“Do you? Do you really?”
“How do you see me, Princess? The first time you looked at me, you looked your pretty little nose down at me. You looked disgusted, repulsed.”
“That’s not fair. You didn’t give me a chance to react at all before you came out fighting. If you don’t give people a chance to know you and only show them the asshole, then of course they’re going to look at you with disgust.”
“Yeah. That’s a good theory.”
She looked down, and then up, and her expression had changed, as if she wasn’t quite as real as she’d been the minute before. “I know this may seem like a weird question but...would you mind if I asked you some more questions about your upbringing? You know, for my character in the movie?”
If she had kicked me in the fucking gut, it would have been less of a shock. Here I was telling her my life story and believing that she’s actually interested—interested in getting to know me—and it was all for the sake of her fucking role in a movie?? What the hell?
Unable to control myself, I reached out and hauled her to her feet. Her body slammed against mine and I got a perverse thrill from watching her wince in pain. “As a matter of fact I do mind. Do you think this is a fucking joke? That what I just told you was for your entertainment?”
“What? No!” she cried. “I just...I thought...”
I shoved her away with disgust.
“We’re done here,” I muttered and walked away, not stopping until I had stormed out of the suite and slammed the door behind me.
***
By the following Friday I was ready to pull my hair out of my head.
Things had been quiet on the set—no more dead rodents or letters had arrived. I felt like a damn rent-a-cop with nothing better to do than stand around and wait.
And watch.
As much as I hated to admit it, Evangeline had some serious talent. The woman that I had essentially manhandled the previous weekend had managed to seriously impress me. She wasn’t quite the diva I had originally imagined. She showed up on the set each morning without a stitch of makeup on and still managed to look beautiful.
Then she’d walk around—always with either myself or Malcolm close by—and take direction and do her scenes, and I have to tell you, some of this shit was brutal. This wasn’t a glamorous role for her, and she didn’t seem intimidated at all by the fact that her looks were being played down.
Maybe I had been quick to judge.
Maybe.
“She really is something, isn’t she?” a quiet voice said from beside me.
I turned and saw the mousy chick, Janelle, and some guy standing next to me. I hadn’t seen him before. “Hey,” I said. “I’m Cole. And you are?”
“Oh, I’m Matt. Janelle and I work together. I was out with the flu for a couple of days, and today’s my first day back. You’re the security guy, right?”
He was the male version of Janelle. Kind of geeky, kind of mousy. The kind of guy who would blend into the background. Hmm...
“It’s good to meet you, Matt,” I forced myself to say. “Just know that Malcolm and I are working hard to make sure Evangeline’s safe. We’ll be checking on everything you bring to her on the set.”
The kid nodded, and then went back to watching the scene that was being shot. And when I turned to do the same, I could understand why the two of them were so mesmerized. Evangeline had a lot of dialogue in this scene, and the sound of her voice was actually kind of nice.
We hadn’t talked much since I stormed out of her place last weekend. The only time we did was when we were forced to, and I needed to ask about her schedule or about anything or anyone that seemed out of place.
She answered in one word most of the time.
Yeah, I’d screwed up. I handled the situation like a jackass, but in my own defense, she seriously pissed me off.
Not that it was anything new, but I knew I was going to catch shit for it the next time she talked to Sebastian.
And that was another thing that had me on edge this week. I’d called in for the conference call—like a good little boy—and basically, some time in the near future, we were all going to be called to D.C. to wrap up the report.
The conversation was oddly quiet. Levi talked but seemed distracted, and none of us had much to say. I knew why—they all blamed me. What else was there to say? We were going to go listen to some official reading of a report, and although no charges were likely to be filed, it was going to be out there—voiced loud and clear—my poor judgment cost Gavin his life.
Like I needed anyone to tell that to me.
I looked down at my watch and saw that it was almost seven. The shooting has gone late today, but according to the schedule I was given, they were expected to finish up around nine. They had some scenes in the alley that required being shot at night. After that, Evangeline wasn’t going to be needed on the set for about four days.
Only...no one else knew that. I had talked to Pete, the director, and a fake schedule had been handed out to the rest of the cast and crew. We were going to try and see if we could catch anyone off-guard. So Malcolm and his guys were going to come here and follow the same routine they had every day since filming began, and I was taking Evangeline out of town for a few days.
That was a disaster waiting to happen in itself.
The plan was to secretly whisk her away but keep a decoy car and crew hanging out here to keep an eye on things.
With any luck, our stalker would make a move. Or a mistake.
And I’d be able to wrap this case up by the end of next week.
Five
Evangeline
Things were better when I was actually on set.
At least then, I had plenty to distract me from Cole and his constant, brooding presence.
But yesterday evening, after I’d finished on set, we had left Baltimore to go to an upscale D.C. hotel that guaranteed absolute privacy—a kind of makeshift safe house we could stay in for the next few days, when I wasn’t needed on set. Cole had some sort of plan to entrap the stalker to reveal himself by giving the cast and crew a false schedule for me. He thought it would be an efficient way to catch the guy quickly, so this whole ordeal wouldn’t have to drag on.
