Dark Kisses

by Kelly Myers

  “Hi, Easton. I'm watching you.”

  I lean down closer to the machine and squint, listening closely.

  “Why aren’t you answering my calls, Easton?”

  “Where might Easton be on a Tuesday night?”

  “I'm very interested in being close to you, Easton.”

  The rest of the messages play, one after the other, and I can see how uncomfortable they make her. And, why wouldn’t they? Whatever fucking creep is doing this, I’m going to find him. And, I’m going to beat the ever-living-daylights out of him.

  We sit through about 30 messages and then the machine’s electronic voice announces that there are two new messages.

  “They must’ve just come in this morning,” she says, and starts clasping and unclasping her hands.

  We wait for the beep. Then, “I’m hard for you, Easton. Are you ready for me?”

  My gaze flicks over to hers and she shifts in the chair.

  The next message is even darker and more disturbing.

  “Can you feel my mouth on your pussy?”

  Easton slams a hand down on the machine, hitting stop. Her cheeks flame and her nostrils flare in anger and humiliation.

  “I think things just took a turn,” I comment.

  She looks up at me, chest rising and falling with her rapid breaths. “I want you to stop whoever is doing this. Please, Jax.”

  I automatically lay a large hand over hers, covering it. “I will. I promise you, Easton.”

  For a moment, I savor the warmth of her hand beneath mine, but then she slides it away and a coolness settles over her features. “I have a busy schedule today,” she announces. “And, I'm sure you have a lot to do with updating and installing the new security system.”

  She grabs a pen and jots down a phone number. Then, she hands it to me. “That’s my assistant Liv’s number. Whatever you need, feel free to ask her.”

  I raise a dark brow. I don’t like being blown off and that’s exactly what she’s doing. What the fuck ever. The less I see of Easton Ross, the better. I reach over, wrap my fingers around hers and pull the pen away. Then, I flip the piece of paper, jot a pretty hefty number down on it and slide it back.

  “That’s my fee,” I say.

  She doesn’t even blink. “You can give the bill to Liv and she’ll make sure it’s sent to my accountant.”

  I struggle not to roll my eyes. “Great. See you tomorrow then?”

  “Just call Liv and set a time up. I’ll probably be out most of the day.”

  I study her for a moment, but she refuses to meet my gaze. “Sure,” I drawl out. “Well, nice meeting you, Easton.”

  “You, too,” she says.

  And, then she dismisses me like the cool Princess that she’s proving to be.

  The first thing I do is go back to the Platinum Security office and draw up an invoice for that ridiculous sum I quoted. Is it a little excessive? A little inflated? Probably. But, she can afford it and it will keep my company afloat for another few months for sure.

  I sit down in my chair and it creaks. It’ll be nice to be able to buy a new one soon and get rid of this duct-taped piece of shit. Eventually, after P.S. takes off, I plan to update the whole office. The guys can help me freshen it up with a new coat of paint and with some new furniture and a few paintings, I think it’ll look pretty good.

  I pull out a yellow legal pad and begin writing out my plan of attack. I jot down everything I need to update her security.

  “I’ll probably be out most of the day.”

  Her words are like a slap to the face. Basically, fuck you, figure it out and deal with my assistant because I don’t have time for you, peon.

  She turned cool fast. Those last couple of messages flipped a switch in her. Because, I swear, there was a moment, when she was looking at me, that I thought…

  Forget it, Jax. Forget Easton Ross and just do the job she hired you to do.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t hired to fuck her because, God, what a job that would be. It wouldn’t be work at all, that’s for sure. It would be a goddamn pleasure. Laying that beauty down on her big, king-sized bed, exposing all that smooth, milky-white skin, watching her green eyes roll back in her head as she climaxes beneath me.

  I feel my groin tighten.

  Suddenly, the door opens and I look up to see Griffin Lawson stride inside, helmet under his arm. A little shorter than me, Griff has brown hair that always looks perfectly disheveled, bright blue eyes and tattoo sleeves on both arms. At 30, he’s the youngest in the office and his charm and leading man good looks make the ladies fall all over him.

