Long Way Home by Carolyn Gray (2 page)

Free at last, Marisa hurried over to Lee. “Where’s Sam? I just saw him.”

“Went to change. What do you need?”

Marisa sighed, dropping the clipboard to her side. “Got any extra sanity? Siobhan goes on

in”—she checked her watch—“ten minutes, and I still have so much to do. And now the cops

want to talk to us.”

The cops? He tensed. “Why? Can’t it wait until after the show?”

“Apparently not. Can you fetch Nick? He ignored my banging on his door. I need everyone

not on with Siobhan in the greenroom in fifteen minutes.” She checked her watch again. “Five

minutes. Please?”

“No problem. Nick’s probably talking to Brandon.”

She rolled her eyes. “Get him, will you?”

Lee left her without a word. It pissed him off that she still persisted in her dislike for

Nick’s partner. Without Brandon, Dream would never have found the success they had—

wouldn’t have existed at all—and she knew it. He was ready for a break from Marisa’s snide

remarks. The cops wanting to talk to them right before a show was a nice little addition to the

stack of reasons he was glad this tour was almost done.

Unfortunately, he had no idea what he would do with himself once it was over, other than

his collaborations with Brandon. Even those would take a backseat for a couple of months,

though. Nick would go back to Durango—to Brandon—and wouldn’t want to share his time with

anyone else for a while. Mutt and his partner, Greg, Nick’s chef, would follow. Tommy would

return to his wife. Sam, more than likely, would head off to visit his parents and take them all the

insane gifts he’d bought during the tour. Marisa… Well, he couldn’t give a damn what she did.

One thing was for certain—no one waited for him.

Lee knocked on the door marked with Nick’s name. The boys had made a giant sparkly

star for Nick, which he pretended embarrassed him, though Lee knew he secretly loved it. A gold

star for a star. Boy, was he. Nick had totally rocked this tour. Lee loved seeing his friend shine

again. He’d always known Nick Kilmain would steal the world’s hearts. And he had, though it’d

nearly cost both him and Brandon everything.

That was all in the past now. Nick and the others—even Brandon, who’d dealt with so

much—all seemed to understand that.

Why he himself couldn’t, Lee wasn’t sure. Guilt, probably, Maya had told him while she

was packing. If she’d only known how right she was.

He knocked on the door again. No answer. He turned the knob and peered in. Empty. Now

where had Nick gone off to?

He closed the door behind him, then walked down the corridor and peeked into the

kitchen—nothing. And the bathroom was wide open. He passed a couple of the light techs; one,

Mitch, gave him a nod.

“Seen Nick?” Lee asked.

Long Way Home

5

“Yeah, last door down the hall.”

The other roadie smacked Mitch on the arm. “You weren’t supposed to tell.” He glared at

Mitch, then at Lee. “He told us to tell no one.”

Mitch said, “He meant don’t tell Marisa.”

Lee’s mouth quirked as he walked past. “Thanks, guys.” The last room at the end of the

corridor happened to be his own. He tested the knob. Locked. He rapped on the door.

“Busy!” came the muffled reply.

“Nick, it’s Lee.”

The click of the door lock was followed by a gleeful laugh and the sound of Nick leaping

back. Lee turned the knob and walked in. Nick sat on the one chair in the room—a horrendous

green-and-pink-striped thing—a cell phone pressed to his ear. He gestured for Lee to close the

door.

“Lee’s here. I guess it’s almost time.” Nick sighed dramatically, fanning himself with an

envelope. He listened to Brandon’s answer as he slit open the envelope and peered inside.

“Ballet tickets. What? Sorry, baby, someone sent me ballet tickets.” He made a face. “I don’t

want them.” He looked up at Lee and held the envelope out. “Brandon says you should take

them.”

Lee startled. “Me? Ballet?” He took the envelope and pulled out a ticket. The North Texas

Ballet. In
Dallas
. His stomach roiled, but he pushed the feeling aside. “Haven’t been to a ballet

in years,” he said, trying for casual.

Nick laughed, snatching the tickets back. “He adores them!” he said into the cell. “He’s

actually been to the ballet before.”

“I didn’t say I adore ballet, only that I’ve been.”

