by BETH KERY
“Okay. I’ll think about it,” she said, brushing back his hair with one hand. “But you shouldn’t worry so much. I’ll be safe, no matter what, as long as you’re there.”
He caught her brushing hand with his. “Do you really believe that?”
She started in surprise at his intensity. She weighed the question. “Yes,” she said with conviction. “I’ll drive. You should rest, and I’m wide awake.” She bit her lip when he didn’t speak, one hand still shaping and caressing her breasts gently. “Are you starting to regret it already, Seth?” she asked shakily.
He smoothed one hand on the skin above her left breast. She wondered if he felt her heart bumping. “I don’t think it’s possible to regret what just happened,” he said gruffly.
“No?” she queried softly. “Not like what happened two years ago?”
He exhaled heavily and dropped his warm hand from her breast. His fingertips traced her eyebrow. “A big part of me didn’t regret that, Bright Eyes. You’re too smart not to realize that.”
A pressure swelled in her chest. Bright Eyes. He hadn’t called her that since that night two years ago.
She believed him wholeheartedly in those sweet moments after the rapture of the storm. Still, reality crept in slowly once they were on the road again. They’d been in a fever of lust and had given in gloriously.
But surrendering to the inevitable and liking it were two very different things.
* * *
Seth instructed her to get onto I-40 toward Oklahoma City. She’d been highly aware of him studying the mirrors for the past hour as she drove.
“Do you think we’re being followed?” she asked anxiously. She hadn’t noticed him watching so closely before, but he’d been driving when glancing into the rearview mirror was more usual.
“No. I’m almost one hundred percent certain we haven’t been,” he said at the same time he reclined the passenger seat. “That’s why I took parts of Historic 66. It’s hard to tail someone on a road like that for long distances and get away with it. Now that we’re on the main interstate, just be mindful of any cars that travel for long periods behind you and don’t pass, even ones that are two or three cars back or ones that pass you but still stay in proximity. I know it’s hard in the dark, but take note of colors and makes of cars, if you can. Just be alert.”
“Okay,” Gia agreed, glancing in her mirrors. “I can’t believe anyone would invest so much time and energy to follow us this far, though.”
“For the money they could get selling an exclusive story? A reporter would follow you much farther than this,” Seth stated flatly. “Quite a few people would. Or they could call ahead and have a tail pick us up once they sighted us.”
She glanced aside. Had he meant someone else might follow them beside the press?
“Do you mean McClarin’s people?” she asked him.
“I doubt it, but anything’s possible. Has there been any contact made between him or one of his followers and you? Even something remote, like an e-mail?” She felt his searching stare on her cheek.
“No. I think you’re wrong to be concerned about it. Madeline and Charles agree with me. They’re just playing it safe with this whole escape from L.A. thing because they’re worried about the press. Do you really feel that differently about it?” she asked bemusedly, frowning at the road. “I happen to know that Jeannie’s mom has had Jeannie sent away to relatives in South Carolina until the trial, but no one thinks it’s because of a danger thing. That poor girl just needs a break from this crap.”
“I’d be a fool to act like I know everything. I’m just being careful. I don’t think there’s a bodily threat against you, but I think Madeline and Charles are right to want you away from that press zoo. I also agree that the chances are excellent nothing will happen in regard to McClarin influencing you.”
“Attempting to influence me,” she corrected.
“Don’t be so certain a man like McClarin wouldn’t find a way into your cracks,” Seth said. “Everyone has a weakness or an insecurity. Everyone. McClarin thrives off information like that. He preys on the weak and vulnerable and emotionally unstable.”
“You think I’m emotionally unstable?” she demanded, insulted.
“No, I don’t. I do think McClarin’s more dangerous than a lot of people realize though.”
“You don’t have to convince me,” Gia assured, gripping the wheel harder. Her muscles always went stiff at the disturbing memory of walking down the hallway in the Salinger home and opening that bedroom door. McClarin hadn’t realized Gia would show up for an emergency hair appointment with Mary Salinger, her hairdresser, that day. He’d known Jeannie was alone and vulnerable. Gia had made the plans with Jeannie’s mother over the phone. When Gia arrived, Mary hadn’t reached home yet. Her fourteen-year-old-daughter Jeannie had been there, though.
If only I’d gotten there sooner.
An ache went through her at the familiar thought. At least she had been there. Mary was an avid follower of the New Temple and in awe of Sterling McClarin. If Gia hadn’t witnessed McClarin’s crime firsthand, she feared McClarin would have hushed Mary. And Mary, in turn, would have silenced her daughter. It was just one more reason Gia was determined to testify and do her part.
“McClarin is finished, Gia. It’s just a matter of keeping you safe and counting off the days.”
Gia blinked in surprise at Seth’s quiet intensity. She saw the gleam in his eyes and knew he’d noticed her anguish at thinking of the rape. At Charles’s request, she had briefed Seth on what she’d witnessed.
“You all right?” Seth asked.
“I’m fine,” she insisted.
“Okay. I’m just going to rest my eyes for a few minutes. Wake me up in an hour?” Seth asked.
“In an hour? That’s all?”