  A retired Black Ops agent with the CIA, Griff is more than a mere pretty boy, though. He has connections with everyone and he has a talent for finding things which makes him an excellent locator. I met Griff a year ago through questionable channels when I needed to find the assholes that murdered my sister.

  Griff was there for me when no one else was and I owe him. That’s why I brought him onboard at P.S., and that’s why I’ll do everything in my power to keep this place open. He and Ryker have my back and I have theirs. We’re like a mini brotherhood.

  “Hey,” Griff says and sits in the seat on the other side of my desk. He lays his helmet down on the desk’s edge. “Any clients yet?”

  I give him a grin and tap the edge of the yellow pad with my pen. “Just wrote up the invoice for our first client,” I say proudly.

  “Shut the fuck up. Seriously?” His sky-blue eyes glow and I can see why women trip all over themselves to get his attention. Ryker and I tease him, but Griff is the best man I know. He’d take a bullet for me and I’d do the same for him.

  “Yeah and if you’re not busy tomorrow, I could use some help installing a new security system in the client’s house.”

  “Sure thing. Big place?”

  “Over 7,000 square feet up in the Hollywood Hills.”

  “Damn.”

  “Exactly. And, I plan to hook her up with the works.”

  “Her?” he asks and lifts a dark brow.

  “Some actress named Easton Ross. She has a stalker and needs to beef up her security.”

  “Easton Ross?” Griff’s mouth drops open and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him show any excitement over a woman. It’s always the other way around and he handles it like any other common occurrence that happens daily. Like brushing his teeth or getting dressed.

  Boring. Inevitable. Expected.

  My eyes narrow and I instantly regret asking him to go to her place with me. I don’t know why I suddenly feel this possessive streak, but Easton is my client.

  And, if anyone is going to pursue her, it’ll be me.

  “Forget it,” I tell him, crossing my arms. “She’s cool as an ice queen.”

  “Really? Because she seems like a spitfire. Did you ever see that one movie she’s in where they’re being chased through the jungle in Columbia?”

  I shake my head. “Honestly, I had no idea who she was.”

  “You’re shittin’ me.”

  I shrug.

  “C’mon! You’re telling me you have no idea who Easton Ross is? For real?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe? I don’t have time to watch many movies.”

  “Well, do yourself a favor and watch the one where she’s a thief and teams up with another thief to steal this treasure. She’s practically naked in it.” His mouth edges up. “You can thank me later.”

  I shake my head. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to see my client naked.”

  “Practically naked,” he clarifies. “She doesn’t do nude scenes.”

  “How the hell do you know all this?” I ask in a bewildered voice.

  “How do you not? There’s these things now called moving pictures, grandpa,” Griff teases. “You should really go check them out.”

  “I watch some movies.”

  “I mean other than The Expendables.”

  I lift my middle finger and flip him off.

  “Ooh,”
he says with a low chuckle. “So, what time do you need me tomorrow?”

  “I was planning to get there by ten. We can meet up here at eight, pick up what we need and then head up.”

  “Sounds good. I’ll grab Ryker’s Expedition. Have to say, I'm looking forward to meeting the ice queen. Maybe I’ll be able to warm her up.”

  Jealousy flares within me and my eyes narrow. “Clients are off-limits. Especially this one,” I warn him.

  Griff tilts his head and a knowing smile curves his mouth. “Ah, I see.”

  “You see what?” I demand.

  “She’s all yours, Jax,” he says and lifts his hands. “Unless, of course, she’s looking for someone a little younger and with a helluva lot more charm.”

  Over my dead body, I think. “Forget it,” I growl.

  7

  Easton

  It’s late and the moon hangs high in the sky. Wrapped up in a silk robe that trails behind me, I wander through the huge, empty house. Aimlessly.

