Page 36 of Knox
She wanted them to remember the Yankee Belles, a band who reached into the dark places and eased the pain, at least for the space of a set.
But it hadn’t quite happened as she’d scripted.
The lights flashed, died.
At once, the darkness poured over her like thick tar. Seeping into her pores. Choking, hot, and paralyzing.
She stood, gripping the mic, unable to move.
“Kelsey!” Glo’s voice had hissed behind her, but it faded, and only Kelsey’s cascading breaths filled her ears, looping over each other, faster and faster—
Her legs collapsed.
“Kelsey!”
The lights burst back on, turning the world a bright red through her closed eyes. Then an arm went around her back, another tucked under her legs, and she fell against a thick, warm, broad chest.
Knox.
No,notKnox—and silly her to even let that thought find her—because as she reached out and fisted her hand in her rescuer’s shirt, she opened her eyes to find their new security lead, Tate, cradling her to his chest.
She wanted to close her eyes, grit her teeth, to muster something from deep within that might make her push him away. Not cover her face with her hands, not start to shake.
Not fall apart as Tate had carried her all the way to her dressing room.
He’d settled her on the worn red sofa in the room, crouching in front of her. He wore a black Yankee Belles T-shirt, a pair of jeans, and spoke into his mouth piece. “We’re in the dressing room.”
Not that he needed to alert anyone, really, because seconds later Glo appeared, her short blonde hair under a baseball cap, dressed in a pair of black jeans and a sleeveless shirt with the Belle’s pink logo on the front.
“Thanks, Tate.” She glanced at him, and he moved back, a solid presence, his arms folded across his muscled chest.
Not that Kelsey had noticed, but the man reminded her of his brother Knox, a problem she didn’t foresee when Glo had talked Carter into hiring him for their road security.
She briefly wondered what else Glo had been thinking with her recommendation, but that thought left her as Glo joined her on the sofa. “What’s going on, Kels?”
Her hands shook, and she folded them together. “Nothing. Just…I’m fine.”
“You’renotfine,” Tate had said, almost under his breath, and Glo shot him a glare.
Then Dixie strode into the room. Stopped in front of Kelsey, such an enigmatic look on her face Kelsey had to ask. “What—?”
She shook her head. “We should be canceling.”
“This is Rodeo Opry! This chance isn’t going to come around again. We can’t cancel—”
Dixie held up her hand. “Fine. But we go back to our regular finale. All the lights on—no theatrics. No confetti—”
“No. I am not…” Kelsey held up her hands, closed them into fists. “I’m not going to…let him win.”
And oh, she didn’t want to bring her past into this moment, but…yeah. It was right there, hovering like a shadow ever since the explosion had freedhimto roam her brain.
“Let who win?” Tate said. “Because they think the bomber is dead, Kelsey.”
She didn’t look at him, just closed her eyes.
Glo got up. “C’mon, Superman. We need to give her some air.”
Kelsey opened her eyes to watch Tate frown, then follow Glo from the room. Dixie stayed standing nearby. Took a breath.