GETAWAY CAR
“My man.” Gavin Langfield claps me on the back and pulls me in for a half hug when he steps into the owner’s suite at Bolts’ Arena. My best friend’s family owns the hockey team, and a few of his brothers even play.
“Merry Christmas,” I say as I pull back.
He grins. “Merry Christmas it is. My team is killing it, and my best friend is about to tell me his superstar son is finally going to come play for us.”
A laugh bubbles out of me. “You know the rules.”
Gavin drafted Daniel when he was eighteen. Pro hockey differs from most other sports in this way. A team like the Bolts can draft a player in college but then allow him to remain in school and play in the NCAA league. Once the player has reached their pinnacle level, according to the team, at least, a contract is offered. From there, he’d leave college for the minors or maybe even the NHL. Daniel hit that level when he was nineteen, and Gavin’s been on my ass to bring him up to the NHL ever since.
But college is important to me. My kids will never worry about money, so Daniel doesn’t need the contract. What he needs is a fucking degree. Something I know will go by the wayside the minute he starts playing for the NHL. Though it’s wildly unorthodox, and to outsiders, probably a poor decision on his part, out of respect for me, Gavin has never spoken to Daniel about bringing him up.
This is the one thing I still have control over when it comes to my kids. Daniel and his twin sister are twenty-two, and in general, they do what they want. Just like Paul.
The twins spent Christmas with their mother this year. It’s easier that way. She’s good at getting what she wants, and they know I understand. I spent time with them last week, and we have plans to get together again before they go back to school. The only reason Paul made an appearance today is because of Lake. She’s thoughtful in a way that’s almost detrimental to her. She goes out of her way to make those around her feel happy, appreciated, welcome. She couldn’t stand the idea of me being alone for the holiday and scheduled a trip to see me so I could spend the day after Christmas with my son. Or lunch, at least.
Hey, it’s something.
Gavin motions to the seats in the front. Like me, he doesn’t like to miss a minute of the game. The fancy bar and the food in the suite don’t interest us. “How’s Millie?”
“Perfect, as always.”
Gavin laughs. “What’s her plan after college?”
“If it were up to me, she’d intern with the label, but she’s always wanted to go her own way. And she’s Daniel’s shadow. I don’t know what she’ll do when he signs that contract and she can’t make it to every one of his games. She’s his biggest fan.”
“Smart girl. The boy is a beast on skates.”
My chest warms. “Don’t I know it.”
“And Paul?”
A waitress approaches us before I can answer, but once we’ve each ordered a glass of Hanson whiskey and she leaves us, I let my shoulders slump and sigh. “Paul is Paul. Just as selfish and lazy as ever. I have no idea how Lake stays with him.”
Gavin raises his brows. “He’s lucky, isn’t he? Landed the hottest act around.”
A fire ignites in my veins at that, and I have to lock my jaw to keep from biting my friend’s head off. I despise the way people talk about her like she’s nothing but a pretty face. The talent that girl has in her pinky surpasses every other artist I’ve ever signed. She’s also smart and kind. Too kind sometimes.
Like today. There’s no way she didn’t notice that her boyfriend bought a generic hat and scarf set and gave us each one piece for Christmas. Paul didn’t even bother to buy his girlfriend her own gift. Fuck, I thought I raised him better.
More and more, I’m realizing we didn’t do a great job of raising him at all. The twins, though, always have one another’s backs. They’re thoughtful and they care about all of us. But they were still so young when Kyla and I split. By the time they were old enough to understand what was going on, she and I had figured out how to be friends and good co-parents. And money was flowing a bit easier by then, too.
Truth is, both of my boys are a little spoiled. Can’t say the same about Millie, though. I will accept no complaints regarding my perfect daughter.
Like Lake, she deserves all the protection.
More than a little eager to change the subject, I lean forward and rest my elbows on my knees. “Seeing anyone?”
Gavin smirks. “Sure, I see a lot of ones.”
That gets a laugh out of me. That’s pure Gavin. Not the least bit interested in settling down, but always up for a fun time.
“What are you two laughing about?” his brother Beckett grumps from a few seats down. Like the two of us, Beckett’s true focus is on the game. While he’s the owner of Boston’s most successful baseball team, the Revs, he’s always been good at supporting his brothers.
“Just Gav’s inability to settle down.”
“Says the guy who hasn’t been in a relationship since his kids were in diapers,” Gavin snorts.
All I can do is shrug. I lost interest in that kind of thing after my divorce. Sure, I spend the night with women here and there and even see a few of them occasionally because I enjoy company at dinners and award shows, but if I’ve learned one thing in the last twenty years or so, it’s that there isn’t a woman out there who gets me. A woman I’m willing to compromise for, who makes me want to give up nights with the boys to just hang with her.
“At least I’m done with the kid thing. You two still have that to look forward to.”
Gavin throws his head back and snorts. “Can you imagine Beckett with a kid?”
Beckett rolls his eyes. “I don’t want kids, so your insults won’t affect me.”
