On His Honor

by Jean Brashear

  “You’re going to stay?” The guard looked incredulous.

  “I am. It’s my job.” She pulled herself up very straight, composed her features. Somehow she would gather herself, shake off the miasma of grief and shame and humiliation blanketing her like a filthy fog. She made her way to her trailer.

  Just as she got inside, her phone rang. She nearly hit the button to reject, but when she glanced at the display, she seized upon the lifeline.

  Avery. Her dearest friend. He would understand.

  “Hello?” she answered.

  “What the hell happened? I was out of pocket, so I just heard. Where are you? Are you all right?”

  For a second, she couldn’t speak.

  “Violet? Talk to me.”

  “No,” she whispered brokenly. “I’m not all right.”

  “I’m going to kick that bastard’s ass.”

  They’d never been lovers, but in some ways they’d been closer than she’d ever been to her romantic partners. Avery Lofton had saved her life. She’d dropped out of college and made her way to L.A. from Tennessee against her parents’ wishes, a naive, headstrong Southern beauty who’d grown up in the bosom of a protective, loving family. She’d had no grasp of the world’s darker realities, and she’d believed all those people who’d sworn she was the next Julia Roberts. One week in California had taught her some hard lessons.

  After one week she’d been dead broke after falling for a bogus agent scam. She’d been too proud to ask her parents for help. Avery hadn’t been much better off financially, but from the moment they first met at an audition, something had clicked for them, and she’d spent months sleeping on his sofa as he became a combination older brother and best friend. She’d learned the Hollywood ropes from Avery, and as her star began to rise much more swiftly than his, she’d done what she could to repay him. Once she’d wielded enough box-office power, she’d insisted that he have roles in every one of her productions.

  His pride wouldn’t stand receiving charity forever, though, and eventually he’d given up his acting dream and left L.A. for Austin. Four years later, he was now a successful restaurateur and owner of Danger Zone, the hottest club in town, but they’d never lost touch. Avery, she realized to her chagrin, knew her better than either of her husbands had.

  “He never deserved you. He was just—” Avery didn’t finish.

  “Using me to boost his career? I know. At least now I do. I thought…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter.” She’d seen what she wanted to see in Barry’s devotion.

  Until everyone on the planet had been shown the evidence that she was a stupid, lovesick fool. The fever pitch, the headlines, had quickly exploded.

  America’s Sweetheart Duped!

  Did She Know?

  Fool Me Twice…

  “It does matter,” Avery insisted. “Look, you know your director would shoot around you today.”

  “This is all I have,” she said. “I’m a failure at love, Avery. All that’s left is my career.”

  “You’re allowed to be human, Violet. You can take time to deal with this.”

  “I am dealing with it. There are people waiting for me to do my job.”

  “They can work around you for a few days.”

  “A few days? I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this,” she whispered.

  “You will,” he said fiercely. “Damn, I wish I weren’t halfway across the country.”

  “I’ll be okay. I just…” Want the pain to stop. She couldn’t go anywhere without being followed, even on a normal day, but now… To have been so wrong, so sick in love with a man who didn’t love her was humiliating. Somehow she had to find her footing again, and work was the only thing she knew to do.

  Before the misery could tighten its grip on her again, she changed the topic. “So what are you up to today?”

  Avery all but growled. “Don’t do that. Your Mary Sunshine bit won’t work on me.”

  “Fake it ’til you make it, my mom always says.”

  “You know I love your mom, but—” He snapped his fingers. “That’s it—you should go home.”

  “My folks are on a month-long second honeymoon. I hope to heaven they haven’t seen any of this.”

  “They adore you. They’d want to be there for you. And frankly, right now you could use some babying.”

  “They’ve waited years for this trip. I’m not screwing it up.”

  “What about your brothers?”

  “Both of them have called.”

  “And?”

  “I didn’t take the calls. I had my assistant reassure them. I know they love me, but I don’t want to have to dwell on how I’ve failed.”

  “Failed? Get real.” He snorted. “Marsden’s the screwup.”

  “In my family’s world, I’m the screwup. This is my second divorce. My parents have been married forever and are still madly in love. My brothers and their wives, too. Kids all over the place. Me, I keep believing in this fantasy that I can have what they have and my career, too.”

  “You can. Look at your co-star, Zane MacAllister.”

  “Zane’s a freak of nature.” When he chuckled, she smiled. “I mean that nicely, but the reality of our business is that what he has—the mega-career and a solid family life, too—is almost impossible to achieve. Particularly for me, as I’m clearly a lousy judge of men. I wanted the ivy-covered cottage, adoring spouse and two point five kids, but I didn’t want to give up my career to do it. I need to stop dreaming and get practical. You can’t have both—well, Zane can, apparently, but the reason everyone revered Newman and Woodward was that they were the exception.”

  “So find someone who’s not in the business.”

  She rolled her eyes. “When do I ever get to meet a real person? Anyway, you know how it is—actors’ egos are too big and too fragile so they’re lousy partners, as I’ve just been so rudely reminded. And with a normal man, the gap in lifestyles is too huge, to say nothing of the disparity in income—most men can’t get past that. The life actors live is deadly to a relationship. Simply dealing with our schedules is horrific enough, and the issues are so much more complex than that.”