“That’s all.” He crossed his arms below his waist and went still.
She checked the clock, but told herself she’d let him sleep longer than an hour if nothing unusual happened on the road. She was sure nothing would. Something told her that Seth wouldn’t “rest his eyes” if he weren’t confident all was well.
In the silence, her head filled with the volatile memories of what had just happened at that roadside gas station. Her sex still felt overly sensitive and damp, the nerves tingly with continued arousal. She turned the radio on a very low setting, hoping to distract herself as she drove.
Her resolve not to wake Seth went untested. After an hour, he uncrossed his arms and shifted his long legs. Gia glanced at his face and realized his eyes were open. He seemed completely alert. She looked at the digital clock on the dashboard.
“How did you do that?” she asked, amazed. He’d awakened exactly one hour from when he’d shut his eyes.
“Internal clock. It got honed in the Army,” he said, raising the back of the seat and finger-combing his longish hair. He checked his surroundings in the mirror and then picked up his cell phone and began briskly checking messages.
“How long did you serve in the Army?”
“Five years of active duty after college, two years of reserves,” he said distractedly. “Your driver’s name is Jim, isn’t that right?”
“What?” she asked, startled by his question. She grew concerned when she saw he was still peering at his messages. “Yes, Jim Adair. Is everything all right? Did you get some kind of message about Jim?”
“Not at all,” he said, making a scrolling motion with his thumb. His cell phone looked oddly small in his big hand. It was strange, the contrast of his largeness and the subtlety of his touch. “I’m just asking because I forgot to ask during our planning session. How long has Jim been with you?”
“Eighteen months,” Gia said, giving him a wary sideways glance.
“Do you trust him?”
“Completely,” Gia stated with force. “He lives on the grounds in the carriage
house. I wouldn’t have anyone live so close that I didn’t trust completely.”
He nodded. “But we’re still in agreement that it would be best for you not to be in contact with him, or anyone at all, for the next few weeks?”
“Seth,” she said, exasperated. “Did you get a message that relates to Jim or not?”
“No,” he said with emphasis, setting down his phone. She caught a glimpse of his expression and sensed he was telling the truth. He quirked his dark eyebrows expectantly, and she made a frustrated sound.
“Yes, I agree that I won’t be in contact with anyone. I wrote my parents and a couple friends and told them I was okay, but off the map for a few weeks, just like we talked about. Jim and my housekeeper have been told something similar, except that Jim knows a little more since he was driving during the switch-off with Leti. You really are the suspicious type, aren’t you?”
“Now is not the time to be blindly trusting.”
“Am I supposed to read multiple meanings into that?”
“No,” he rumbled, the vision of him spreading and planting his long legs distracting her. “It’s just common sense in this situation.”
She scowled as she stared at the road. “Talk about doublespeak. You really are a trained spy, aren’t you?”
“Not anymore.”
“Hmph. Once a spy, always a spy,” she said under her breath. She felt his stare on her face in the darkness. It caused her neck to prickle in awareness. It was as if she could feel his hand pressing against her breast and beating heart and hear his roughened voice.
I don’t think it’s possible to regret what just happened.
She experienced an irrational desire for him to touch her. She tamped it down with effort.
“It almost sounds like when you talk about McClarin, it’s personal,” she said, rallying. When he didn’t respond—or even move—in the passenger seat, she shut off the radio. “Seth?” she prompted. “Do you know Sterling McClarin?”
“No, not personally,” he said after a pause. “Let’s just say I know of his type.”
She glanced at him expectantly. “What do you mean?”
He exhaled and raked his fingers through his hair in an impatient gesture.
“There was a girl who was an extra on a film I did a few years back. She was new to the area and the industry. She was young. Too young. Dharma came from a fucked-up family in a tiny town in Maine and had just come to Hollywood in hopes of healing all her scars by seeing her name in lights. She didn’t know anyone in L.A. and was excited and scared and just plain lonely. You know the type,” Seth said gruffly.
Gia clamped her mouth shut and stared at the road. Yeah, she knew the type, all right. Sad, sweet, naïve men and women who craved acknowledgment and self-esteem so much, they would do practically anything for the mother lode of the stuff: Fame.
Is that how Seth saw her—Gia? The thought made her vaguely queasy.
“She got mixed up with a new-age cult at the same time we were working on the film,” Seth was saying.
“The New Temple?” Gia asked.
He shook his head. “No, a smaller organization run by a Rasputin-type character named Vladimir Tomoriv, a Russian import with all of McClarin’s charisma and sex appeal, but not as much smarts for the financial side of swindling. I tried to warn Dharma off, but Tomoriv’s church—it was called God’s Chosen Few—promised her a place to belong and told her she was unique . . . one chosen out of many. She lapped up their attention and the special treatment built into the psychological mind-fuckery of a cult because she was starved for it. Long story short, she was dead within six months.”
“How?” Gia asked, startled.
