He would deal with her wrath but he had to know what the fuck the letter said. Pulling it from the envelope, he scanned back to the point he’d left off.
… photocopy of the last letter we received from this guy. The police have been given a copy, but I need you to give this to the person you’re working with at Sniper 1. Cheyenne, I can’t iterate how serious this is. I’d appreciate a phone call as soon as possible.
—Preston
Brendon had no idea who Preston was, but he figured since the letter was addressed from Nashville that it was probably her agent.
Pulling out another piece of white paper, Brendon unfolded it, and as he read the few words on the paper, a fiery red haze descended.
BABY, IT WON’T BE LONG NOW AND I’LL HAVE YOU FOR MYSELF. YOU BETTER MAKE IT EASY ON ME OR YOU’RE GOING TO BE SORRY. AND I’LL MAKE YOU PAY WITH YOUR LIFE.
Brendon had to blink past the fury that clouded his vision.
“Mornin’.”
Spinning around, Brendon came face-to-face with Cheyenne. He was holding the letter in his hand and he wasn’t sure what she saw on his face when she looked at him, but he knew it wasn’t fucking pretty.
“What’s that?” she asked, nodding toward the paper in his hand.
“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about this, Cheyenne?” he growled, his voice so low, he hardly recognized himself.
“About what?” She reached for the paper, snatching it right out of her hands. He watched her eyes peruse the paper, and then her face blanched.
Fuck.
She hadn’t seen the letter.
“Goddammit!” Brendon slammed his fist onto the granite countertop before stomping across the room, thrusting his hands in his hair.
“I … Oh, my God.” Cheyenne’s face was pale, her hands shaking.
Brendon moved over to her and took the paper from her hand, then pulled her into his arms. He held her tightly, never intending to let her go. He had no idea how long they stood like that, but he didn’t release her until her shaking had ceased. When she looked up at him, there was a mixture of scorn and fear contorting her beautiful face.
“You read my mail,” she accused.
“And I’d apologize, but I’m not fucking sorry,” he retorted, nodding his head toward the piece of paper dangling between two of her fingers.
“I …” Cheyenne looked back at the paper, then back up at him. “I had no idea.”
“Well, apparently Preston was trying to let you know,” he said, pointing at the other piece of paper sitting on the envelope.
“I saw that, but I didn’t read all of it. I figured it was the same old stuff. Usually he sent a short note and added another note, generally a song someone wanted me to look at.”
“Did the word stalker not catch your attention?” he asked, still furious.
Cheyenne put her hands on her hips and faced off with him. Odd how he found her so fucking cute even when he was livid.
“I’ve been dealin’ with this asshole for a year, Brendon. I’ve seen my fair share of notes regarding the stalker. I’m tired of it. I just want him to go away.”
Brendon wished it was that easy. Unfortunately, it wasn’t. “Put the note on the bar.”
Cheyenne laid the paper down and Brendon grabbed his cell phone. He snapped a picture and then sent it over to Z with a message that said, “Call me.”
“There’s coffee,” he said, not looking at her before he took his phone and ventured out onto the back porch.
She didn’t follow and he was grateful. Now his hands were shaking and it wasn’t just from the rage that still consumed him.
Less than a minute later, his cell phone rang and he stabbed the Talk button before putting it to his ear.
“When did she get that?” Z questioned by way of greeting.
“Hell if I know,” Brendon answered. “Her manager or someone sent it to her.”
“Got it. I’m workin’ on somethin’, but I’ll be in touch soon.”
The call ended and Brendon felt just as frustrated as he had before the thirty-second conversation. The back screen door slammed and Brendon turned to see Cheyenne approaching, two cups of coffee in her hand. When she held one out for him, he took it and muttered a thank-you.
“I swear I didn’t know about the threat. Well, not about that one anyway.”
“You didn’t mention he was sending death threats, Chey.”
“I didn’t figure it mattered. Regardless, this guy needs to be caught,” she said haughtily.
“I get that. But you can bet your sweet ass you won’t be left alone until he is.”