Page 3 of Guarding the Rock Star
Tasha
“Hey babe, how are you doing?”
I looked up as my best friend and business manager Chloe came through the elevator of my penthouse, talking before the doors had even fully opened. It was a private elevator with three stops: the underground parking garage, the lobby, and my foyer.
I’d purchased the ultra private condo overlooking Lake Washington when my first album went platinum, and I’d never once regretted it. The space was perfect for me with high ceilings, floor to ceiling windows, a professional quality kitchen, a nice little gym, and best of all: a fully soundproofed music room where I could play the guitar without worrying about disturbing my neighbors.
“Good morning, Chloe. You’re here early today.”
It was technically ten a.m., but early was relative in my world. After so many years of touring and doing concerts, I was used to being up until two or three in the morning and sleeping in until late morning. I’d woke up just before nine today and gone right in to do my work out before I lost my motivation. Now I was awake, sweaty, and starving. Plus, I needed coffee.
Walking past Chloe, I hit the brew button on the coffee pot and popped a couple of slices of toast into the toaster. When I looked back at my friend she was staring at me with a weird look on her face.
“What’s wrong?”
“There was another letter yesterday, Tasha.”
I stalked over to her, holding out my hand. “Let me see it.”
“I don’t think—.”
“Hand it over,” I interrupted, making my voice firm.
Chloe sighed and reached into her bag, pulling out a piece of paper that was enclosed in what looked like a large freezer bag.
“The cops already dusted it for prints. It’s clean, of course.”
I grabbed the bag, the text visible through the plastic. In big, black, block letters someone had written:
“You will burn in hell. I’ll send you there early if you don’t change your ways.”
“Quite the wordsmith,” I joked, even as I felt a burn of acid in my stomach.
I wasn’t one to be easily freaked out, but the letters were becoming unsettling. Although at least this one didn’t have anything gross with it. Or did it?
“Was it just the letter?” I asked cautiously.
Chloe shook her head. “This one had a severed bird head in a box. Looked like a crow.”
I dropped the letter on the counter as if it had crow guts on it.
“Gross.” The toast popped up, the sound loud in the quiet between us, and I strode over to grab it. “Breakfast?”
“No thanks, Wanda’s going to be here soon.”
I looked up from buttering my toast. “Wanda? Who’s Wanda?”
“Your new bodyguard. You agreed to in-house personal protection services, remember?”
“I did not agree to that,” I protested. “I specifically told you I didn’t need another bodyguard, and you mumbled ‘we’ll see about that’ and walked away.”
“Well anyway,” Chloe said, ignoring my comments in the hope she could Jedi mind trick me into agreeing with me, “I got you a personal bodyguard. Her name’s Wanda. She’s from an outside firm, just in case any of your regular security detail is your stalker. I got a recommendation from my uncle who works in the governor’s office. They’ve done a lot of work with Sapphic Security. Uncle Jim says they’re one of the best, plus it’s a women owned firm, which I know we both appreciate.”
“How did you even get someone lined up so fast?” I asked. “We just talked about this yesterday afternoon.”
“I’ve got skills, baby,” Chloe teased.
The intercom buzzed with a ring I recognized as the front desk in the lobby, and Chloe strode over to talk to the doorman. I poured myself a cup of coffee and took two long sips before I joined her in front of the elevator, stifling my irritation. I knew that Chloe was worried about me, but having someone in my space twenty-four seven was not going to work. I already had a team of guys who followed me around when I was away from home. That should be sufficient.
