by Desiree Holt
It was her! The bodyguard!
He’d bet every penny she was more than a bodyguard, too. He’d heard all the stories about Blake Morgan and his women. The man just could not keep it in his pants. He had no idea where Morgan was but catching the woman alone might be a bonus. Dangerous game, buddy!
Yeah, he knew it, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.
With his cap pulled low over his face and his jacket collar turned up, he entered the elevator with her, slouching into a corner. She hadn’t even looked at him, just took out her cell phone and busied herself texting. When the car stopped at her floor, he followed her off, but pretended to be looking for a room. She still ignored him, only putting her phone away when she got to her room. A swipe of her key card and she was inside.
But where the hell was Morgan?
Never mind. He’d send a message to him.
He waited a few minutes, just in case Morgan was a little bit behind her, but when no one arrived he knocked on the door. She pulled it open.
“Did you forget your card—oh! I think you must have the wrong room.”
“No mistake.” He shoved her inside and slammed the door behind him. “I have a message for you to give your boyfriend.”
Her eyes widened with fear. “My what? I don’t have a boyfriend. You have the wrong person here. Please leave.”
She started toward the door but he grabbed her arms. “Don’t lie to me. I recognized you.”
“I’m telling, you, this is a mistake.”
“Didn’t Vigilance teach you to lie better than this?”
“Vigilance? What? Who?” She looked thoroughly confused. “Let me show you my wallet. Please. You’ll see that you’ve got the wrong person.”
He let her pull away long enough to grab her purse from the dresser and take out her wallet, but he still held on to her arm. She pulled out her wallet and flipped it open, her hands shaking. “See? This is me. Diana Roeden. I’m from Seneca, New York, and I’m here with my husband.”
He frowned. “Husband?”
“Yes. And he’ll be here any minute. If you just let me go I won’t say anything.”
“Yeah, right.” Five seconds after he walked out of the room she’d be on the phone to the hotel manager and then it would be the cops. Shit.
“Please.”
He saw the fright in her eyes and the tears rolling down her face. He’d made a colossal mistake here because his ego got the better of him. But just walking away and leaving her wasn’t an option.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Truly.”
She opened her mouth to scream but he clapped his hand over it, as he pulled the knife from its sheath and plunged it into her abdomen. Next came the slice across the throat, and in seconds it was all over. He wiped the blade on the bedspread and returned it to the sheath. Then he got the hell out, hoping he made it to the elevator before her husband showed up.
As he rode down to the lobby, he thought how astonishingly, unexpectedly good it felt to kill someone.
Chapter 13
The newspaper interview went better than Sam expected, even though the reporter kept coming back to the accusing email. She really admired the way Blake handled the man, deflecting every negative question with something positive. But she was bothered by a niggling feeling that all was not right with the world. Then when they returned to their hotel, a call from Avery confirmed it.
“This time he’s killed someone,” her boss said, and gave her the details. “We’ve used the hotel where we originally had you scheduled several times, so I know the manager. I asked him to let me know if anything unusual happened while you guys were in town.”
“And?”
“He freaked when he called me. I don’t think he expected what happened. The woman could almost be a double for you. Her husband found the body.”
“Jesus,” Sam breathed. “Is he okay?”
“What do you think?”
“Yeah.” She rubbed her forehead. “Stupid question.” Sam swallowed back the bile rising in her throat. “This guy has to be a maniac.”
“No shit,” Avery snorted. “I’m wondering if I should send one or two more agents to team up with you.”
“No.” Sam shook her head, even though she knew her boss couldn’t see her. “I can handle it. If I can’t I’ll let you know.”
“Just watch your back all the time. And Blake’s.”
“That’s a big ten-four.”
“I know it’s something bad,” Blake said the minute she hung up. “So give. All of it.”
When she told him what happened, he turned so white she was afraid he’d pass out.
“That’s it.” He smacked his fist against the wall. “I’m cancelling the rest of the tour, and don’t try to argue with me. I can’t put your life in danger like this. Whoever this is, they’re batshit crazy.”
“We’re not cancelling. This is what I get paid to do. I’m well aware what the risks are. We just need to take more precautions.”
“More precautions?” He glared at her. “How are we supposed to protect people like this woman and Grant Kennelly? The only way is for me to go home and let him come to me.”
“Home? As in Tampa? You’d go home to the place where you have your biggest event of the tour scheduled and just ignore all those fans who have been waiting to see you?”
It took a little more pushing and shoving but she convinced him not to change things. He did, however, agree to pack up their things and take them with when they left the hotel to the signing. To take the very late-night flight Avery had booked them on at the last minute. She wanted to get him the hell out of Philadelphia.
The book signing was insanity. So many people had shown up, and many of them way ahead of time, that the store manager had started giving out numbered tickets. The store was a stand-alone, not in a mall or strip center, and when they drove up they saw a line already curling around a corner of the building.
