Brendon (15 page)

Cheyenne could only hope that Brendon remembered that as well.

THE MOMENT CHEYENNE
started her rendition of “Happy Birthday,” Brendon was spellbound, both by her and her voice. The woman was mesmerizing, so damn beautiful with a voice that captured the attention of every single person in the room.

Brendon didn’t move from his spot, not even when his mother put her hand on his arm, squeezing gently. She didn’t need to say a word for him to know that she was just as entranced by Cheyenne as he was.

The song lasted less than a minute, but then Cheyenne took them all by surprise, moving right into one of her biggest hits, her face lighting up as the crowd cheered, the excitement palpable.

Brendon knew if he hadn’t already been in love with her, he very well was right then.

chapter
SEVENTEEN

B
rendon woke up in Cheyenne’s bed, spooned up against her the following morning. Glancing over at the clock on her bedside table, he noticed it was already noon. Okay, so technically it was no longer morning.

Sawyer’s party had continued well into the wee hours of the morning and by the time they fell into bed, it was closing in on five o’clock. Cheyenne was still sleeping beside him, her soft, rhythmic breaths keeping him from moving. He still couldn’t believe she’d pretty much put on a mini-concert for his family last night after she sang an incredibly sexy rendition of “Happy Birthday.” The whole clan had been ecstatic and he only hoped that word didn’t get out that she was there in Coyote Ridge. Since Kylie had invited her to girls’ night at Moonshiners on Thursday with his brother’s wives and a few of their cousins, he knew there would only be one more instance for word to get out. He doubted it would take much for her stalker to find her if someone told the wrong person and the press got wind of her whereabouts.

Speaking of . . .

He remembered the piece of paper that had been on her bar last night. He didn’t think she’d had time to move it and he wondered what it said. Reading her mail was probably considered some sort of dating sin and certainly not a good idea, but the mention of the stalker on that letter gave him pause. Had something happened? Would she tell him if it did?

Knowing he wouldn’t be able to rest until he found out, he eased out of the bed, pulled on his jeans, and tiptoed out of the bedroom, closing the door behind him. He made a pit stop in the half bath off the laundry room before heading to the kitchen. In the event Cheyenne woke up and busted him, he figured he’d better have coffee ready for her.

While he waited for the coffee to brew, he went to the bar and retrieved his cell phone from where he’d placed it when they got back last night. Stalling, he checked his messages. There were a dozen: pretty much everyone in his family checking in to ensure the others that they’d made it home all right. He shot off a quick text to Braydon and another to his mother, letting them know that he and Cheyenne were good, before putting his phone down.

Unable to resist, he began reading the portion of the letter he could see. It was a handwritten note on a small slip of white paper. He noticed the envelope was addressed to Cheyenne at a post office box in Round Rock.

Cheyenne,

I know you’re hiding out and I respect your decision to lay low for a little while, but I need you to understand that this stalker situation is not going to go away. Whoever this person is has escalated. You’ll notice the attached . . .

He couldn’t see any more because the paper was tucked into the envelope.

Brendon was smart enough to know he should wait for Cheyenne to show him the letter. She’d been adamant that he not tell Travis what was going on, and he knew this was a sensitive subject for her. Somewhere in that pretty little head of hers, she’d gotten the idea that she needed to protect everyone else and not vice versa.

He would deal with her wrath but he had to know what the fuck the letter said. Pulling it from the envelope, he scanned back to the point he’d left off.

. . . photocopy of the last letter we received from this guy. The police have been given a copy, but I need you to give this to the person you’re working with at Sniper 1. Cheyenne, I can’t iterate how serious this is. I’d appreciate a phone call as soon as possible.

—Preston

Brendon had no idea who Preston was, but he figured since the letter was addressed from Nashville that it was probably her agent.

Pulling out another piece of white paper, Brendon unfolded it, and as he read the few words on the paper, a fiery red haze descended.

BABY, IT WON’T BE LONG NOW AND I’LL HAVE YOU FOR MYSELF. YOU BETTER MAKE IT EASY ON ME OR YOU’RE GOING TO BE SORRY. AND I’LL MAKE YOU PAY WITH YOUR LIFE.