“Eh,” I say. “You’ll change your tune when you meet the woman of your dreams.” Even though Kyla and I didn’t work out, I’ll never regret becoming a father. At forty-seven, my days of raising kids are long gone. But I’ve got a few years on my friends. They still have time to do all that.
Gavin grins. “My brother already met the love of his life. She just doesn’t know he exists.”
Beckett growls. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Gavin laughs like an idiot and takes the whiskey from the server when she appears. Then he taps his glass against mine. “To Olivia Maxwell, the only woman Beckett will ever want.”
His brother rolls his eyes. “She works for us,” he says to me. “And she’s married.”
Shaking my head at their theatrics, I sit back and settle in for the game. I spend the next ninety minutes watching the action on the ice and texting back and forth with Daniel. He goes on and on about wanting to come with me the next time I’m hanging with the Langfield brothers, and I promise to bring him up to Boston in the New Year. Just gotta come up with some threats ahead of time to keep Gavin from chirping in his ear. Otherwise the kid will leave his last semester of college so he can be here for the playoffs.
I’m just slipping my phone back into my pocket when it buzzes in my hand, so I pull it out again. Shit. My assistant’s name flashes on the screen, which means I absolutely can’t ignore it. I’m a hands-on boss and keep tabs on my artists and what they’re up to at all times, so I’m usually the one checking in, not the other way around. If Lisa is calling me, it’s because there’s a problem.
“You need to get to Bar 31.” No hello, no we’ve got a problem. Lisa gets right to it.
With a nod to the guys, I stand and head out. They get it. The Langfields run two of Boston’s most prolific sports teams. They understand that one phone call could signal a million disasters. Disasters that could cost millions in only minutes if not dealt with quickly.
My gut tells me this phone call is exactly that.
“Who’s at Bar 31?”
She taps at her phone, the sound beating against my ear. I pull it back and scowl as I wait for her to answer my question.
“Sorry.” She types for another few seconds, then rapid-fires the facts. “Lake. She caught Paul sucking Clay off after the show. Took a bottle of champagne and made a big show of it. Then she commandeered one of the backup dancers, who snuck her into an Uber. Now she’s dancing on the bar top at Bar 31. It’s all over the internet.”
“Fuck.” My stomach drops. “The vultures already found her?”
Lisa laughs. It’s breathy and filled with sarcasm. “TikTok and Instagram, Daddy Ford. These days, everybody’s a vulture. Teeny boppers with iPhones get the scoop long before the paps ever do.”
My heart rate picks up. She’s right. Maybe my first thought should be about my son. I had no idea he was into men. Or a cheater. Maybe a good parent would focus on their child. But honestly, I barely consider the implications. Because Lake is my label. We took a risk on her a few years ago, and it’s paid off one hundred–fold. She’s the reason each of my kids has a black card and every luxury they could think of. It’s why Paul, the lazy ass, is even here. Because of her success, he’s living the high life.
My phone pings in my ear, so I pull it away and click on the video Lisa shared. “What the fuck?” I growl.
Lake hasn’t even changed out of the glittery outfit she wore for the closing number. Once I’m in the hallway outside the owner’s suite, I slump against the concrete wall and watch the train wreck on the six-inch screen. My grip on the phone tightens as the camera pans up her long, creamy legs. Legs everyone is commenting on.
She is strikingly beautiful.
When the camera hits her wide hips, I grind my teeth.
Move the camera up, fucker.
The image wobbles like the person recording stumbled or got jostled by others trying to get closer to Lake. When the video gets clear again, it’s focused on her breasts. The gold sequin leotard shimmers as she heaves in breaths. The shiny material only accentuates a pair of tits I’ve never focused on, even as I approved or rejected outfit ideas for shows or an album cover. Even if I had looked a few seconds too long, I never would have been graced with a view like this. Lake is the good girl of music. Fans expect a certain look. This number was chosen for this holiday set. It’s far more revealing than anything the pop princess would normally wear.
Jesus, her father is going to kill me for okaying this.
Did I okay this?
When the camera hits her face, I don’t zero in on her lips, where I’m sure the rest of America is focused. Those red lips are famous.
No, my gaze zeroes in on her eyes. Vacant. Completely devoid of emotion.
The girl is so used to hiding her feelings she doesn’t even have to practice the look.
She’s clearly close to breaking down. To the rest of the world, her smile looks bright and she looks like she’s having the time of her life, but this is a façade. When Lake smiles for the cameras, her eyes always convey how appreciative she is for all she has.
To be clear, she’s earned it. Every single dollar, every single award, and every single fan. No one works harder than her.
But she always makes sure to express her gratitude.
Right now, though, she isn’t faking anything. While her lips tell one story, bright and cheery and ready to sing a big fuck-you to my son, her eyes are hauntingly empty.
And fuck me if I don’t decide in that moment that I’ll do anything to fix that.
Holding my jacket tight against my body, I weave my way through the crowd. The bouncer, who was warned of my arrival, holds open the door for me. As I hustle inside, the guys in the front of the line groan. “Really? Who the hell is this guy?”
I ignore them. My focus fixed solely on finding Lake and getting her out of here without too much fanfare. It only takes an instant to spot her in the crowded club. She’s still on the bar top, sparkling like a fucking disco ball.