  I can’t sleep and it’s not because I received five more disturbing phone calls today. It’s because my mind keeps conjuring up images of a certain dark-haired, darker eyed man with a sleeve of tattoos.

  Jaxon Wilder.

  For some reason, I hold his business card in my hand. I’ve been carrying it around with me in one hand and a glass of Taittinger’s Blanc de Blancs in the other. I take a sip of champagne and look down at his card. It looks pretty cheap. Like something you’d order by bulk online.

  Platinum Security. Jaxon Wilder, owner.

  I wonder if he has a wife? A girlfriend? A man like that has somebody warming his bed. He didn’t wear a ring and I get the feeling he isn’t the marrying kind. He gives off a wild, almost feral energy, that no woman would be able to easily tame. I get the feeling that Jax likes his freedom, prefers it, and a serious relationship isn’t something he wants.

  I sigh, set the half-empty glass on a marble table and push through the back patio doors. They open up and I step into the deepening night beyond. It’s still fairly warm out and July is one of my favorite months. I love summer and right now the southern California sun is hot enough, but not like September when it’s sweltering and fires normally rage.

  The crystal blue water in my 75-foot lap pool beckons me closer. Unwanted thoughts of Jax swirl through my mind and my eyes slip shut. I never met a man who ever made me think of him like this. Literally nonstop since the moment I laid eyes on him.

  God, those dark chocolate eyes of his are so intense. So direct. I can’t help but wonder if he’s that intense in everything he does. Like when he takes a woman to bed. I pull the belt loose on my robe and curl my hands in the lapels, pulling it back from my shoulders. It drops to the ground in a white silky pile.

  For a moment, I stand there, naked, relishing the warm air on my bare skin. Wondering what Jax’s big, rough-looking hands would feel like skimming over my body. A shiver runs through me and I swallow hard. Then, I step into the heated pool.

  I walk down the steps and, when the water touches my stomach, I push off and glide through the water with smooth strokes. Doing laps in the pool is great exercise, but more than that, it helps clear my head. And, right now, my hot little head needs some clearing and cooling off.

  The water sluices over my skin and I love the weightless feel the water gives me. Though the pool is heated, it’s so cool and refreshing. I do lap after lap, back and forth, trying to swim the lustful thoughts out of my head.

  I’m not sure if it’s working, but I eventually get tired. After another crossing, I return to the stairs and climb out. Water runs down my smooth body and I slick my hair back, wringing out the ends. Then, I slip back into the silk robe and it sticks to my wet body, plastering provocatively to my curves.

  I hug my arms across my breasts and walk over to the edge of the patio. Leaning against the glass wall, I look out over the lights that twinkle all around the hills and beyond. Millions of sparkling lights that shimmer in all different homes.

  Homes with families. Fathers, mothers, husbands, wives, brothers, sisters and children. Each house has a story to tell and people who love each other. A wave of sadness washes over me.

  Because I’ve never had that. Never had a family of my own. All I know about my past is after my mother gave birth to me, she dropped me off at the police station. Barely two hours old, I became a ward of the state.

  I am an orphan.

  My family didn’t want me and I wound up in various foster homes, passed from place to place until I was ten. Then, I was considered too old and foster families passed over me because they preferred younger children. So, I found myself caught in the system and living in a group home for girls until I turned 18.

  For as long as I can remember, I wanted a family of my own. I used to imagine I had loving parents and siblings. I’ve always had a very active, rich imagination and I think that’s what led me to acting. That and the fact that all I’ve ever wanted was to escape my sad, lonely life.

  I place a hand over my chest. Sometimes, the loneliness is so heavy, so intense, that it feels like I’m suffocating. It doesn’t matter how many people surround me. I feel empty inside and I don’t know how to fix it.

  Relationships with men haven’t filled the hole inside me. Maybe because I’ve chosen the wrong men. To be honest, I don’t have much experience with men because I’m far too busy. I guess I don’t put the necessary time and effort into dating; so what do I expect?

