by Jami Alden
Reggie noticed that Tyler’s hand instinctively tightened over her sister’s shoulder.
“What if this guy goes after the people close to you if he can’t get to you?”
“He did kill Rex,” Natalie pointed out around a mouthful of Ahi tuna.
Guilt and worry turned Reggie’s sushi into a big rice cement ball in her gut. When had she become so selfish? It had never occurred to her that the people around her were in danger too. She would never forgive herself if anything happened to Natalie, or God forbid, Gabe, just because she was too afraid of disappointing fans and getting bad publicity.
“You’re right,” she said quietly. “I’m being stupid.” She pushed her sushi over to Gabe, who obligingly went to work on her uneaten portion. To Tyler, she said, “How do we do this without angering the event organizers?”
It would be a major headache for the store to have to refund tickets and preordered books. Not to mention that it would reflect badly on Tyler when he tried to book future clients.
“I have an idea,” Natalie interjected. “The sketchiest part is the book signing, right? That’s the only time strangers get to actually approach you.” At Reggie’s nod, she continued, “The rest of the time you’re on a stage. So what if we got a few more rent-a-cops to surround the podium area and you just presigned all of the books? Only the book signing is canceled, but fans still get your autograph, and the store keeps money from ticket and book sales.”
Reggie wondered if she’d stumbled into some bizarro parallel universe when Tyler told Natalie she was the biggest creative genius he’d ever met.
It took more prodding to convince Gabe, but he’d finally, albeit reluctantly, agreed to their amended security plan.
“Think of it as a professional challenge,” Reggie had joked. “When’s the last time on this job you’ve had to really be on your toes?”
Gabe was only slightly mollified by the five additional security guards that flanked the demo stage. They all struck him as lazy and unobservant. One had even complained that he’d have to stand for the entire forty-five minutes of Reggie’s presentation.
The way he saw it, he was on his own.
Even more irritating was Reggie’s seemingly cavalier attitude about the whole thing, and he told her so.
“What do you want me to do?” she said as she directed the cooking assistants where to place her ingredients. “Curl up in a cave until this guy gets caught or gives up for real?”
“Sounds good to me.” He ignored her glare. “You strike me as remarkably cheery for a woman who has a guy out there who wants to punish her.”
“But I can also look on the bright side,” she said with a grin. “Since the local press covered the incident yesterday, tickets for this event sold out, and they expect to move every single copy of my book.” She tied an apron around her trim waist.
The sellout crowd was starting to file in. Mostly women, as usual, but a larger than average number of younger men were in the mix. Guys who had seen the gossip and wanted to see whether Reggie was actually hot enough to merit her own stalker.
Judging from the looks she received, every man in the room thought she was.
Gabe’s hands fisted at his sides as he fought the urge to wrap her up in his suit coat, hiding her luscious curves from fifty pairs of leering eyes. “If I didn’t know you better,” he said through clenched teeth, “I’d almost think you were grateful for the stalker and all the extra publicity he’s gotten you.”
Reggie, who was busy fixing her makeup, slowly lowered her lipstick and deliberately rubbed her lips together. “That was a really shitty thing to say.” She snapped her purse shut. “And I’m going to try really hard to forget it.”
Shame filled him, bringing heated color to his face. Fuck. This was why he sucked at relationships. Invariably he got upset and said things he didn’t mean. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m worried about you. You know that. And sometimes I don’t think you take your safety seriously enough.”
Her cold expression barely softened. “You can’t blame me for trying to make the best of a crappy situation, Gabe. That’s the kind of person I am. If I see an opportunity, I’ll take it. Even if it means putting a positive spin on having a psycho follow me.”
Before he could reply, the store manager motioned her that it was time to begin. As though a curtain came over her, her tense façade melted away, giving way to the bubbly smile millions of fans knew and loved.
Her rapid, effortless transformation gave him a slightly queasy feeling.
Reggie was a much better actress than he realized.
