by Kelly Myers
We get up, get dressed and have breakfast at a charming restaurant that looks like a log cabin up the road. After all of our exertions last night, we’re famished and enjoy plates of pancakes, sausage, pastries and fruit. I drink a black coffee while Easton sips her beloved freshly-squeezed orange juice.
It’s almost like we’re a normal couple.
I’ve never felt so comfortable with a woman like I do with Easton. A part of me could really get used to this. Another part of me is terrified that as soon as we return to our lives in Los Angeles then everything will go back to how it was and I’ll be left behind to pick up the broken pieces of our affair.
Because Easton Ross is a movie star with millions of dollars, fans who worship her and an Industry that keeps her working constantly.
And, who am I?
Nobody. Just a bum who was lucky enough to have a fling with the most beautiful and amazing woman in the world. I love that she isn’t perfectly-made up right now. With just a little mascara and light pink lip gloss, her hair is pulled back in a loose ponytail, and she’s never looked more gorgeous to me.
The rejection is going to hurt like a bitch, but it’s inevitable.
“You okay?” she asks.
I must look a million miles away. I feel the urge to blow off some steam. “Wanna go shoot some guns?” I ask.
There’s a shooting range not too far away and in less than a half an hour, I hand her a pair of earplugs and protective eyeglasses. She looks a little tense so I grab her shoulders and give them a little rub. “You ready?”
“I guess I’m a little nervous.”
“Don’t be scared.”
“I’m not scared,” she corrects me. “Just nervous that I’ll have terrible aim and won’t be able to hit the target.”
I laugh. Of course. My strong, tough, sassy woman. How could I ever think she wouldn’t be ready for this?
“First things first,” I tell her. “Safety rules.”
“You are Mr. Safety,” she teases.
I raise a brow. “Meaning what?”
“Oh, you know. Jax Wilder always...comes prepared.”
You’re damn right, I think. Whether it’s sex or guns, I don’t take any chances. “Better to be safe than sorry,” I say. “Now, basic gun rules-- always treat a gun like it’s loaded. Keep your finger off the trigger. Don’t point it at anything you don’t wish to destroy. And, know your target and beyond.”
Easton watches closely as I teach her how to load the Glock. “Hold the base of the mag against your palm and keep your index finger up the side. That’ll help you keep full control over the magazine. Rotate the pistol, insert the mag and hit it hard.” I slam my palm against the magazine, demonstrating. “Then, rotate it back over and rack it.” I slide the top of the G22 back with a snap.
“Rack it?”
“Racking the slide. It cocks the action and feeds a cartridge from the magazine into the chamber of the barrel. The pistol is then ready to fire.”
She nods, paying close attention. “Can I try?”
I eject the magazine then rack the slide to extract any cartridge that may be in the chamber. It’s clear. I hand her the Glock and mag. “Pistol in your right hand, mag in your left.” I cover her hands with mine and go through the actions, making sure she does it correctly. When she slams her palm against the mag, I think I get a hard-on.
She’s a natural.
“Good job,” I tell her and take the gun back. “Now, let’s shoot. You want to keep your eyes open at all times and be aware of your surroundings.”
“Shoot without blinking?”
I nod. “It’s a challenging thing for beginners. The trick is to squint really hard.”
“Okay, got it.” She gets into the proper stance and practices her squint.
God, I could love this woman. Absolutely fearless and smart as hell.
“You want to grip it firmly, keeping the barrel in line with your arm, index finger pointing toward the target. Focus on the front sight, then align the rear. Place it “bottom dead center” on the area of the target you want to shoot.”
I squeeze the trigger and it hits the center of the target.
“Impressive,” she says.
“Let’s see what you got, Princess.” I hand her the gun and step up behind her. My thoughts instantly go back to that night in the guest room at her place when we first kissed. Once again, I adjust her feet. “Remember your breathing.”
“Let part of it out, hold it, then shoot.”
