She shakes her head. “Don’t believe me, go see for yourself. It took the movers twenty-seven minutes to clear out her apartment. She never showed.” She turns and grabs the handle of the door. “She wasn’t fired either; she quit her job at the paper the day after.” That is the last thing she says before she slams the door.
“Larry”—I turn to him—“I want everything in place in case Cassie tries to fuck me over.” He just nods at me and then grabs his things, walking out.
“You need to get drunk,” Edward says. “I’m going to go get a bottle of something.”
“Get two,” Ryan says. “I need to get drunk also.” Edward nods and walks out of the room. “Cassie was right,” he whispers. “She’s gone.” I look at him, and he goes back to sit down in his chair. “Quit her job, too. Stephanie called me, trying to get me to hire Jessica to handle the PR with the production company.”
“Stephanie? The same Stephanie who ran the fucking story and blindsided her?” I point out. “She was left out to dry, and she had no one at her back.”
“She had at least one person at her back,” he says, and Edward returns with two bottles of whiskey and three glasses. He pours two fingers of amber liquid in each glass, and I take mine, downing it in one shot, ignoring the burning. Ryan does the same. “She had to have had one person at her back to get out of New York without a trace.”
“Private plane,” Edward says, drinking his own drink. The past four days show on all of us. “She must have had a private plane.”
I pick up my phone and call Donnie, who answers right away. “Did you check private planes leaving out of New York?” I wait for him to answer.
“Yes, I did, and there is no record of her,” he says, and I hear papers being shuffled around, “there were five planes that took off that day.” I put my phone to the side and tell the guys.
“How many passengers in each plane?” Ryan asks me, and I ask Donnie.
“Five, six, ten, two, and one.” My mind starts going in circles. “The one with just one person was for Kellie Taylor.”
“The country star?” I ask him. “That makes no sense. She wouldn’t be traveling by herself.”
“The flight left New York and went to Montana,” he tells me. “Give me thirty minutes and I’ll call you back.” He hangs up the phone, and I look over at Ryan.
“What do you know about Kellie Taylor?”
“She’s on tour,” he starts saying. “Well, she was on tour. She just finished her tour.”
“Do you have her number?” It’s a long shot, but it’s the only one I have.
“You know I can’t give you that,” he says and then sees my face, “but I can make a phone call and see what I can do.” I nod, taking another shot of whiskey while Ryan gets up. “If this lead pans out, you really want to show up drunk?”
“If this pans out, there better be an army stopping me from getting to her,” I say to him, taking another drink of the whiskey.
“I hate to say Ryan is right, but,” Edward says, “if she’s there, you think she’s going to want you drunk?”
“If she even wants me,” I mumble under my breath. I shake my head. “I fucked up so badly.” I look at Edward. “I knew Cassie was crossing the line when it came to Jessica, but I never . . .” I shake my head. “I never thought she would do what she did.”
“She’s been in love with you for thirteen years.” He throws his head back and laughs when I look at him with my mouth hanging open. “You had to know.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” I hiss. “She worked for me. I would never.”
“I know you would never”—he takes a drink of the whiskey—“but she was just waiting for you to see her.” I don’t have a chance to answer because Ryan comes back into the room.
“And?” My hands get clammy, my mouth suddenly drier than the desert in the summer.
“Well, I was told to fuck off.” He laughs, sitting down. “Then I was threatened that if I showed up there, she would shoot my balls off and feed me to her dogs.”
“I think I love her,” Edward says with a smirk, taking a drink of water.
“It gets better.” He laughs now. “She said that if you showed up”—he points at me—“she’d shoot you in the foot but only one.” He laughs into his drink. “Then you would die by papercuts.”
I shoot off the table, the chair flying back as I turn to run up the stairs to grab my keys and my wallet. “Where the fuck are you going?” Ryan asks me, meeting me at the bottom of the steps and ripping the keys from my hands. “You just drank half a bottle of whiskey, and no matter what Kellie says, having you dead right now isn’t going to be a service to America.”
“I have to go to her,” I tell them, trying to get my keys from him.
“What you need to do is calm down,” he says. “You need to fucking shower.” He grimaces. “I’ll get a plane ready, and you can sober up.”
“She’s there,” I whisper. “Is she really there?”
“I think so,” Ryan says, “but getting to her isn’t going to be easy.” I nod, then make my way upstairs. Taking a shower sobers me up, and I run my hands through my hair. I grab my black jeans and a gray shirt, buttoning all but the top three buttons. I put on my black boots, then grab my jacket, and make my way downstairs. I walk into the kitchen and see that Ryan is the only one there. “Edward left. He did say not to fuck shit up. He also said that your parents have called you fifteen times, and your father said that if you don’t call him back, he’s getting on a plane.”
Grabbing my phone from him, I nod as a headline comes in and look up at Ryan.
Tyler Beckett shaking down his inner circle.
“That is the same person who broke the story of me and Jessica,” I tell him, and it finally clicks into place. “Oh my God.”
“What?” he asks me.
“I don’t know why I didn’t put two and two together before. That is one of Cassie’s best friends.” I shake my head. “Motherfucker.”
“Doesn’t matter,” he says as we walk out of the house. A black Escalade waits for us with Joseph behind the wheel. I get in after Ryan, and we take off. “I have a house rented for you right next to Kellie’s.” I nod, then send my father a text telling him I’ll call him tonight. “Whatever you do, please don’t get arrested.”
“I’m not making any promises,” I say to him and turn off my phone. “I’m not leaving there until she talks to me.” The rest of the ride is quiet, and I look out the window when the plane finally takes off with just me in it. A rental car is ready when I land, and I put the address in the GPS and make my way toward her. I start to get anxious, my thumbs hitting the steering wheel while I turn down the dirt road. Wooden fences all along with big trees. I pull up to the house and see four cars parked in the circle driveway. The crunching of the rocks under the tires makes it impossible for them not to know I’m here. I turn off the car, getting out and slamming the door. I walk toward the steps but stop when the front door opens and a man steps out. He’s wearing jeans and a shirt with a menacing look on his face. He must be about six-foot-four, maybe even six-foot-five.