An hour later, Gabe stood within easy arm’s reach of Reggie as she chatted with the store events manager. The crowd was dispersing quickly, and if they were disappointed that they couldn’t get their books signed personally, they didn’t show it.
Was their guy here? Gabe had scanned the crowd a hundred times looking for any sign that might point him in the right direction. An overly intense stare. Even a fake-looking beard or head of hair that could indicate a disguise.
He’d asked Reggie to keep an eye out for anyone she might recognize with no luck.
Then again, the stalker seemed to get off on contacting Reggie when she least expected it, when her whereabouts were supposed to be secret. This event had been scheduled and publicized for weeks. It would be too obvious for him to show up here.
His eyes locked on to someone approaching Reggie from behind—a man, about five-foot ten with a medium build and enough product in his dirty blond hair to present a fire hazard. His mouth was set in tight lines and his hand was outstretched, reaching for her arm.
A nanosecond later, Gabe had the guy’s forearm in a vice grip behind his back and was grinding his face into the demo table.
“What the hell?” the guy yelled, his voice muffled as Gabe squashed his face into the Formica.
“Keep your hands off her,” Gabe roared, Reggie’s frantic voice barely registering over the pounding in his ears. Something about her tone penetrated the red haze before he snapped the guy’s arm and he eased up, but just barely.
“I know him; you can let him go.” Reggie placed one hand against Gabe’s back, the other on the hand that still viciously gripped the other guy’s arm. “Let him go, Gabe.”
He did so reluctantly enough to convey the message that if the guy so much as breathed wrong, Gabe wouldn’t hesitate to inflict more damage.
The guy shot Reggie a look of outrage, but apparently had enough sense to keep his mouth shut.
“Craig Ferguson, meet Gabe Bankovic.” Neither offered a hand.
Turning to Gabe, she said in a falsely bright tone, “Craig is my ex-boyfriend, who you’ve heard about”—she swung around to Craig—“and Gabe is my bodyguard and…” Her voice trailed off and he heard her mumble something under her breath.
“Bodyguard?” Craig sounded surprised. Obviously he hadn’t been keeping up on his ex’s press clippings lately. “Since when do you need a bodyguard?”
“I’ve had some…unusual fan activity recently,” Reggie replied.
“Hey, if you didn’t like the stuff I sent—”
Gabe leaned forward menacingly. He didn’t think Craig was their guy, but the way he came off, so arrogant and trying to play himself off as a badass, really pissed him off. Not to mention the fact that the guy was apparently so much of a pussy he couldn’t handle it when his girlfriend’s success rivaled his own.
“Hey”—Craig held up his hands and scrambled back—“I’m kidding!” He shot Reggie an indignant look. “How’d you hook up with Cro-Magnon man?”
Reggie gave him the short version of the stalker and his increasingly violent threats. Craig made appropriately sympathetic noises.
“Sorry to hear about your trouble. I was in town and wanted to say hi. Word around the network is that your new show is going to be a huge hit, and I wanted to say congratulations.” Craig said the last part in the tone of someone who is sincerely happy for someone else’s suc
cess, while simultaneously burning with envy that it is not his own.
Reggie smiled warmly up at Craig, impulsively drawing him close for a hug. Gabe ignored the tight knot in his belly as he watched the other man return the embrace.
It wasn’t that he was jealous or threatened in any way by the little wuss. He just didn’t like the idea that this man at one point had access to every silky inch of Reggie’s body.
He wondered idly if Reggie would feel the same unpleasant burn the next time she saw Marly Chase on a magazine cover.
Reggie thanked Craig and excused herself to go speak with the event organizer, who looked very pleased with tonight’s turnout.
Craig shook his head, a reluctant grin sliding across his face. “A stalker. If I know Reggie, she’s turned this whole thing into a massive PR opportunity, hasn’t she?” Without waiting for Gabe to answer, he said, “She looks all sweet and genuine, but underneath she knows how to turn almost any situation to her advantage.” Though his assessment wasn’t entirely complimentary, his tone was admiring.