Fuck me. I bite my fist and rack my brain for a plan of action while forcing myself to ignore the urge to study every inch of her body. Starting with those damn legs and thick thighs. I’ve never been so entranced by her curves. It must be the fucking outfit.
When I remember the vacancy in her eyes in the video, my feet move.
Shouldering my way through the crowd, I head straight for the bar. I can’t quite push my way past the two men standing below her with their cameras pointed between her legs, but thankfully her friend spots me. “Looks like you’re in trouble, Lake. Daddy’s here!”
I cringe at the damn nickname, but at least it makes the guys push back in response to the comment. They probably think I’m her actual father. Can’t think about that too long.
“She’s right. Fun’s over.” I push forward and hold my hand out to her.
She sways away before I can grasp her arm. “Oh, Daddy Ford,” she slurs from above me, “you here to clean up Pauly’s mess? He’s been a bad boy.” Fuck. She’s way past drunk. With a seductive smirk, she brings one finger to her red lips. “Although, I guess I’ve been bad too. You going to put me over your knee and spank me?”
Her friend laughs, a bright and bubbly sound, and Lake brightens like she’s proud of herself.
“I’m sorry my son is an ass. We’ll deal with him, I promise. But right now, we need to get you out of here before the rest of Boston shows up.”
Throwing her arms up and tossing her head back, Lake yells, “You hear that, Boston? The man says y’all want more of me! Everyone wants me!”
The crowd cheers in response, and, encouraged by their glee, she takes a little bow. She wraps one arm around her midsection and holds the other out, then tips forward, but she overextends and stumbles, losing her footing. I grab her and toss her over my shoulder, and without hesitation, I rush toward the exit ahead of the swarming crowd.
“Fucking A!” she screeches as she pounds against my back. “Put me down.”
A laugh breaks free from my chest. I’ve never heard Lake curse, and it’s sexy as fuck coming out of her perfect little mouth. “Not a chance.”
She blows out a frustrated breath against my back. “At least the view isn’t terrible.”
“Huh?” I question over the music as I haul ass out of the club.
At the door, my driver is waiting to direct us to the car and help keep bystanders from approaching.
As soon as we hit the cold Boston air, she hisses. “Shit, it’s cold.”
With a sigh, I set her on her feet and hold her elbows until she’s steady. Then I shuck my coat and wrap her in it. “What view?”
She smiles and stands tall, only wobbling a little. “Your ass. I’ve never really paid attention before, but for an old man, you’ve got a nice one.”
“Old man?” I grind out.
She smiles. “Don’t worry, I like everyone. Equal opportunist and all that. Even asses. Just ask your son.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I close my eyes and try to make sense of what she’s saying. She’s heartbroken and drunk, though, so it’s not likely I will. And it doesn’t matter whether she thinks I’m an old man or not. Truth is, I am, at least compared to her.
Fuck, none of this matters. My only concern should be getting her to her hotel before the crowds descend on this bar.
“My son’s an idiot.” I point to the passenger door Anders is holding open.
Her shoulders slump, and she drops her chin, but she looks at me from under the fake lashes that are still in place from this evening’s show. “Thanks for saving me. And I’m sorry. I probably ruined your plans and made your life exceedingly more complicated, since now you’ll have to clean up my mess as well as Paul’s.”
This girl. Even after my son cheated on her and my employee caused her pain, she’s apologizing to me. Fuck, always trying to say the right thing must be exhausting. I’m worn out just listening to her.
“Get in the car, Lake. And stop apologizing.” I hold my arm out to the open passenger door again.
With a long breath out, she finally turns. When she notices the Ferrari, she squeaks and whips around again. This time, her smile is a real one. “Oh, can I drive?”
I glare at her. “You’re drunk. And when was the last time you drove?”
She bites hard on her plump lower lip and whispers, “A long fucking time.”
I herd her toward the car and do my best to block the view of people hovering nearby with their phones out. “Sit. If you’re good, maybe I’ll let you drive her tomorrow.”
A look of giddy surprise glitters across her face, and her eyes brighten. “Really?”
The tightness in my chest eases a fraction, and I let out a light laugh. “Really. Now will you please get in the fucking car? The paps will be rolling up here any second.”
She does a little shimmy and claps, and then she’s scooting inside.
I give Anders a look, and that’s all it takes for him to pull out his phone. He’ll order an Uber. As I round the car, she leans over to make sure my door is unlocked. The simple move has my swallow heavy. She’s always watching out for everyone else, always doing little things to make sure the people around her are taken care of. A weight settles on me, bringing with it a need to do the same for her. To show her precisely how she deserves to be treated. To encourage her to just fucking relax for ten seconds without worrying about anyone but herself.
But that heavy feeling doesn’t last, because when I get in the car, Lake is already fiddling with the radio. By the time I have my seat belt on, the music is blasting and she’s bouncing in her seat. I don’t argue, because at the same time, a van with no windows in the back pulls up. That’s our cue to get the fuck out of Dodge.
With a wicked smirk, she cocks a brow at me and says, “Guess you’re driving the getaway car.”