“What?” Nick said into the phone. “He thinks I should go with you,” he said to Lee.

“I also didn’t say I was going. You should, though.” Lee nudged him. “All those boys in

tights.”

Nick’s eyes glittered. He looked at the tickets again. “They’re for Sunday. When’s your

plane out of there? Wait. I don’t even know when mine’s out. Brandon, when’s my plane?” He

made a face, running his fingers through his jet-black hair. “I don’t know. You look. Don’t you

have the schedule? Katie should’ve given you the sched—Yeah. I knew she had. Ha. Monday?

Damn. I want to come home Sunday,” he said, on the edge of a pout. “Marisa did it on purpose. I

know it. She likes us to suffer, I swear.” He paused. “Fine, fine, okay. I’ll go. If Lee will.” He

glanced up at Lee with pleading eyes.

Caught now
. Lee chuckled. “No problem, Brandon,” he said, hoping Brandon could hear.

Nick scowled, slumping down in his chair. “Wish I’d torn up the damn things.”

Lee leaned against the door as he waited for Brandon to coax Nick back into a smile. By

the time they hung up, Nick’s good humor had returned.

“You’re mean,” Nick said as he got up from the chair and pushed the envelope against

Lee’s chest.

Lee turned it over in his hands. “You sure this was for you?” Lee asked.

Nick looked in the mirror, grabbed an eye pencil out of his shirt pocket, and fixed his eye

where he’d smudged it slightly. “I assume so.” He made a face at himself. “I am so sick of this

6

Carolyn Gray

stuff,” he said, throwing down the pencil. He looked up at Lee. “The price of fame. Brandon was

smart to retire to songwriting. It’s still early. Did Marisa send you to find me? I heard her

banging on my door earlier. I swear she always knows when I’m talking to Brandon. So I hid

here.”

“Yes, she sent me to fetch you. The cops want to talk to us in the greenroom.”

“Now?” All silliness disappeared. “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so.” Lee had never told Nick about his constant state of unease. Nick didn’t

need to hear that, would take it to heart that something was really wrong, and that was the last

thing Nick needed before getting onstage. “I’m not sure, though. She wants us all in the main

room.”

Nick took a deep breath and tugged his shirt into place. “Okay, fine. We haven’t received

any more of those weird e-mails, have we?”

“
What
e-mails?”

Nick waved him away. “Don’t look like that. Just, someone keeps sending me e-mails with

pictures of us. Some helpful fan.” He made a face.

“Which e-mail?”

“Web site one, don’t fret.”

“I’m not fretting,” Lee said. At Nick’s look, he shrugged. “All right, sorry. Habit.”

Nick slipped his shoes on. “Not a bad habit.” He laid a hand on Lee’s arm. “I know you

worry, Lee, but I’m okay.”

Lee let out his breath. “Yeah, I know. Sorry.”

Nick wrapped an arm around Lee’s neck, though he had to reach up to do it. “I like you all

protective, but you should enjoy yourself more.” He patted Lee’s cheek. “You’re too serious.

You need to have some fun for a change. Ever since Maya—”

Lee’s look made Nick stop.

“I’ll try, okay?” Lee said.

Nick didn’t look convinced.

“I will. Starting with that ballet.”

Nick released him, then rubbed his hands together, his eyes bright with success.

“Awesome. We’ll have fun, I swear. Then maybe we can go do something else.”

“Like what?” Lee opened the door, gesturing for Nick to precede him.

“Go eat pancakes?”

“Living wild in Big D. Sure.” Lee checked the time. Siobhan should be going on any

second. They would have forty-five minutes after she started, maybe longer. Audiences usually

clamored for more once they heard how good she was. “So, no idea who the tickets came from?”

he asked Nick.

Nick passed him. “Nope.” Lee closed the door behind them and followed. “It isn’t on the

envelope, so I don’t know.”

“Odd.”

They reached the greenroom. Almost everyone else was inside, lounging on sofas and

cushioned chairs. “Yeah, that is weird,” Nick said.

Long Way Home

7

“What’s weird?” Marisa zeroed in on them.