“That’s right.”
Easton lifts her arms, straightens them and squeezes the trigger. The gun jerks up a bit and she misses the target.
“Damn it,” she swears and I can’t help but laugh.
“It’s okay. It takes practice.”
She tries again. And, misses again. I lightly bump her arms with my closed fist and they jerk up.
“Firm grip, spaghetti arms,” I say.
With a frown, Easton readjusts her stance and fires again. This time, she hits the bottom right corner.
“You did it!”
She gives an excited whoop and we practice for a while longer. It’s not long before she’s hitting with relative precision and accuracy. Then, she hands the Glock back to me. “I want to watch you go a few times. Study your form,” she adds with a smile.
I chuckle. “If you insist.”
I know I’m fast and precise. So, why not show off a little?
In a blur, 3.9 seconds to be exact, I pull the gun from its holster, rotate it, press the mag release button. As it drops, my left hand immediately goes to the next mag. Fast in, slam it. It locks, I rotate it back over, rack the slide, drop my elbow, punch out, align the sites on the target and I take my shot.
Bang!
“Bull’s eye,” Easton says. “God, you’re fast.”
“Have to be out in the real world. I wasn’t always fast enough, though,” I admit.
She lays a hand against my side, touches the area where the bullet scars are and I suck in a sharp breath. “You amaze me, you know that?”
A smile curves my mouth. Yeah, I might be falling in love with this woman, I think again, getting more and more comfortable with the idea.
The day is perfect with warm, sunny weather and Easton Ross by my side. What more could I want or need?
We drive back to the cabin then take another walk down to the lake. This time, we bring some bread and feed the birds.
Everything feels so right, so peaceful.
I should’ve known it was the calm before the storm.
Later, when we return to the cabin and as we eat another slice of birthday cake, Easton’s cell rings. Both our phones have been quiet so it’s a bit jarring and unexpected.
She picks it up when she sees it’s Olivia. “Hi, Liv, how is everything?” Easton’s face falls. “What? Oh, my God.”
I move closer and she looks up at me. “Someone tried to break into the house last night. Liv said the alarm scared them off.”
“Jesus.”
Suddenly, my phone rings and we exchange a look. This can’t be good. I swipe it up and see it’s Logan Sharpe. “Logan,” I say.
“Did you hear about the attempted break-in at Easton’s?”
“Yeah, Easton’s on the phone with her assistant right now.”
“I had officers stationed nearby. They got a glimpse of the perp, but he was all in black and took off when he saw them. He left another message, though.”
“What kind of message.”
“A crazy poem. I’ll text it to you.”
I sigh. “This is getting old. We need to catch this fucker,” I say.
“We talked to some witnesses who were outside The Vortex the other night. I’m following a lead and should have something for you if it pans out. Either way, I’ll be in touch very soon.”
“Thanks, Logan,” I say and disconnect the call.
Easton sits on the couch and I walk over and drop down next to her. “Hang in there, okay? Sharpe said he ma
y have a lead for us really soon.”
My phone beeps and I look down and see a text from Logan. I open it up and suck in a breath when I read the ominous words.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Another poem.”
“He left it last night?”
I nod. She’s waiting to hear and I let out a long, low sigh. “Roses are red, Violets are blue, You broke my heart, And now I’ll break you.”
Her pretty face falls and she runs a hand through her dark hair. “I don’t want to go back there,” she whispers.
“C’mere,” I say and pull her into my arms. “We can stay here for as long as you want. I want you to feel safe, Easton.”
“Thank you,” she says and sniffs softly. “As long as you’re with me, I do feel safe.”
I squeeze her tightly to me, never wanting to let her go. Because if anything bad happens to this woman, I will lose my shit in a way that will be incomprehensible. Losing Madison was a nightmare and it’s taken me a year to get my life back on track and to learn that there are things left to make it worth living.
People like Griff, Ryker and Easton.