“She doesn’t strike me as manipulative,” Gabe said.
“That’s the beauty. She’s also smart enough to keep it from the rest of us. Snaked her first show right out from under me, and I didn’t even see it coming.” Craig shook his head. “That’s not fair of me to say. She has great appeal, and fans love her, there’s no denying that. But she’s a very savvy businesswoman.” He shook his head and laughed ruefully. “Hell, I wouldn’t put it past her to make the whole stalker thing up, or at least blow it out of proportion if she thought it could help her.”
Craig’s words nibbled at the back of Gabe’s brain, feeding the little kernel of doubt Malcolm had planted last week about why certain aspects of this situation didn’t add up.
He mentally shook himself. He was letting the remarks of an insecure dickhead feed into his own baggage.
Just then Reggie caught his eye from across the room. The sweet, tentative smile she sent him was softly uncertain and it almost brought him to his knees. His own lips curled in response. His gut, which he’d ignored for the past year, told him there was no way he’d be dumb enough to fall for the shrewd manipulator Craig had described.
Reggie was exactly what she appeared: sweet, smart, genuine, and driven. He had to trust himself on that. It scared the hell out of him to admit it, but he loved her too much not to.
Chapter Sixteen
“This doesn’t make any sense.” Gabe’s warm hand rested on Reggie’s shoulder as he read the latest e-mail sent by the stalker.
Fort the past week, he’d sent at least one a day. But instead of threats of violence, the e-mails were almost friendly in tone. Today’s included an attachment, another picture of a lingerie-clad model with Reggie’s face Photoshopped into it. Since they’d returned to San Francisco three days ago, it had gotten to the point where Reggie was afraid to turn on her computer for fear of what revolting thing she might receive.
“This guy should have revealed himself by now,” Gabe continued, his hot breath dusting her ear.
Reggie turned away from the computer screen to face him, her breath catching a little at the sexy, rumpled picture he presented. His T-shirt and jeans were worn soft, and his dark eyes were heavy with sleep. It was after one A.M., and he’d been dozing on the couch when Reggie had called him into the office.
“Revealed himself?”
Gabe squatted down so he was at eye level with her and rested his hands on her thighs. “Stalkers aren’t known for their discretion. Your guy obviously thinks he has some claim on you, some relationship, that he has the right to be jealous or threaten you because you’re with me. Even if they keep their identity secret at the beginning, most stalkers will eventually try to make personal contact, because in his mind, you’ll welcome that.”
“You don’t call that personal contact?” Reggie pointed her thumb over her shoulder, where the doctored photo was vibrantly displayed on her flat panel.
“It’s unusual for him to remain anonymous this long.” He straightened up, scratching his chin as though in deep thought. “I keep feeling like I’m missing something important, like the answer’s right in front of me.”
Reggie stretched and sighed. “I don’t think we’re going to find him tonight, and I’m beat.”
He smiled distractedly and asked about her book.
“If I have a few more days like today, I should be able to hand in the last round of revisions before Thanksgiving.” Thank God. The mere thought of sending off the final chapters made her shoulders lift. “It’s easier to get work done when I’m home.”
She moved easily into his arms for a kiss, tasting distraction on his lips.
“Do you mind if I poke around in your e-mail a little bit?”
She debated for a minute, scrambling to remember if there was anything embarrassing he might find. Then she shrugged. He might find some things about himself, but nothing she hadn’t told him to his face. Other than that, it was mostly business and mundane daily correspondence.
Noticing her hesitation, he said, “Don’t worry. I’ll limit my snooping to the past few months,” he said. “I want to take a look at who’s writing you, maybe see if there are similarities in the language, anything suggestive you might have missed if you weren’t expecting it from someone.”
She nodded, leaning into his chest for one last squeeze before bed. “I also set up an account for Natalie on there too. It’s all business-related stuff, but maybe there’s something in there.”
