by Kelly Myers
No matter what his faults may be, Jax Wilder is the only man for me.
And, for someone who claims he doesn’t know how to do relationships, Jax sure had no problem acting like my boyfriend when we were alone in Big Bear. He fawned all over me when he found out it was my birthday and insisted on baking a cake. He held me in his arms and made love to me in front of the fire, amongst other places. Then, when he woke up in the grip of a nightmare, he confided his deepest, darkest secrets to me.
There’s no doubt that Jax Wilder has demons, but they shouldn’t blind him to the fact that he’s a good man with good intentions.
I wonder where he is now and my gaze scans the crowd for my dark, damned and dangerous man.
Instead, I see Lincoln making his way over to me and I suppress a weary sigh.
“Easton, there you are,” he says and slides in beside me. “I’m ready to blow this joint. Whattya say?”
“I couldn’t agree more.” I slip off the bar stool, deciding that I’m going to call Jax the moment I get home. When my heels hit the floor, I stumble slightly and Lincoln reaches out and offers a steadying hand.
“Sorry,” I mumble. “I feel a little weird.” I press a hand to my head fighting against the dizziness.
“Must’ve had too much champagne,” Lincoln says and links my arm through his.
But, I didn’t, I think. I had two glasses. I lean into Lincoln and just want to get to the car and go home.
On the way to the exit, when we pass the dark recess where Jax and I kissed, Lincoln sidesteps and pulls me into the corner.
He catches me off-guard and, once again, my back presses up against the wall, but now I’m with the wrong man. Lincoln lays a hand on either side of my head and swoops in, plastering a kiss on my lips before I can even blink much less push him away.
Nothing ever felt so wrong and I pull away with a frown, fighting back more dizziness.
His blue eyes narrow. “I thought you liked getting felt-up in this corner, Easton.”
My mouth drops open at the rude statement and I lean heavily against the wall.
“Sorry,” he apologizes quickly, completely insincere. “But, you can’t deny you guys were practically fu-”
“That’s none of your business,” I snap. “You don’t know anything about Jax so please leave him out of this conversation.”
He lifts his hands up off the wall and takes a step back. “Touchy, touchy. Jesus.” He gives me that sulky look he’s perfected so well. “You really had me going there for a minute, Easton.”
“What do you mean?” My words slur and I give my head a shake. What is going on with me?
“I thought you cared. That you wanted to make this movie with me and maybe even get back together.”
Now, besides the dizziness, guilt washes over me. I didn’t mean to mislead him. “Lincoln, I’m sorry if you think I led you on. It wasn’t my intention at all.” The words come out a little jumbled and I release a low breath. “Because the truth is, I’m in love with another man,” I manage to say. “I’m in love with Jax.”
It feels good to finally say it out loud.
And, those are the last words I say before I fall and pass out in Lincoln’s arms.
32
Jax
After berating myself for another ten minutes, I sneak back into the hotel. Easton might be pissed at me, but I refuse to let anything bad happen to her on my watch.
I make my way back out by the pool, slinking through the shadows, on the lookout for her. I see them up at the bar. They talk for about a minute and then it looks like they decide to head out. I trail behind them, far enough away so they don’t notice.
Moment of truth, I think. Does she go home alone? Or, does she go over to his place? Or, even worse, does she invite him inside her house and into her king-sized bed?
Heart in my throat, my legs feel numb as I follow them. The anticipation is going to give me a damn heart attack.
The moment they walk past the recess where I lost all control, Lincoln grabs her hand and pulls her into the shadows. I pick up my pace and see him hovering over her, hands by her head, lips on her mouth.
It’s like someone rips out my heart.
I turn and stumble away, unable to process the fiery pain that tears through me. It’s just as bad if not worse than the night I was shot. I can’t believe she’s kissing him where we were together, hot and heavy, not even an hour ago.
I feel completely betrayed. Utterly destroyed.
Then, my cell phone buzzes and I pull it out of my jacket. The caller id reads Sharpe so I slide the bar over and answer, hoping my voice doesn’t crack with emotion. The music still pumps in the background and I slip into a small side room where it’s not so loud.
“Where the hell are you?” Logan Sharpe asks. “A nightclub?”
“A really lame party and I’m just about to leave.”
“Sorry to hear. Anyway, I just finished questioning Daniel Rogers and get this-- he recently signed Lincoln Knight to star in his latest film.”
A coldness slithers through my belly.
“He planned to also get Easton onboard, but she’s resisting.”
“Yeah, she told me she didn’t like the script.”
“He figured with starpower like that he’d have a surefire hit. Anyway, Knight’s been down and out the past couple of years and this was gonna be his big comeback. As long as they got Easton, though, because of the whole America’s Sweethearts thing that they had going on a while back.”
“Yeah, I’m familiar,” I say in a stony voice.
“Well, sounds like Easton basically told them to fuck off and that she wasn’t doing the picture.”
“Right.” I feel agitated, like something is very wrong. I just can’t place my finger on it yet.
“Which means no big comeback for the Golden Boy. At least, until Rogers and his producing partner, a guy named Leo Mancuso, figure out how to change her mind or find another starlet with an even bigger name and box-office draw.”
