Page 61 of Rockstar Untamed
“Yeah, but you’re a nerd,” Bodhi teased his son, who shrugged good-naturedly.
“Yup, and proud of it.”
Bodhi laughed and turned back to the computer. Internet access was sketchy at best out here in the countryside, but he’d finally managed to get online. He opened his emails and groaned. This wasn’t good - multiple emails from Emily Moore, his manager back in the States. All were titled ‘Urgent! Call me!’
He grabbed his cell phone and went out into the garden. Whatever Emily had to say, it couldn’t be good. “Hey, Em, what’s up?”
Emily sounded breathless. “God, Bodhi, I’m so glad you called. Look…there’s no easy way to say this. The press has new photos of you and Sailor.”
Adrenaline coursed through Bodhi’s system. “What? What photos?”
Emily cleared her throat, clearly uncomfortable. “Explicit photos. Of you and Sailor at your place in Italy. The tabloids are running them today, they’ll be international by later this afternoon. They’re using the excuse that it’s the anniversary of Tim’s abduction, and those videos of you, Sailor and Soleil – which of course they’re re-running. “
“Fuck,” Bodhi rubbed his hand over his eyes. “How the hell did they get them?”
Too late he remembered the mystery car. “Aw, shit.” He told Emily about it, and she hissed in frustration. Bodhi shook his head.Not this again.
“How the hell did they find out about this place?”
Emily sighed. “I honestly have no idea. We’ve questioned our staff, the few who knew about it and only one is AWOL at the moment, so it could have been him. If it was him, I can’t tell you how sorry I am.”
“It’s not your fault. Look,” he said after a few moments, “What is it they’ve got? Pictures of me having sex with my fiancée? Hardly salacious, and to drag up what happened five years ago…Jesus.Scumbags.”
He had calmed down now. The invasion of privacy was disgusting, but nothing unusual in his line of work. He just felt bad for Sailor being dragged into it again. “Look, it’ll blow over. I’ll try and keep the kids off the internet, and find someone here who can build a security fence around this place. Damn it, I was hoping to finally give Sailor a homewithoutwalls.”
Emily apologized again, and after he’d ended the call, he went back in to tell his mother what had happened.
Vittoria shrugged. “It’s happened before and you survived. So, what harm can it do now?”
She felt the tip of the boxcutter against her throat and wondered if it would hurt much when Claudio sliced her open.
“Open your eyes,” he said gruffly, and she did. “What the hell areyou, of all people, doing in my home? Haven’t I made it abundantly clear you are not welcome?”
He moved a step back and put the knife down. Sailor breathed again, but Claudio still looked enraged. She could smell the alcohol coming off him in waves. “Today of all days,” he muttered to himself and with a shock, Sailor realized what a miscalculation she had made.
It was Soleil’s birthday. Claudio’s brilliant, beautiful, wonderful sister would have been forty years old today. Sailor took a deep breath in.
“I’m sorry, Claudio. I miss Soleil too, very much.”
He raised a hand and pointed at her, his anger volcanic. “You don’t get to say her name. You took everything from me.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Stop saying you’re fucking sorry! Get out of here!”
She shook her head, terrified but determined. No matter what abuse Claudio subjected her too, she would not leave without exhausting every hope that she could reconcile him with Bodhi, if not herself. Claudio stalked over to her and grabbed her wrist, tugging her out of the workshop and toward her car. But then he seemed to change his mind and dragged her into the house, locking the door behind him.
“Does he know you’re here?”
Sailor shook her head, and Claudio grinned nastily. “Then no-one will come looking for you.”
“Vittoria knows.” The look in his eyes was scaring her. “She knows I’m here.”
Claudio chewed his lip. “So what? So what if they come for me? I could still kill you, Sailor King, I’ve nothing to lose by it.”
“You’re not a murderer, Claudio.”
Claudio grabbed the hair at the back of her head and forced her into the kitchen, throwing her onto a chair and looking around. “Who says? Who says I couldn’t kill you, you little bitch?”
