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as Kendra considered what it would mean to have her father’s head of security take over her protection again. “I’m fine. Really.”
    “Kendra, you aren’t fine. The bomb at your concert could have killed you.”
    She swallowed the lump that formed in her throat. “But it didn’t.”
    “I’m not going to take chances with your safety,” Sterling insisted. “Bruce and Alan will be at your house shortly. Let them help you.”
    Kendra swallowed her objections, already knowing her father would ignore them. Instead, she simply said, “Good-bye, Dad.”
    “Be safe, sweetie. I love you.”
    “I love you too,” Kendra said softly and then hung up the phone. She stared at it for a long moment. An image of what her life would soon be like flashed into her mind and pressed on her. What little privacy she had gained would disappear the moment Bruce Parsons walked through her door.
    His paranoia, his insistence on constant surveillance, would stifle her just as it had during her teenage years. Bruce’s son, Alan, seemed to understand her almost desperate need for some space, but undoubtedly, he would follow his father’s instructions and effectively smother whatever creativity she still had left.
    As a teenager, Kendra had locked herself in her room with her guitar to find peace and solitude. Writing music gave her that sense of freedom she always craved but could never quite grasp. Bruce’s men didn’t know how to protect her without hovering, without invading her personal space.
    How often had she discovered a wonderful melody or figured out the perfect lyrics only to have them skip right out of her head when a bodyguard came knocking on her door? How many times had she attempted to take a walk on the beach to gather her thoughts only to be told she couldn’t go? Could they not understand that she needed time alone—time without a constant audience?
    Kendra stood up, her urge to flee surpassing all logic. She grabbed her phone and pressed speed dial. Her knees were shaky, so she lowered herself onto the couch as she heard the sleepy hello. Tears threatened when she opened her mouth, her voice low. “Grandpa, I need your help.”

Chapter 4
    William Blake hung up the phone and looked up to see his wife standing in his office doorway. She shivered against the chill in the room and pulled her robe more tightly around her.
    “Who was on the phone?”
    “Kendra.”
    She took a step forward, concern evident on her face. “What’s wrong? Is she okay?”
    “Everyone’s fine.” He slipped his arms around her and gathered her close. “A bomb went off at her concert tonight.”
    Hannah pulled back enough that she could see his face. “What?”
    “She’s okay, but her bodyguard ended up in the hospital.”
    “Sterling isn’t going to want her staying in that big house alone.”
    “I know. He’s sending part of his security team over there right now, but she’ll be gone by the time they get there.”
    “What do you mean? She isn’t running away again, is she? I know Sterling can be overprotective, but this isn’t the time to argue about security.”
    “I agree. That’s why she’s coming here, at least until I can find a better solution.” He saw her processing his words and knew that she understood his concerns.
    Her eyebrows furrowed. “You’re worried you won’t be able to protect her by yourself, aren’t you?”
    “Maybe . . . but I definitely think it’s time for me to pull in a few favors.” He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Why don’t you go back to bed? I need to make a phone call, and it’s going to be at least six hours before Kendra gets here.”
    “She’s driving?”
    William nodded. “I don’t like it either, but it’s safer than flying.”
    Her eyes narrowed. “You think someone would try to follow her here?”
    “I think I’m not going to take any chances with Kendra or with you.” He nudged her toward the door. “Go get some sleep. I need to make that