Broken: (McIntyre Security Bodyguard Series - Book 3) Page 9

  She greets me with a smile. “Good morning, Lia. There’s coffee and a hot breakfast on the buffet in the dining room. Help yourself, dear.”

  I could definitely get used to living like this. “Thank you.”

  As I walk into the dining room, my good mood is spoiled by the sight of Dwight seated at the far end of the big table, engrossed in a newspaper. After I fill a plate with food, I take a seat at the opposite end of the table. “So, Dwight, what’s this about a performance Friday night?”

  He looks up from his paper. “Since when do I have to inform you of my every decision?”

  I snort with laughter. “Since you hired McIntyre Security to provide security for Jonah. A concert is a pretty big deal, pal.”

  “Don’t call me that.”

  I honestly have to wonder why Shane assigned me to Jonah in the first place. Surely he knew that Dwight and I could never get along. Dwight is a pompous ass, and I don’t take shit from anyone. I’m baffled, but I know Shane doesn’t do anything without a good reason.

  “Isn’t it kind of obvious?” Pal. “We’ll need to secure a suitable venue, and we’ll need to schedule extra security that night. Don’t you think you should have let us in on this? Does Shane even know?”

  He shrugs. “It’s only been in the works a few days. I wasn’t even sure if Makayla would agree to do it.”

  “Oh, she’s agreed all right.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because she told me last night. She waylaid Jonah at the recording studio. You told her where to find him, didn’t you?”

  At that moment, Jonah walks into the dining room looking a bit hung over. His jeans hang low on his hips and his plain white tee is wrinkled. He looks like he just rolled out of bed.

  “Yeah, Dwight,” Jonah says. “What’s Makayla doing here? We talked about this. The reason I came out here was to get away from her, and you invited her out here?”

  Dwight sets down his paper and picks up his cup of coffee, cradling it in both hands. “It’ll be a media sensation, Jonah, so don’t worry. Locke performs an impromptu concert here in the city, and Makayla strolls out on stage – a total surprise – and you two sing your hit duet together. The public wants you two back together. This surprise performance will take social media by storm... it’ll be an instant viral hit. You’ve got contract negotiations coming up next week, Jonah. The buzz from this event will give you greater leverage in negotiations. It’s a win-win.”

  Jonah pours himself a cup of coffee. “Stop encouraging Makayla, Dwight. I’m trying to make a clean break of it with her, and you’re not helping.”

  “You dating Makayla was the best thing that’s ever happened to you or this band.”

  “That’s debatable.”

  “The publicity alone keeps you at the top of the media feeding frenzy.”

  “But I don’t want to be at the top of the media feeding frenzy!” Jonah says. “That’s the whole point!”

  Dwight picks up his fork and stabs his eggs. “Don’t be ridiculous, Jonah. Stars don’t just happen – they’re made. And I’m making you a star – that’s my job. This concert is going to happen. End of story.”

  I’d really love to smack Dwight upside the head. “I repeat, does Shane know about this?”

  Dwight shrugs and resumes eating his breakfast. “I can’t remember if I told him or not.”

  “Where is this supposed event taking place?”

  Dwight shrugs. “I’m sure we can find a venue. It doesn’t have to be anything fancy – we just need an adequate stage and an audience, decent lighting, and a good sound system. It’s just for the PR. And I’ve arranged for a video crew to be there. I want to make a music video out of it.”

  I get up to pour myself a second cup of coffee, hoping caffeine will get me through the morning. There’s no time for breakfast. As I walk out of the room to call Shane, I ponder the fact that Jonah didn’t say a single word to me. Hell, he didn’t even look at me. I guess I got my message across last night.

  I know I should be grateful, so why do I feel like a total ass instead?

  * * *

  Shane answers on the second ring. “Lia. What’s up?”

  “Did douchebag tell you he’s planning a performance Friday night?”

  “What? No, Dwight hasn’t said anything about a performance.”

  I have to grin at the tinge of annoyance in Shane’s voice. Apparently I’m not the only one who finds Dwight Peterson a pain in the ass.

