Someone to Watch Over Me (36 page)

Turning away, I stifled a sob, falling into
tears again. An immediate surge of guilt ensued as I found Tate
hobbling across the parking lot toward us. Rushing to his side, I
meant to help him walk, but he pulled me into his arms and hugged
me instead.

“He’s ok. Levy will be ok.”

My head shook on its own accord. “He was so
scared. I heard him crying.”

“He’s not anymore. Look.” Holding up his
phone, he showed me a picture sent from Carter’s phone. It was a
selfie. Levy was sitting on Carter’s lap beneath the table of the
booth. He was smiling that all teeth, squinty eye smile. Beneath
the picture read, “Bet you like my camera now, Coop.”

“I love his camera,” I agreed. “I’ll never
complain again.”

“Come on. Let’s head up to the front. See if
anyone else made it out.” Taylor took the duty of helping Tate
walk, assuming I wouldn’t take off. I couldn’t say myself. I just
might.

When we rounded the corner, I spotted Jake
and Shane crisscrossing through the crowd, making their way to us.
“Holy shit!” Jake exclaimed. He approached Tate and Taylor, giving
them each a shoulder hug and a fist bump. “Am I glad to see you
guys. I saw you go down. I thought you got hit.”

“We’re good,” Tate replied, “but Levy is
still inside.”

“I’m sorry, Coop,” Jake apologized, his
expression grim. “As soon as we made a run for the door, that
fucker started firing at us. Carter didn’t make it out.”

“Here Coop,” Shane said softly, passing me
his table napkin. My face must’ve been a mess. Most of my makeup
was staining Tate’s shirt. Not that I cared what I looked like. It
was just odd, the observations you made while under stress. It was
as if you became hypersensitive to the environment. Along with
Grant’s sneer, I would probably remember at least seven random
details about the day. Like the dirty, red carpet as Tate crushed
me to the floor, the pair of converse that ran past my face as the
wearer ran for their life, the upturned goblet teetering on the
edge of the table, the dark, red stain beneath it, and the
impeccable weather.

“He’ll be ok. Carter has him, and your
friend Marshall is there too.” In a rare gesture of consolation,
Shane squeezed my shoulder. I can’t say why, but it brought a fresh
wave of tears to my eyes.

“Mr. Watkins,” someone said behind us. I
lifted my head from Tate’s chest. He was an older man in a pair of
jeans, a white button down and a black sport coat. His hair was
brown and would’ve been horrendously curly if it wasn’t cropped so
short. Offering his hand, he introduced himself. “Matt Copeland.
TDC Records. We spoke on the phone.”

“Right.” Tate took his hand in a firm grip.
“Tate. This is Cooper.”

“Nice to meet you ma’am,” he said, though
made no move to take my hand. His eyes remained on Tate. “I hope no
one of yours in inside.”

“Our little boy. He’s two. And Carter, as
well as a few of our crew.”

“Damn.” Scrubbing his jaw, he appeared
genuinely upset. “Do you know what happened? I was just arriving
when everyone started bailing out. I thought I heard gunfire.”

Tate hesitated, reluctant to spread the
trash my life had become. “An ex of Coop’s that’s been stalking
her.”

“Jesus,” Jake murmured. This time, his hand
squeezed my shoulder. He and Shane had gotten out before Grant made
his demands. This was the first he heard of who was to blame.

“Well, the police are involved,” Matt
observed. “I’m sure they’ll get everyone out safely.”

Regardless of the outcome, I could only hope
Grant ended up behind bars, if not dead. Honestly, I preferred he
were dead. Though, bleeding out was too easy of a way to go. I
wanted it to be drawn out and painful. He deserved no less. At this
point, however, I couldn’t be choosy. Dead would suffice. As long
as he was permanently out of my life, I didn’t care.

I just wanted my son safe in my arms.

Time seemed to pass in infinitesimal
stretches. It clung to my consciousness like a barrier that made it
hard to breathe. I found myself pacing, unable to stand still. This
distressed Taylor to no end, afraid that I would run pell mell into
the restaurant to retrieve my son.

It crossed my mind several times.

“Something’s happening,” Tate observed,
limping to my side. Indeed, the front door swung open. An officer
stepped to the side, ushering several people out the door. Hunched
over, they ran out the door, then straightened and darted across
the parking lot where they melded into the crowd of spectators.
Carter and Levy were not among them.

