. All hell is breaking loose.

  As I approach the back door, the security guard steps back to let me pass. “They’ve been goin’ at it for nearly an hour,” he says, shaking his head.

  I stalk through the kitchen – right past a silent Esperanza – and head for the source of the commotion, the dining room.

  My eyes immediately light on Jonah, who’s seated at the dining room table, a half-eaten breakfast sitting on the table in front of him, long abandoned. Miguel is leaning against the wall behind Jonah, his arms crossed over his chest and a disgusted look on his face.

  I nod at Miguel. He comes away from the wall and marches right past me, slowing down only long enough to bump fists with me. “Thanks for the heads-up,” I tell him.

  Miguel nods. “Anytime. He’s all yours.” And then he’s out the door.

  Dwight’s on his feet, directly across the table from Jonah, leaning toward Jonah with his hands planted on the table top. Dwight’s doing most of the shouting. Makayla, the other one who’s yelling, is pacing the room in a pair of gold fuck-me heels, a red mini-skirt, and a transparent, white silk halter top. Her nipples are rouged a deep dark red – I can tell because she’s not wearing a bra. Really? Dressed like a hooker at one o’clock in the afternoon?

  The rest of the band is seated around the table, warily eyeing the bickering grown-ups like little kids watching their parents having an argument.

  I smack my hand on the table, and everyone jumps. “What the hell’s going on?”

  All eyes turn to me, accompanied by a variety of expressions. Dwight looks irritated at my arrival, Makayla pissed off. The boys seem to perk up at the addition of a new variable in this clusterfuck. Jonah looks relieved.

  Dwight lifts a dismissive hand in my direction. “This doesn’t concern you, Lia. Go to your room.”

  I plant my arms across my chest and glare at the king of the douchebags. “Excuse me! Did you just tell me to go to my room? Seriously, dude, you are not the boss of me.”

  Jonah chuckles and Makayla steps forward, towering over me in her pointy-toed, witchy shoes. “This is none of your business, Lia, so just butt out.”

  I return her icy stare. “Does it have anything to do with Jonah?”

  “Of course it does!”

  “Then it is my business.” I turn to Jonah. “What the hell’s going on?”

  Jonah leans back casually in his chair. “Dwight wants me to sign on to an additional North American tour starting next month. We just toured the U.S. and Canada last winter and spring. We’re not supposed to tour again for another year.”

  “Do you want to go on tour again?”

  “No.”

  “Okay, then don’t do it. Simple.”

  Dwight glowers my way. “Lia, this is none of your fucking business.”

  “Yeah, Lia,” Makayla says. “It’s none of your fucking business.” She grabs my arm and tries to pull me out of the room. “Can I talk to you?”

  “No, you cannot.” I pull my arm free. “Why are you even here? Who invited you?”

  “I did,” Dwight says. “She’s part of this discussion.”

  Then it dawns on me what this is about, and I look at Jonah for confirmation. “He wants you to tour with Makayla?”

  Jonah nods, looking less than enthused.

  I start laughing – I can’t help myself. “I guess Dwight’s not been paying attention.”

  “Lia, just get out,” Dwight says, pointing toward the kitchen. “Your services are no longer needed.”

  Fed up, I skirt the table and grab hold of Jonah’s T-shirt. “Can I see you in the hall please?”

  Jonah follows me out into the hallway, and I close the door behind us – maybe a little harder than necessary – effectively shutting out the noise.

  “Do you want to tour with Makayla?”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Have you been paying attention?”

  “All right then. Do you have anything important scheduled between now and the performance Friday night?”

  “No.”

  “Good. Go pack a bag. Pack light, and be quick about it. We’re leaving.”

  Jonah takes the stairs two at a time and disappears from sight. I head to my room and pack my own bags, and I’m back at the foot of the staircase just as he reappears with a gray duffle bag thrown over his shoulder and an ancient brown guitar case in his hand.

  “Let’s go.” I push him down the hallway toward the door that leads directly into the kitchen. “We’ll be gone before they even know it.”

  “Where are we going?” He seems more curious than concerned.

  “Away from here.”

  Esperanza is standing at the kitchen counter cutting up potatoes as we pass through on our way to the back door. Her elegantly-shaped, dark eyebrows rise in surprise, but she doesn’t say a word.

  “If Dwight asks, tell him I’ll have Jonah back Friday afternoon in plenty of time for the show.”

  She nods, not missing a beat as we slip out the back door.

  * * *

  “Where are we going?” Jonah says, as I drive Jeep through the gates and out onto the street.

  “Away from here.”

  “Care to be a little bit more specific?”

  “Nope.”

  As soon as we hit the highway heading north, I hit a speed dial number on my phone and Jake answers.

  “Hey, sis. What’s up?” he says.

  “I need to borrow the cabin for a couple of days.”

  “Sure, help yourself. Everything okay?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine. We just need a break from Crazytown.”

  Jake chuckles.