Gabe wiped the grit from his eyes, futilely trying to blink back moisture into his screen-scorched eyeballs. He’d searched through Reggie’s e-mails, but once again came up blank. But he’d gone ahead and sent copies of the stalker’s most recent e-mails to Malcolm for analysis, along with e-mails from Tyler, Max, and a handful of other male contacts he didn’t recognize. He also gave Malcolm access to Natalie’s account to see if there was a clue as to how the stalker was getting such detailed information on Reggie’s schedule.
He hadn’t heard anything yet on the previous e-mails, as Malcolm’s hacking team was tied up tracking down a credit card fraud ring.
Other than getting more info on the e-mails, Gabe was not in a hurry to talk to his old friend anytime soon. Though he hadn’t said it, Gabe had clearly heard the words, “You’re a dumbass,” in his friend’s voice when he’d told Malcolm about his decision to stay with Reggie.
Still, Malcolm hadn’t pulled any punches. “This is a bad decision, and I won’t tell you otherwise,” Malcolm had said curtly. “I have twenty guys I can call to do what you’re doing. There’s no reason you should be wasting your time when your skills could be put to much better use.”
“I couldn’t forgive myself if anything happened to her.” Gabe had practically choked on the admission. “I can’t quit till we find this guy.”
“Yeah, you made a commitment and I respect that, but be careful you’re not thinking with your little head.”
Malcolm’s blunt assessment still sat like a sack of rocks in his stomach. He could only hope that once the guy was caught and this was all over, Malcolm would still be willing to hire him back.
He put the finishing touches on his latest masterpiece, once again thanking his good fortune for those graphic design classes he’d taken a couple of years ago. At the time he’d hoped to incorporate them into his work, saving money on promotional materials for himself and his clients.
In the end, his design skills were remedial at best, but he could doctor up a photo like nobody’s business. All it took was a high-speed Internet connection and an extensive collection of pornography was at his fingertips. Add in a little Photoshop, and Reggie became the star of any number of twisted fantasies.
If only he could share them with her. But now was not the time. For now he had to content himself with sending her the tamer photos. He knew better than to frighten her with what he really had in mind.
He was particularly proud of his latest work. The woman even
looked like Reggie, with her big doe eyes and full mouth. Her body was similar, too—perky breasts, flat belly, and a full, lush ass. A masked man stood over her wielding an abnormally large dildo.
Maybe he wouldn’t have to edit in Reggie’s face. Which would be nice because the woman was wincing in pain, blobs of mascara smudged around her eyes, lipstick smeared across her chin as though she’d had a particularly hard time of it.
He copied the file to his flash stick for safekeeping.
He hoped the tokens he’d sent so far were driving the gorilla to distraction.
Bile curdled in his throat, searing his insides as it did every time he thought of that animal pawing at Reggie.
It hurt him, what he had to do to Reggie. Sometimes it nearly brought him to tears, to know that the perfect life he had planned for them—the creative genius and his muse—was not to be.
But she’d been unfaithful and was continuing to be so. Just today he’d seen her on the street, grinning up at the gorilla like a dirty slut as he pawed her perfect ass in the middle of the street.
But the gorilla would be gone soon.
He had to be patient. After enough time passed and Reggie let her guard down, he could finally make his move.
Grinning hugely at the camera, Reggie swept her arm to encompass the magnificent view behind her. “Welcome to Simply Delicious, USA. I’m Reggie Caldwell, and today I can’t wait to show you around my hometown of San Francisco!”
She didn’t have to fake a second of her enthusiastic intro. How could she be anything but deliriously happy? She was home, finally, and today was a perfect Bay Area fall day. Clear and sunny, their vantage in North Beach offered breathtaking views of the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge, and the verdant green of the Marin headlands.
Best of all, ever-watchful Gabe stood discreetly behind the cameraman giving her a look that said he couldn’t wait to take her home and rip off her clothes.
She breezed through the establishing shots, winning an enthusiastic thumbs-up from Carrie. “Great energy, Reggie. Carry that over into tomorrow’s segment.”