“There,” Jake said, pointing at the last two
individuals, “they were in the table next to ours. Carter’s gotta
be coming next.”

Suddenly, a commotion erupted inside. The
officer holding the door flattened himself against the face of the
building, his gun drawn. The sound of gunshot rang out, several
loud pops that sounded like snappers, those little paper
noisemakers one threw on the ground.

A second later, silence fell. Marshall
bounded out the door, carrying Levy cradled against his chest.
Carter shambled out behind them, clutching his right thigh just
below his ass. Derek had his weight, helping him across the parking
lot. They were secondary to the health of my son. I struggled
against Tate’s grip as Marshall loped our way.

“He’s fine, Coop,” Marshall said as he drew
closer. “He’s ok.”

“Firecwackers, Momma!” Levy crowed. “I heard
da firecwackers!” Levy bounced in Marshall’s arms as if he just
came off an amusement park ride. His eyes were alight with
excitement, youthfully oblivious to the whole event.

Taking him from Marshall, I held him tight
to me, seeing for myself that he was indeed healthy and unharmed.
Everyone crowded around, patting Levy’s back and ruffling his hair,
relieved and overjoyed that he was safe. He’d become a pet of sorts
to the band.

To Tate and me, he was much more.

“I’m ok,” Carter carped loudly to no one in
particular. “Don’t fret over me, even though I’ve been shot in the
ass. Really. I can drive myself to the hospital. It’s just a flesh
wound. Nothing big. Just a bullet hole.”

“Let me take a look,” Derek said, turning
Carter by the shoulder. Indignant and demure, Carter declined the
precursory examination by swiping Derek’s hand away.

“I’m not dropping my drawers here.”

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,
Strickland. I’ve been in the service. There isn’t much I haven’t
seen in the way of asses or injuries.”

“Fine, just…be gentle.” Snickers resounded
across the group of us, and again when Carter made a noise of
discomfort. “It’s not funny, a-holes, it really hurts.”

Little did Carter know that we were laughing
because he hadn’t been shot after all. Well, he had, but his phone
took the slug, saving him from injury. Looking over his shoulder,
he took in the device Derek extracted from his rear pocket, and the
spider web crawling across the glass. A grimace wormed up his face,
cheeks flushing.

“My phone! My
brand new
phone!”

Chapter 19

T
he concert ended
up delayed due to police questioning. Tate had wanted to cancel the
show altogether, but I insisted they perform. It had been a
harrowing day. I needed some time alone to wind down and get my
bearings. My life had taken another unexpected turn. One for the
better, but no less traumatizing.

Grant had gone out in a blaze of glory. He
had wanted me dead, and when he failed at that, he set his sights
on Levy. It was the ultimate revenge. He wanted me to suffer, and
what better way? Any mother could attest that there was nothing
worse than losing a child. Thus, he bided his time until he had
Levy in his sights.

Fortunately, Evan and the police were
quicker to the draw. They covered Marshall while he took Levy from
Carter and ran for the door. Derek covered Carter, though Carter
caught a bullet in the ass when he was climbing out from under the
booth. Well, his phone took a bullet.

Furthermore, I learned that Grant wasn’t my
only stalker. Evan was right. Andrew Lee Walker had also formed a
compulsive fixation. The man had deemed himself my guardian angel.
Though the police had confirmed Grant was responsible for keying my
car, the attempted break in at my apartment and loosening the lug
nuts on my tires, the blood found under my nails after the road
rage incident came back inconclusive. It belonged to neither Grant
nor Andrew. Andrew, from what the police learned, was trying to
protect me from Grant. They had discovered this from several
acquaintances during interviews while trying to uncover his
whereabouts, as well as his own statements from the night they had
arrested him back at the Loft.

Unfortunately, Andrew Lee Walker paid for
his good deeds with his life. He was found dead approximately one
and a half miles from Garrison’s farm. From the condition of his
body, they estimated that he had been dead a good two weeks. I was
told the late summer sun hadn’t been kind, nor had the stone used
to bludgeon him until unrecognizable. He was so badly beaten that
they had to identify him through DNA evidence. The police believed
that Andrew had tried to stop Grant and ended up a victim
himself.