Once again, I vow to protect Easton, knowing I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Because today out on the range, I had a revelation: I am head over heels, crazy in love with Easton Ross.
And, that means I will take care of her. Like the Archangel Michael who I wear around my neck and on my arm, I will be Easton’s Protector, Warrior and, if need be, Angel of Death.
27
Easton
Even though it’s time for lunch, I’m not hungry. After hearing the horrible message left behind at my house, I want to cry. This whole thing has become so frustrating and beyond scary. It’s clear that someone wants me dead.
And, I have no idea who.
Thank God for Jax, I think. Despite everything that is happening, he’s my rock and I don’t think I could get through this without him.
Nevertheless, I need some time to sit by myself and think. “I’m just going to go down by the water for a little bit,” I tell him and give him a quick kiss. He doesn’t look overly thrilled and gets up and follows me out the door.
“Over there. In plain view,” I say when he begins to object.
“Fine,” he grumbles. “But, I’m going to sit right here and keep an eye on you.”
“I know,” I say and give him a small smile.
I wander down to the blue lake and sit on a log. So many thoughts whirl through my head and I need to calm them down. It’s hard for me to quiet my mind so meditation never works. There are a million things always fluttering around in my brain whether its script lines, upcoming events or meetings.
Now, I also have to worry about a stalker who wants me dead.
I’ve heard that most murders are committed by someone who the victim knows. If that’s true, maybe I already know who is doing this to me. I sort through all the people who come in and out of my life. And, it’s a lot.
The mental list I come up with-- the people I deal with most-- include my assistant Olivia, my ex-boyfriend Daniel, my publicist Holly, my entourage of Micah, Sylvie and Donna, my trainer Bobby, my masseuse Rodney, my chef Jacques, my manager, my four agents, various producers and directors, not to mention the housekeeper and several maids, the gardeners, indoor plant specialist, pool man…
Oh, my God, why do I need all of these people? The thought hits me and I suddenly feel like a spoiled-rotten brat. For the last ten years, I have been pampered, and most likely tolerated, by a horde of endless people.
No wonder I was so unhappy lately. Despite being constantly surrounded, my relationships with all of these people are either fairly shallow or one-sided. Nothing of significant depth. Except for Olivia who I feel closest with and consider a friend.
I need to make some serious changes, I decide.
I turn and glance over my shoulder at the first change-- make sure Jax Wilder is a permanent part of my life. Jax watches me like a hawk and I give him a little wave. He lifts his hand in acknowledgement, stance alert.
I watch the small waves roll in, hit the lake’s shoreline and I wonder how I can keep him around. If I had to guess, Jax is a runner. The minute any woman tries to get closer, he jets. He’s staying put for now because I’m paying him, but the moment the job is over, will he leave me?
The thought is thoroughly depressing.
As I try to formulate a plan to just make him go ahead and start falling in love with me, I hear his phone ring. I turn back around and see him start pacing like a caged tiger and talking to someone. His dark head snaps up and he looks in my direction.
A weird, uneasy feeling trickles through me.
After he hangs up, he starts down across the grass, walking toward me with a determined stride in his long legs. “Sharpe just called,” he announces, dark eyes glowing. “He said a witness helped them track down the car involved in the attempted hit and run. Apparently, it’s owned by D.L. Productions.”
My stomach sinks. “That’s Daniel and Leo’s company.”
“That’s right,” he says. “And, the SUV itself is registered to Daniel Rogers.”
My eyes go wide with shock. “What?”
“They’re bringing him in for questioning right now.”
My face falls. I can’t believe that Daniel is the one behind all of this.
“You don’t look happy,” he comments offhandedly. “We just got a huge break in the case.”
“I just can’t quite wrap my head around it. Do you really believe Daniel tried to kill me?”
“The evidence is pointing to his involvement. That’s all I know.”