  I’m always working and probably spend nine months out of the year on location filming. Right now, my current movie is about to start shooting here in L.A. and that’s rare for me. But, as nice as it is to be home, it’s almost better to be away and off at some amazing or exotic location.

  My life is a whirlwind of hotels, drivers carting me to set, an entourage of helpers, paparazzi and fans. Yet, no one truly knows me. No one knows the baby girl who was dropped off at the police station in the dead of night nearly 30 years ago. Or, the lonely woman who wanders around her empty house at night wondering what it would be like to have someone care for her.

  I press a fist to my red lips and feel the burn of tears. I don’t let myself cry very often, but I’m feeling so many emotions right now and I can’t seem to stop the hot tears slipping from the corners of my eyes.

  I hate feeling sorry for myself. I really do. Because I know how lucky I am. I have an amazing career which I’m grateful for every day, a beautiful home and enough money to never have to worry about paying bills or any of the stress that comes with struggling financially.

  Maybe it’s just human nature to dwell on what you don’t have rather than what you do.

  And, right now, I can’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have a genuine relationship with a man who loves me. Not Easton Ross, famous actress.

  I’ve come to terms with the fact that it’ll never happen, though. Everyone knows who I am and everyone has a hand out, wanting something from me.

  Maybe I should just pick up and move to the other side of the world. To some primitive country in the middle of nowhere that doesn’t have any access to-

  To what, Easton? Movies? Television? The internet? C’mon.

  Once you reach a certain level of fame, people just know and recognize you. Granted, all they know is what my PR team created. According to IMDB, the Internet Movie Database, and every other media outlet, I was born in Toledo, Ohio, and was “discovered” at a local talent search when I was 15. I was signed on the spot by a modeling agency and moved to New York City to pursue a career in the fashion industry. But, my real talent lay in acting and it was inevitable that I began booking acting gigs and then moved across the country to LaLa Land.

  I’ve never been to Toledo, Ohio. And, the first time I went to New York City, I was 22 years old and filming a movie.

  In reality, I was born in Bakersfield, California.

  Just North of Los Angeles, Bakersfield has the worst air quality in the United States and is a pit stop on the way
to and from Las Vegas. It’s hot as hell with a desert climate and from April to October the average temperature is around 110 degrees. Not only is Bako a major oil producing region, but it’s also hemmed in on three sides by mountains making it a perfect place for all that diesel soot and pollution to linger.

  In short, it’s a pretty disgusting place and I couldn’t wait to get out of there.

  And, that’s exactly what I did when I was 18. I left the group home, went to the bus station, hopped on the first Greyhound to Los Angeles and never looked back.

  I swipe at the wetness on my face and turn away from the magnificent view. As I walk back toward the house, I think about how I’ve spent the majority of my life focused on my career and wonder if it’s time to take a break.

  Focus on something more meaningful.

  I make sure to lock the glass patio doors and turn off lights as I head down to my bedroom. Jax already shut and locked all the open windows earlier.

  Jax.

  Maybe I should focus some attention on him. Honestly, though, I’m not sure if he would return my interest. I get the feeling that I’m not his type.

  At all.

  I can picture him with a floozy blonde who’s a waitress at the local bar he frequents. Someone who’s more rough around the edges like him.

  Then again, he’s not normally my type either. But, I have this overwhelming feeling that we could be really good together. Really hot together. And, that is so unlike me. I don’t sit around and fantasize about men, especially ones with tattoos and who ride a motorcycle.

  Something about him though makes my blood heat. Maybe it’s the bad boy image. Or, maybe it’s the fact that I’ve never been with anyone so rugged or who oozes such masculinity. When I compare Daniel to Jax, it’s like night and day. Daniel is lukewarm and sex with him is five minutes long on a good night. He’s like the Monday morning blahs.

  Jax, on the other hand, reminds me of a long, hot weekend. I get this feeling in my gut that sex with Jax would be an all-night affair. So steamy that my toes would curl. The kind of heat that is in the movies.