  “This Friday?” he says, trying not to sound incredulous. “That doesn’t give us much time.”

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  “All right. I’ll meet with Dwight this morning, and we’ll figure something out. We’ll have to keep it relatively small and tightly contained, because we don’t need a fan mob on our hands. Rowdy’s will work. They can seat two hundred. I’ll arrange to rent the bar for the night. Thanks for the heads up.”

  * * *

  I head back to the dining room to give Jonah an update, but both he and Dwight are gone. Esperanza’s still in the kitchen, though, peeling a small mountain of Granny Smith apples.

  “Hello, Lia,” she says, when I hop up on the counter to watch her work. “Did you get enough for breakfast?”

  She peels apples with surgical precision, wasting not one bit of the white flesh. “Yes, thank you. It was delicious. What are you making?”

  “An apple pie. Jonah loves apple pie.” She smiles, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners. She has a multitude of tiny crow’s feet framing her eyes, and her face is softly lined with age. In a lot of ways, she reminds me of my mom.

  I watch her work, her fingers nimble as she rolls out dough and forms a pie shell. She prepares the apple filling, then she braids strips of dough to make a decorative, latticed top for the pie. I’m impressed – no easy shortcuts for Esperanza.

  “You take good care of him, don’t you?” I say, as she puts the pie in the oven. We both know who I’m talking about.

  “He’s a good man. And he’s easy to care for.”

  “Where is Jonah, by the way?”

  “I believe he took his plate and coffee upstairs with him.”

  Jonah’s an introvert, like me. No wonder he and Makayla are ill-suited for each other. I also can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding me now, after our interlude in the fitness room last night.

  There’s a knock at the rear door and one of the security guards opens the door and pokes his head inside. “Mr. McIntyre just arrived.”

  Shane’s here. Awesome. I can’t wait to watch him manage Peterson. I head out the back door just as Shane gets out of his vintage silver Jaguar. He’s looking all bad ass in his dark suit and tie and a pair of dark sunglasses.

  I meet him halfway across the drive, and he gives me a fist bump. “Hey,” I say.

  He slips his phone inside his suit jacket pocket, then slips his arm across my shoulders and pulls me to him. “How’s it going?”

  “Fine.”

  “Things going all right with you and Jonah?”

  His question surprises me. “Sure.” I shrug. “Fine.”

  “So, what’s this about a performance?”

  “Dwight invited Jonah’s crazy ex-girlfriend to come out here from LA so she can perform with Jonah Friday night. It’s a PR stunt, and Jonah’s not happy about it. He’s avoiding his ex.”

  Shane frowns. “The reason Jonah left LA in the first place was to get away from Makayla Hendricks, and now she’s here?”

  “Yeah. She showed up at the recording studio last night demanding to see him.”

  We head inside, and Shane removes his sunglasses as he greets Esperanza. “Ms. Lopez,” he says, shaking her hand. “Shane McIntyre. It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

  She smiles. “Mr. McIntyre, welcome.”

  “Call me Shane, please. I’m here to see Dwight. Is he around?”

  She points toward the central hallway. “Check the library, left down the hall. He’s using it fo
r his office.”

  I follow Shane to the library, not wanting to miss this. Dwight is seated in a high-back leather chair behind a large mahogany desk, tapping away on his laptop.

  Shane pauses inside the open doorway. “Dwight.”

  Dwight glances up from his computer. “Oh, Shane, good. You’re just the person I need to see.”

  Shane walks into the room. “What’s this about a performance Friday night?”

  “Yes, I’m throwing together an impromptu performance for the band. It’ll be a small event, but we need somewhere nice.”

  Shane takes a seat in one of the chairs in front of the desk, motioning for me to take the other seat. “It would have been nice if you’d given us more warning about this event. We need time to make the preparations.”

  Dwight shrugs. “As I said, it’s a small event. I’m sure your people can manage it.”

  “I’ll handle all the arrangements,” Shane says. “I’ll rent a venue for the night, and I’ll handle the security arrangements. I’ll also provide the guests. The bar seats two hundred. We’ll fill it with my employees and some of Beth’s to eliminate risk.”

