“Even when you’re in disguise” —he waves a finger at my hair and glasses— “you’re still insanely beautiful and would be a target.”
Insanely beautiful? Normally I might have a reaction to those words. But right now, I’m trying everything I can to keep it together and not lose my lunch, because my head is still stuck on Milo McClintock. The first man who ever touched me. His name and his vile touch are ingrained in my memory for all eternity.
I reign in my feelings and reach for the folder, but he doesn’t release it completely and we each have a grip on either end. Trying to keep my hands from shaking and giving me away, I silently count to ten, calming the storm that is brewing in my head. “Do you know if these guys are married or have children?”
Ethan studies me. He’s always studying me. It makes me wonder if he’s this way with everyone. Probably. He did say it was his job to read people.
“I can find that out.” With his elbow on the table, his hand comes up to cover his mouth as he’s deep in thought. He hesitates before asking, “Exactly what kind of message do you have for these men?”
“Isn’t that beyond the scope of your employment?” I ask. “I pay you to find someone and you find them. No questions asked. Right?”
“For the most part, yes. But why ask for information on wives and kids? You said your mom was involved with these men. I refuse to be a party to you ruining people’s families, Charlie.”
“Really, Stone? Why so defensive?” I ask warily. “You don’t even know these people. And what do you care about the sanctity of marriage, let alone having a child? From what I hear, you’re nothing but a certified bachelor.”
He locks eyes with me briefly, and then his gaze lowers to the table. I’m a bit taken aback, because in that moment I saw something in his eyes. Pain.
He recovers quickly. “Damn it, Charlie. Back off. I’m just not in the business of hurting people.”
I grab one of his fries and pop it in my mouth, buying me time to think. “Oh, so you never follow cheating husbands and give their wives ammunition to obliterate them?”
“It’s not always the husbands who cheat, you know.”
“Whatever. Same difference.”
“Those people who blatantly cheat on their spouses; I don’t lose sleep over what becomes of them after my job is done.” He nods to the folder that we’re both still holding onto in what seems a stalemate tug-of-war. “But these men could have been your mother’s lovers long before they were married. If you show up and open a can of worms, it could cause unnecessary strain on an otherwise good marriage.”
“Relax. I have no intention of ratting out men for screwing my mother. I promise.”
I will my eyes to appear sincere. I am telling the truth, albeit a twisted fucking version of it.
I must be as good an actress as my mother, because he finally releases the folder. “Fine,” he says. “But I’m serious about this McClintock character. Call him. If you must make a personal visit, I’ll go with you.”
I grab another fry and swirl it into his ketchup. “I’m not sure I could afford your hourly fee.”
“That one would be on the house, Charlie. Your safety is worth a lot more to me than a few hundred bucks an hour.”
I look up from the food to see the eyes of a man who is being more than just chivalrous. More than just kind. These are the eyes of a determined man. A man with a mission.
And for the first time, I pray to God that mission is me.
Chapter Ten
I sit on my couch, arms crossed, staring at the folder on my coffee table while deliberating what to do with the information inside.
I reach out and flip the cover open. The paper on top of the pile is Peter Elliot’s. Karma took care of that piece of shit. I move his paper to the bottom of the pile.
I peruse the information of the three celebrities, my skin crawling as I recall what each of them did to me. There’s no way I could get close enough to them. But I could hit them where it would hurt the most—their livelihood. I wonder what reports of molestation would do to their lucrative careers. Surely I could get a reputable news magazine to listen to me considering who my mother was.
I decide to give it more thought. I would be putting myself in the spotlight and even if it means I’d accomplish my goal, I’m just not sure it’s worth it.
I flip to the last page in the folder. My eyes burn with fury as I read the name. Milo McClintock. I had to contain my emotions and control my rage when Ethan uttered the scumbag’s name at the restaurant.
