Page 127 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

“The picture, Mort,” Luke asks between gritted teeth. “The one Clive Jasper took of me and Alabama. Tell me it wasn’t you. Tell me you didn’t send it to Sal.”

Mort’s face is a blank slate Luke can’t read. That is, until he rocks back in his chair, sucks his teeth and calmly says, “So Jasper finally talked.”

Luke’s world tips sideways.

He stands there, numb, rocked by the betrayal. Stabbed in the fucking back by the last person he ever expected. The person he trusted most with his band, his money, his family.

“You mean someone finally figured it the fuck out,” Seth snaps.

“Jesus, Mort,” Jace says, a look of horror on his face.

Luke’s hands curl into tight fists. “Tell me why.” It’s not a question. It’s a demand. A stone-cold threat that if Mort won’t talk, Luke will make him talk.

“You left me with no choice, son. You were gonna pull the plug on us. My best clients leavin’? I couldn’t let that happen.” Looking pleased with his plan, Mort grins. “I had to show you I could handle anything. That I was invaluable. And I did, didn’t I? You wanted the name of the person who sent Sal that photo, and I got it.”

“Because you set it the fuck up,” Seth snaps, pushing off the wall.

Fury bubbles in his blood, and Luke takes a step toward Mort. “Why Sal?”

“Because she was the only one who mattered. You didn’t care if it was in the press. If it tanked your career. I knew if I found the person who sent her that photo, if I fixed it with her, I’d be golden. I’d be yours for life.” He exhales, cavalierly kicks his feet up on the desk and shrugs. “Only that damn car accident got in the way and fucked everything up.”

“Fucked everything up?” Luke stalks across the room. “My son died that night.” He knocks the cigar from Mort’s mouth. “Sal could have died!”

“And I’m sorry for that. Truly, I am.”

Seth snaps Mort’s chair upright, sending him to his feet.

His voice lethal, Luke says, “My wife almost left me because of that photo.”

This time Mort’s face changes. The calm he’s worn so well all this time morphs to irritation. To anger.

“Your wife was a pesky obstacle,” Mort shoots back, his jowls quivering. “You were always runnin’ to her, wouldn’t tour without her. She kept you off the market. Kept you so pussywhipped you couldn’t see straight.” He scoffs. “Freein’ you up from Sal, that would have been just a bonus.”

Luke lunges for Mort, but Jace is faster.

Gripping Luke by the shoulder, he says, “You break your fuckin’ hand, you ain’t playin’ tomorrow night.”

That stills Luke, barely. He itches to throw a punch. To beat the living shit out of the morally corrupt piece of shit he called a manager. The thought of Mort arranging all this, of Sal being collateral damage, has Luke livid. Mort upended Sal’s—and everyone’s—life for the last year, all for his own selfish ends.

The only thing saving Luke right now is Sal. Because she knew about Mort’s plan, and she believed Luke. That’s the reason she was so distracted before the trip. Because Alabama had come to her with what Mort did, and that’s what she planned to tell him in Pensacola.

Whether or not Mort meant to cause catastrophe, he set everything in motion. The car accident. The plane crash. Sal being taken by Roy Williams.

“You did this to her,” Luke seethes. “Everything—this is on you.”

Mort settles himself on the edge of his desk. “Believe me, son, I didn’t come out so rosy in all of this. If I would have known you’d spend the last year pining for a dead girl, I would have considered other options.”

A sharp inhale of breath from Seth.

Jace looks at Luke, then he lets loose his arm and steps back with a shrug. It’s all the permission Luke needs.

“You motherfucker.”

He rushes Mort and lands a solid punch square in the jaw. The sound of skin on bone reverberates throughout the studio. Mort goes falling to the floor, and Luke follows.

It takes both Seth and Jace to pull Luke off Mort.

Luke stands, breathing heavily, flexing his hands, watching as Mort staggers to his feet. Their manager stands disheveled, bracing himself on his desk. As he wipes blood from his lips, he turns an icy gaze to Luke.

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