by Anne Malcom
Plus, I actually liked Duke, a lot. So if I felt it with him, it would eventually lead to pain, heartbreak, and Lexie turning into a zombie. So, no it was good the feelings were only platonic. Even so, I’d have to be dead not to appreciate those muscles.
“And,” I continued, “most likely any rabid fan would be way slower than you, considering your super-solider reflexes, so I’m thinking my right hook is safe.”
Duke regarded me then shook his head, a shadow of a grin back on his face.
“Let’s get a burger,” I suggested as we made it to the car.
Duke raised his brow. “A burger?” he repeated in disbelief. “I can’t be hearing you correctly. Did you fall too hard on your head in the ring? I’m sure you mean a kale salad and a protein shake.”
I poked my tongue out at him. Duke wasn’t just my bodyguard; he was my friend. Therefore, he knew, and teased me mercilessly about, my love of healthy foods. Like it was something to be ashamed of.
“I’m feeling dangerous.” My attention moved to something on the window screen of my cherry red Jeep.
Duke’s eyes followed mine and all teasing glint leaving them. His body turned taut and he went into full-bodyguard mode. The transition scared me when I saw it the first time. He went from joking with me about a pop star to a soulless and emotionless machine in a split second. Now, I was used to it, but it did unnerve me.
“Calm, Rambo, it’s probably just a flyer for a Mexican restaurant,” I said, stepping past him to snatch the paper. “Actually, I could do with some Mexican. How about a burrito? I know this…” I trailed off when my gaze zeroed in on the piece of paper that was not a flyer for a Mexican restaurant.
No.
It was a photo of me, tangled in my white sheets, sleeping. A single word was scribbled on top of it.
Soon.
My blood turned to ice and that prickling at the back of my neck came back, along with a strong urge to vomit.
The paper was snatched out of my hand and Duke regarded it for a millisecond before his jaw turned to stone.
“In the car. Now.” He didn’t even give me time to move before he half carried me to the destination and I, in my fugue state, let him.
He had rounded the hood and screeched out of the parking lot before I knew it, phone to his ear.
“Keltan? I need LAPD at Lexie’s place now. I also need you to call up every single bit of camera footage from the past…” He trailed off, glancing at me. “Lexie, you have any idea when this was taken?” He passed me the photo.
I took it reluctantly, like it might explode. It shook in my hands. I glanced down at it. I tried to be detached, looking for details instead of focusing on the fact someone had been in my room, had been watching me sleep. Taking photos. Doing God knows what.
I swallowed.
“Yes, um, at least I think so.” My finger touched the photo hesitantly. “These.” I trailed over the pajamas I was wearing. “They’re new. I got them a couple of days ago.” My husky voice was barely above a whisper.
The photo was snatched out of my hands before I could look at it any more.
“The past week. Need to see who entered the premises after dark. Also need to know how the fuck they breached the security system in order to get into Lexie’s room while she was sleeping,” he barked.
I guessed he was meant to be cool, calm, and collected, but from the way he was gripping the steering wheel and the fury that took up the cab of my Jeep, I knew he was far from calm.
I, on the other hand, decided calm was the way to go. The only way to go. Hysterical crying or throwing up would help no one right now, especially not my upholstery.
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and going to my place. The place in my head that I tried to escape to when everything became too much. When the flashing cameras and pushy fans threatened to suffocate me. When the memories I spent every day beating back were in danger of swallowing me whole. I searched for my sanctuary. I wasn’t likely to find it, but I could at least focus on something that wasn’t the ramifications of the picture in my hands. I spent the rest of the drive home trying to do this, Duke’s angry voice serving as background noise.
“Lexie?” A hand touched my shoulder.
I flinched and opened my eyes.
“It’s just me,” Duke said, eyes soft.
I took a deep breath and nodded, realizing we were in my driveway. The driveway that was full of police cars, tinted SUVs, and scattered with men in uniforms. One very attractive caramel-skinned man not in a uniform had his arms crossed and his attractive face pinched as he spoke to an officer. I recognized him, Keltan.