  “Fine.” Dwight waves his hand dismissively. “As long as the place is full, I don’t care who attends. I just want a good photo op and some good video footage. I’ll invite the big social media outlets and some popular YouTubers.”

  Shane frowns. “Dwight, Jonah came to Chicago to get away from Makayla and the media.”

  “Well, that’s too bad. Media coverage is part of the deal. He doesn’t have a say in the matter. And as for Makayla, she’s publicity gold.”

  I’ve heard enough. Listening to Dwight plan Jonah’s life with a complete disregard for the guy’s feelings is sending my blood pressure through the roof. I stand in protest. “Sounds to me like Jonah needs a new manager.”

  Dwight’s jaw snaps shut and his face flushes a deep red. “Maybe what he needs is new security.”

  “What I need is for people to stop talking behind my back.”

  We all turn to see Jonah standing in the open doorway, his hands on his hips. “What the hell is going on?” he says, coming into the room. He nods at Shane. “Hey, thanks for coming.”

  “No problem,” Shane says.

  Jonah turns his gaze on Dwight. “You should never have invited Makayla to Chicago.”

  “It’s not up to you, Jonah. As your manager – ”

  I butt in, eyeing Jonah. “You need a new manager.”

  “Shut up, Lia,” Dwight says, practically growling. Then he turns back to Jonah. “Need I remind you that you have contract negotiations coming up next week? Your first contract was crap, because you were an unknown then. Now you’re a household name. We need to capitalize on that fact to get you the best terms. You need to be at the top of the heap. That means owning social media, trending, viral, the whole nine yards. The livelihood and welfare of everyone in your organization depends on the contract you can negotiate.”

  There’s a knock at the door, and we all turn to see one of the security staff.

  “What is it?” Dwight snaps.

  “Makayla Hendricks is outside the gates, asking to come in.”

  “Well, let her in!” Dwight says. “Don’t keep her waiting.”

  “For fuck’s sake,” Jonah says, glaring at Dwight. He turns and stalks out of the room. “You deal with her, Dwight. I’m not here.”

  I run after Jonah. “Jonah, wait!”

  He pauses, but doesn’t turn around to look at me. “What is it, Lia?”

  I come around him to face him. His expression is tight and he’s radiating tension.

  “Why do you let that douchebag call the shots? In case you haven’t noticed, the band is called Locke. As in Jonah Locke. You are the band. You don’t have to let him make all the decisions, especially when they’re counter to your own needs.”

  “He’s right. There are a lot of people on my payroll. I can’t just leave things to chance. People depend on me. The guys, Esperanza, Ruben, the stage and road crews. Even Dwight.”

  “Look, Makayla’s going to be in here in about three minutes.”

  He shakes his head. “I need to get out of here. I need some fresh air, and I don’t want to deal with her drama right now.”

  “Then let’s go.” I grab his hand and lead him down the hall to my room. We slip inside and I close the door. After grabbing my keys and wallet, I crack open the door and wait until Makayla and her little entourage walk past my room, escorted by one of the security staff. Once she passes, Jonah and I sneak out through the kitchen and take off in my Jeep.

  Getting through the gate and past the growing crowd out front takes some doing, but before long, we’re on the road.

  “Where to?” I ask him.

  “I don’t know. I’d say the studio, but she knows where that is now. She’ll probably come there looking for me. So, I don’t know. This is your town. Where do you suggest? I just want somewhere quiet, no crowds, no photographers. Just fresh air and sunshine.”

  “I know just the place.”

  Chapter 15

  “Where are we?” Jonah asks, when I exit the highway and turn onto a paved two-lane drive that meanders through the woods.

  “This is Shane’s place. Well, one of them. No one will bother you here, I guarantee it.”

  We drive a half-mile through the woods before coming to a tall wrought-iron gate. I stop the Jeep and open my window. “It’s me. Lia. Open up.”

  The gate promptly opens, and I drive through. We approach a second gate a few minutes later, and it opens for us automatically.

  “Jesus, this place is like Fort Knox,” Jonah says.