“And?”
“And, so they want to keep their Golden Boy happy until then so he doesn’t bail, too. Otherwise, they’re up shit creek without a paddle.”
“Because the financing would get pulled,” I say.
“Exactly. So, with what money they’ve raised so far, those clowns set Knight up in some suite at the Chateau Marmont, gave him access to a spending account...and hooked him up with their company car.”
My eyes slide shut as the pieces snap together. “The car registered to Daniel Rogers,” I say.
“Bingo. Lincoln Knight’s been driving the car that tried to run Easton down. We have an alert out for his arrest.”
“He’s fucking here,” I say and turn back around, dodging through the crowd, heading back to the corner where he and Easton were kissing five minutes earlier.
“Where the hell are you?”
“Sunset Tower Hotel.” I skid to a halt outside the alcove between the pool and restaurant.
It’s empty.
“Shit!” I swear and spin around, searching for them. “They’re gone.”
“They?”
“Easton’s with him.”
“Any idea where they’re going?” Sharpe asks.
A panic rises in my chest and I try to tamp it down. Think, Jax.
I hurry to the side exit and throw the door open. It bangs against the wall and something on the ground in the alley catches my eye. I drop down on a knee and swipe up a silver scarf.
Easton’s scarf, I realize, and the scent of jasmine teases my nose.
“I think she’s in trouble,” I tell Sharpe, and the first wave of true fear pummels me.
I stuff her scarf in my pocket and jog around the corner to the valet. “Did Lincoln Knight and Easton Ross leave yet?” I ask.
“Yeah,” the kid says. “Like five or ten minutes ago?”
“They left,” I tell Sharpe. “Call you back,” I say and hang up.
“She was wasted, man. Could barely st
and up.”
My head snaps back around. “What?” From what I saw, Easton had two glasses of champagne tonight.
“Yeah, he was practically carrying her. She’s gonna have a massive hangover tomorrow, dude.”
Easton wasn’t drunk which means Lincoln must’ve done something to her. Probably slipped something into her drink. Fury fills me as I hop on the back of my Norton and she starts up on the first kick. Good girl.
I open the Mobistealth app, praying to God and St. Michael and whoever else will listen, that Easton has her phone on her.
She does and I sag with relief. The app shows her on the 101 S freeway heading toward downtown Los Angeles.
I text Griff and Ryker. “I need backup ASAP. Details to follow...head toward DTLA.”
I hit send. Then, I put my helmet and gloves on, rev the engine, and pull out onto Sunset Boulevard.
Phone in hand, I watch the blinking dot on the small screen that represents Easton and try to come up with a plan.
It all makes sense now. Lincoln has to be the one behind the calls and messages. It all built up to the accident on her current film, keeping her scared and on edge for over a month. Making her feel like she needed to surround herself with people she already knew and had a certain level of trust and comfort with-- like Lincoln.
So, when he comes back into her life, she will be open to taking up where they left off.
And, conveniently, a near-deadly accident on her current film caused production to shut down which, in turn, opened her schedule to make Daniel’s movie.
With Lincoln set to star.
But, Easton has a mind of her own and I’m sure Lincoln didn’t count on me. She was smart enough to hire me to guard and protect her. Now, it’s clutch-time, and I summon up all of the strength and concentration I’m going to need to succeed.
I’m going to find her and take this motherfucker down.
A horrible thought crosses my mind and I swerve around a car that nearly changes lanes right into me.
What if I’m too late and I lose her like I lost Maddy?
The thought makes me sick and I push the bike harder, roaring through traffic, being far too careless. But, time is of the essence.
Again.
I couldn’t bear to walk in five minutes too late like I did with Madison.
I couldn’t bear to find Easton laying on the floor in a puddle of warm blood.
I shake the dark thoughts from my head and push on toward downtown.
33
Easton
I feel groggy and confused. I have no idea where I am, but I hear the hum of traffic, feel like I’m moving and a blur of lights pass overhead.
I struggle to open my eyes. The last thing I remember is telling Lincoln that I’m in love with Jax. Then, everything went dark and I must’ve passed out.
When I finally open my eyes, I realize that my head presses against the passenger side window of a car and streetlights whizz by above. I pull back, trying to turn in the seat, but quickly realize that my mobility is limited.
I look down and see a zip tie wrapped around my wrists. I pull at the sharp plastic, but only manage to cut it into my skin. My attention turns to the driver’s seat where Lincoln glances over at me.
“Hey, sleepyhead,” he says and smiles. “Feeling better?”
No, I’m not feeling better. I feel drowsy, confused and I don’t understand why my reflexes and coordination seem impaired.
Then, it hits me.
Somebody drugged me.
I try to push through the mental fog and find answers, but it’s hard and I struggle to sit up.
Wait, my hands are tied...and I’m with Lincoln.
Lincoln did this to me.
My head falls back against the window.
I’m not sure how long I’m out, but when I finally come around again, I feel more clear-headed. Traffic is heavy, typical even at 11 pm, and I see a sign for the Staples Center and Los Angeles Convention Center. We’re near downtown and I wonder where the hell he’s taking me.