Blake stared at it. “Holy shit!”
“I agree.” Sam turned and parked in the back of the building. “I have an itchy feeling about this. Do exactly as I tell you tonight, and don’t give me any arguments, okay?”
“No problem. I just hope they don’t attack me.”
Sam got out first and rang the bell by the back door. As soon as it opened she motioned to Blake, who hustled into the store, where a woman was waiting to greet him.
“I’m so sorry about all this, Mr. Morgan. It seems the hint of gossip brings out more people than just a good signing.”
He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well, we all know about that.”
“We couldn’t let everyone in at once. Fire marshal, you know. Would it be possible for you to cut down your presentation and give it twice, so everyone has a chance to hear you?”
“And ask questions, right?”
“Well, yes.” She drew her brows together. “Would you be willing to do that?”
He looked at Sam, who nodded. “Sure, if we can keep each one short.”
And then they were into it. She stayed at Blake’s side the entire time, watching the crowd, taking pictures as she’d done at every other signing. Every nerve in her body was on full alert, especially when people started asking him about the infamous email. She and Blake had rehearsed an answer and he stuck to it, no matter what anyone asked.
“My work is my own. Having someone claim plagiarism is nothing new in this business. But I can assure you, I wrote every single word in my books and none of them were copied.”
Sam thought the evening would never end. After each presentation, he was bombarded by questions. But the requests to take pictures with him were incessant, and people were fighting each other for the remaining books.
At last the event was finished. Blake signed the presolds, the manager and the staff thanked him, and then they were back outside. It seemed
, however, the evening wasn’t quite over yet.
“The fucker was here tonight.” Blake motioned to the note beneath the windshield wiper.
“I sent all the pictures back to Vigilance,” Sam assured him, “just as I’ve done after each signing. They’re running them through programs to see if any face shows up consistently.”
“Don’t you think he’d wear a disguise? Facial disguises are easy enough to do.”
“Yes, but sometimes it only takes a few characteristics to make a match. Let’s see what our guy has to say tonight.” She plucked the note from beneath the windshield wiper, smoothed it out, and held it so they could both read it.
It won’t be long now. I know what you did and I’ll prove it.
Blake shook his head. “I wouldn’t think he’d still be around after killing that poor woman.”
They climbed into the car and Sam cranked the ignition. “Remember, we don’t know who he is yet, and right now, there’s nothing to tie him to that killing. He thinks he’s home free. But just so you know, Avery’s got her people going over everyone on your list again to see if we missed something.”
“I have no idea what they’ll find.” He rubbed his face. “Do you have any idea how it feels to think that someone you know, even tangentially, wants to do this to you?”
“I can only imagine.” She pulled expertly on to the Interstate and headed for the airport. “They dusted for fingerprints in the hotel room here, but just like in Arrowhead Bay, they didn’t find anything. Avery said everyone’s pretty sure the guy wears latex gloves.”
“You know it’s the same person.”
“Yes, but every bit of proof helps for when he’s caught.” She was quiet for a moment, mentally trying to absorb the facts of the murder. To have some poor woman stabbed to death because someone mistook her for Sam made her sick to her stomach. This maniac’s control had slipped and they needed to be prepared for anything.
She didn’t draw a full breath until they were on the ground in Cleveland and at the hotel. Avery had arranged for someone to meet them at the terminal with a car so they could avoid the rental desk. The hotel they were at was again different than the one originally planned. She knew the agency was doing everything possible to protect Blake and keep him safe. She just hoped it was enough, and that she could do her part.
Finally they were checked into their rooms. They undressed and fell into bed, too tired for anything except to curl up together. Her last thought as she fell asleep was to wonder what would happen to the two of them when this was over and the stalker was caught. More and more she was falling in love with this complex, intriguing man. He’d all but declared himself where she was concerned. Now she just needed to figure out if she could find the trust that the past had stolen from her.
* * * *
The stalker was ready to spit nails. Nothing was going the way it was supposed to. Morgan didn’t act like someone who was afraid or rattled. He’d deflected the whole plagiarism thing on the television spot. Worse than that, instead of turning his fans away from him, it seemed to incite them more and draw them to him more strongly. The scene at the book signing had been nuts. Twice as many people showed up and by the end of the event, all the books had been sold. Damn!
And then, when he’d followed their car to see where they were staying, they’d gone directly to the airport and gotten on a flight he hadn’t even expected. He was beside himself with frustration.
Damn it! He wanted people returning his books or boycotting them, not buying them.
He was on a mission here, a mission to set things right. He was the one who should be getting all the breaks, so why was he being thwarted every way he turned?
Well, one more stop before Tampa, and he’d arranged a surprise for that next one. He hoped that would put Morgan off balance, and that bitch that was with him as well. He had plans that neither of them could stop, and he’d be sure to get both of them. Yes, she’d be part of the grand finale, too.
