21. Tyson

21

TYSON

"It'll be over soon. We'll get through this, princess."

I draw her toward me for a goodbye kiss. We both linger a moment longer than we should. Both of us are thinking the same thing—this is the worst part.

The part of our plan where we've got to do what we've agreed to do.

We've got to separate in order to end this mess once and for all.

I'm parked outside her sister's apartment building after the day and a half break Kiana was afforded by the label. Between her resting from the car crash and packing up Jax's things, time went by too fast. Today she's performing a small set for a talk show and then flying back to New York City to resume her tour preparation.

I'll be seeking answers on the West Coast.

We finally separate from our kiss, still hovering close. Neither of us are looking forward to the days to come.

"Don't say a word to them," I remind her. My thumbs sweep along the curve of her cheeks. "Remember, princess. We stick to the plan no matter what."

She gives a reluctant nod, her expression so glum it tears at me. She's been through so much, especially over the past couple weeks, that it makes me want to crush her in my arms and never let her go.

"Oh," comes Amari's voice from the sidewalk, "so you two really do got it bad."

We look over at the same time, two lovers caught in the middle of a moment inside my car. Amari's smirking at us, hands on her hips and right eyebrow raised. I can damn near feel the bashfulness that rolls over Kiana as she clears her throat and sits up straighter.

"Guess it really is time to go."

"Don't worry, Tyson. I'll take care of her," Amari promises. "I'm done working on the project with my other client. I'll be with her for the rest of her tour prep. Which means anybody tries anything, they've got me to answer to."

Her twin sister might be joking, but she's got no idea that it's some form of relief on my end. Though I haven't known the sisters for long, it's clear they're protective of each other.

I nod at the twin. "Keep me posted."

"You do the same," Amari says.

Kiana throws me a parting glance from over her shoulder as she joins her sister on the sidewalk.

It's our final goodbye before the two disappear inside the apartment building.

I release a deep sigh, doing what I'd done for Kiana—reminding myself that this next period is necessary. We've got to get through it in order to eliminate the threat and set her free from the vultures surrounding her.

Starting up the Hummer's engine with a roar, I drive off to my next task.

Forcing answers from the man who was supposed to love her.

Shawn Lassiter is walking out of practice when I accost him. He's crossing the parking lot of the LA Stars training facility, his duffle bag slung over his shoulder and a ball cap wedged low over his brow, hardly paying attention to his surroundings.

He's driven himself, parking his shiny little cobalt sports car away from others in the lot. Clearly, he didn't want to risk any dents or dings for his pricey toy.

Yet he'd been petty enough to shop around explicit photos and videos of Kiana for cash…

The mere thought makes the blood in my veins boil all over again.

I tamp down on letting my temper spiral. As pissed off as it makes me to know how Shawn's treated Kiana, I need to focus if I'm to get this phase of the plan done.

He slides into the driver's seat of his toy-sized sports car and then jets off.

I give it a couple seconds before following him.

He's a wannabe speed racer on the freeway, breaking the speed limit without a care. I'm able to keep up despite the fact that my Hummer's three times the size and guzzles gas like no other.

Shawn doesn't slow up 'til he's approaching the final street where his condo's located. He swings into a parking spot in front of the two-storied, red-roofed Spanish style building, oblivious to the fact that somebody in a big-ass Hummer's trailed him every mile.

I wait until he's pressed the button for his car alarm and starts down the pebbled pathway before I ambush him.

Coming up quickly from behind, I press the barrel of my Glock into his temple and issue simple instructions.

"Not another step, motherfucker."

"What the?—"

"Hands up," I go on. "Don't make a sound. You do, I'll blow your brains out."

His throat makes a grunting noise in protest, like he's about to push the limit and find out. Wisely, he decides against it at the last second.

Probably because he doesn't want his brains splattered on the concrete beneath our feet.

"You're going to hand over your wallet and phone. Then you're going to walk calmly toward my vehicle and get in. Nod if you understand."

His jaw works as if he's fighting through another urge to protest. He concedes with a slight nod, digging into the pocket of his joggers to retrieve the requested items. I snatch both away with my free hand.

We turn slowly, with Shawn still in front of me and my Glock still pressed against his temple. Being an NBA player, he's a tall man.

But so am I.

Tall and broad compared to his much leaner frame.

Shawn opens the passenger door, then slides into the seat. His gaze immediately shoots toward me, his first real view of who's accosted him. Instant loathing burns in his eyes and he bares gritted teeth.

I grin in response. "Yeah, that's right. It's me, motherfucker. Who else did you think it was? We're going on a field trip. But first…"

I climb behind the steering wheel, holding his phone to his face for the facial recognition technology. Once it's unlocked, I pull up his contacts list.

