Page 136 of Sing You Home (Nashville Star 1)

The next morning, Seth steps inside the farmhouse, shakes the rain off his jacket and enters the kitchen.

He sighs as he takes in the bottle of Jim Beam, the smoking ashtray. At the table sits Luke, his face in his hands, a cigarette burning out between his fingers.

Seth raises an eyebrow at Jace, who sits across from Luke. “How is he?”

Jace offers a one-shoulder shrug. “He drank half a bottle of whiskey last night, so I’d say he’s hurtin’ right about now.” When Seth stares down at Luke, Jace says, “Smashed his guitar the minute we got home. Cut his hand. Then passed out on the couch.”

“Shit.”

Seth winces as he spies the damage to Luke’s poor old guitar. It rests in the corner of a kitchen, battered to hell. The neck, snapped apart from the body, hangs loose. Splintered into a spike sharp enough to stake a vampire.

“Why’d you do that you idiot?”

Luke lifts his head, looking like he’s in his own circle of hell. His eyes red and bloodshot. His clothes rumpled, his tie loosed. The palm of his hand stained with dried blood. “You find her? You find Sal?” His voice is hoarse with desperation and worry.

They’re all worried.

Sal took off last night and Luke lost her in the crowd. Even after driving around for hours and blowing up her cell phone, they couldn’t find her.

And now? Now Sal’s out there alone, unprotected. There’s no telling the awful thoughts going through Luke’s mind. His brother already looks half-crazed as it is.

Hell, Seth’s nearly there himself. The way Sal looked at him last night. Betrayed. Hurt. He felt like fucking Judas.

Seth pulls up a chair and sits. “I’m lookin’. Lacey’s lookin’. We’ll find her.”

Luke nods numbly and stamps out his cigarette. He reaches, fumbling, for the empty bottle of booze.

Seth scowls. “You want some more whiskey with that whiskey?”

“Couldn’t hurt,” Luke grunts.

Jace removes the bottle from reach. “This don’t suit you no more. Not this road.”

“Jace is right. Drinkin’ yourself stupid ain’t gonna fix a thing.”

“This is my fuckin’ fault.” Luke dips his head and cups the back of his neck. “I should have been honest in the first place. I lost her.” His eyes close. “For good this time.”

“You haven’t lost her,” Seth says, though he doubts his words will even get through his brother’s boozed soaked brain. “She’ll come around, man.”

“We just gotta find her first.” Jace meets Seth’s eyes.

The look that passes between them—unbridled anger.

Just when Seth thought Mort couldn’t stoop any lower, he did. It was slimy as fuck releasing that photo, trying to sabotage his brother’s career, his relationship with his wife. Not to mention sending Sal into a spiral, blindsiding her into believing the past was the present. She’s been through enough hurt, and all Mort did was confuse her already-confused mind even further.

One thing’s for certain, Mort ain’t getting away with it. Seth’s already got plans to destroy the son of a bitch. Early this morning, he put a call in to Clive Jasper. Those archived texts are his. Seth’s coming for Mort and when he’s done with him, he’s gonna learn you don’t touch his family.

Not Luke, and sure as hell not Sal.

Seth jumps when his cell phone pings. He breathes a sigh of relief as he reads the text from Lacey. “Found Sal,” he says, and Luke’s head snaps up.

“She’s safe?”

Seth flattens his lips to smother a smile. The only thing his brother cares about. Luke could be on fire and all he’d worry about was if Sal was getting smoke inhalation.

“She’s safe.” Seth glances back at the text. “She’s at the Hermitage.”

Some of the cloudiness leaves Luke’s eyes. No doubt the memories of the hotel have hit him hard. Then, like the words have triggered something in him, Luke lets out a determined breath and straightens up. “I’m goin’ to get her. I ain’t lettin’ her go again.”

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