Brendon had to blink past the fury that clouded his vision.

“Mornin’.”

Spinning around, Brendon came face-to-face with Cheyenne. He was holding the letter in his hand and he wasn’t sure what she saw on his face when she looked at him, but he knew it wasn’t fucking pretty.

“What’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the paper in his hand.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this, Cheyenne?” he growled, his voice so low, he hardly recognized himself.

“About what?” She reached for the paper, snatching it right out of her hands. He watched her eyes peruse the paper, and then her face blanched.

Fuck.

She hadn’t seen the letter.

“Goddammit!” Brendon slammed his fist onto the granite countertop before stomping across the room, thrusting his hands in his hair.

“I . . . Oh, my God.” Cheyenne’s face was pale, her hands shaking.

Brendon moved over to her and took the paper from her hand, then pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, never intending to let her go. He had no idea how long they stood like that, but he didn’t release her until her shaking had ceased. When she looked up at him, there was a mixture of scorn and fear contorting her beautiful face.

“You read my mail,” she accused.

“And I’d apologize, but I’m not fucking sorry,” he retorted, nodding his head toward the piece of paper dangling between two of her fingers.

“I . . .” Cheyenne looked back at the paper, then back up at him. “I had no idea.”

“Well, apparently Preston was trying to let you know,” he said, pointing at the other piece of paper sitting on the envelope.

“I saw that, but I didn’t read all of it. I figured it was the same old stuff. Usually he sent a short note and added another note, generally a song someone wanted me to look at.”

“Did the word
stalker
not catch your attention?” he asked, still furious.

Cheyenne put her hands on her hips and faced off with him. Odd how he found her so fucking cute even when he was livid.

“I’ve been dealin’ with this asshole for a year, Brendon. I’ve seen my fair share of notes regarding the stalker. I’m tired of it. I just want him to go away.”

Brendon wished it was that easy. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. “Put the note on the bar.”

Cheyenne laid the paper down and Brendon grabbed his cell phone. He snapped a picture and then sent it over to Z with a message that said, “Call me.”

“There’s coffee,” he said, not looking at her before he took his phone and ventured out onto the back porch.

She didn’t follow and he was grateful. Now his hands were shaking and it wasn’t just from the rage that still consumed him.

Less than a minute later, his cell phone rang and he stabbed the Talk button before putting it to his ear.

“When did she get that?” Z questioned by way of greeting.

“Hell if I know,” Brendon answered. “Her manager or someone sent it to her.”

“Got it. I’m workin’ on somethin’, but I’ll be in touch soon.”

The call ended and Brendon felt just as frustrated as he had before the thirty-second conversation. The back screen door slammed and Brendon turned to see Cheyenne approaching, two cups of coffee in her hand. When she held one out for him, he took it and muttered a thank-you.

“I swear I didn’t know about the threat. Well, not about that one anyway.”

“You didn’t mention he was sending death threats, Chey.”

“I didn’t figure it mattered. Regardless, this guy needs to be caught,” she said haughtily.

“I get that. But you can bet your sweet ass you won’t be left alone until he is.”

Cheyenne sighed and took a sip of her coffee before moving to the railing that surrounded the porch. “I don’t need a bodyguard.”

“I’d like to think I’m more than that,” he told her, staring at the back of her head. When she didn’t turn around or acknowledge him, the pain that sliced through him nearly leveled him.

Maybe he wasn’t more than that to her. Maybe this was temporary in her eyes.

He was about to say something when he heard someone pounding on the front door. Cheyenne spun around so fast, she nearly spilled her coffee.

Now he’d like to see her tell him she’d be fine alone. Screw that shit.

“Expecting someone?” he asked as he headed to the back door, but he didn’t wait for her to answer. He didn’t need her to.

CHEYENNE WASN’T SURE
what she was feeling. Anger, fear, frustration . . . It was all relevant, yet the only word that described it was
disoriented
.

