Elias studied the note, then raised it to his nose. I guess he could've been just resting the paper against his top lip, tapping it as a nervous gesture. It was strange, but not as strange as what it really looked like he was going. I mean, there was absolutely no way he was sniffing it, right? It wasn't like there was perfume on it or anything.
“I do not know if this is a true threat,” he said. “But it does not sit well with me.” He bent and picked up the envelope I'd dropped.
The way he said it made me just as nervous as the note itself. Elias wasn't sure about it, and it sounded like uncertainty was a new feeling for him. Based on his previous confident manner, I was sure this was the case. “Do you think we should call the police?” As much as I didn't want the cops involved in my personal life again, I wasn't dumb enough to endanger myself, especially if it could lead to one of the other people in my life being hurt. Both incidents had happened on the set. I didn't want to risk anyone else's well-being. I wouldn't put it past Rufus to go after one of my friends just to hurt me.
Elias shook his head. “I do not believe your friends at the police department would take this seriously.”
He had a point. Detective Linden had all but laughed at me when I'd asked for a restraining order against Rufus, saying that I didn't need one since someone was obviously willing to nearly kill anyone who got near me. I got the impression that he thought I was making a big deal out of nothing just to get attention. If I called in and Linden got wind of it, he'd make sure whoever was sent didn't believe a word I said.
The note didn't have Rufus's name on it. I hadn't seen him and I doubted anyone else had either since no one had called the cops. Then there was the whole mysterious message thing going on. I had a feeling that it'd be chalked up to, at best, someone playing a prank on me, and at worst, that I'd written it to myself to cause a scene.
“So, what do we do then?” I tried to sound tough, but I had to admit that the more I thought about it, the more that it freaked me out that someone had been in my trailer. It was bad enough that I had Rufus after me. Did this note mean that there was someone else trying to hurt me? Or did Rufus just have friends? I wasn't sure which idea was worse.
“Teal.”
I blinked. Elias must've been saying my name several times because he'd switched from the professional 'Miss Rhines' and his face was full of concern. Without me seeing him do it, he'd moved so that there was less than a foot between us. My heart gave a funny kind of flip like it always did when we were close.
“What is it that you are thinking?”
It never crossed my mind to lie or blow off his question. “I was wondering if Rufus had friends who were helping him harass me or if this was someone new. I'm not sure which one I'd prefer. I've never had to deal with anything like this before and I don't really know how.” I blushed as my voice trembled. I'd been trying so hard to sound tough and unconcerned. It had been working so well, almost to the end.
Elias closed the distance between us, his eyes flashing. I felt a thrill go through me. Gone was the gentle expression he wore when we were alone. I'd never had anyone look at me the way he was looking at me, with a fierceness that was almost frightening. He put his hands on my shoulders and my chest tightened. I couldn't feel any heat through my coat and sweater, but my skin tingled as if there was contact with bare skin.
“I will keep you safe.” His voice was low, crackling with some kind of energy that made my body respond in ways I hadn't thought possible. “I swear this to you. No harm shall come to you, not as long as I exist.”
It was like I couldn't get enough air in my lungs. My head was spinning. I could barely think as I nodded. “I trust you.” The words were hardly above a whisper. True, we'd only known each other a short time and there was still so much we didn't know about each other, but this was something I did know. I knew, deep in my heart, in my bones, that I could trust Elias with my life. It was almost as if I already had been doing so my whole life. I repeated the sentence in a stronger voice. “I trust you.”
He dropped his hands and took a step back. I could almost feel the temperature drop. I didn't understand it. It wasn't like I'd made some declaration of love or anything like that. He raked his hand through his hair and I could see an array of conflicting emotions cross his face. I couldn't sort them all out as they passed, but the two that finally settled were anger and guilt, neither of which made sense to me. Why had what I said gotten such a reaction when the time we'd spent together over the last few weeks hadn't?
“You trust me.” Elias's eyes darted towards me, then away again before I could see them clearly. The words were sharp.
I took a step back. What was it about what I'd said that made him sound so angry?
“Do not trust me.”
The word was so soft that I thought I'd misheard him until he spoke again.
“You should not trust me.”
When he looked up at me this time, his eyes met mine and I felt a pang go straight through me. There was so much pain in his eyes that I could hardly bear to keep his gaze. How could someone so young carry so much weight?
“Believe that I will protect you.”
I could see the struggle on his face as he spoke. He was fighting back a tide of some emotion that ran deep inside of him.
“I will protect you no matter the cost, but never, for a moment, put your faith or trust in me.” He turned away.
I wanted to put my hand out and touch him, to tell him that whatever it was, it would be okay, but I didn't. Though nothing physically had changed, I could almost feel a wall now standing between the two of us. It was almost as if the past weeks had never happened.
“I will take you home and then I will investigate the note.” Elias was under control once more.
“We still have to do our close-ups.” I heard the words come out of my mouth before I'd really thought about them. I didn't know why I was arguing. “If we don't do them now, we'll have continuity errors.”