  “Let Shane know, will ya? Tell him I’ll have Jonah back in plenty of time for Friday’s performance.”

  Jake laughs. “And why aren’t you telling him this yourself?”

  “Because he’ll yell at me, that’s why.”

  “All right. I’ll see you Friday. Have Jonah at Rowdy’s by four o’clock for a sound check and dress rehearsal.”

  “Will do. You’ll be there?”

  “Yep. I’m handling security.”

  Once I hang up the phone, Jonah looks at me. “A cabin?”

  “It’s an old fishing cabin just outside of Harbor Springs, out in the middle of nowhere. We can hide out there until Friday.”

  I can’t help noticing that Jonah looks a little haggard, and there are shadows beneath his eyes. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

  He shrugs, looking away. “Three or four hours maybe, early this morning.”

  “Then lie
back and get some sleep. We have a two-hour drive ahead of us. You might as well make the most of it.”

  Jonah reclines his seat and leans back, closing his eyes. “Wake me when we get there.”

  * * *

  Surprisingly, Jonah does fall asleep. Once we’re on the open road, he reclines his seat and closes his eyes. It’s not until his breathing slows and deepens that I realize he’s actually asleep. I’m pretty sure he suffers from some kind of sleeping disorder. A lot of things make more sense now... like why I often hear him putzing around upstairs late at night and why I’ve never seen him come down for breakfast with everyone else. The poor guy’s probably just getting to sleep when we’re getting up. At first I thought it was just his lifestyle – the whole rocker thing, staying up late, partying, crashing all day. But now I know it’s not that at all.

  I stick earbuds in so I can listen to music as I’m driving and not disturb sleeping beauty. Listening to music while I’m driving keeps me alert and frosty.

  We’ve got a full tank of gas, so it’s smooth sailing up the highway to our destination, no need to make any stops. We’ll stock up on supplies once we get there. It’s a rough old fishing cabin set on thirty acres of woods, with a quarter mile of private shoreline right on Lake Michigan. The only amenities are a small private dock, a couple of canoes and a four-seater fishing boat moored under a canopy. When we were young, my dad used to bring us kids up here during summers, before the guys all went off to do their own things, most of them in the military. Eventually, Jake bought the place from our dad, and he continued coming up here pretty regularly by himself. He still does. I think it’s his escape to get away from... things.

  I pull off the highway at a nondescript exit and head east on a two-lane road that looks like it goes nowhere. It’s a short drive through heavily wooded countryside that leads to Harbor Springs, population less than two thousand. Harbor Springs is a die-hard fishing town with more rental cabins than actual residents.

  In the center of town, if you can call it that, there’s a small grocery store, a gas station, a tackle-and-bait shop, an all-night diner, a barbecue joint, a bar, and a few other businesses. All that takes up three city blocks. That’s about it. After that, there’s nothing but the occasional one-story, white clapboard house with peeling paint and a huge yard. And then there are all the rental cabins along the shoreline and a few charter fishing boat businesses located at the public docks.

  This place is perfect for our needs. I just want to get Jonah away from the noise and the crowds and the demands on his time. I especially want to get him away from Dwight and Makayla – those two are trying to suck the life right out of him, and he’s too damn nice to push back.

  It pisses me off – Dwight doesn’t give a fuck about what Jonah wants or needs. He’s out for whatever he can get for himself. He’s just using Jonah to further his own career and line his pockets. And as for Makayla – she just wants Jonah back, probably because he’s a trophy boyfriend. She doesn’t really care about him, or she wouldn’t treat him the way she does.

  * * *

  Once we’re in the town limits, I slow down to negotiate the narrow, brick-paved lanes. Jonah stirs from his nap and raises his seat, glancing around at the quaint throwback to a previous century.

  “We’re here?” he says.

  His voice is rough from sleep, and the sound of it does something to my insides. Unbidden memories fill my head. I have half-formed memories of him whispering in my ear in the dead of night. There’s a fluttering deep in my belly that feels suspiciously like butterflies. Ruthlessly, I shove the sensation aside.

  “Yeah, we’re here.” I pull into the little parking lot behind the grocery store. “First things first. We’ll need some groceries.”

  We grab just the basics that we’ll need – beer, coffee, milk, eggs, bread, deli meat and cheese for sandwiches, and chips. We grab a few toiletries, just in case. Then we’re back on the road. A half mile down Main Street, I turn off onto a single-lane gravel road that leads out to Jake’s place on the outskirts of the little town.

  “Let’s drop off our stuff, then head into town,” I say. I know he didn’t get a chance to eat his breakfast. “We’ll get you something to eat in town, then I’ll give you the grand tour.”

  * * *

  Jake’s log cabin sits deep in the woods, in the middle of a clearing. It’s a modest cabin, just one story, with a covered porch across the front. There are the two requisite wooden rocking chairs on the porch, along with a creaky old swing. The only sounds out here are the wind whistling through the trees and the ceaseless chatter of birds, and at night a cacophony of insect mating calls. It’s all very tranquil and picturesque. Just what we need.