“Exposure was the official cause, although when she was found dead in Franklin Canyon Park, she was also extremely malnourished and dehydrated. I noticed her losing weight, even while we were still filming. But according to her, this organization had her going through some kind of ‘purification’ ritual in order to reach the ‘next level,’ ” he muttered derisively, anger edging his tone. “It was just a way to break her down psychologically, make her more malleable to their indoctrination. When I informed the police about her involvement with the organization, they dragged their feet about investigating. The cause of death wasn’t murder, and no members of the cult could be linked to her presence in the canyon. I tried to confront Vladimir Tomoriv myself once, but he just spouted some new-age fiction at me and ran. It really galled me, to think of them getting away with the murder of an innocent girl. It was like . . .” he faded off, frowning, “she was disposable goods. Her death meant she hadn’t passed the test or something. They professed to be her mother, father, brother and friend. When she died, the God’s Chosen Few acted like Dharma Jana had never existed. They figured she hadn’t really been one of them after all.”
She glanced aside, her heart seizing slightly when she noticed how rigid his profile and posture looked. His regret over Dharma’s death was palpable, despite his even, matter-of-fact tone. No wonder he’d understood her without words earlier when they’d spoken of Sterling McClarin. He seemed personally affronted by the cult leader’s antics.
“I’m sorry,” Gia said sincerely. He waved his hand as if to say that’s life, right? But Gia wasn’t buying his nonchalance. “It wasn’t your fault, Seth.”
“I know it wasn’t. But you can’t help but wonder if you did enough, that’s all.”
This was the real reason he’d sacrificed his time and put up with the inconvenience of their trek across the country. Of course, it hadn’t related to her personally, she acknowledged with a sinking feeling.
“Were you involved with her?” she asked.
“Who? Dharma?”
Gia nodded, her gaze glued to the road. Why had her heart started to beat uncomfortably fast upon asking the question?
“You mean was I sleeping with her?”
“Yeah.”
“Of course not,” he said with quiet disdain. “Haven’t you been listening? I don’t get involved with actresses, especially a fragile one like Dharma. I tried to be a friend to her. Not that it worked.”
A silence settled between them. He seemed as thoughtful as she was.
“But Dharma, and other women like her,” Gia said after a while. “Are they the reasons you routinely don’t date actresses? Because they’re vulnerable and needy, and often don’t show the best judgment?”
He exhaled, making a frustrated sound. “No. Not entirely. I know you say it’s prejudice on my part, and maybe it is,” he said stiffly. “But it’s my experience. I’m not saying every actress is as fragile as Dharma. Far from it. It’s more than that.”
He glanced aside and noticed her raised eyebrows.
“Personalities and weaknesses of character aside, two people who are both part of this business shouldn’t be involved. It’s too much craziness and not enough reality.”
“That seems like way too rigid a rule.”
“Do you really love it that much?” Seth asked her. She blinked at the unexpected question.
“Yes,” she replied without hesitation. “Sure, it’s crazy at times, but acting has been my passion since I was in middle school. I thought the theater was everything to me, but I’m finding film to be fascinating too. It’s stretching me creatively. I’m not power or fame hungry, and I think my feet are planted solid on the ground. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to take my career as far as I can.”
He didn’t reply for a moment.
“You should be careful what you wish for,” he said somberly. “This business can eat people alive or take you bit by bit until there’s nothing left. You’re young. You still have a lot to learn about it.”
“Do not throw my age in my face again, Seth Hightower,” she said, pointing at him accusingly. “You’re only ten years or so older.”
“That’s a hell of a lot of y
ears of experience.”
“I’m old enough. I was then too,” she grated out. Her words echoed in her brain in the tense silence that followed. She hadn’t meant to bring up what had happened two years ago. Seth’s calm know-it-all attitude had pricked her temper. Again.
“Fine. I didn’t intend to argue with you about it. You’re the one who asked why I’m offended by assholes like McClarin,” Seth said, staring out the passenger’s-side window.
“Is it that surprising that I’m annoyed? You’re labeling me as an emotional simpleton on the sole basis of my career and the number of years I’ve been alive.” How could he be so clueless as to not realize how insulting that was?
“I said no such thing,” he shot back with force, making her jump. “How can you imagine for a second I think you’re an emotional simpleton? You’re smart as a whip and courageous as hell. Look at what you’re doing, testifying against McClarin despite every obstacle being thrown in your path? Most people who have far less at stake than you do would never put themselves on the line like that.”
She glanced at him, her mouth sagging open.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” he demanded sharply, seemingly as aghast by her incredulous reaction as she was by his passionate declaration.
“Because I didn’t know you thought those things of me.”
“Jesus, Gia. I can’t keep my damn hands off you. Do you think that’s all because you’ve got a pretty face and phenomenal body? I see gorgeous women every fucking day,” he said, his deep, rough voice pressured and beleaguered.
“Well, I’m so sorry to be such a distracting . . .” She fumbled for the right word. “Nuisance. You’re sort of a nuisance yourself, you know,” she added under her breath.
She listened to her heart throbbing in her ears in the strained silence that followed.
She reached for the control button on the radio and turned up the volume on a pop song. From the corner of her vision, she saw him open his mouth as if to say something, but then he seemed to think better of it. Instead, he picked up his cell phone and resumed checking his messages.