He closed his eyes and pictured the hostage, the scarred half-starved American woman who’d been capture by terrorists. He’d saved her life. Sure, he’d only been one piece of the team that had busted in to rescue her. But if he hadn’t gone, if he’d stayed home and held tight to the woman he loved…
No, that wasn’t an option. He couldn’t let the bad guys win. As long as he was physically capable of fighting people dead set against destroying the things he believed in, the promise of freedom that had pushed his grandfather to resettle in this country, he had to go.
If you stay, you wouldn’t be the man I know. The man I love…
He opened his eyes and, from his position in the front row, he saw the tears rolling down her cheeks. She’d cried onstage before while singing the song about her brother. But she’d never wept like this, the tears washing away her makeup and revealing her freckles.
She looked so damn vulnerable up there. But it was a disguise. A mirage. She was strong. Hell, she’d even learned to fight like a Navy SEAL. She could take care of herself and her family.
And if she quit, if she pulled back from the career that demanded she move from city to city, well hell, she wouldn’t be the woman he’d fallen in love with, either. Her family needed her right here, on this stage and the one after that.
When loves comes last to another’s hopes, when love comes last to a child’s dreams…
Dante filled in the blanks as she played a guitar solo. When love came last, when it needed to take a backseat to something so much more important—like holding a family together—then that love didn’t belong in the present.
He turned and pushed his way to the aisle. He muttered apologies as he went, but he knew he had to leave. Now. He couldn’t wait until the end of the show. He couldn’t walk up to the woman he loved and congratulate her on writing a song that would hit number one on the damn charts.
The lyrics bombarded him like a rapid-fire attack, and their message cut as if he’d been hit. Hell, he couldn’t fault her for hiding her thoughts. Now, she’d mastered communication, all right. She’d even offered an easy out. No messy good-byes or what-ifs, just a front row ticket to her heartbreak.
And his.
He paused at the door that connected the auditorium to the Sin City hotel. Behind him, the audience rose to their feet and clapped. He glanced over his shoulder and took one last look at the woman on the stage. He couldn’t see her tears from here, but he knew they were still there. She clutched her guitar as if it were her lifeline.
What if he rushed the stage, overtook her security, and smashed that damn instrument to pieces? He could go up there and fight—not for a hostage or peace in an unstable part of the world, but for a future that felt so far out of reach.
He turned away and pushed through the door. He felt tears threatening to fall. There was no point in chasing heartbreak. He’d already suffered his fair share and then some, leaving him feeling like half a fucking SEAL. Now, he needed to walk away and focus on safeguarding his heart again. And then he needed to turn his focus to his career.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured with one last glance at the now-closed doors. He could hear the audience on the other side applauding her performance. “I can’t stay, because you’re right, our love belongs in the past.”
Chapter Twenty
Chrissie stared at her manager and tried to determine if she should hit hard or haul ass.
I can’t break Mason’s nose for delivering good news.
Still, she was having a hard time holding tight to logic since Dante left. He hadn’t said good-bye. He’d just vanished. She’d panicked after the show when he didn’t reappear. And she’d tried calling his cell. But he hadn’t picked up. Not once.
By three in the morning, she’d dragged her new bodyguard on a wild search to find Cassie, the lead singer from her opening act. And she’d demanded that other singer call Ronan, her boyfriend, and find out if the SEALs had gone wheels up.
Cassie had done as she’d asked. The SEALs were in Coronado. For now. The next morning, Ronan’s girlfriend had told her that Dante was back at the base. He’d gone for a run with the guys that morning.
And Chrissie had tried to be happy about the news. She’d smiled for her fans at the airport as she boarded the private jet headed for Nashville. On the flight, she’d played card games with her little sister, followed by dolls—anything to avoid talking to her mother or her manager about the song she’d performed last night.
But now, back in the Nashville recording studio, she couldn’t hide from her manager anymore. She couldn’t haul ass and hide behind the pretense of needing to play another game of Go Fish with Melissa.
“Did you hear what I said, Chrissie?” Mason stood in the recording studio’s writing room. It held two couches and a baby grand piano. “The live acoustic version of “When Loves Comes Last” is number one on iTunes.”
Chrissie nodded and forced a smile. “I heard.”
“The label wants you to record your new hit with the full band,” he added.
She nodded, half listening as her manager rambled on about future plans for the song and her label’s requests.
“Congratulations,” Mason said. “There’s no chance you’ll be a one-hit wonder. Not anymore. And if “Rush of Love” takes off—”
“It won’t,” she said. Because she hadn’t written that one from the heart. When she’d penned those lyrics, she didn’t have a clue how it felt to fall in love. And she hadn’t experienced heartbreak.
B