First of all, the stalker seemed all the more real now that she’d seen the note he had sent. Or a copy of it anyway. The big block letters had been printed nearly perfectly, scrawled in blue ink across the white paper.

The sound of loud voices echoing through the house caused her to pull herself together.

Shit.

Glancing down, she realized she was wearing Brendon’s button-down shirt and nothing else. There was no way she’d be able to face whoever it was—and she had pretty damn good idea—that was currently yelling at the top of his lungs in her living room.

Since there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about her outfit, she steeled herself for a confrontation and went inside to join them.

“I didn’t ask for your fucking opinion!” Travis yelled at Brendon as Cheyenne strolled into the living room to join them.

For the very first time since the day she met Travis, she had the urge to punch him right in the arm. Without hesitating, she moved to stand beside Brendon, glaring at Travis as he stared his brother down.

“I’ll ask again. Why. The. Fuck. Didn’t anyone tell me about this shit?”

Cheyenne lifted her eyebrows, waiting for someone to clarify what they were talking about.

“Because she didn’t want you to know,” Brendon snarled. “Goddamn, don’t you see? She’s fucking worried about your family. She didn’t want to bring you into the middle of it.”

Oh, crap.

Travis didn’t respond, nor did he look at her, so Cheyenne felt she needed to say something to defend her position and to get Travis to put away the death glare.

“He’s right,” Cheyenne told Travis. “Brendon’s helping me.”

“Helping you? Is that what this is?” Travis nodded to the shirt she was wearing.

Brendon growled and she knew that this battle of wills was about to detonate and she damn sure didn’t want either of them getting into a fight because of her.

All three of their heads turned when her front door swung open and in walked Gage.

“Motherfucker,” Gage snapped. “Next fucking time you walk out like that, I’m gonna kick your fucking ass. I told you to wait for me.”

Gage’s face was red, his anger apparent. Cheyenne had to figure that Travis had done what he did best—act first, think later. As much as she loved him—he was, after all, the closest thing to family she truly had—she knew he was notorious for flying off the handle.

“Don’t you dare touch each other, damn it. I’ll be right back.” Storming out of the room because there was no way she could have this conversation dressed as she was, Cheyenne went to her bedroom and changed. Less than two minutes later she returned to find Brendon and Travis still standing nose to nose.

Heavens.
This was absurd.

“I’d appreciate if you could figure out how to make him act rational. Brendon and I will be in the kitchen.”

Cheyenne grabbed Brendon’s arm and pulled him. He was resistant at first, not budging an inch, but then he gave in, following her. It was then that she realized he was wearing only his jeans. Barefoot and shirtless . . . Yeah, she could see why Travis was overreacting. He’d been like a brother to her for so long, she understood his irrational need to protect her. But she didn’t need to be protected from Brendon. She was a grown woman. She could make her own decisions, thank you very much.

Urging him toward the kitchen table, she wasn’t surprised when he didn’t bother to sit down. She knew how this worked. She’d been around Travis long enough. These were pure alpha males. Sitting would put them at a disadvantage. Considering their height, she wasn’t sure how that was even possible, but she wasn’t going to question him, either.

Concentrating on making coffee, Cheyenne tried to come up with a way to explain this to Travis without pissing him off more than he was. Truth was, she felt safe with Brendon and it wasn’t like he was attempting to be superman. He’d called Sniper 1 Security and she knew he’d been in touch because he told her so. Granted, he hadn’t given her any details, but she knew he would when the time was right.

By the time she had four cups poured and another pot brewing, Travis and Gage joined them. Travis still looked pissed, but his hands were no longer fisted at his sides.

In order to put herself on an even keel with these overgrown men, Cheyenne hopped up on the counter and retrieved her coffee while she proceeded to stare them down. When the tension lessened another degree, she launched into her explanation.

“Brendon’s right when he said I didn’t want to involve you because I don’t want to drag your family into this, Travis. You’ve got a baby at home, you don’t—”

Not shocking, Travis interrupted with, “Don’t tell me what I don’t need—”