I was pretty sure he was just as excited about getting this job done so he could be rid of me as I was excited to be rid of him.
It was very stressful to have him hanging around all the time—since he consumed my whole mind, especially when I was off-set and had nothing else to do.
I was pretty sure the next few days were going to be hellish for both of us.
I slept in later than normal the next morning after we arrived at the hotel suite, because I spent most of the night tossing and turning and thinking in turn about the stalker and Cole. It was almost ten by the time I came out of the bedroom.
I wasn’t surprised to see that Cole was there, awake, sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen bar, drinking coffee and doing something on his phone.
He glanced up and his gray eyes went briefly hot when he saw me.
At least, that was what I thought his expression meant as his eyes ran up and down my body. I was wearing a camisole and little knit shorts—which is what I’d slept in—and I hadn’t bothered to brush my hair or wash my face.
I felt a little jump of excitement at the idea that he was attracted to me. Sure, it wasn’t that unusual—since I had a pretty good body and I had a kind of sex-kitten thing going with my public persona. And Cole was obviously a normal man who was likely to appreciate a somewhat decent female body. But I couldn’t help but feel that he was too cool and competent to let himself react to any attraction he felt for me unless he was very attracted.
And I liked the idea of his being very attracted to me, since I was more attracted to the arrogant ass every day.
“Good morning,” I said, managing not to leer at him, despite how sexy and masculine he looked in his t-shirt, which set off his tight shoulders, and his jeans, which looked g
reat on his long legs and tight butt.
“Morning.”
We’d been pretty cool with each other for the last week, ever since he was such a jerk after I’d asked him about his background. We were occasionally snippy, but mostly we just circled each other, feigning politeness with absolutely no warmth.
I was used to getting along with most people, so the tension was very uncomfortable for me.
I went to the coffee pot and reminded myself that this would be over soon. Hopefully, Cole’s plan would work so the whole thing would be done by the end of the week.
“How did you sleep?” The mild question wasn’t friendly in any way, but it felt like a peace offering, just the same.
“Not too well,” I said, watching the coffee stream into my mug. “What about you?”
He didn’t answer, so I glanced back over my shoulder. He was giving a half-shrug.
“Did you sleep at all?” I asked, as it occurred to me that I’d never seen him sleep—or even seen him go into a bedroom for the night.
I was still looking back at him, so I saw the second half-shrug.
“You can’t stay awake day in and day out,” I said, sipping my coffee and watching his controlled face.
“I sleep when I need to. I’ve gotten used to going without a lot of sleep.”
“It can’t be good for you, though.”
“I do a lot of things that aren’t good for me.”
I could well believe that. He was in great shape, but I was sure it was because he was so active and not because he took really good care of himself. He seemed more like the kind of guy who lived hard and whose body had hardened accordingly.
“But still—” I began.
“You were just telling me that you didn’t get much sleep, so you’re hardly a model of healthy living.”
As always, his dry tone only served to rile me up. “Well, these are unusual circumstances for me. I went to bed at a reasonable time, but everything going on makes me too nervous to sleep. I usually get plenty of sleep. And I try to eat mostly healthy and I do yoga and I don’t binge drink or anything. I guarantee I’m healthier than you.”
There was no good reason for me to feel so defensive, except it always felt like he was judging and attacking me.
“Yeah, right. Getting so high you dance half-naked on a table in a nightclub is healthy.”
I stiffened, realizing he’d seen that notorious video of me from when I’d been nineteen.
I hated that video—taken on someone’s phone—and I’d never be able to live it down.
I’d gone a little wild that year, trying to shake my childhood star reputation. I’d done some stupid things. But that video made it look a lot worse than it really was, and it had been shown all over the news and internet.
I controlled my reaction—made up of anger and something like betrayal—and narrowed my eyes at him. “That was one night. It happened to be documented. Are you really going to tell me you’ve never had a night that would look just as bad if it had been caught on camera?”
He met my eyes for a minute, and there was momentarily something like understanding in his gaze. Then he glanced away and muttered, “I’ve had hundreds of those nights.”
The words actually made me feel better.
How we’d gotten into this conversation, I didn’t know. We’d just been talking about how we’d slept the night before. But it was the best conversation we’d had in a week. He felt like a human again—and not some cold, dangerous, sexy stranger.
I let out a breath. “Everyone has.”
He turned his head to meet my gaze again, as if in response to the softness in my tone. Our backgrounds might have been light years apart, but we still understood each other. Knew each other somehow. Were similar in ways neither one of us could have predicted.
“Not everyone,” he said in a different tone, with almost a smile on his mobile mouth. “You should meet my buddy’s girlfriend, Kristin. I don’t think she’s had a wild night in her life.”
I laughed. “Maybe she’s had nights you don’t about.”
“Maybe. But I doubt it.”
“Don’t you like her?”
“Sure. I like her fine. I’m just not sure what she sees in Declan, since he had nothing but wild nights until he met her.”