“Whoa, they’ve got the big guns down here,” I commented.
Duke squeezed my hand. “This is most likely gonna be a lot, Lexie. Lots of questions. A lot of people askin’ you shit that might not even seem relevant. You gonna be okay?”
No, I was not going to be okay. I was currently fighting back pure fucking panic. But of course I wasn’t going to betray that outwardly. I’d do what I always did, fake it. I smiled. “Sure. Let’s get this done.”
*****
Sam paced the living room. “Okay, we’re getting a dog. A big one and we’ll train it to maul any strangers who comes near it.”
I raised a brow at him from my position on the sofa. I had a huge wine glass cradled in my hand. It was my third. It barely touched the sides, but at least my feelings were fuzzy at the edges and my heart wasn’t beating so fast.
“A dog that mauls strangers is a lawsuit waiting to happen, Sammy,” I said.
The hordes of people had just left after asking me question upon question and fingerprinting my bedroom. Strangers tramping through my space. The place where I escaped.
My sanctuary. The white room was splashed with color from abstract paintings, rugs from my last holiday in Morocco, hand-embroidered throws from India, a beautiful suede sofa at the edge of it, and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf full of my favorites. It had just been for me, the place where I could shut out the world. Now the world had rushed in. A stranger had been in there, that malicious stare violating my space while I slept.
Fear would probably be the correct thing to feel right now, but I was pissed off. So very pissed off. Everyone had recommended I go somewhere else, check into a hotel, stay with someone else. I had refused. This was not chasing me out of my home. I would not surrender to fear.
Mark had even offered to let me stay at his place as soon as he’d gotten here and realized the situation. The worry on my manager’s usually laid-back face was unnerving. As was the offer. He was a reserved man and I knew his home was his sacred space. He’d been managing us from the beginning and I’d only been there a handful of times.
He hadn’t been happy when I’d refused, but he’d accepted it. Then he spent the rest of the time on his phone trying to contain the situation and sort out what needed to be taken care of. I was more than grateful I didn’t have to handle the logistics of this situation.
Noah, Wyatt, and Sam had all disagreed with this choice. But I’d put my foot down. I’d won but Wyatt and Sam were now staying here until further notice. Ditto with Duke. He had been by my side the entire time, his professional mask on, but his presence comforting.
He was sitting across from me in our huge living room. This was not white like my room. It was an explosion of colors and mismatched sofas were cluttered around our sheepskin rug and giant coffee table littered with books and knickknacks. Paintings and photos littered our walls. Photos from our first tour, of all of us with Rocko the last time he’d been to visit. Memories of the last four years. I was smiling in all of them. But I knew if you compared them to the photos that were hidden in my closet at Mom’s house, you’d see the difference. You’d see the visible light absent from my eyes. But to the naked eye, I looked happy.
“Well, we’ve got to fuckin’ do something.” Sam threw his hands up. “He got in here and watched Lexie sleeping. That’s like a th
ousand on the creep scale. I’m getting a gun,” he declared.
“No gun,” Wyatt, Noah, and I said in unison.
Sam glowered at us.
“Duke’s got a gun and he actually knows how to use it, right, Duke?” I asked him.
Duke nodded. “Point and shoot. It’s a complicated process, but I’ve mastered it.”
I snorted out laughter. It was nice to break this wired atmosphere with humor. We needed something.
“Okay, but we’re getting out of Hollywood at least,” Sam said.
I narrowed my eyes at him. “I’m not running away.”
“This isn’t running. This is us going to an island paradise for a holiday we much deserve. It just happens to coincide with you getting a visit from a stalker who is going to be beat to death by me should he come in this house again,” Sam said.
I opened my mouth to protest, but Wyatt beat me to it.
“Now that you mention it, Sammy, I’m thinking I look a little pale. A tan is exactly what I need.”
Noah nodded. “Yep. I think I could definitely spend a week surfing.”