When we merge onto the 110 S toward San Pedro, the puzzle finally connects in my fuzzy mind. Lincoln is my stalker. The one who left all those horrible messages and texts. The one who tried to run me down and the reason I have a bullet scar on my upper arm.
The silver scarf that was around my arm is gone.
“What’re you doing, Lincoln?” I ask, sounding more like myself.
“Easton, how’re you feeling? I’m sorry I had to do that, but you wouldn’t have come with me otherwise.”
“What did you give me?”
“Don’t worry. Just some Diazepam. Mixed into your champagne, it’ll impair motor functions, reflexes and coordination for a bit. Make you dizzy and confused, but it should be passing.”
The first trickle of fear slides down my spine. He’s acting like we’re out on a Sunday drive and that he didn’t just confess to drugging me.
“You’re the one who left me all those messages,” I say as the situation and my mind clears.
He turns his blue gaze my way and gives a half-smile. “I had to, Easton. Do you forgive me?”
“You tried to kill me, Lincoln!”
He instantly gets defensive. “I didn’t mean for the bullet to hit you. Not really. That stuntman screwed up.”
“Are you insane? You replaced a blank with a real bullet. Other than shooting me, what other reason is there to do that?” I demand.
“I don’t know!” he yells, getting worked up. “I’m sorry, but you were making me really angry. I got confused. I wanted to hurt you for hiring that guy.”
I bite my tongue, not wanting to rile him up further because Lincoln is on the verge of a complete breakdown. I can see the signs-- from his shaky hands to the crazy things he’s saying to the wild, desperate look in his eyes.
He takes a deep breath and tries to regroup. “The plan was to scare you right into my arms. Back where you belong. Guess it never occurred to me that you’d hire a bodyguard and then sleep with him. Because you did, didn’t you?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“It is my business,” he yells. The car swerves and I grasp onto the door with one hand, the seat with my other, and hang on tight. He’s beginning to act irrational and unpredictable which scares me. I thought I knew Lincoln Knight, even believed I could trust him, but I was wrong.
Dead wrong.
It’s probably best to placate him and play along with whatever he wants. Then, when the opportunity presents itself, I’ll make a run for it.
I wish Jax were here, I think.
But, he’s not, I remind myself. It’s up to me to save myself.
“Lincoln, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to understand.”
“Understand this,” he hisses. “After we broke up, you catapulted into stardom and completely forgot all about me. Did it ever occur to you to recommend me to be in one of your films with you? Like I’m trying to do right now? You never had my back and only cared about your own career while I struggled to keep my life together.”
He blames me for the way his life fell apart, but it’s not my fault. “How could I bring you on a movie when you couldn’t even stand up? No one forced you to go to all of those parties and snort coke, Lincoln. At some point, you need to take responsibility-”
“Shut up!” he shrieks. “You have no idea what I went through. I hit rock bottom while you paraded all over town drinking that blasted champagne and making millions of dollars. Because everyone just loooves Easton Ross, don’t they? Don’t they?”
He’s losing his damn mind, I think. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I say. “I just kept working hard and doing my best.”
“St. Easton never screws up, huh? You’re just so perfect,” he sneers.
“I’m not perfect. Far from it. I just didn’t get swept up in all of the Hollywood pitfalls that you did.”
“Well, now it’s your big chance to help me so I hope you’re ready.”
I don’t wa
nt to know what he’s planning and watch as he takes the exit, getting off on San Pedro Street. We drive further up into the Fashion District and then he turns into a sketchy-looking alley and parks behind a tall, brick building.
It’s extremely dark and isolated.
I swallow hard as he gets out and walks around to open my door. He yanks me out and up onto my feet and I know I should bolt, but my legs tremble and almost give out again because of the lingering effects of the Diazepam and alcohol.
Fucker, I think.
In my mind, I can see Jax’s smirk of approval at the choice word.
I need to get my bearings and devise a plan to escape.
Lincoln drags me to a back door, unlocks it and pulls me inside. Where are we? I wonder. Then, I see a sign-- DL Productions-- and frown. Daniel and Leo must’ve set up a production office here for the new movie.
The office is located in a fifth-floor suite and Lincoln and I step into an elevator. He hits the button marked five and leans back against the rail, crossing his arms.
“Was he better than me?” he asks, trying to sound nonchalant.
My head snaps up from the zip ties around my wrists and I frown. “What?”
“Is it the tattoos? The whole bad boy image? Because, you know, I’m considered quite the bad boy now myself.”
“Good for you.” I twist against the restraints, but they’re impossible to break. All I manage to do is cut into my skin deeper.
“I guess I’m just going to have to remind you how good we were together. And, why we are meant to be.”
Terror grips my heart. Oh, God, he really has lost his mind. You have to get out of here before he hurts you or forces himself on you.
The thought sickens me.
I immediately remember all the times Jax and I were together. He was always so considerate, even when he was teasing me into a frenzy. Even when he was hard and fast and demanding, he was always tender.
Think, Easton.
The elevator doors open and Lincoln guides me down to the office. He opens the door, switches on a light and shoves me down into a nearby chair. Then, he drags another chair over and sits across from me. “Let’s talk,” he says and leans forward.