“Well, love changes people. And sometimes we’re drawn to people who are completely opposite from us.” I’d come over to sit on a stool beside him as we talked, but I flushed a little as I realized what I’d just said.
It was true. It was absolutely true—since Cole was as different from me as possible, and I was ridiculously drawn to him—but I didn’t mean to say it. What if he thought I was talking about us?
He didn’t react to the words. Just gave another half-shrug. “Yeah. I suppose that’s what it is. They’re happy, so why should I question it? It’s all a mystery to me anyway.”
“What is?”
“Love. The way people couple up. It never makes sense, and it always comes out of the blue, and I never expect it to last.”
I’d always felt the same way—like love was some sort of magic that happened to everyone but me. I’d sometimes watch couples and wonder in bewilderment how they’d gotten together and what they saw in each other and why something like that had never happened to me.
I’d dated plenty, but I didn’t think I’d ever really been in love. Whenever I dated someone, even if I really liked him, it always felt like I was going through the motions, like I was pretending to be someone other than me.
I couldn’t imagine what it was like to be with someone for real and just be me.
“Yeah,” I said at last, looking away from him since I suddenly wanted to reach out and touch him. “I’ve never gotten it either.”
We sat side-by-side, drinking coffee, lost in our own thoughts. But it felt like we were together somehow.
When I was feeling too vulnerable, I realized I needed to start thinking about something else. “So what are we going to do today?”
“Just hang out here, if it’s all right with you. I’d rather you not go out, since you might be recognized, and then the news might get out about where you are.”
“Okay,” I said, realizing he was right and it would be better to just catch this stalker as quickly as possible. I wasn’t thrilled about being cooped up, but at least I felt safe here—in this anonymous, impersonal hotel suite. With Cole.
“They’ll be reporting to me about what happens on set and if this guy makes a mistake or reveals himself.”
“Okay. You’ll let me know if you learn anything?”
“Of course.”
I nodded and let out a long breath. The stalker must be in Baltimore, which felt very far away from me now. If nothing else, at least I’d have a break from the constant fear for a few days.
I’d take whatever I could get.
On that thought, the phone rang. I reached for my phone, which I’d carried with me into the kitchen area, but it wasn’t my phone ringing. It was Cole’s.
He glanced at it and picked up. “Yeah.” After a minute, he said, “Okay. Bring it up.”
I gasped, startled by the words. “What is it?” I demanded, when he hung up.
“Delivery.”
“What?” I jumped to my feet. “No one knows I’m here. I shouldn’t be getting a delivery.”
“It’s from—“
I suddenly felt naked, completely vulnerable, as if there was nowhere in the world I could be safe. I kept reliving that sickening moment of finding the mouse in with the muffins. “How did he find me? How could he possibly find me here?” My voice grew shrill on the last words.
Cole reached out to hold my upper arms. “Evangeline, calm down. Calm down.”
I tried to shake off his strong hands. “I’m not going to calm down. How the hell did the stalker find me here? Who is doing this to me?”
One little part of my mind recognized I was overreacting, but I simply couldn’t help it. I’d been feeling safe just a m
inute ago, but now it was all blown away.
Cole wouldn’t let go of me. “Evangeline, stop,” he said, his voice low and slightly hoarse. “Stop. It’s from Sebastian. It’s from Sebastian.”
The words finally broke through my panicked brain, and I froze, trying to process what he’d just said. “What?”
“The delivery is from Sebastian. He was just trying to be nice. It’s not the stalker.”
I was shaking helplessly as I finally understood what he was telling me.
“It’s not the stalker,” he said again, as a knock sounded on the door.
The noise made me jump, and Cole’s fingers were still wrapped around my upper-arms.
“Are you okay?” he asked, looking tense and concerned.
I nodded mutely.
“Can I get the door?”
I nodded again, unable to say anything.
Shit, I was an idiot. A fool. A silly, embarrassing nervous wreck. There was no justification for my breakdown, and I couldn’t believe I’d actually reacted that way.
I wasn’t normally so melodramatic and ridiculous.
Cole let go of me at least and walked to the door, where he accepted a potted orchid from the hotel staff member who’d carried it up.
It was a beautiful plant—a lovely, exotic violet color—but I stared at it suspiciously. “It’s really from Sebastian?” I managed to ask.
Cole nodded. “He said he was sending it over.” He put the orchid down, carefully inspecting the plant and the card and even the soil it was planted in.
“It’s okay?” I asked, forcing myself to step over, even though I was still shaking.
“It’s fine, Evangeline,” Cole murmured. He put an arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him in a comforting gesture. “I promise it’s fine. The stalker hasn’t found you.”
I nodded, staring down at the lovely, delicate blooms. It was really nice of Sebastian. He was trying to be a friend, make me feel better.
And I jumped to the conclusion that it was an attack.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“Shit, princess,” Cole said hoarsely, pulling me into a full hug. “It’s okay. It’s really okay.”
For some reason, his obvious concern and the tenderness in his touch and voice completely broke me. I shook against him in silent sobs—not really crying but feeling completely broken.
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