I look at the last known address on the paper. The place Ethan warned me against. I enter it into my phone and map it out, getting a sick feeling when I see just how right Ethan was. Maybe this isn’t a good idea after all. Maybe I should just stick to the ones who aren’t so dangerous. Actors, producers, screenwriters—they are all perverts, but probably not as lethal as a drug dealer.
I lean over the couch cushion next to me and slip my hand between the cushion and the arm, retrieving my mother’s journal. I flip through it until I find what I’m looking for.
February 21, 2008
If I had known mothering was such a thankless job, I never would have agreed to do it. All I ever hear from her is what she wants to do, which is mostly hang out with those Mitchell people who own some dive diner over on Main Street.
Do you think for one minute she even considers how hard I had to work to make this life for us? Not that George helps. Hell, they even made me pay him alimony after the divorce. In what world is that fair? I starred in those movies. I supported this family while all he ever did was write crappy screenplay after crappy screenplay hoping my celebrity status would get him noticed.
Not that Charlie ever realized he was dead weight. She still thinks he will come back one day. Come back for her. Sometimes I wish he would. It would get her out of my hair for sure. But he’s never coming back. Not if he knows what’s good for him. His empty threats bored me to tears and his cowardice was laughable. That man wouldn’t know how to party if a party hit him in the balls.
Milo—he knows how to party. And he says he’ll make sure it’s worth my while if I let him party with Charlie.
I can’t wait to find out what he can get for me.
I put down the journal, trying, but failing at my attempts to not think of that awful night.
“This is Clint,” Mom says, indicating the man standing behind her in my bedroom doorway.
My stomach rolls. There is only one reason Mom brings men into my room.
“Please, Mom,” I start to protest, but she raises her hand to me, making me flinch and sink back into my bed. I should know better. I’ll probably get a fresh burn for that later, or maybe a bruise. Depends on her mood. When she is high, she tends to favor cigarettes as her form of punishment. When she’s drunk – her fists.
She leans down and whispers to me. “Listen up, Charlie. Do whatever Clint says or you’ll be out on your ass faster than you can call your little Pied Piper friend. And if you think her parents will take you in, think again; they have three kids of their own and a struggling business. Your father left because of you. Just remember you are lucky you still have me to take care of you.”
When she stands up straight, a trickle of blood escapes her nose and she pulls a blood-stained tissue from her pocket to wipe it. I’m young, but I’m not stupid. I know exactly what that means. And I’d be willing to bet Clint is helping her get it.
“I’ll just leave you two alone then,” she says, shooting Clint a look. “Just be quick about it, I need you.”
She shuts my door and before my newest nightmare begins, I hear loud music blasting from the living room.
She always plays loud music whenever she leaves them with me. Maybe that’s why I rarely listen to it myself. Books, that’s my escape. Mysteries, sci-fi, action-adventure—those are what I seek when I need to turn off my reality.
“You are a pretty one, aren’t you?” he says, taking a seat next to me on the bed.
They never sit on my bed. The chair across the room is where they always sit. My pulse shoots sky high and I think I might pass out when he reaches for me. I instinctively pull away and scoot back, hoping the wall will swallow me whole and protect me from this sick bastard.
He waves a scolding finger at me. “You wouldn’t want me to tell your mom you didn’t cooperate, would you?”
I turn my head away from him and stare at the wall, hoping the mural will protect me from him as it has all the others, but knowing this time it won’t, because this time is different.
Unable to control the storm of resentment and the explosion of hatred I feel at the thought of him, I tuck my hair under a ball cap and add two layers of sweatshirts over my t-shirt, knowing a bulky coat will only get in my way. Then I head out the door, vengeance and wrath driving my actions.
Chapter Eleven
“Oh my God, Charlie! What happened to you?” Baylor asks, shocked when she takes in my red, blue and purple bruised cheekbone.
I tried my best to cover it with makeup, and I did a pretty good job of it, but not good enough to keep my friends from noticing.
Skylar looks me over from head to toe. Then she grabs my left hand, eyeing the healing cut on my knuckles. “What the hell, Charlie. Did you get into a fight?”