They all looked at me. I was outvoted. Shit.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“You’re doing laundry?” Mom repeated in disbelief. “Don’t you have people that you pay to do such menial tasks?” She paused. “You’re rich anyway, why wash clothes when you can just buy more? It’s not like you can wear them again. I’d have to disown you if you commit the crime of outfit repeating.”
I chuckled. “Yes, because nothing in this world is more terrible than outfit repeating.”
“Damn straight, sister. No wait, those shoes with the toes in them. That is much more terrible and haunting. If you ever wear those things, I’m going to tell the world you’re adopted,” Mom declared.
“Do you think you raised some sort of monster? I’d never do such a thing!”
“I know I raised a monster. One who eats kale and exercises,” she spat the words like it was akin to kicking puppies for sport.
“Well, this monster has just been sent the most beautiful designer handbag that is one of only a hundred ever made. I thought it’d be perfect for my mother, but if she doesn’t want it—”
“I want it,” Mom snapped quickly. “Exercise and sip kale till your heart’s content, dollface. I’ll support you 100 percent, as long as I get that bag.”
I smiled. “It’s already on its way.”
There was a pause. “How are you, Lexie? How are you really? It’s been awhile since Drew’s death. It seems like things aren’t dying down. I’m worried about you,” she said seriously.
I leaned against my washing machine, running my hands through my curls. “Yeah, things aren’t exactly getting back to whatever normal is around here,” I admitted. “Which is why we took that little vacay.”
We’d only just gotten back from our trip to the Caribbean. One that Mom and Zane thought was purely a holiday away from the paps and to have a break. They would not find out about the photo. Ever. Zane would most likely drag me back to Amber kicking and screaming. And what waited for me there was arguably scarier than a stalker. Okay, it was tied.
I couldn’t worry them. I had professionals on the job.
Keltan was redoing all of the security, and Duke insisted on coming along with us, for my safety. Since we weren’t bothered the whole time, I teased him it was just because he’d wanted to work on his tan.
So we’d spent our time on a beach, sipping cocktails and tanning. Well, that’s what I’d done. The boys had roared around on jet skis, surfed, and did what boys do. I’d written a few songs but tried to turn my mind off by reading the stack of books that had been woefully forgotten in my busy lifestyle. Reading for pleasure was a luxury. I still found time to do it, in the wee hours of the morning. I couldn’t live without books just like I couldn’t live without music. But I couldn’t curl up for an entire day, devouring them. So, the beach getaway was bliss.
Now, it was real life. We got swarmed at the airport, and thankfully Duke was there.
Duke had officially been my full-time security since the incident of the person in the bushes and the subsequent photo. I felt kind of ridiculous having him hanging around all the time since nothing had happened in almost two weeks, apart from the fact that I got swarmed every time I left the house. The story of Drew’s death hadn’t left the front pages—well, not the story, but how I was tangled up in it. Especially with “sources” saying we were about to get engaged when he died and the story about me carrying his “love child.” Mom hadn’t made that one up. Mark had been urging me to agree to at least one of the interview offers I had spilling in. I thought I’d have to, in some form of attempt to get my life back. We were meant to play a show here in just over a week, which was why we came back. We never missed shows. So yeah, Duke was useful. Not that I minded hanging out with him. I liked him. We were friends. And he wasn’t hard on the eyes. He was big and muscled—surprise, surprise—and Hispanic, sporting a short buzz cut, a throwback from his military days. He had a wicked sense of humor and laughed easily. Not that you’d see that when he was out in public with his blank and scary bodyguard mask on. It was comical, the difference.
“I’m glad you got away, Lexie. You needed a holiday. You work too hard,” Mom declared, jerking me back into the present.
I bent over and put the last of the clothes in the washer, turning it on. “I need to work hard. Rock star isn’t exactly a part-time job. It’s an all-or-nothing kind of gig.”
“Yeah well, don’t take it too serious. The stress of it will give you wrinkles. You don’t want to have to get Botox at this young age.”
