That sounded like AJ.
Deputy Moore added, “Vegas PD found out he’s in deep with some bad people—gambling debts, unpaid loans. He needed cash, fast.”
Jamie’s pulse pounded in her ears. “So what? He thought somehow scaring me would make him rich?”
“Not exactly,” Deputy King said. “He figured if he created a scandal between you and Clayton it would drive up your publicity, framing Tammy in the process. Bigger media attention, more press. He told the officers, and I quote, ‘A little drama never hurt a celebrity.’”
Clayton cursed under his breath. “That son of a bitch.”
Jamie shook her head, trying to process it. “We never made the threats public.”
“He got desperate.” Shorty crossed his arms. “That’s when he tried to sell your story to the tabloids—about your mother being a drug addict and you being homeless.”
Jamie inhaled sharply. That was it. That was always it. AJ had never seen her as his daughter. She was a business opportunity. A paycheck.
Jamie swallowed against the lump rising in her throat.
“Jesus, I can’t believe this.” She dropped her head into her hands, but the disbelief didn’t last long.
Of course AJ was behind this.
CHAPTER 36
CLAYTON
Clayton walked Shorty out to his car, his boots crunching against the gravel, fists still clenched from the conversation inside. He was madder than a wet hen, but this wasn’t just anger—it was something darker, something that sat like a lead weight in his gut.
Jamie’s own damn daddy had been behind those threats. A man was supposed to protect his daughter, not turn into the monster under her bed. The thought made his stomach churn. He’d dealt with plenty of low-life bastards in his time, but this one hit differently.
“I apologize for showing up unannounced,” Shorty said, rubbing the back of his neck. “But I wanted to tell you in person.”
Clayton gave a sharp nod, his mind spinning a mile a minute. Jamie was safe now, but what about tomorrow? Next week? What if someone else came after her? What if that bastard got out early? The thought made his blood run hot. He wasn’t the type to let things eat at him—life on the road had taught him how to roll with the punches. But this? This wasn’t some drunken bar fight or some tabloid scandal. This was Jamie’s life.
“I hear you,” Clayton said, voice tight. “But first thing tomorrow I want you to find a security company.”
Shorty sighed. “Clayton, the threats are over. She’s safe, now.”
Clayton set his jaw. He didn’t believe in luck, and he damn sure didn’t believe in letting his guard down. He knew too many stories about women who thought they were safe—until they weren’t.
“For now.” His voice came out low, sharp-edged. “Ain’t risking it. Ain’t riskingher. I want a damn gate up front, cameras—hell, whatever it takes.”
Shorty studied him, his expression unreadable, then finally nodded. “All right. I’ll handle it.”
Clayton barely heard him. His pulse drummed in his ears, his brain playing out every worst-case scenario. Jamie getting a phone call she shouldn’t. Jamie walking through a parking lot alone. Jamie—dammit, he couldn’t even let himself go there.
“And get her a protection order against that bastard,” Clayton added.
“He’s in jail.”
Clayton’s jaw flexed, his fingers twitching at his sides. He wasn’t a violent man, but if Jamie’s father ever stepped within spitting distance of her again he wouldn’t hesitate.
“And one day he won’t be,” he said, his voice low, deliberate. If that bastard so much as breathed in Jamie’s direction he’d handle it himself. Let the law be damned.
Shorty exhaled. “He’s going to be locked up for five years, Clayton, maybe longer.”
Clayton didn’t flinch. Five years was nothing. Five years was a couple of albums, a few hundred shows, and a handful of hits. But when he thought about Jamie—where she’d be, wherethey’dbe—he realized something deep in his gut.
“Ain’t long enough.”
