Page 171 of Perfect Pitch

More memories assault me. When he held me through my tears after learning of my grandfather’s betrayal, bringing the beauty of Texas back into my soul one sweet moment after another.

“Lies. It was all lies,” I weep bitterly.

He was everything I knew I wanted in a man. Then, flip. Gone was my protective lover. In his place descended a man I’d briefly heard Trevor mention but I’d never seen.

Never felt.

My hand smooths over my still flat stomach. Flashes of his soft caresses that share the responsibility for my condition now intersperse with more brutal ones.

Him smiling down into her upturned face. Fingers touching beneath the swell of her breast. Telling me to get the fuck away from him.

Bile, oily and thick, rises when I deliberately seek him out from my nest in the sky.

He’s still in the corner with the brunette.

As if I never existed.

I laugh without humor. “I probably never did. I was just an easy lay while he was working.”

I was so certain he was my future, positive he was the rhythm to my melody, the steady beat to match the pitch of running scales playing though my head. Heart stuttering in my chest, I force myself to breathe. I reach for my cell and look up the tour schedule Kristoffer Wilde’s team had sent to me earlier today. “Thank god the only people copied on this are Carys and Charlie.”

Shooting her a text that my schedule just became need to know until further notice—especially from Hudson Investigations. I get one in return.

Carys:

How is Charlie supposed to arrange for protection?

Austyn:

Later. Something came up tonight.

Carys:

We’ll connect tomorrow.

With that complete, I think about everything I know about Charlie Henderson. The man used to work for Hudson, but since he knows about the baby, he has a vested interest in my welfare. Plus, even according to Mitch, he’s still at the top of his game. Maybe he’s not who my father would want to cover me, but he’s the only one I can fathom helping me escape this nightmare with minimal fuss.

With that, I pull up Charlie’s name in my contacts. Stiltedly, I explain what transpired at the club.

And that I was trying to tell Mitch about us having a baby.

Without missing a beat, he says, “I’ll keep you covered, kid, without raising my bonehead nephew’s radar. When do you want to leave?”

“Is the day after tomorrow too soon?”

“Hell no. Now, head home and get some rest. That’s my great-niece or nephew you’re carrying.” His voice holds all the tenderness I was praying I’d get from Mitch.

And just then, the brunette drops to her knees in front of Mitch. “No, Charlie. I just need to escape.”

Anger makes his normally jovial voice harsh. “I’m going to kill him.”

Heart stuttering, I whisper, “It might be kinder if you killed me instead.”

That’s when I disconnect the call and push myself into finishing out my duties in the booth. I deliberately put some extra oomph in the way I layer tracks. I try to lose myself in the music, the roar of the crowd, but I can’t.

My soul isn’t in it. It’s floating nebulously just out of reach.

No longer mine.

---