Page 82 of Naughty Dreams
“A sexy circus contortionist and a six pack of beer come to mind.”
Roy snorted. “Take me up to the house? I want to check on him before I hit the guest cottage.”
“Hop in.”
The house’s interior matched the outside. Fabrics and window treatments in warm earth colors, stone fireplaces and mortared flat cut rock for the foyer.
Roy found DJ in a small den. Under normal circumstances it was the kind of space DJ probably went to create while not beingtoo far from the main hub of activity in the living room. When more people were in it.
Right now he was slumped in an occasional chair and watching the wildlife cam on the wide screen TV mounted over a fireplace. A bunch of birds were flitting around on the ground. The sun was going down. His guitar was in the corner, hidden in the shadows.
Roy put his hands on DJ’s shoulders and squeezed gently. “Warren’s here. I’ll be nearby, kid.”
A ripple of tension moved through his muscles, but DJ nodded. No other acknowledgement, though, and he didn’t ask Roy to stay. It was still too soon to push him, but leaving him wasn’t a good feeling.
The guest cottage had stone walls, gabled roof and a rounded top front door made of wood. The cozy interior offered a small kitchen, king-sized bed and modest living room with a giant screen TV. Out in back, the patio garden’s bistro set gave a guest a place to enjoy breakfast or an evening drink while listening to nature. There was also a hot tub.
The kitchen was stocked with snacks. Cooked fresh food meals were in the refrigerator. Roy heated up a chicken cacciatore in the microwave and cut up a fresh apple to eat on the side. There was banana pudding or a chocolate cake for dessert. He chose the pudding, and though it had a base of Vanilla wafers, a box of them in clear view on the counter allowed him to use more as dippers. Roy bumped the house staff rating up to five double plus stars.
He thought about taking the pudding and cookies back to the house and getting DJ to share it with him. Only a few days ago, it would have enchanted DJ to discover his stalwart bodyguard indulging such a childhood pleasure. And Roy would have done his best to hide it from him, rather than considering it as a way to bring some small light to the dark place DJ was in.
After eating, Roy opened his laptop to handle the unpleasant task of wading through his email.
News and social media outlets had hyped the crash enough that those who’d never listened to a single Survival song were now on the tragedy band wagon. He didn’t blame DJ for not replacing his phone. Or watching anything but old movie channels and a nature webcam.
Moss had sent Roy some emails in case DJ asked for a status on his end of things. Still nothing from the FBI or NTSB, except the usual “ongoing investigation” crap. However, G had pried some stingy information out of an NTSB contact. Roy clicked open that message, and then swore, his fist hitting the table.
One of the theories they’re looking at is the device was planted on the plane before take-off, and detonated to look like a fatal landing malfunction or error.
He hadn’t had the plane scanned for an explosive device. It hadn’t been a conceivable notion, and airport security was deemed sufficient.
Well, obviously he’d been fucking wrong about that, if this asshole had avoided surveillance and planted the device.
Boss, I know what you’re thinking, but nothing in our modeling suggested a plane target. There were far easier ways to attempt to kill the band members.
No. Not with them doing their job as well as they’d been doing it. But it hadn’t been good enough.
He sent a read receipt to let her know he’d gotten it, but no other response. It felt like every brick on the house had collapsed upon him.
Rubbing his tired face, he moved into the bedroom and sat down on the mattress. Serving in the military, he knew how many contingencies couldn’t be anticipated. How many things had to be discarded from risk assessment because they had toput their resources toward the most likely scenario. Most of the time, they were right.
But it was never enough to make the times they were wrong feel forgivable.
He changed into shorts and put his firearm under his pillow before stretching out. But when he lay down, he knew why he’d held off on this moment. Until now, he’d locked it all away, focused on getting DJ from there to here, but everything he was feeling was hammering at the door, saying it was time to be let in.
“Fuck.” Might as well get it over with. He took a deep breath and let the ache grab his gut and chest, shorten his breath, and sting his eyes with tears.
He hadn’t known the band long, but grieving someone didn’t require that. He’d liked all of them. Even Tal.
And sweet Lonnie… She’d been collateral damage. Her parents were unable to comprehend the pain, because it ran too deep to make sense.
He couldn’t be everywhere, do everything.What a convenient excuse, his mind snarled at him.
Self-flagellation was pointless. Action wasn’t.
Wiping his eyes, he sat up and turned things over in his mind until he had a plan. It was a workable one, serving several purposes. But before he started putting it into action, he was going to do what he rarely did.
Get more help.