Evan, nevertheless, warned me that this, in
no way, meant that Andrew Lee Walker hadn’t been a dangerous
individual. I didn’t argue, but the point was moot since he was
dead.

I sighed, watched Levy’s eyes roll languidly
beneath his closed lids. I could’ve watched him sleep all night,
but the concert was over. Tate would be returning any minute.
Carefully, I lifted him from the bed and carried him to his
bunk.

The rest of the band would straggle in one
at a time as they finished ‘mingling.’ We had a three AM departure
for Cleveland to make Hautboy’s next show. We would sleep through
most of the drive there. I hoped. As of yet, sleep remained elusive
to me.

Marshall stirred from where he was sitting
on the sofa. He rose and cleared his throat, looking at the door in
a far away gaze. “I’ll be outside until Tate gets back.”

“Marshall.” Marshall stopped, but he
wouldn’t look at me. His gaze remained rooted to the floor at his
feet. He’d been this way all night. I didn’t know if I should thank
him or shout at him, but I went with the former because I owed him
terribly. “Thank you.”

“What the hell for?” he asked. His gaze
flickered in my direction, harried, haunted. “I didn’t do
anything.”

“You got Levy out safely.”

“Got Levy out safely?” he repeated,
incredulous. His mouth opened and closed several times, his face
growing progressively redder. “Grant shouldn’t have gotten that
close in the first place! If I had done a better job, Levy wouldn’t
have been in any danger!”

“Oh, get off your high damn horse, you
stupid moron.” Marshall’s head jerked back at my response.
“Nobody’s omnipotent. You couldn’t have known what lengths he’d go
to in order to hurt me. He was a psychopath. So suck it up and quit
playing the martyr.”

“Martyr? Damn, Coop, that’s harsh.”

“Well, it’s true! I never asked you to take
a bullet for me!”

“You don’t have to! It’s part of my
job!”

“You don’t have to place yourself in the
line of fire to deem your job a success. The outcome is what’s
important. Everybody’s safe. Grant’s dead. You’re alive. Consider
that a victory and call it a day.”

“I know. I know. I just felt so…powerless
and incompetent, like a rookie, you know?”

“You
are
a rookie. What—did you
expect to fly in there like Superman and save the day?”

Marshall smiled, but it quavered. He reached
up and scratched the back of his neck. “Something like that,
yeah.”

“Thank you for caring, Marshall, but if you
ever think about sacrificing yourself on my behalf, you better
think twice. I won’t be a pawn in some misguided urge to pacify
your guilt. Saving me isn’t going to bring your sister back. It’s
only going to get you killed. Do you know what that would do to me?
Do you know what that would do to your parents? They already lost
one child. Do they need to lose you as well?”

Taking a deep breath, he blew it out, his
expression pained. “You’re right. I’m sorry. I just…I love you
Coop. If anything ever happened to you or yours, I don’t know if I
could forgive myself. You’re like family to me.”

Pulling me into his arms, he squeezed me in
a bear-like hug, hoping to close the conversation. I wasn’t falling
for it. “I mean it, Marshall; I’ll have Evan fire you.”

“It’s a moot point, Coop. It’s over now.
He’s dead. They both are.”

“It’s a breach of ethics. Your judgment is
clouded by your past.”

“Coop.”

“What?”

“I’ll be outside until Tate gets back.”
Rasping his knuckles across the top of my head, he let me go. “Get
some sleep. You look exhausted.”

“I love you, Marshall.”

“Ditto kiddo.” Despite our tête-à-tête, his
posture was downtrodden as he descended the steps and pushed open
the door. He’d get over it, I told myself. Like me, he just needed
a little time. I’m sure the day raked up all sorts of bad memories
involving his sister’s murder.

The door shut with a click, but not before
Tate’s voice snuck through.

“How is she?”

A few seconds later, the door opened again.
Tate trotted up the stairs, pausing at the top to take a moment and
see for himself. “What happened? Are you alright? I asked how you
were and Marshall just stalked off like an angry bear.”

“He’s mad because I reamed him out. He’s got
a death wish.”

“I hardly think that’s true.” The muscles
ticked along Tate’s jaw. “Bloodlust is more like it.”

“Bloodlust?”

“He feels robbed. He wanted to take Grant
down himself. Evan wouldn’t let him. It would’ve been a conflict of
interest since he was emotionally involved. The police would’ve had
cause for a lawsuit.”