Page 46 of Knox

Glo only made it worse when she said, quietly, “She found out just before the bombing that Russell, the man who hurt her, is out on parole.”

He had nothing then, his lungs so tight he couldn’t breathe. Finally, “Which might mean he’s walking around in New York with an ankle bracelet, but just as easily might mean that they signed him into a halfway house and he’s really in Indiana, flooring it to Nebraska.”

Right.

“You should have told me sooner, Glo.”

She looked away. “Yeah. I thought they found the bomber, and it wasn’t Russell. And at first, I didn’t hire you to keep us safe as much as to make herfeelsafe. Make us all feel safe.” And there went the flicker of something again. “But most of us don’t have nightmares that come to life and try to kill us, and I guess I should have taken that more seriously.”

“Okay. Then let me do my job. Let me get you all out of here and to someplace safe while I figure out if this guyisafter Kelsey.”

“Where?” Glo seemed to be actually considering his words. Which he took as progress.

Anything other than Glo belittling him with nicknames felt like progress.

“My family’s ranch. In Montana. It’s remote enough for us to catch our breath and for me to do some digging into this Russell guy.”

Glo cocked her head. “Do you have a barn?”

Huh? “Yes. Of course. And horses. And maybe a few kittens…”

She rolled her eyes. “Okay, Farmer John. I’ll see if I can talk Kelsey into saying yes.”

Farmer John?

But then she touched his arm, gave his bicep a little squeeze, and walked past him. “Good idea.”

And shoot, but he nearly, stupidly, flexed his farmer’s muscles.

6

With every mile, Kelsey’s future slipped from her grip. “I’m a hostage here, just so we’re clear.” She sat on the step between the front driver’s seat and the back of the bus, staring out the massive front windshield as Tate maneuvered the bus through the foothills and twisted curves of the Garnet Range, east of Helena, Montana.

Montana.

Talk about hiding away. They’d been driving for the better part of two days since leaving Lincoln, her show, and her spectacular finale, yet unseen, after the showdown of the century in the RV village.

What do you mean you pulled us from the show?

Her words to Carter, not quiet in the least, and even she could figure out that she was unraveling. She didn’t need Dixie to take her by the shoulders, look her in the eyes, and tell her that she didn’t want to be onstage when she had a meltdown.

She’d wanted to rip herself away from Dixie’s gaze, and then from Glo, who put her arm around her and essentially betrayed her with an agreeing nod.

A couple of Benedict Arnolds the way they sided with Carter—and her new warden, Tate Marshall. “Two weeks off—that’s all I’m asking for,” Tate had said, shooting a glance at Carter, who’d folded his arms across his chest, nodding. “Enough for us all to take a breath and figure out if Kelsey is really in any danger.”

And oh, perfect, her past had shown up to wreak havoc on everyone’s lives. She didn’t know who had ratted her out, but the news about Russell’s parole had found Tate’s ears, and suddenly the man had decided to earn his paycheck. But no one seemed to be complaining about the hijacking of their show as they disbanded, briefly, half the band heading for the airport—Dixie to Minneapolis, Elijah Blue back to Austin, Texas, Carter to his office in Nashville.

Except, of course, Glo and Kelsey. Now, Kelsey sat on the steps of the bus watching as her world went from city to farmland to mountainscape.

And okay, itmightbe a little breathtaking, the way the rustic green foothills, speared with deep green pine, edged the hazy-blue snowcapped mountains in the distance. Tufted white clouds against an impossibly blue sky hung over the horizon for as far as she could see.

A girl could probably stand in the middle of a field and scream and not be heard for miles.

In fact, a rather large part of her wanted to try it.

Just run off the bus into one of those wildflower fields, drop to her knees, and release the roil of frustration inside.

Except, then Glo and Tate might decide she didn’t just need two weeks off, but perhaps a little white jacket to go with it.