"Bro, what the fuck!?" Shawn blurts out in irritation. "I didn't give you permission to go through my phone!"

"Shut up. You've got the guy targeting Kiana saved in your phone? This Henry B. asshole?"

"Who's Henry? And who's targeting her?"

"You know exactly who the fuck I'm talking about. The same asshole you were going to sell photos of Kiana to."

"This is way out of pocket. You've got no right?—"

"Answer in the next five seconds or I'm making good on my initial promise. Splattered brains all over my dashboard. Try me and see if I won't mind cleaning that up. I've got the rags in my trunk."

"You are something else," he says, shaking his head. "You are one crazy-ass dude. I don't know what you think you've got on me, but I'm not playing with you."

I growl like a beast, my patience lost. My hand clamps down on the back of his neck, and I slam his face forward against the dashboard.

Twice.

Just to make sure he understands.

He sits back up covering his nose and mouth, tears wetting his eyes. "You better not have broken my nose!"

"The contact. Last time I'm asking you."

"Alright… alright… he's saved under Bass."

"Bass?! As in Henry Bass?"

"That's what he's been going by, yeah…"

"And what was the arrangement between you and Henry fucking Bass?"

"You ask like you don't already fucking know!" he snaps, wiping blood from his lip. "He was willing to pay for content on her."

"What kind of content?"

"You know. Anything showing skin. Nudes."

I breathe through another fireball of anger flaming over me. When I speak, my throat's tight and tone's clipped. "Do you realize the person you've been communicating with is the same person who has tried to hurt Kiana? Or have you been teaming up with him knowing that?"

"What? I wouldn't... I wasn't trying… it was just… I didn't mean to hurt her."

"Physically," I spit out. "But you sure as hell were willing to destroy her emotionally and damage her reputation."

The douche has enough sense to look ashamed. At least for a few seconds. He blows out a breath and scrubs a hand over his bloodied face.

"I was mad. The relationship was supposed to help boost my career. But all anybody cared about when we were out was her. Snapping photos of her. Getting her autograph."

"So you were jealous of your own girlfriend. Then sought to humiliate her by cheating on her. Trashing her on some podcast. And leaking nude photos of her…"

"I fucked up, alright? You want me to call off the nudes sale? Done. You confiscated that tablet anyway. Not like I had much on my own device."

"Noble of you," I say dryly. "But you're going to continue with the sale. Right now."

"What?"

"I'm putting this on speaker and dialing Henry. You're going to ask to meet up. You're going to tell him you've got the goods and want to meet in twenty minutes."

Shawn's eyes widen once he's tracking why I'm asking of him what I am. He hesitates only a second longer before nodding and then gesturing for me to dial his contact.

"Hey, Bass," he says when the other line answers, "I was wondering if you're free? Parking lot of the Beacon Theater in twenty. I've got everything you were asking for. And more. Her tablet had dozens of photos from our time together."

"Twenty minutes at Beacon works. I will be there. Bring the device. Come alone."

The voice on the other end sounds garbled, like he's using technology to disguise his voice.

"Alright man. See you."

I press the red button once the call's over. "This your first time meeting?"

"In person, yeah… we've only spoken over the phone and email."

"You follow my lead."

I start up the engine and reverse out of Shawn's driveway. I take a page out of his book and slam on the gas, speeding down the city streets with the goal of getting to the Beacon Theater first.

It'll give us the opportunity to set eyes on him before he does us.

Fifteen minutes later, I've parked half a block down and sent Shawn to the meeting spot with the explicit warning if he so much as breathes wrong, he's dead. I'll throttle him myself. He swears he'll go along with the plan, citing guilt over what he's done to Kiana.

I lurk in the shadows as Shawn waits on Henry to arrive.

Five minutes pass, then ten.

Thirty.

"He's late," I mutter under my breath, glaring around the parking lot of the old, abandoned Beacon Theater.

I have my answer as to why in the next minute. Shawn's phone rings in his hand. Before he answers it, he seeks me out from where I'm hiding, our gazes meeting. I give him a nod, signaling for him to go ahead and answer.

"Hello, Bass? What's up, man? Waiting on you—what? Nah, you've got the wrong idea. That's not what's going on. Don't hang… up."

I come out from where I'm lurking, already aware of what's happened, though I need to hear it with my own two ears.

Shawn looks shocked as he pockets his phone. "He's onto us. He said he knows I'm working with Tyson the Bison. Then he said to check out Kiana's performance on the Queenie Tate Show. Said it'll be her fieriest performance yet."

My hands ball into fists, my senses ringing in instant alarm. "I know who it is. We've got to get the fuck over there. He's about to make his next attempt."