  The lane continues on for another half mile, as we pass a huge pond on the left and pastures on the right where half a dozen horses graze. Turning a bend in the road, we come into view of the house. It’s an impressive sight, I must say. It’s huge, with over a dozen suites. Shane fashioned it after a ski lodge our family visited once years ago in Aspen, Colorado.

  “Whoa,” Jonah says. “This is Shane’s house?”

  I chuckle. “Beth calls it a hotel.”

  I park in front of the main entrance, and we walk inside the two-story foyer, which is well lit with large picture windows and sky lights. I lead him down the hallway to the great room at the rear of the house, to show him the view out back. The two-story great room overlooks a wide expanse of lush green lawn, and at the bottom of the slight hill is a private sandy beach and Lake Michigan.

  “This is one hell of a view,” Jonah says.

  From here the docks are visible, too, off to the right, as are the boats.

  Jonah looks around the great room, with its soaring stone hearth and a fireplace large enough for a man to walk into. Several comfortable sofas and chairs are arranged in conversational groupings. There’s a full bar on one side of the room, and through an open archway is a the kitchen.

  “Is anyone here?” Jonah asks. “It’s so quiet.”

  “There are about a half dozen people who live here all the time. Ellie runs the house, and her husband, George, manages the estate. There are four security staff members here at all times. Sometimes Shane has clients stay here, when extra security is required. He’s had all kinds of visiting dignitaries stay here, even the President and visiting royals from the UK and other European countries. My brother Jamie used to live here full time, but he recently moved into an apartment of his own in Wicker Park.”

  “It’s a beautiful place,” Jonah says, sounding almost wistful. He turns his gaze toward the beach. “Can we walk down there?”

  “Sure. Come on.”

  The lawn slopes gently downward toward the lake, and before long, the well-trimmed grass transitions into tall grasses lining the beach. We follow a well-worn foot path through the grass down to the beach, where the surf comes in gently onto the sandy beach. The water here is clear. Off in the distance, there are a few yachts and a large charter board out on the horizon, cutting through the white capped wave
s.

  Jonah pulls off his sneakers and socks and folds up the legs of his jeans so he can wade into the waves as they roll onto the beach. “The water’s cold,” he says.

  I laugh. “It’s not like the beaches you’re used to in California. Lake Michigan never really warms up, not even in the summer.”

  “I’ve never even made it to the beaches in LA,” he says. “I was always too busy with all the events Dwight scheduled. I was running nonstop. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve been able to just chill.”

  “I know it’s none of my business, but why do you keep Dwight around? He seems like an ass, and he obviously doesn’t listen to you. Why do you put up with him?”

  “He’s the one who discovered me through some videos I posted on YouTube of myself singing. He pitched me to the record label. I owe him, Lia. And I guess I’m stuck with him.”

  “That’s bullshit. You’re the talent, not Dwight. Surely you can insist on a new manager. The guy’s a total douchebag.”

  Jonah chuckles. “That may be true, but he gets results. I’ve had a song in the top ten every single week for six months now. Dwight knows the industry, and he understands the public well. He’s never been wrong.”

  “But you’re not happy, are you?”

  Jonah stares out at the horizon. “Happy was never part of the deal.”

  I shake my head. “It doesn’t have to be one or the other, Jonah. You don’t have to sacrifice your happiness – or your soul, for that matter – just to be successful in the music business. I’m sure there’s another way. There has to be.”

  He frowns at me. “What do you know about the music business?”

  “Nothing. But I’m not stupid. You’re incredibly talented. You should be the one calling the shots. Do things your way. Fuck Dwight. Fuck the record label.”

  “I can’t, Lia. I’m under contract.”

  “A contract that’s about to expire, right?”

  He nods. “Yes, but we’ll renegotiate a new one soon.”

  “Let it expire. You’re wickedly talented, Jonah, and you have a ravenous following of devoted fans. Set your own terms and do it your way. Go indie.”

  Jonah walks down the beach toward the docks where the boats are moored. I follow him at a distance, feeling sorry for the guy. Despite his millions, he’s essentially trapped.