Blue Christmas (The Moody Blue Trilogy | Book One) (30 page)

BOOK: Blue Christmas (The Moody Blue Trilogy | Book One)
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“That’s enough,” Gevin
said, his voice audible over the commotion.

Jason stood,
holding his hands up. “Thank you. Thank all of you. That’s really all we had to
say.”

As they quickly
wheeled Jackson out of the room, a traffic jam ensued in the doorway. Like
piranhas, the press disregarded any promises they’d made.

“Is Jackson going
to fully recover?”

“Was there any
permanent damage? Will he ever walk again?”

Kylie threw her
pillow on the floor. “Those people are horrible! Can’t they see what those guys
have been through?”

Hannah rubbed her
face. “Poor Jackson. That had to be so hard for him. I’m surprised they—”

“When will Jackson
be released from the hospital?” On television, the barrage of questions
continued.

The hospital
spokesman stepped up to the mike again. “That’s all. No questions, please.”

“Sergio! Have you
been to the jail to see Liza?”

He turned his back
to the cameras.

“Did you know she
has a criminal record for stalking celebrities?”

“Is it true that
one of you got engaged over Christmas?” They all stopped, looking at the
reporter who blurted the question then back at the camera’s lens. The camera
pulled back then, focusing toward the side of the room where Marissa, Tracey,
and Jennifer remained.

“Oh no,” Hannah
croaked, taking it all in. “How could—”

“Shhh!”

The camera scanned
from one face to the next, first Tracey and Jennifer, then Marissa.

“Is it true that Jennifer Crandle left
her fiancé at the altar to reunite with Jason McKenzie?”

The camera focused
on Jennifer’s face, her own panic apparent. She stood abruptly trying to leave
the room, but couldn’t make her way through the crowd at the door.

“Where’s their
security?” Hannah yelled at the television screen. “They should have a path
cleared for them!”

Jason, JT, Gevin
and Sergio were still cornered behind the table at the front of the room. “No
comment. No more questions,” Gevin spoke firmly as he tried to make his way
closer to Marissa.

“But Jason, who
was the woman you were seen entering the hospital with on the night of the shooting?”

Hannah froze. Kylie
gasped.

The reporter
continued shouting his questions. “You were seen with her entering the hospital
after Jackson went into cardiac arrest. If it wasn’t Jennifer, then who was it
and why were you with her? Are there
two
women in your life at this
time?”

Hannah and Kylie
watched in disbelief as a split screen divided the screen with the live conference
on one side and footage of Hannah and Jason emerging from a limousine on the
other. He was leading her, hand in hand, through the barricade. The footage
slowed. In slow, jerky motions, the scene played out as Hannah’s face was
splashed across the screen, then freeze-framed.

“Oh my God!” Kylie
cried.

“Who’s the mystery
woman, Jason?” the reporter insisted, pointing to the television monitor. “Is
it true she’s a local resident?”

Hannah couldn’t
breathe. She watched as Jason’s eyes tracked to view the television monitor. He
did a double-take. Then, as the lens focused closer on his face, he stared
straight into it, his face taut with an anger she’d never seen before.
He
must feel like a caged animal!

“Oh Kylie!” Hannah
cried, jumping to her feet. “What am I gonna do?”

 

 

Jason was still
trapped in the clog of people. The temperature in the room felt like a hundred
degrees even as the litany of questions continued. The gratitude of Jackson
Greer was already forgotten as the questions pelted them over and over, prying
into the most private areas of their lives. Normally, they were used to such
assaults. They could walk away from it.

But not today. As
the verbal attacks continued, Jason felt something ugly inside him begin to boil.
In the blink of an eye, he was across the table, grabbing the rude reporter by
the throat.

“How dare you! How
dare
you!”

“No! Jason, stop!”
JT screamed, scrambling to reach his friend.

The camera jerked
around trying to capture the heated exchange on film.

The sweaty
reporter backed away, using his microphone as a shield. “What did I—”

“Leave us alone!”
Jason shouted, his nose only inches away from the reporter, his hands still
clutching the man’s shirt. “After all we’ve been through! Why can’t you just
LEAVE US ALONE! You’re a pig! You’re a filthy—”

“I don’t have to
take that!” the reporter yelled as he shoved Jason back. He quickly turned his
face to the camera. “Are you getting this, Joe?” he asked his cameraman.

“Why you—” With
every ounce of frustration and pent-up anger, Jason McKenzie coiled back his
fist and smashed it into the face of the reporter. The room exploded.

In the bedlam that
followed, the camera man lost his balance thrusting the live picture out of
control before landing on a still shot of acoustic ceiling tiles.

 

 

The voice of the local television
reporter updated the unexpected story unfolding from the conference room at the
hospital.

“—when
Out of
the Blue
singer and Chapel Hill native Jason McKenzie assaulted a local
television reporter who had asked repeated questions about his personal life.
The mêlée erupted when the reporter questioned McKenzie about this woman, seen
here with McKenzie just three days ago entering the hospital. Sources tell us
she is Hannah Brooks, a student at the University of North Carolina here in—”

Hannah flew out of
the room. Kylie followed her. “Hannah! What are you doing?”

In her bedroom,
Hannah threw her luggage on the bed. She yanked open drawers, tossing clothes
into the bag.

“What are you
doing!?” Kylie yelled.

“I’m leaving. I’m
on the next flight out of town, Kylie.”