  It’s October now, so the leaves are changing into vibrant yellows, oranges, and reds, and the temperatures are pleasantly cool. The ground is littered with fallen leaves that crunch beneath our feet as we walk across the gravel drive to the front porch.

  The old porch creaks and groans beneath our feet. Looking quite out of place, there’s an electronic control panel next to the front door. I punch in a passcode. There’s a faint click as the security system disengages the front door locks. I push the door open and step inside the sparsely furnished living room, Jonah following me in. On the wall just inside is another electronic panel – this one showing a schematic of the entire cabin.

  “What’s that?” Jonah says.

  “Infrared scanners. They detect any heat signatures bigger than a mouse. It’s to check for squatters.”

  The scanner looks quiet – there are no flashing indicators.

  “I guess we’re safe then, except for maybe mice,” Jonah says, the corners of his lips turning up.

  The cabin is bare bones. There’s just this front room on the left side of the cabin, with a little kitchen behind it, as well as a fitness room not much bigger than a closet. On the right are two small bedrooms with a tiny bathroom between them.

  We carry in the groceries and put them away, then go back out to the Jeep to get our bags and Jonah’s guitar.

  “Take your pick,” I tell Jonah, pointing to the two bedrooms.

  He heads toward the back bedroom, and I dump my stuff in the front bedroom. Each bedroom has a double bed, a nightstand with a lamp, a small dresser, and two windows. There are also doors that connect each bedroom into the shared bathroom. The cabin’s quite cozy, and by cozy, I mean it’s small.

  After dumping my stuff and putting my gun safe under the bed, I head to Jonah’s bedroom. I sit on his bed and watch him hang his few items of clothing in the closet. I know he’s used to five-star accommodations. This is zero-stars. “Sorry, it’s certainly not the Hyatt.”

  “It’s fine,” he says, closing the closet door. “It reminds me of my grandpa’s fishing cabin. I used to spend summers there with my grandparents.”

  I can’t tell if that’s a good memory for him, or a bad one. “Shall we head into town to get you a bite to eat?”

  “Yes. I’m starving.”

  Chapter 24

  There was a time, a really bad, dark time, when Jake practically lived up here. I’d ride up with my dad, or with Shane or Jamie, and we’d try to talk Jake into coming back home. But usually he wouldn’t. And half the time he was drunk on his ass.

  I was just a little kid then, barely ten years old, and I didn’t understand why Jake stayed here so often, all by himself, looking like a miserable shadow of himself. Shane always told me not to worry, that Jake would be okay. But I never understood why he was so unhappy. I figured it had something to do with his girlfriend dumping him at the last minute to get married to another guy. That had to suck.

  Whenever anyone mentioned Annie’s name, Jake would fly off the handle and start throwing things. Or worse, he’d get drunk and punch holes in the walls. Even then, at the age of ten, I knew it was a shitty thing his girlfriend had done to him. How could a girl just up and marry some other guy when she was engaged to another? And why did Jake even care? Surely he
could find another girlfriend. What was so special about Annie anyway? She wasn’t even that pretty.

  Jake was never the same again after she did that. Even today, he dates occasionally, but it’s never anything serious. I can’t help wondering if he’s still pining for that quiet, mousey girl.

  If he is, he’s an idiot.

  * * *

  It’s only a ten-minute ride into town. Already, I can feel the mood lightening in the Jeep. Jonah seems relaxed, happy even, as he turns on the radio. There’s only one radio station we can pick up clearly out here without a satellite, and it plays oldies from the 60s and 70s.

  “What’s your favorite music, Lia?”

  “Hip hop, rap.”

  He chuckles, and I’m not sure if he’s making fun of me or not. “Who do you listen to?”

  “Pitbull, Flo Rida, Eminem. Pretty much anyone with a good beat. What about you?”

  “I grew up in Detroit, so it was Mo-town all the way, Marvin Gaye, Aretha Franklin. Later I discovered rock and roll, The Rolling Stones and Aerosmith.”

  “We’re not far from Detroit now, you know,” I say. “It’s just across Lake Michigan.”

  “Yeah, but it might as well be about a million miles away.”

  “Do you get back there often?”

  He shakes his head. “Not if I can help it. I’ll go back if my mom needs something, but otherwise I stay the hell away. There are a lot of bad memories for me back there. She and my brother come visit me in LA a couple times a year. My little brother’s a sophomore at the University of Michigan.”

  “Are you close to your mom?”

  Jonah shrugs, but doesn’t say anything.

  “No? Yes? Maybe?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  “Your dad?”

  “I have no idea where he is. No one’s heard from him in a decade.”

  I can tell from his tone of voice that this is not something he wants to talk about. It’s hard for me to relate. My family’s really close. Our parents have been living abroad in Europe for the past year – a retirement gift to themselves – so we haven’t seen them in a long time, but we’re all really close.