CHAPTER THIRTY
LONDON

“Tommy, I told you. Carter isn’t here.” When he knocked on the door, I had thought it was Griffin coming to tell me he was sorry and sweep me off my feet. Silly fantasies. I opened the door so fast, I didn’t even check to see who was on the other side. Instead, Tommy was waiting on the other side. This is my penalty, I guess.

“That’s what you said.” He hacks and spits on the floor right in front of me. “But you also didn’t tell me I had a son, so you’ll excuse me if I just think you’re a lying bitch.”

Today, has been one hell of a ride. “Listen, I told you about that too. I did try to tell you, but you chose the party life instead of the family life.”

“I’m a family man, now.” He holds up a hand with a ring that looks like it could turn your skin green.

“Do you really think holding me hostage inside my own bus is making a case for you being Parent of the Year?”

His fist slams into my cheek. It’s not the first time tonight he’s hit me. I’m getting used to it. The metallic taste in the back of my throat is starting to get old though. I spit on him and my blood drips down his shirt.

“Stupid girl,” he growls, reaching behind his back and pulling out a gun. “Here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to file for full custody of Carter and you’re going to tell the judge there’s no contest.”

“Like hell I am,” I say as I’m still coughing up blood. “I’ll fight you every goddamn step of the way.”

He cocks the gun and points it between my eyes. The metal is cold against my skin as he brushes it across my cheek. “You didn’t hear me. I said you’re going to tell the judge there’s no contest. I bet you make a lot of money out here. I’m entitled to some of it.”

“You think the judge would award you custody after being absent for almost seven years?”

Ow! The gun hurt worse than his fist. I think I might’ve lost a tooth on that one.

“You’re not entitled to anyth—” His voice interrupts me, but I can’t tell a word he’s saying. It’s all just a series of mumbles and slurs.

There’s suddenly two of him.

Make that three…

This isn’t good.

I feel my legs giving out and I strain to pull myself out of it. I can’t. I slowly sink to the floor, resting in the puddle of my own blood at my feet.

A new blurry shape enters my vision and crashes into Tommy, knocking him to the floor. My vision clears just enough to make it out. “Griffin…”

---

Casey brought me a blanket after the paramedics cleared me. They wanted me to go to the hospital, but they said my vitals were all fine and the bleeding stopped so I just want to curl up in my bed and sleep. “It’s a good thing Carter wasn’t here,” she says.

“Sure is.” I debate calling my mom to tell her what happened, or not. The last thing I want is for her to worry and she already does plenty of that. Tommy is in jail and the arresting officer said he wouldn’t be getting out for a long time. Apparently, he had jumped bail in Georgia and is being extradited, plus he’ll have these charges added to it. “What was Griffin doing here?”

She gives me a you poor thing smile. “Because he loves you, London.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

She lets out a sigh like I’m getting on her last nerve. “You didn’t show up. He missed his cue and we went to find Devon first.”

“See? I wasn’t even first on his radar.”

She shakes her head and hugs me tighter. “He went to find Devon because he had him checking out a dude, he had spotted in the audience two shows ago, and wanted to see if there was anything he should know. I saw the picture and bolted, they followed.”

“Griffin knew there was someone shady lurking two shows ago?”

She pinches the bridge of her nose. “London, you’re missing the point here.”

“No. I am not missing the point.” I stand up and march straight over to Griffin Miller who just finished giving his report to the officers.

“London,” he reaches out to console me, “are you—”

“How could you have kept that to yourself?”

His eyebrows pull together as he stammers. “I didn’t… Wait…”

“After everything I told you about how important Carter’s safety is to me, and you still didn’t tell me there was a stalker on tour with us?” I slap him so hard my hand burns. “Don’t ever speak to me or my son, again.”

They already cleared me and told me I was free to go, so I do, and I let the bus lock behind me. Griffin Miller can stay the hell out of my bus—and my life.