Concentrating on making coffee, Cheyenne tried to come up with a way to explain this to Travis without pissing him off more than he was. Truth was, she felt safe with Brendon and it wasn’t like he was attempting to be superman. He’d called Sniper 1 Security and she knew he’d been in touch because he told her so. Granted, he hadn’t given her any details, but she knew he would when the time was right.
By the time she had four cups poured and another pot brewing, Travis and Gage joined them. Travis still looked pissed, but his hands were no longer fisted at his sides.
In order to put herself on an even keel with these overgrown men, Cheyenne hopped up on the counter and retrieved her coffee while she proceeded to stare them down. When the tension lessened another degree, she launched into her explanation.
“Brendon’s right when he said I didn’t want to involve you because I don’t want to drag your family into this, Travis. You’ve got a baby at home, you don’t—”
Not shocking, Travis interrupted with, “Don’t tell me what I don’t need—”
Cheyenne stopped him by holding a hand up. “Shut up,” she commanded, glaring at him. “Let me finish, please.” Sighing, she waited until Travis’s mouth closed. “Are you gonna listen to me or not?”
Brendon moved to stand beside her, but he hadn’t touched his coffee. His arms were crossed over his massive chest, a stance very similar to Travis’s, only, in her opinion, Brendon looked sexy doing it. Travis just looked … Well, he just looked pissed.
“I had to beg him not to tell you,” she went on to explain. “He said you’d want to know and although I didn’t disagree, I didn’t want you involved. I’m hiding out here in Coyote Ridge. No one knows where I am. Not even my manager or my record label. The only address I’ve given them was my post office box, which is in Round Rock.”
Travis’s eyes softened somewhat.
“Truth is, I didn’t want Brendon to know. I didn’t want anyone to know. This isn’t something I want anyone I care about to be involved in.”
“We need to know,” Gage said, his tone level, not reflecting an ounce of anger.
“I know. I do. But it’s not easy for me. Not only am I hiding out from the stalker who’s been following me around the country for the last year, but I’m hiding out from my parents.”
Travis knew all about her parents and the relationship—or lack thereof—that she had with them, so she didn’t feel the need to explain again.
“Brendon insisted on calling a friend of his to help.”
“Who?” Travis barked.
“Z.”
That one letter must’ve told Travis everything he needed to hear because he didn’t say a word. In fact, Cheyenne was pretty sure that was pride she saw reflected in his narrow gaze.
“Who’s Z?” Gage asked.
“Zachariah Tavoularis,” Brendon explained.
“Sniper One Security?” Gage questioned, his eyes wide.
“Yeah. He’s a guy Braydon and I went to school with. We’ve remained friends over the years.”
“I remember him,” Gage mentioned. “Didn’t know he worked for Sniper One.”
“Going on ten years now,” Brendon replied.
“What’s he say about this?” Travis asked, sounding rational for the first time since he walked through the door.
“As of five minutes ago, after I sent him the letter,” Brendon said, nodding toward the bar, “he said he’s workin’ on somethin’ and would call me back.”
“Wait,” Cheyenne said, glaring at Travis when he moved to the bar to retrieve the letter Brendon referred to. “How do you know about this?”
“I’ve told you before, Chey, I know everything.”
Cheyenne rolled her eyes at him although she knew he wasn’t joking. He truly believed he knew everything. Granted, the fact that he’d somehow stumbled onto this must’ve meant he had some serious connections.
Travis read both letters and then handed them over to Gage, neither man’s expression giving away his thoughts.
“You should’ve fucking come to me,” Travis growled, his focus once again on Brendon.
Brendon’s back straightened. “I didn’t need your help.”
“No? You’ve got some psycho out there lookin’ for her and you thought you could handle it on your own? I’m the one who’s kept an eye on her for the last seven years. I don’t need your help.”
“I’m not helpin’ you,” Brendon snapped. “I’m protectin’ what’s mine, goddammit! And I don’t need you to protect my girlfriend.”