Chapter One
The crowd came to their feet, applauding.
Gya Gaynor took a bow. “Thank you, Dallas, Texas. Thank you for coming. Have a good night.”
Her band continued playing the final measures of the closing song as she turned to exit the stage.
A gunshot rang out through the air.
Fear gripped her body as she crouched down. The audience went into a state of pandemonium.
Stephanie Parker, her agent, ran from the sidelines and helped her offstage to safety.
Sirens and screams filled the air, but no more shots. Still, more could come. Gya knew the gunman was looking for her, and she hoped that no one would be hurt.
She and Stephanie ran all the way to her dressing room without saying a word. Once inside, they closed and locked the door behind them.
Breathing fast, Stephanie stared directly at her. “Enough is enough. No more arguments, Gya. None.”
She knew exactly what Stephanie meant. “Let’s wait for the police to come and then we can decide what needs to be done.”
Her agent continued to help her weather all the challenges that came with her rise to the top of the pop charts. Stephanie was as much of a mom to Gya as any woman could ever be to her—especially given her past.
“I said no more arguments and I meant it.” Stephanie placed her ear to the door. “What’s going on out there? Someone should’ve come by now.”
“I don’t need bodyguards twenty-four-seven.” Even with all the death threats that had come the last few months, Gya didn’t want to be surrounded by more people. Unlike some of her contemporaries in the music business, she didn’t care to have an entourage of sycophants. She’d learned to survive on her own a long time ago. “We can hire a local detachment at each venue of this tour until the deranged fan is arrested.”
“Deranged fan? Yes, Vinnie Scarpelli is a fan of yours and definitely deranged, but he’s much more than that. He’s a killer.”
Gya had performed for the mobster’s birthday party when her career was just getting underway. He’d become infatuated with her, sending her flowers and gifts week after week ever since. Very creepy, especially since the man was old enough to be Gya’s grandfather.
“We don’t know for sure Scarpelli is the one behind the threats or this gunshot.”
“Maybe not, but he is dangerous, sweetheart.”
“The FBI has assured us that they are keeping tabs on Scarpelli. Besides, I don’t think he would ever really hurt me. Seriously, Stephanie, I don’t want permanen
t bodyguards.”
“Then do this for me if not yourself. I don’t think my heart can take much more, Gya.”
Before she could answer, a knock on the door shook both of them.
“Miss Gaynor, are you okay?” The voice allowed her and Stephanie to take a deep, calming breath, though neither of them really cared for the woman on the other side of the door. Sharon Thompson was the promoter of this tour.
“We’re fine, Sharon.” Stephanie didn’t move to let the woman in. “Is it all clear out there?”
“Yes.”
Stephanie carefully opened the door.
Sharon walked in and went straight to Gya, wrapping her arms around her. “I’m so glad you’re both okay.”
Gya didn’t care to be hugged. It wasn’t that she had any phobias about it. She just wasn’t fond of being touched, especially by someone like Sharon. She knew the woman would rather give a hug to a stack of Benjamins than her any day.
Other than Stephanie, Gya didn’t have anyone she could really trust.
When Sharon released her, Gya thought about her fans that had come to the concert. “Was anyone hurt?”
Sharon shook her head and released her, moving to Stephanie to give her a hug, too. “The police have arrived. I’ve spoken to the lead officer.”
“What happened to the shooter?” Stephanie asked.
“He or she got away. I’m sure in no time the police will find the psycho.” Sharon was clearly concerned about the concert continuing on. “We all just need to relax.”
“Sharon, just cut the crap,” Stephanie said, her face red. “We may have to cut this tour short. I will not have Gya in danger.”
“Hold on, Stephanie.” Sharon’s tone turned sickly sweet. “Gya’s safety is all of our concern, not just yours. I’m sure she’ll be fine. While you both are giving your statements to the police, I’m going to get on the phone and double our security detail for our next three dates—Houston, Phoenix, and Los Angeles. I’ll do the same for the second leg of the tour.”
“How many days between Houston and Phoenix?”
Sharon looked at her iPhone. “Three days. I know you’re ready for some much-needed rest.”
“You can say that again.” She was really exhausted, though thrilled with how the fans were responding to the new songs.
“Where did you finally decide to spend your break? Are you going home to Malibu or will you be staying in Houston? The hotel there is amazing, Gya. I’ve stayed there a couple of times. Though I can’t afford the top floor suites, I did get to see them. Some of my other bands had me up to party after shows.”
Gya knew that last comment was a dig at her by the promoter. Whenever a concert was over, the only person she wanted around was Stephanie. “I’m going home, Sharon.”
Another knock on the door came. “Miss Gaynor, this is Detective Mary Wright from Dallas PD. I have a few questions I’d like to ask you.”
In a low tone, Sharon said, “Give her your statements. Don’t embellish. Then we can get back on the bus and down to Houston for your next performance tomorrow night.” The promoter opened the door. “Hello again, Detective. This is Gya Gaynor and her agent, Stephanie Parker. They’re all yours.”
* * * *
Kyle Strait entered the elevator of the posh hotel in Houston, Texas, with his brother and current boss, Aaron. “What floor?”
“Our client is on the top of the hotel in the Empress Suite, though she’s booked the entire twentieth floor.” His brother inserted a keycard that had been left for them at the front desk into the slot. The upper-floor button lit up.
The doors closed and the elevator began moving.
Kyle had seen Miss Gaynor’s photo plastered on billboards, in magazines, on television, and shockingly even on the sides of buses. The dossier Aaron had created on the pop star for this preliminary meeting had even more photos that supported how beautiful a woman she was.
“I bet the digs are amazing.” He grinned and adjusted his aviator sunglasses, part of the uniform Aaron required of all his staff. Suit and tie were another part. Forty-five holstered inside the jacket, another. And when on duty, a throat microphone with an attached earpiece.
He turned to his brother, who, like him, could’ve passed for a Secret Service Agent or an international spy, wearing the same garb as everyone did at Strait Celebrity Security Services.
Other than having an inch over his brother’s six four height, they looked so much alike. Same dark short hair. Same facial features. Behind the sunglasses, Kyle knew, were the same colored eyes as his. Blue. Though two years apart in age, Aaron being the elder, they could’ve been mistaken for twins.
“Empress suite? Excellent. This job fits how we’re dressed at least, don’t you think?”