“Nothing.” Nick headed toward a folding chair, but Sam popped up, motioning for Nick to

take his cushioned seat instead. Nick was their star, after all. “Thanks.” He reached out and

squeezed Sam’s shoulder before taking the offered spot. “Some tickets for a ballet in Dallas.

Lee’s going with me,” he added to Marisa.

Sam joined Lee, leaning against the wall. “You? Ballet?”

“I’ve been to a few,” Lee said.

“Who gave them to you?” Tommy asked Nick.

“Don’t know.”

Marisa didn’t look thrilled. “I don’t like the sound of that.”

Nick waved her concerns away. “Don’t be silly. I get stuff like this all the time.” He glared

at Lee. “I shouldn’t have told Brandon and Lee. They’re making me go.”

“Where’s Mutt?” Sam said, looking around.

“Here.” The voice came from behind Lee. The bodyguard shouldered his way into the

greenroom, Greg following him. Now it was quite packed—Marisa, Tommy and his assistant,

Sam, Travis, Mutt, Greg, Lee, and, of course, Nick.

One last person came in, then closed the door. Lee didn’t recognize him.

The mystery man cleared his throat. Everyone fell silent. He looked at them all, his

expression grim. “I’m Detective Pete Durham with the New Orleans PD. Unfortunately, I have

some bad news. There’s been a death threat. We have to cancel the show.”

Lee stared at the detective in surprise, wondering if his instinct that something was odd had

been right. Nick would not like this.

As he expected him to, Nick flew out of his chair, yelling, “No way! I am
not
canceling the

show!”

The others exploded as well. Lee looked over at Marisa, her face set. He knew then she

supported the detective’s decision. He crossed his arms and waited for the second explosion, but

he was on edge now, angry that someone would pull a stunt like this for kicks and worried that it

could be real. He didn’t take any of their safety for granted. He glanced at Tommy.
No one’s.

“Everyone, calm down. Let the detective speak,” Marisa said. She placed a hand on Nick’s

arm. “Nick, we can’t—”

He straightened, pulling his arm from Marisa’s grasp. He looked down at her, his jaw

clenched, his blue eyes vibrant with anger. “We are not canceling.” He flung his hand out in the

general direction of the waiting crowd. The huge, excited, waiting crowd, already enjoying

Siobhan’s performance. “I am
not
going to disappoint those fans over some stupid death threat.”

“No death threat is stupid,” Durham interrupted. The thunderous look on Nick’s face didn’t

deter him. Tommy moved over next to Lee, grimacing when their eyes met. “You don’t

understand how dangerous this situation is.”

“Uh-oh,” Tommy muttered. Lee had to agree.

Nick turned to the detective, his gaze hard. “You apparently don’t know this,
Detective
—I

know all too well how dangerous it is. Our entire lives are dangerous. I am keenly aware there is

more than one psycho out there, perhaps waiting for his chance to possibly kidnap me again. I

live this, every single day. I remember what it was like,
every single day
, to live without hope, to

8

Carolyn Gray

think I might die any second. And I nearly did.” He looked pointedly at Tommy. “And we nearly

lost Tommy too.”

Tommy shifted against Lee, folding his arms over his chest. “I’m not afraid to go on.”

“Me either,” Sam said.

Nick looked pointedly at Lee.

“I’m always behind you. You know that,” Lee said despite himself.

Marisa huffed. “You guys can’t be ser—”

“Marisa, be quiet,” Nick said.

She pressed her lips together. Lee knew it was a struggle, as she only wanted everyone to

be safe.

Nick gestured to the room at large. “We’re going onstage.”

“I can’t guarantee your safety. “

Nick snorted. “No one can. The show is continuing.”

Frustration flashed across the detective’s face, and Lee couldn’t really blame him. But

Nick was stubborn, and there would be no changing his mind. Fortunately the detective saw it

too. “Okay. I’ll need more time, though, to get my people here and in line.”

“Siobhan has at least twenty-five minutes,” Marisa said. “Is that enough?”

“I have an idea,” Sam said, bounding forward. Marisa tried to cut him off, but he wouldn’t

be deterred. Sam gestured at Mutt. “I mean, to keep an eye on things. Give Mutt a guitar, and put

him out there close to Tommy. No one will notice him, but he can watch over Nick from there.”