Page 53 of Steal My Breath Away

Good morning, Chicago. This isHidden Trackson WJPK, broadcasting from the heart of Havencrest University. I’m Haley Chapman, and tonight we’re exploring songs about hidden truths and the emotional barriers we put in place to protect ourselves. Do you ever feel like you have stories you struggle to tell, or feelings you can’t quite express? Today’s playlist is for anyone trying to find the courage to confront the past, to have those difficult conversations, and those of us questioning whether our hearts and our heads are in alignment. Our first track is from an emerging artist who sings about trust and vulnerability in complicated relationships. Stay tuned, and remember—in music, as in life, sometimes the most powerful messages are hidden between the lines.

I pressed the button and put on a song from the playlist I’d put together last night after Ace and I returned home from the bar. When he’d asked what was wrong, I’d told him I had a headache and needed some time alone. Paige and I had had many disagreements over the years, but we’d never had a fight like that. I’d never had to walk away. I’d never felt like a hole had been ripped through my heart.

Guarded heart, crumbling in the dark.

I grabbed my phone and pulled up the lyrics to the song I’d written last night after Ace had gone to bed and I was finally alone. The tune was fluid, melancholic, and lyrical, very different from the upbeat songs I usually wrote. It had come to me in a frenziedburst of inspiration, and I couldn’t sleep until it was done—the chords set, the notes written, the lyrics finalized over dozens of sheets of paper. Maybe someday I’d share “Guarded Heart” with the world.

I felt, rather than heard, the studio shake, my microphone gently bouncing on its metal arm. Puzzled, I looked up and saw Ace’s frantic face in the window, his fist pounding on the glass.

“Open the door,” he mouthed. “Now.”

Studio policy was to keep the door locked during a show so that there would be no unexpected interruptions during a broadcast. But this was Ace and he wouldn’t have interrupted if it wasn’t important. I quickly cued up another song and ran to unlock the door.

“Someone’s here. I think he’s after you.” Ace grabbed my arm and yanked me out of the sound room. “Chad saw a stranger wandering around the hallway. Some fucking idiot had let him in. The dude said he was here to interview with Dante for the station manager position and wanted to take a look around, but Dante’s out of town. He wouldn’t have set up an interview for today. It may be the guy who tried to grab you on Michigan Avenue. I called campus security and Chad is trying to distract him until I can get you hidden. Someone blocked the fire exit and there’s no other way out.”

Goose bumps sheeted across my skin, but my brain couldn’t fully process what he was saying. “But my show… There will be dead air when the song ends. Noah used to say there was nothing worse than dead—”

Ace cut me off by grabbing me around the waist and hoisting me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down.” I wriggled in his grasp. “I’m not a fucking child.”

“You’re a target,” he gritted out. “And I’ll do what I have to do to keep you safe.”

“You don’t even know if he’s the same guy,” I protested.

Ace gave no sign that he’d heard me. Instead, he made his wayto the music library, opened the storage closet and dumped me inside. “Stay there until I come back.”

“You’re overreacting,” I snapped. “I’m not hiding in a closet and compromising the show unless I know the threat is real.”

Ace’s face darkened. “Threat assessment is my job.”

“And the station is my place,” I retorted. “My odds of survival are much higher in the studio, where I have a locked door and access to a fire extinguisher, tools, and all sorts of wires that can be used to electrocute someone. I’m a sitting duck in here, and all I’ll have to defend myself are dusty magazines and warped LPs. I’m also the only person who may be able to identify him.”

Ace stared at me for so long I began to worry that I’d pushed him too far. He’d always been protective, and when I was younger, I did what he said without question. I’d climbed down from trees, left parties, and given up kissing opportunities with guys way too old for me when Ace would appear out of nowhere and tell me it was time to go. But I wasn’t a little girl anymore. And I wasn’t about to have my agency taken away.

“This is the only time,” he said abruptly. “When we leave here, you do what I say. If I say run, you get into that studio and lock the door. If I say down, you hit the ground.”

“I promise.”

We made our way down the hallway, Ace in the lead. Fortunately, the permanent staff had gone home for the day and no one else was around. I heard voices coming around the corner from the entrance. Ace motioned for me to stop, pushing me behind him against the wall.

“I think there must have been some kind of miscommunication,” Chad said firmly. “Dante is out of town. If you give me your name and details, I’ll let him know you were here, and you can reschedule the interview.”

“I came all this way. I won’t disturb anyone. I just want to wander around and check the place out.” Something about the man’s tone, firm and unyielding, sent a shiver down my spine. Ace must have felt it, too, because he stepped out into the hallway, one hand behind his back wrapped around the gun tucked under his belt.

“I’m afraid we can’t let you do that,” Ace said. “All our visitors need to be accompanied by station personnel, and we don’t have anyone free to give you a tour.”

“C’mon, man. I’ll be five minutes.” The dude’s sudden shift in demeanor and irritated tone just served to increase my sense of unease.

I heard a soft click from what sounded like Ace’s gun. Heart pounding, I squeezed between Ace and the wall and took a quick peek around the corner. I didn’t recognize the man in the hallway. He was middle-aged with slumped shoulders and a soft belly, mousy brown hair, and a nondescript face. Dressed in jeans and a plain T-shirt beneath a brown jacket, he looked like somebody’s dad, and yet he spoke with the confidence of someone used to being obeyed.

The man caught my gaze. His eyes widened, and I jerked back, but it was too late. Ace caught me on the retreat and his warning look made me shudder.

I heard the beep of buttons from the lock. Moments later the door opened, and two campus police officers walked in.

“Did someone report a security issue?”

“I did,” Chad said. “This gentleman says he had an interview when in fact, Dante is out of town. He insists on walking around the station and refuses to leave.”

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