  “Babe, if anyone can make that happen, it’s you.”

  His faith was lovely, of course, but seriously misplaced. “I’m exhausted, Avery.” Weary to her marrow. “And I don’t trust my judgment. I can’t try again.”

  “Of course you’re worn out. If you won’t go home, then come to Austin. You have to get out of there.”

  “No. I know how busy you are. I’ll be all right, I promise. It’ll get better.” Though she had no idea how.

  “You need to be away from Hollywood to recover from this. Come see me. Take some time off and rest up while this dies down. Some other scandal will break soon, and you’ll be old news. Austin’s great, you know. It’s actually a pretty terrific place to lay low, if that’s what you want. People are cool about celebrities. They let you be. And Austin’s got everything—live music, the lakes, great food. And I know this hotel that totally rocks, Hotel Serenity.”

  She was surprised that he hadn’t asked her to stay with him as he always had before. “I don’t know… .”

  “I wish I could have you here, but I’m gone too much these days. I’d be a lousy host, but you’re exactly the kind of person Hotel Serenity likes to pamper. And hey, there’s a bonus—the owner is involved with Zane’s brother.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah, Zane helped make the opening a big splash. Everything I hear about it is impressive. It’s small and exclusive, tucked in among trees and very private. The owner restored an old mansion, and she’s reputed to be a tigress about protecting the privacy of her guests.”

  “I don’t know, Avery… .�
� Running away went against the grain, but she was so weary. So sad. So confused, and the wellspring of optimism that had nurtured her through the long trek to the top had gone bone-dry.

  “Even if I can’t play host, I want to help, Vee. You’re my best friend. Let me do something, please.”

  She was too worn out and heartsore to think straight, but she had to find some way to get over this. She didn’t like feeling angry and bitter. It wasn’t who she was. Who she wanted to be. “I have to finish filming.”

  “You’re nearly done, though, right?”

  “I was supposed to finish my scenes tomorrow.”

  “You know they could shoot them at the end of production.”

  “No. I won’t do that to the cast and crew. I’ll finish.” Somehow.

  “I’ll call your director for you.”

  “No, Avery, don’t. I have to do this one thing right.”

  “That damn work ethic of yours.” He sighed. “Okay, listen, I’m going to make the arrangements. Leave everything to me. I’ll call your housekeeper and tell her what to pack.”

  Tears threatened again. In truth, having someone take care of her for a while sounded wonderful. “You are so good to me.”

  “You have the best heart I know. Now go lose yourself in that role and let the hours go by. I’ll take care of everything else.”

  “Thank you so much.” She wanted to cling to the phone, to the island of sanity and safety Avery had always represented. Before she got weepy again, she disconnected, instead.

  She went into the tiny bathroom of her trailer and took a good, hard look in the mirror. “You can do this,” she told her reflection.

  Then she turned on the shower and began the process of becoming America’s Sweetheart instead of a discarded, unlovable wife.

  * * *

  “DID YOU HEAR WHAT I SAID?” The chirpy blonde perched on Detective JD Cameron’s lap frowned. “You’re not paying attention. What’s wrong?”

  “Hmm?” JD stirred from the haunting memories of last night’s grim discoveries from his current case. “What did you say?”

  “I said—” she exhaled in a gust “—I thought we were going to dance. The music’s great tonight.”

  It is? He frowned. He loved live music, of which Austin had tons, but it was wasted on him just now. Anyway, she was only asking because it was her job. “Sorry, uh—” What the devil was her name? Brandy? Barbie?

  “Bella. Like the girl in Twilight, you know? I mean, that’s not my real name, but I am sooo in love with those books. Are you Team Edward or Team Jacob?”

  “Team…” What the hell was she talking about? Then he recalled a set of books one of the Violent Crime Task Force assistants was crazy over. This blonde was just as young.

  He was thirty-six. Too old to hang out with babies.

  In his mind, he saw the face of another girl, her face frozen in death, another child who’d never grow old. He’d do whatever was required to nail the bastards responsible for the misery of so many.

  “You haven’t read the books?” She was clearly astonished. “What about the movies?”

  When had he last spared time for a movie? He couldn’t remember. That wasn’t her fault, however. This whole case was about making sure that sweet young girls like Barbie—er, Bella—weren’t sold as sex slaves, forced to become addicted to drugs so they’d be easy to handle.

  And with that, grisly images from last night rose again. Seven women, two girls. All dead because JD and the rest of the task force couldn’t destroy the web of human trafficking in which those nine and countless others were ensnared.

  He nearly set the girl aside and left. He was no good to anyone tonight. He should be catching up on his sleep, but sleep was elusive these days.

  So he’d come to Danger Zone, one of the businesses the task force suspected of laundering money for the cartel behind the trafficking. Sometimes you could obtain information you didn’t expect from people the bad guys didn’t consider important. Like Bella.