“You’re saying I need Botox?” I asked, touching my forehead self-consciously.
“No, not yet. Just don’t furrow your brows too much,” Mom instructed. “You’ll be good for another six years at least.”
“Mom, I’m twenty-one. I won’t need Botox in six years.”
“I’ll quote you on that.”
I raised my brows then quickly pulled them back down, aware of the wrinkle-causing gesture. “You’re insane.”
“The most interesting people always are.”
I rolled my eyes then walked across the room to pull my clothes from the dryer. “How’s the bun in the oven going? You okay?” I asked with concern. I knew Zane was taking good care of my mom, but I still worried.
“I’m fine. Fat, but fine.”
“Mom, you’re pregnant. Not fat.”
“I can’t see my toes. The distinction does not matter. I can’t even pick up Rocko. I can’t get his little body over my giant stomach. I feel like a T-Rex. My arms aren’t long enough,” she complained.
I laughed. “Only two more months to go.”
She groaned into the phone. “Why would you say that? Two months is forever. Especially if I have to be on bed rest like the stupid doctor and my stupid husband keep threating.”
I froze. “Bed rest?” I repeated, worry creeping in. I got that prickle back in my mind. I reasoned it was out of worry for my mom, but I squinted into the darkness beyond the glass door across from me, which lead to a section of my backyard. The laundry was on a lower level than the rest of the house. I found it calming being down here, but I was starting to feel creeped out.
I didn’t know why. Duke was upstairs watching “the game.” Which game was anyone’s guess, but he was hanging out since Sam and Wyatt were at a party and Noah was at an indeterminate location. He did that sometimes, sneaking off to see people he didn’t tell us about. It irked me, but I had to be patient and trust he’d talk to me when he was ready.
“Don’t you take that tone with me,” she snapped. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’m fine. I’m the mom. I should be the one worrying about my spawn, not the other way around. Especially since my oldest spawn is a freaking rock star and my youngest one tied up two kids at daycare today while swearing like a trucker.”
I let out a snort. “Rock
o tied kids up?”
“It’s not funny. He tied the knots so well the teachers actually cut the kids out. A three-year-old that can tie sailor’s knots. I’m going to kill my husband when he gets home. He’s probably hiding at the club after he heard my latest voicemail.”
I smiled once more, trying to get rid of that prickling feeling. “He knows when to fear a pregnant woman’s wrath, smart,” I muttered. Then my smile left. “Don’t distract me. Bed rest. Elaborate,” I demanded.
“Oh chutes and ladders,” Mom cursed. “Rocko, how did you get out of bed? Wait, that is not for eating! Got to go, doll. Love you.”
“Love you,” I called into empty air.
I frowned down at my phone, making a mental note to call Zane later on tonight to make sure everything was okay. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I was about to bend down to grab my basket of clothes when the room went black.
“Great,” I muttered into the darkness. Power outages were unusual, but they happened, even to the glitzy neighborhoods. Though they normally didn’t last for long considering powerful people didn’t like to be inconvenienced and they were the most vocal about it.
I sighed and fumbled to get my phone from my pocket when I heard it—the unmistakable sound of a door opening and closing.
I froze.
“Duke?” I called, though I knew it couldn’t have been him. He was upstairs, eyes glued to the game. It wasn’t the door that opened to the upstairs that I’d heard. It was the one to the outside. No light glinted from it. Somehow my sensor lights, which ran on batteries, not electricity, were out too.
My blood turned to ice as I felt it, that malevolence from the day of the funeral. Only it wasn’t just a shadow of the feeling, fleeting and easy to shrug off as an overreaction. No, this filled the air, drenched it. My heart was in my throat as I blinked rapidly, trying to make my useless eyes see through the darkness.
Someone was in here. Someone was right here.
On that thought, my fight-or-flight response kicked in and I dropped my basket and ran in the direction of the stairs. It was dark, so I couldn’t see a thing, but I knew where they were, and I just hoped and prayed that I’d somehow be able to climb them blind without falling.