Hannah’s tone
frightened Kylie. “You can’t just—”

“Watch me!”

Kylie grabbed
Hannah’s arms. “Stop it, Hannah! Just stop it! You can’t run away from this!
Where could you possibly go?”

Hannah’s eyes looked
wild. “Don’t you get it, Kylie? They know who I am now! They’ll be knocking my
door down any minute. Didn’t you see the way they treated Jason? They’re
ruthless. They won’t stop at anything. I can’t . . . I will not
play this game for them. I’ve got to disappear and there’s nothing you can say
to stop me!” She pulled out of Kylie’s grasp.

Kylie jumped on
the unmade bed, her heart racing. “Oh, Hannah. I’m so sorry!”

“I don’t need your
sympathy. I need your help. Get my credit card out of my purse. Call the
airlines and book me a flight. I don’t care where, just the fastest flight I
can get out of here.”

Less than twenty
minutes later, the front door slammed behind them as they raced to Kylie’s car.

“They know my
name, Kylie!” Hannah cried in panic as they tossed her bags into the backseat
and jumped into the front seat. “They’ve already found out my name! Hurry! Kylie,
hurry!”

Kylie roared the
sports car to life, the tires squealing in protest as she floored the gas
pedal. Hannah looked back behind them as a News Channel 2 van sped around the
corner. “Oh God, please help us! Go! Kylie, GO!”

 

 

 

Chapter 21

 


I
said no.”

“I don’t care what
you said! I’m going and that’s final.” Kylie pursed her lips.

Hannah popped the
kinks out of her neck, closing her eyes behind her sunglasses. “No, Kylie. Stop
smothering me.” The last thing she wanted to do was cause a scene. “You are
not
going and I’m not going to discuss it further. Got it?”

They moved up in
the line as it snaked toward the Delta ticket counter at the Raleigh-Durham International
Airport. The twenty minute drive from Chapel Hill had been a blur between
their on-going argument and the fear of what they might see in the rearview
mirrors. She’d begged Kylie to drop her off at the curb, but the fiery redhead
would have no part of it.

Now Kylie’s eyes
narrowed, her arms folded tight across her chest as she tapped her foot. “You
are so . . . so . . .
childish!
You are in
no condition to travel anywhere by yourself. So just get a grip, Hannah, and
stop playing the brave little soldier off to war. This is ridiculous!”

“Will you leave?
Just go home. I don’t need this right now, thank you very much,” Hannah growled
under her breath.

A middle-aged
couple in front of them turned around and peered at them over half-glasses
perched on their noses. They looked the girls over from head to toe, then
looked at each other with raised eyebrows.

Kylie couldn’t
stand it. “Excuse me, is there a problem?”

They lobbed
insulted stares then turned around, moving their luggage closer to them.

“Now look what
you’ve done!” Hannah croaked.

“Oh for heaven’s
sake, why is it all
my
fault? You’re the one who had to go flying out of
your apartment like a bat out of hell.”

Hannah screwed up
her face, standing nose to nose with her best friend. “Well, I guess I had a
perfectly good
reason
to fly out of there, if you’ll recall. Was there
or was there not a news van careening around the corner toward my apartment?
Huh? Was there or was there not just the tiniest fraction of a second before we
made it off that street? Huh?” She pinched her thumb and forefinger together in
Kylie’s face. “They were that close, Kylie! They would have eaten me alive and you
know it.”

She turned her
back, folding her arms across her chest. She took a deep breath and blew it out
in a huff.

“And exactly
who
was it who drove that successful getaway? Huh? Huh?”

Hannah could feel
her friend’s breath against the back of her neck, just inches below her
broad-rimmed hat that hopefully concealed her identity. She rolled her eyes at
the thought of Kylie talking to her back.

“I’ll tell you who—it
was
me
! You need me and you know it but you’re just too STUBBORN to
admit it!”

The couple turned
around once again, having completed their business at the counter. “WHAT? What
is your problem?” Kylie blasted.

They scurried off,
clutching their tickets in hand. Hannah moved up to the counter, Kylie hovering
close at her elbow.

The thirty-something
man behind the counter, whose astonishing good looks had silenced both of them,
already locked eyes with Kylie. “How can I help you today?” he asked with a
broad smile.

“We have one
reservation for the next flight to Tampa,” Kylie instructed, “and we’d like to
add an additional ticket on the same flight.”

Hannah tipped her
head, looking at Kylie over her sunglasses again. She looked back at the ticket
agent and tried to maintain her composure. “No, my friend is mistaken. Just one
ticket, please.”

“Two.”

“One.”

“Two!”

“ONE!”

“Whoa—hold on
there, ladies!” The agent laughed, holding up his hands. “I’m sure we can work
this out. Let’s all take a calm breath and see what we’ve got here. Name?”

Hannah edged
closer to the counter, giving her name and ID as quietly as she could.

Kylie crowded
beside her. “And my name is Kylie Reynolds. Here’s my driver’s license. I’m
sure you won’t have any trouble rustling up another ticket, right?”

Hannah felt her
pulse rate accelerating.
She’s flirting? At a time like this?
She looked
up at the agent, noticing his name tag.
Jason.
“Of course. What else
would it be?” she muttered to herself. “Why does everyone on the face of this
earth have to be named—”

“Excuse me?”

“Look . . . 
Jason
 . . .”

“Ohmygosh,” Kylie
gasped.

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