Chapter 1
Kyra was in a full-on snit as Brock drove up to the entrance to Rawhide Ranch. She refused to even try to appreciate the scenery because she was too angry.
“If you don’t fix your face it’s going to stick like that,” Brock teased.
“Stick this,” she said, flipping him off and sticking her tongue out at him at the same time.
“Real mature, Ky. You need your ass beat,” he grumbled.
“Yeah, well, doesn’t look like that’s going to be happening any time soon.” Kyra crossed her arms over her chest and returned to her silent pout.
“He said he would be here in a couple of days, so knock off the dramatics.”
She let out a small huff as they approached the giant gate and Brock rolled down the window.
“Welcome to Rawhide Ranch,” the security guard said, stepping up to the car. “How can I help you?”
“Brock Turner and Kyra Kicks. She’s performing at the Fourth of July picnic, and I’m her personal security.”
“Great, can I see some identification please?”
“Absolutely.” Brock took out his wallet and pulled out both of their IDs.
He tended to hold on to Kyra’s things because she had a talent for losing them. It wasn’t like she went anywhere without him so she didn’t mind. She had other things on her mind just then, anyway.
Pulling out her phone, she sent another text to Richard. She was so mad at him! This was supposed to be their weekend to connect as Daddy and Little girl. He had made all sorts of promises and here she was, alone in the backseat, stewing. She stared out the window at the trees as they bumped down the gravel road.
“You would think with how much money this place makes they could put in a real driveway,” she grumbled.
Brock stopped the car and threw it into park before turning around and leveling her with a glare. “Do you want to get out and walk?”
“What? It’s ten thousand degrees out there, are you fucking crazy?”
“It’s ninety degrees to be exact and yes, maybe a little crazy, but if I am, it’s because I have been dealing with a spoiled pouty princess in my rearview mirror for the last three hours and I’ve about had it. We’re at Rawhide Ranch. You’ve talked about this trip since they booked you, and if you want to let a little change in plans ruin that for you, then go right ahead, but you can do it away from me. Get out.”
He hit the unlock button and looked at her expectantly. Kyra rolled her eyes and refused to let his look turn her to goo even though it did. Whenever Brock gave her a good talking to it made her feel two inches tall, and she fought the urge to crawl into his lap and apologize. He was the most important person in her world outside of her twin sister, Kierra.
“I’m not getting out, just drive,” Kyra ordered, picking up her phone to check if Richard had texted her back.
Brock didn’t keep driving. Quite the contrary actually; he rolled all of the windows down and shut the car off. “Suit yourself. You know I’m more stubborn than you, but if you want to have a battle of wills right now, we can do that.”
“What is your problem, Rock? Seriously!”
He ignored her and it took everything inside her not to scream at the top of her lungs, but just as she was about to read him the riot act and remind him who she was, her phone rang.
“Let’s see what Daddy has to say about this.” She smiled to herself, feeling a little smug, and accepted the call. “Hi, Daddy,” she said with a little more calm than she was feeling. A muffled noise like something moving against the phone was the only response. “Hello?” she yelled into the microphone.
Nothing. Just as she was about to hang up, she heard a woman’s voice. It was faint, but Kyra turned the volume all the way up and put her phone on speakerphone to try to hear what was happening.
“I thought you were going to tell her you weren’t going?” the unknown woman said.
“I will, but I needed her to get there before I told her because if I told her too soon, the fucking brat wouldn’t go, and then we wouldn’t get paid.” That was Richard’s voice, but Kyra was confused. He never talked to her that way.
“It’s ridiculous you have to keep stringing her along with the Daddy bullshit just to keep your job.”
“Baby, if you like this life, then you know it’s something I have to do. As soon as I can finagle how to land this new recording contract with Jeb Mason and talk the little holy terror into agreeing to sing with him, then I can ditch the bitch, I promise.”
It felt like Kyra had been stabbed in the gut. This wasn’t happening. She wasn’t being played. They had been together for years, ever since she sang at that festival and got scooped up by the record company. She hadn’t known how to navigate the waters of the music industry, and she didn’t have anyone to turn to. Richard had taken her under his wing. He’d guided her, protected her. What was happening?