  He shook his head and focused. “I haven’t seen the movies, sorry. Want to tell me about them?” At worst, maybe pure foolishness would clear his head and get him some distance on the case.

  Blonde Bella chattered on, and JD listened. When she again suggested they dance, he didn’t argue. He wouldn’t pass a pop quiz on vampire movies, but maybe he’d dance this funk out of his brain and learn something useful about Danger Zone and its owners, Avery Lofton and Sage Holland, at the same time. The pair was careful not to leave any tracks, but clubs and restaurants handled plenty of cash and thus provided an ideal opportunity to launder funds. A disgruntled waitress had given the task force a tip that pointed a finger at Danger Zone, but she’d left town before anyone could find her to get details.

  Blonde Bella gyrated to the music, rubbing herself against him, making it clear that she could be his for the night. Lofton and his partner were smart, seeding the audience with glorified hookers posing as dancers. Ten years earlier, even five, he’d have been much less immune to the blatant invitation.

  But even if he weren’t here to troll for intel, he wouldn’t accept. More and more often lately he’d found himself wishing for someone to talk to, really talk to. Someone to share not just his bed but his life, to make a home with, put down roots.

  But he’d need a head transplant first. The kind of hours he worked, no woman would willingly sign off on. Once considered the task-force playboy, he was in danger of becoming the task-force workaholic, instead.

  The hell of it was, he wasn’t making one bit of difference, no matter how many hours he put in. For every bad guy they locked away, plenty more stepped up to take his place. JD had often been accused of being a Boy Scout, someone who believed in black and white, good vs. evil, wrong against right, but ten years on VICTAF—the Violent Crimes Task Force—was wearing him down. VICTAF was made up of members from every law-enforcement agency in the Austin area, state, local and federal. He could have rotated out years ago as most members did, but Doc Romero, the FBI agent at the helm, had liked his work when he was brand-new out of APD uniform, and he’d kept him on. It was a coup for JD, but constantly dealing with the worst of the worst criminals could do a number on your head if you weren’t careful.

  And JD was being very, very careful. He believed in what he did, and he wasn’t going to let any case, however seemingly impossible to crack, get the better of him.

  Just then, a face caught his attention several feet away from where he and Bella were dancing. Why did the woman seem so familiar? Something was wrong, too—though very pretty, her face was ravaged and she walked like a zombie, hardly noticing the various men trying to get her attention. His eyes followed the woman’s progress through the crowd to the edge, nearing the hallway where the restrooms were and, farther down, to two doors with special locks, purpose undetermined. Rumors, however, had him suspecting that the doors led to private areas suitable for indulging in sex and/or drugs with women like Bella.

  Why did this woman seem familiar—

  Then it hit him. One of the victims last night, that’s who she resembled. Strongly.

  “I’ll be back,” he said absently to Bella, pointing toward the restrooms.

  She made a little moue of displeasure and trailed her fingers down his arm. “Don’t stay gone long, handsome.”

  But mentally he had already left. He kept his focus on the woman’s last location as he cut through the crowd. She looked enough like the victim to be her twin—except that she was still alive. Was there a connection? Was she caught in the same nightmare?

  When he reached the crowded passageway, he swore ripely when he couldn’t see her. He hoped like hell she was in the restroom and would emerge soon. He didn’t want to attract attention by lingering, but she might be a valuable lead if he wasn’t deluding him
self about the resemblance.

  Then bodies shifted, and he spotted her way back by the two unmarked doors, her shoulders hunched to avoid a guy who was all over her.

  If there was anything guaranteed to make JD see red, it was a man forcing himself on a woman. He’d been on Vice before being recruited to VICTAF, and he’d seen too many women and children victimized. He’d dealt with it, but the brutality he’d witnessed had never left him. Swiftly he threaded past the dancers, trying very hard not to draw attention to himself while still reaching her as quickly as possible.

  “Hector says I can have you tonight, so don’t give me any crap.” The man had a brutal grip on the girl’s arm and shook her forcefully.

  JD wanted to cold-cock the guy, but if Hector was the girl’s pimp, he’d only make life harder on her. JD used his fingers to squeeze a painful pressure point on the guy’s wrist, forcing him to release her. “But my turn’s not up yet, so you have to wait,” JD said.

  “Who the hell are you?” Clasping JD’s wrist with his free hand, the guy turned his fury on him.

  Again, JD had to remind himself of the endgame, restraining himself from unleashing his frustration and rage over the memories of last night on this guy. The woman had to be his focus. “Let’s go, honey,” JD said to the woman—girl, really—as she stared up at him with wide, terrified eyes. “It’s okay,” he said gently into her ear. “I’m taking you out of here.” He swept her out of the guy’s reach quickly, hearing the bellow at his back but proceeding onward and heading for the outside.

  “No,” she moaned faintly, squirming in his grasp. “I have to do what he says. Hector has my sister. If I do not obey, he will send her with the others—” Abruptly she clamped her mouth shut.

  “Who is Hector and why does he have your sister?” Though he was pretty sure he knew. She shook her head vehemently. JD hustled her around the corner and into a darkened alley. “I want to help you. What’s your name?”