Page 96 of Places I've Never Been

“There’s bound to be somebody we can hire.”

Mattie put a hand on Adam’s arm. “There’s no point. There’s nothing we can do about it now.”

Her voice sounded hollow and empty, and it ramped up his anger several more notches until the back of his neck felt prickly.

“I’ll fix this,” Adam told her. “I swear I will.”

“How? You can’t go back in time. You can’t rewrite history. Nobody can.” Mattie squeezed his arm then turned to her butler. “Abayomi, is there a golf cart I can use?”

“I will take you home, Miss Mattie.” Abayomi stepped forward. “Come with me.”

“Wait,” Adam held out a hand to stop her, “I’ll take you.”

“No.” She flashed a quick smile, but it was quickly replaced by a look of utter exhaustion. “I need to get some rest, and you need to stay and deal with this.”

He wanted to protest, but she waved at the rest of the group and followed Abayomi out of the hut before he could stop her.

He watched her go, hoping like hell this stupid stunt didn’t push her away from the island, and him. After the way she’d reacted when they’d first arrived, and the shit Devon the Douche had pulled, he had a feeling he might find her packing her bags when he got back to the villa.

He hoped he was wrong. He’d never hoped for anything more in his entire life.

Chapter Twenty-Three

The sun was setting when Mattie returned to her villa. Abayomi assured her she was safe, and that nobody would bother her, but she locked her bedroom door and pulled the drapes closed anyway. Then she dragged her suitcase out of the closet. It was past time to go. Staying in one place too long made it easier for cameras to lock in on her location.

She should never have agreed to a project like this. One song. That was the limit from now on.

The realization struck that the first song she’d been contracted to write was finished, and the second mostly there, but they hadn’t even started the third song. Tears welled up at the thought of leaving the project unfinished. What kind of professional was she? She’d slept with her client, starred in yet another headline, and now she was running away before the job was done.

A tear spilled out and ran down her cheek. She wiped it away, angry with herself. This was nothing to cry over, and she wasn’t running. She was making a strategic exit. Staying here would only make things worse for all of them.

She opened the drawer and took out her cell phone with the intention of telling her sisters that she was going home, but several texts from Piper distracted her.

Canyou get Don’s last name?

There are hundreds of them, five in the LA area.

There’s no Don working at Syer Island. You sure that’s his name?

Is it Hudson? Fernsby? Donnelly?

Shit. Hope it’s not Donnelly.

He’s called The Sniper.

Call me.

Mattie staredat the name Donnelly. The manager had called the photographer Donnelly. He’d introduced himself as Don. Don Donnelly? Was it the same as Piper’s Donnelly?

She pictured the friendly face of the photographer and couldn’t see how such a seemingly harmless man could have a nickname like The Sniper.

Mattie checked the time. It was seven in the morning in LA. Piper was a complete grouch when she woke up, but shehadsaid to call. She opened a video chat and dialed.

It took Piper five rings to answer with a yawn. “Finally. Took you long enough. Did you get his name?”

“Yes, but it doesn’t matter.Buzz 9posted that group photo I told you about.”

“Shit, really? I was watchingLA POP. Hang on.” Piper sat up, now wide awake, then the screen blanked out with Paused in the middle. Her sister swore several choice words, then came back into view. “Assholes. You think Don did it?”

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