“I am afraid I must insist.”
I shook my head. “The most I'll do is compromise and leave after all of my coverage is shot.” I usually stayed for my co-star's coverage if the scene was emotional, but I had a feeling Bryson would understand.
I could tell that Elias didn't want to agree, but that he also knew that I wasn't going to give in. As he walked me back to the set, I struggled to get my head back into my character's head space. It was harder than it had been before. Despite the difficulty, I was able to get my coverage done in record time and, if anyone else had noticed that I was worried about something, they didn't say a word. When I quietly explained the situation to Bryson, he did exactly what I'd thought he'd do and told me to go home and be safe. The director said the same.
My phone buzzed while I was in the back of the car on my way back home. It was Harrison. If he was calling this late—or this early depending on how you looked at it—his news had to be important.
Once we exchanged greetings, I let Harrison share what he'd called to tell me without me first mentioning my note. I didn't think there was a need to get him all worked up if it turned out to be nothing.
“My PI did some digging on your bodyguard,” he said. “But there's not much to find. Elias Bane seems to be a quiet sort. Not a whole lot about him that isn't in those papers you gave me. It doesn't look too suspicious though. The records the PI did manage to find were places of residence all over the world. His birth certificate says that he was born to American parents in a small town in Wales. Over the past twenty-four years, he's lived in Italy, Spain, France, South Africa, never staying in any one place for long. He's also lived all over North America. Quebec, Alaska, Seattle, Dallas, small towns in Maine and Western New York. And that's just to name a few. The official count was twenty different addresses.”
“Military brat?” I asked, keeping my voice quiet so that Elias couldn't hear me. That wasn't anything I didn't already know. We'd talked about travel and growing up, but he'd always skirted the issue of hi
s family, and I'd never pressed it. Still, I was curious.
“Doesn't seem like it,” Harrison said. “But here's where it gets interesting. His parents are listed as a Jonathan Bane and a Mary Jones-Bane, both deceased, and no siblings on record, but there's no official record of what happened to either of his parents, only that he lists them as dead. Because both names are so common, we can't narrow down the search.”
“So what does that mean?” I glanced towards the front of the car, but Elias wasn't paying attention to anything I was saying.
“I think his parents were either undercover for the government or in witness protection.”
I swallowed a laugh. “Does that mean you're done looking?”
“Not at all,” Harrison said. “But it does mean that I'm going to have to be more careful how I do it. I want you to be safe, but I don't want to get involved in any government shit.”
“You do that.” I looked out the window. I was home. “Look, I gotta go. Call me if you find anything revolutionary.”
“I will.”
By the time Elias came around to open my door my phone was back in my pocket. I followed Elias up to the door where he had me wait in the living room while he checked the rest of the house. Once he was satisfied that no one else was there, he came back.
“I'm going to go ahead and go to bed,” I said before he could say anything else. “I could use a couple of extra hours of sleep.”
He nodded. “Very well, Miss Rhines. I shall remain here until my replacement arrives.”
“I don't need a babysitter.” I tried not to sound too annoyed that he was in total bodyguard mode. There was absolutely nothing personal about how he was talking. I was beginning to understand the issue with dating someone who worked for you. “You did your job and got me home. You checked the house and the alarm automatically reset when I put in the code. I'm safe here by myself.”
Elias regarded me with those piercing eyes again and I knew I wasn't going to win this one. That was the look of someone who wasn't going to budge.
“I will remain here until Mr. Stevens arrives,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
I didn't tell him, of course, but I was glad that he was staying. No matter how pissed I was at him, I felt safer with him around. I didn't care what he'd said. I trusted him. He wasn't going to let anything bad happen to me. Those thoughts continued to repeat in my head until I climbed into bed. They faded from coherent words to images. The feel of his hands on my shoulders. The intensity in his eyes. How he'd sounded when he'd promised to keep me safe. It was those images that stayed with me as I drifted off to sleep.
Chapter Fifteen
Usually, Alexa, my cleaning lady made sure that the library was tidy. It didn't have to be done very often either, particularly when I was working. I loved to read, but when I was involved in a project, I was lucky to get two books read every month or so. I tried to make up for that during the times I was off and not doing press junkets—sci-fi conventions were going to be huge for this show—usually polishing off two to three books a week.
I'd stopped in the library for that very reason, and that had been when I'd noticed all of the books lying around and I'd decided to put them away.
The library in my childhood home had been filled with ancient-looking tomes, some rare first editions, others lesser volumes that just looked old and important. What Mom and Dad had loved to do was select two or three of the actual classics and put them on display. People would then assume that all of the other old-looking books were just as special. I'd never understood the point of owning a book that couldn't be read just because it had been printed a long time ago, though there was something I found fascinating about rare books with author notes, no matter the editions. Those were the only ones I bought for careful perusal and display. Everything else was to be read.