“It’s just…”
He waits for me to continue, but I can see the flash of annoyance. Why is he getting upset? Because I’m not completely convinced Daniel is guilty?
“Just what?” he presses.
“It’s just not Daniel.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
His voice rises and I can hear the irritation, the anger. “Why are you getting mad?”
Jax clamps down on his jaw, looks like he’s forcing himself to calm down and count to ten. Then, after a deep breath, he shrugs. “I’m not. I just find it interesting that you’re so quick to defend your slimy ex so much.”
“I’m not defending him. Daniel is a lot of things, but I truly do not believe he would hurt me. Arrogant, self-centered, egotistical, sure. A killer? No.”
“No one is saying he’s a killer, Easton. But, didn’t he mention several times that having a stalker is good publicity?”
“He was...kidding,” I say weakly.
“Was he? Because I didn’t get that impression.”
I hate the nasty tone in his voice. “I think all that Daniel is worried about is making a hit movie. That’s why he wanted me in his new film so badly.”
I see Jax’s brow lift. “Did you give him an answer? Was he pressuring you?”
“No. I mean, a little.” Jax’s dark eyes narrow. “I passed. But, he wanted me to reconsider.” I choose my words carefully, not wanting to make Daniel look more guilty than he already does.
“Sounds like Daniel would do just about anything to make you sign on to that film. I’m sure he wasn’t too happy when you said no.”
“He wasn’t, but that doesn’t mean he would hurt me.”
Jax shakes his head, throws his arms up. “Open your eyes, Easton. He doesn’t care about you. From what I remember, he’s more interested in boosting weekend ticket sales than your safety.”
“Jax-”
“What?” he snaps.
“You told me that you trust your gut. Well, I trust mine, too. And, I don’t believe that Daniel Rogers is behind any of this.”
With a roll of his eyes, Jax turns away and crosses his arms. “Maybe he got jealous,” he says in a snide tone.
“Jealous?”
“Yeah,” he says and turns back to me. “Suddenly there’s a new guy hanging around and he feels you slipping away
. Because you did. You fell right into my arms and Daniel just sat back and watched it happen.”
I flinch at his cool words. “You’re being extremely arrogant.”
“Am I?” he asks and roughly pulls me up and into his arms. “You wanted me from the moment you saw me, admit it. You think I didn’t see those hot, little looks at my tattoos? I remember how you spun around in my arms and kissed me. I’ll never forget it,” he adds hotly and slants his mouth down, crushing his lips to mine in a hard, almost punishing kiss.
All of a sudden, I am so mad at him I can’t see straight. He’s making this attraction sound all one-sided. Convenient. Now that our time is coming to an end, Jaxon Wilder is out the door and running away.
I feel a hot prickling behind my eyes and I jerk my mouth from his, pushing at his chest. I won’t let him see me cry. His arms drop away from me and I turn and stalk back to the cabin.
Suddenly, I feel like my whole world is crashing down all around me.
“Fuck! Easton, wait!”
But, I don’t stop, just keep walking. I hear him running to catch up and he grabs my arm. “I’m sorry,” he says, turning me to face him.
I yank my arm away. “Maybe this is best,” I tell him. “Just end things right now. I mean, why prolong it, right? It’s fucking inevitable.”
His eyes widen when I swear, then turn black and churn with indignation. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so furious.
For a long moment he doesn’t say anything. “It’s not over until we catch the fucker responsible. Or, until you pay what you owe me.”
“You’re an asshole,” I whisper.
His eyes turn into two fathomless, black holes, completely devoid of emotion. “It’s probably best if you remember that.”
“Oh, I will.”
“We should get back to L.A.,” he says.
I give a sharp nod and walk away, completely done with this conversation.
Completely done with Jax.
Neither of us says a word as we pack up our bags and get ready to leave the cabin. My heart is so heavy at the idea of going back to Los Angeles. But, twenty minutes later, I climb into the Expedition and watch as the cozy cabin disappears in my side mirror.