“It looks worse than it is.” I walk further into Skylar’s townhouse and put the bottle of tequila and margarita mix on the kitchen counter. Five pairs of eyes follow me.
Piper is not a stranger to my black eyes and bruised knuckles. I didn’t always make the best choices in men when we lived abroad. Not to mention all the lovely marks my mother bestowed upon me. Still, she follows me step for step around the bar in the kitchen, her eyes burning into the back of my head. “Charlie?” she asks.
The tone of her voice tells me she’s not about to drop this. So I shrug and tell them the story I made up on the way over. “The punk who tried to grab my purse is far worse off than I am, I assure you.”
Gasps come from around the room.
“Someone tried to mug you?” Baylor shrieks.
“It’s no big deal,” I say, breaking the seal on the bottle of tequila. “Piper and I took self-defense classes in London. I think the kid will think twice before trying that again.”
“What did the police say?” Mindy asks.
I’m well aware of Piper’s laser focus on me, so I busy myself with mixing drinks so she can’t see my eyes. She knows me. She knows my every look, my every nuance. She can read me like a book.
“I didn’t bother,” I tell them. “You know they can’t do anything. I didn’t even get a good look at the guy because he was wearing a hoodie.”
I look up to see three sisters and their two friends staring at me in disapproval. “What?” I snap. “Don’t worry, he got what was coming to him. I kneed him so hard I think I may have seen his balls come out of his mouth.”
Mindy snorts her drink out of her nose.
Skylar pats me on the back and says, “Good girl.”
The blonde who must be Jenna, says, “It sounds like you’re a handy person to have around.” She extends her hand. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Charlie. I’m Jenna. It’s great to finally meet you.”
“You, too,” I say, shaking her hand. I nod to the drinks. “Margarita?”
“Hell yes. Long day,” she says.
I laugh. “Are certain prima donna authors driving you crazy with their outrageous demands?”
Jenna is Baylor’s agent and best friend. Baylor has written sixteen romance novels, one even based on her own love story with Gavin. He was her college sweetheart and her first love. They were ripped apart by a betrayal only to find each other years later. It’s the only one of her books I’ve read. I have to admit, she’s good. But that sappy love shit doesn’t do it for me.
“Hardly,” Jenna replies. “Baylor is by far my easiest client. She is the opposite of demanding.” She turns to Baylor. “In fact, you realize you could make a lot more money if you weren’t paying your agent and publisher so much, right?”
Baylor takes a drink from me, shrugging. “I’m perfectly happy making what I make right now. Too much money can change a person, you know?”
Jenna leans across the bar and hugs her. “That’s why I love you. You’re so grounded.”
Skylar looks around at the five of us and then to the drink in her hand. “I just realized we can all drink!” She glances over at Baylor. “Between pregnancies and nursing, it’s been a while since either of us could partake.”
Piper raises her drink. “A toast then. To none of us being knocked up.”
“Oh hell,” Mindy says. “Now you jinxed it.” She eyes each one of us carefully. “Who’s it gonna be? Which one of you will get knocked up next?”
All eyes turn to Piper.
“Whoa! Slow down, people.” She puts her drink down. “I’m not even married yet. Plus, I’m still getting used to the idea of being Hailey’s step-mom. She’s only two-and-a-half. I believe that’s quite enough for me to handle for a very long while. Not to mention I’m only twenty-two years old. What’s the rush?”
“You tell ‘em little sister,” Baylor says. “Enjoy Mason. Enjoy that precious little girl. It all goes by so fast.”
Jenna guffaws. “Says the old lady of twenty-eight. You know Jordan and Maddox would love a little sibling, don’t you? And as you pointed out, you’re not getting any younger.”
Baylor plucks a grape from the bowl on the bar, pelting it at Jenna. “What about you? When is Jake going to put a ring on that finger and a bun in that oven?”