I wasn't a book snob either. I liked some of the classics, like Poe and Twain and Dickens, with a little Shakespeare thrown in for good measure. I found Austen bearable. Carroll kind of creeped me out. Hemingway and all of the Brontë sisters, however, I couldn't stand. I felt the same way about the 'new classics.' Some were excellent, others not so much. Then there were the new books. I was a strange mix of indie and popular, not solely fitting in either category. I liked books that snobs considered trash because people loved them, but I did also like the obscure ones that no one had ever heard of.
It was a combination of these books that I intended to read once shooting wrapped for Christmas. As I started putting away the books that lay all over the place, I would set aside the ones I wanted to read. Once I had them all, I would put them into some sort of order.
There were at least a hundred books out, which was a bit surprising. Usually, I'd only take a handful at a time. I wasn't sure why there were more laying out, only that I wanted to get them organized. The room was large, with high, vaulted ceilings and massive bookcases that towered above me. There was a fireplace at one end and flames already crackling away.
On either side of the fireplace were two plush chairs with little end-tables and lamps. A little further back in the room was a massive oak table, surrounded by straight-backed oak chairs. It was this table that was covered with books. Thing was, even that many books was a tiny percentage of what I owned.
I'd brought close to two hundred books with me from my parents, selling the rest. A third of the ones I brought, I'd ended up selling as well. Over the last five years, I bought books constantly. Garage sales, online, thrift stores, wherever I found bargains. Now, I had close to twenty-five hundred books. Some I'd read, some I hadn't, but I was determined to make it through them all. For now, however, I was just going to put most of them away.
I was standing on my bookcase ladder—you know, one of those things they have in books stores that slides on wheels so you don't have to get up and down so much—when it happened.
I heard the library door open and I half-turned to see who was coming in. Not the brightest thing I've ever done, granted, but I did it. And, of course, my foot slipped and I fell. Okay, so I was only about ten feet in the air, but it startled me enough that I made a very embarrassing squeaking sound before realizing that this was going to hurt.
I landed with an 'umf' and it took me a moment to realize that it hadn't hurt at all. There was a good reason for that, it seemed. Elias had caught me. I tilted my head back, the look in his eyes making me catch my breath. He set me on my feet, but kept his arms around me as he backed me up against the bookshelf. My heart pounded wildly in my chest as his body pressed against mine. I could feel every muscle, every curve. I could feel his hard length against my hip, and then he shifted and it pressed against another part of me entirely.
“Elias,” I breathed his name, reaching up around his neck. I needed him more than I'd ever needed anyone, anything, before. More than air or food, I was consumed with my need to feel his bare skin beneath my fingertips, the heat of him against me, the fullness of him inside me. I could see my own hunger written on his face and hoped that, this time, he wouldn't deny it.
Then his mouth was on mine, insistent and demanding. His lips forced mine apart and my tongue met his, pulling it into the wet heat of my mouth. I sucked on it, drawing a moan from him that made me shiver. I wanted to be responsible for him making more sounds like that. I dug my fingers into his hair as I tilted my head, deepening the kiss. The shelves pushed into my back as Elias pressed his body more tightly against mine. His hands were on my waist, his fingers gripping me tightly, then they were moving, skimming against the strip of flesh just above the waistband of my pants.
“Too many clothes,” he murmured against my mouth.
I would've agreed, but the power of speech seemed to be evading me at the moment.
He moved our bodies apart as his mouth took mine again and his hands moved to the neck of my shirt. Before I could protest, there was a loud ripping sound and the soft cotton tore straight down the middle. I might've protested, but his lips were making their way dow
n my neck even as his hands were cupping my breasts through my bra, and all I could manage was a moan. My nipples hardened, the soft lace of the bra feeling rough against the sensitive skin.
He pushed my bra up over my breasts and lowered his head to them. He took one nipple between his lips and my head fell back, hitting the bookcase with a thump. I barely felt it, more attuned to the delicious pull coming from the suction on my breast. He rolled his tongue around the wrinkled flesh and another ripple of pleasure went through me.
My knees buckled as Elias shoved his hand down the front of my pants, his fingers expertly delving between my folds to find that little bundle of nerves that sent jolts of electricity across my nerves. As my legs gave out, he worked his hand deeper, holding me upright. My hands went to his shoulders and I clung to him as I struggled to get my legs underneath me. I needed more friction, needed relief from the ache I'd had for too long.
“Please,” I begged him as I ground down on his hand.
When he slipped a finger inside me, I cried out. He pumped it in and out, pressing the heel of his hand against that sensitive nub, and my body shook. He slid a second finger into me and my hands clenched. His teeth scraped across my nipple and I swore, my eyes squeezing shut.
I heard a tearing sound and Elias uttered an oath. It wasn't until he pulled his hand from my pants that I opened my eyes and realized that I'd torn his t-shirt. My nails were digging into his shoulders, but when my eyes met his, I saw no pain, only a primal ferocity that made my mouth go dry.
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