He grabbed a beer from the minibar and poured it into a glass, drinking half of it down in three swallows. He needed it to calm his nerves, as enraged as he was about the way things were happening. Or not happening. How could one man be so lucky? By this time, he should be on his last nerve, unable to meet his readers, hiding from the media.
He was just a lucky bastard, was all.
But your time is coming, Blake Morgan. Then everyone will know. And remember.
* * * *
“What?” Sam held the cell phone to her ear, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry, can you repeat that?”
Blake frowned. What was going on? They’d slept in because of their early morning arrival, and her first order of business after room service coffee was to give the store where he was signing in two days their usual courtesy call. But looking at Sam’s face, Blake could tell something was not right.
“What’s happening?” he mouthed.
“Well, that’s definitely wrong. Someone is playing a trick on you. And on us. I promise I’ll get this straightened out right away.” She hung up and looked at Blake. “You won’t believe this.” She huffed a breath. “Well, on second thought, maybe you will.”
“What’s the deal? You look totally blindsided.”
“That’s because I am. Someone called pretending to be from your publisher and told the store the signing was cancelled.”
“What?” For a minute he forgot to breathe. “Are you kidding me?”
“Not even a little. The manager said they got the call yesterday. The person was all apologetic but explained that you were involved in a problem with the rights to your books and so all signings had been cancelled.”
Blake had to swallow twice before he could speak again. “I need to call Henry,” he told her, “and have him get in touch with my publisher. And the bookstore. Did this woman get a name from the caller?”
Sam nodded. “Craig Wilhousen.” “Shit.” He slammed his fist down on the dresser.
“Is that a real person?”
“Yes. He works in the publicity department. Getting the store manager’s name would be very easy for my stalker. I’m sure she’s listed as the contact person for the event.”
“Go ahead and call whoever you need to. I’ll contact Avery.”
Predictably, Henry blew a cork.
“Blake, you must have some idea who’s doing this. A person like this doesn’t just pop up out of thin air.”
“I swear to you, Henry. I have not got a clue. And believe me, I’ve tried to figure it out.”
“Alright. Let me call the store and do damage control. They’ll need to get signs posted that the signing is on. We’ll call the radio stations. I’ll have our office do a single notice blast with your newsletter sorted by zip code so it goes to everyone in the Cleveland area. We’ve got two days to fix this wreck. Let me think a minute.”
“Will that do it?” Blake wanted to know. He was midway between angry and nauseous. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No.” Henry almost shouted the word in his ear. “You take a back seat here and just show up for the signing with a big grin. Oh, and I’m going to call the manager and get the name of a top bakery in the area. We’ll pop for refreshments and have them delivered.”
“This is a fucking mess, Henry.”
“No shit.” His sigh was audible across the connection. “Alright. I’ve got to call the publisher first and check out this Craig Whoever. I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Meanwhile, don’t leave your room.”
“No problem there.”
Sam hung up her call about two seconds later, a weird expression on her face.
“What?” he asked her. “Something’s going on. Tell me.”
“Sit down, Blake. Come on, let’s sit at the little table here.”
“I don’t want to sit down.” He fisted his hands. “I want to hear what Avery had to
say.”
“Then sit down and I’ll tell you.”
When he was seated, reluctantly, he glared at her. “Okay. Give.”
Sam drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I know you told us this had nothing to do with Annemarie, but—”
“Goddamn right it doesn’t,” he snapped.
“Will you just manage to be quiet for a minute so I can get this out? Okay. We were running into dead ends everywhere. Even Andrew Foley turned out to be nothing. So Avery had her people go back to the beginning to see what they might have missed, which usually for them is nothing. But one of the things she decided to do was dig deeper into the key people in your life. Like Annemarie.”
“She’s dead,” he reminded her, his voice cutting. “So you can write her off. This is not the work of a dead person. She wouldn’t be a party into something like this, anyway. That’s just not who she was.”
“You’re right,” Sam agreed. “But how about someone close to her?”
“Like who?”
Sam took one of his hands in both of hers. “Blake.”
“Uh-oh.” A tiny knot formed in his stomach. “This can’t be good.”
“Avery got an updated version of the accident report.”
He frowned. “What else was she looking for?”
“Well, someone had to be notified. Someone had to claim the body. She checked and she hadn’t been buried at county expense.”
“I’m telling you,” he protested, “she had no one. She even told me that once. She said the job was everything to her.”
“And yet she left with no notice at all,” Sam pointed out. “Just disappeared into thin air. What does that tell you?”
He shrugged, but he was getting a sick feeling. “I don’t know. What?”
“That she was lying? Or keeping secrets?” She squeezed his hand again.
He closed his fingers around her hand as if drawing strength from her. He had a feeling whatever she had to say wasn’t good.