Jenna tips back her glass, emptying it in three swallows. “Seems like never. We’ve always said he should get a job that doesn’t take him away so much before we get hitched. And being a batting coach for the Yankees has him on the road half the time.”
“That never stopped us,” Piper says. “If you really want it to work, it’ll work. Mason was gone a lot in the fall.” Her finger traces the rim of her glass as her cheeks start to pink up. “The Internet is amazing for long-distance relationships.”
Everyone laughs.
“TMI,” Skylar says.
“Just sayin’.” Piper shrugs. “It’s doable.”
Mindy clears her throat loudly, getting everyone’s attention. “I want to get the scoop on Jarod’s hot cousin,” she says, staring me down. “You know, the one who follows Charlie’s every move at work and eye-fucks her every chance he gets.”
Silence overtakes Skylar’s townhouse as they all stare at me, waiting for a response.
“What?” I shrug.
“What do you mean, what?” Mindy says. “The guy comes in all the time. But only when you are working I might add. He’s seriously hot and he’s obviously into you. What’s the deal?”
“There is no deal,” I tell them. “He’s working for me, actually. He’s a private investigator and he’s helping me dig up information about my mother.”
“Private investigator?” Jenna says, fanning herself. “That’s sexy.”
“What’s so sexy about being a private investigator?” I ask, as if I didn’t very well know.
“I don’t know. All those cheating husbands and lowlife criminals he must have to deal with. It’s a risky job. That’s hot. Don’t you guys think?” Her eyes sweep the room to find four heads nodding in agreement. “Anyway,” Jenna adds, “I’m just saying if I were you, I’d totally go after that.”
“He works for me, Jenna. Kind of a conflict of interest, wouldn’t you say?”
“He won’t work for you forever,” Skylar says. “How long can it take to find information about your famous mom?”
I shoot Skylar an annoyed look that Piper doesn’t miss. Piper studies me. Hard. She scratches her face and runs a finger across the curve of her brow. Then after a long silence, she shrieks, “Oh my God, Charlie!” She turns to the others, pointing a finger at me. “This girl likes to talk about sex. In fact, I’ve heard every nauseating detail of every sexual encounte
r she had in Europe.”
She turns her attention back to me. “I’ve never seen you so tight-lipped about a guy before. Why aren’t you sickening us with tales of your sexcapades? That can only mean one thing—you like him. I mean, you like him, like him. So what’s—”
“Wait a minute,” Baylor interrupts. “You’ve had sex with him? With the P.I.?”
Heads snap in my direction, eagerly awaiting my answer as I shoot Piper a traitorous stare.
“I may have hooked up with him once.”
“When?” Skylar asks.
“The day I met him.”
Mindy shrieks. “And now he comes around almost daily just so you can serve him lunch? What—is your pussy made out of crack-cocaine or something?”
Jenna spews her drink all over the counter. “Mindy, you are so crude,” she says.
Then, while the girls enter into a conversation about the animal magnetism of their vaginas, I realize that Piper may be onto something. I do like Ethan Stone. I like him a lot. But that very well may be my downfall.
Chapter Twelve
“What the fuck, Charlie?” Ethan freezes in place when he sees me.
Although it’s been a few days and my bruise has faded to something of a yellowish hue, it’s still hard to completely hide it, even under makeup and my work glasses.
Ignoring his question, I pull my order pad from my apron and ask one of my own. “What can I get you gentlemen?”
Ethan has brought two men with him today. One of them shares a resemblance and is equally as gorgeous. The other is smirking as Ethan seethes in his chair, his stare burning into me.
I try not to think about what Piper said the other night as I put my pen to the order pad and ping-pong my eyes between the men, awaiting their orders.
Ethan refuses to even speak. I can see a vein throbbing at his temple as he continues to look at my bruised cheek. The wheels spinning in his head are more than evident. He’s practically bursting out of his skin wanting to know what happened. The private investigator in him needs information. Information he’s not going to get from me.
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