Page 18 of Room Ten: Put on a Show

CeCe released a long breath. “Okay. If there is anything I can do—anything at all—please let me know.”

“I will.”

After ending the call with CeCe, I poured a cup of coffee, black. Then I headed toward Kenna’s bedroom.

“How is she?” I asked, passing the cup to Merrick.

“Spooked,” he replied, accepting the coffee with a nod of gratitude. “Did you see the car waiting across the street?”

I moved to the window at the end of the hall—there were too many damn windows in this house for my comfort—and pulled the curtain aside with two fingers, just enough to get a look.

Troy’s car.

“Has he been there all night?” I asked.

“No. Only a few minutes, as far as I can tell.”

Kenna didn’t need Troy butting in, sniffing out a story right now. She needed peace and quiet. She needed to be left alone so Merrick and I could look after her. I suppose it was a shitty thing to do, leaving Troy behind, especially when we knew there was a shooter present, but Kenna was our priority, not him.

I lifted my chin in the direction of Kenna’s bedroom door.

“Is she asleep yet?”

Merrick shook his head. “Doubt it.”

“Let me talk to her.”

He stepped aside while I grasped the door handle and twisted it, stepping inside. Kenna was seated on a chair by the television, her feet tucked under her, a large, oversized t-shirt swallowing her frame. She stared, glassy-eyed at the screen while chewing on her thumb nail, ruining her nail polish.

“Kenna?” I said softly.

No response.

A breaking news banner flickered across the screen that read,Bourbon Street shooter still on the loose.

Moving with gentle footsteps so I didn’t startle Kenna, I crossed the room to stand beside her. She looked tense and wired, ready to flinch at the slightest noise. Dark circles shadowed her eyes, haunted with worry. I reached out, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Dragging my thumb down her jawline, I grasped her chin lightly and turned her head away from the television.

“Kenna, look at me,” I whispered.

She blinked and her gaze focused on me.

“You need to get some sleep,” I added.

“Can’t,” she said in a small voice.

It was painful to hear her speak like that. Kenna had a big voice that filled a room, even without a microphone. Now, anxiety had rendered her quiet, curling in on herself. I wanted to rip the throat out of that shooter with my bare hands for putting her through this.

Kenna held up her phone.

“Troy said he got out okay and promised to stop by to check on me. Have you seen any sign of him?”

I pressed my lips together. My duty was to protect Kenna, keep her safe. There was nothing in my contract that forced me to tell the truth though.

“No,” I replied. “Not yet.”

Which wasn’t exactly a lie. I’d only seen Troy’s car. Not him.

Kenna’s brows drew together with disappointment and she ducked her head, returning her attention to the television. I closed my eyes and stifled a sigh. Bringing my hand up, I nearly touched her hair again for reassurance, but I pulled back at the last minute.

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