Lewis Security

by Glenna Sinclair

  “Thinned it out,” I murmured.

  “Exactly. So she bled pretty heavily.” He stood. “I told the girl, Charlotte’s assistant, that we’d be there first thing. Ricardo explained who we are, what we do, and our starlet agreed she wants our help. Of course, she’s getting over a head wound, so she might feel differently when we get there. We’ll just have to wait and see.” He grimaced good-naturedly. “Ricardo also hinted at her having a real attitude problem.”

  “You know me,” I smirked. “I love a challenge.”

  Chapter Two – Charlotte

  The first thing I remembered after waking up was the pain. Screaming, excruciating pain. I kept begging for something to take the pain away, but they wouldn’t give me anything. Stupid fucking doctors. Something about alcohol in my blood, which was complete bullshit. I couldn’t wait to sue their asses.

  Then, a lot of questions. More questions than I could keep track of. I was so sleepy, but they wouldn’t let me sleep. Possible concussion, blah blah blah. So why ask me all those questions if there was a chance I couldn’t answer clearly? Why were people so stupid?

  At least the guy asking the questions was cute. Ricardo something-or-other. Detective. Tall, dark, brooding. Probably dangerous, which only made him more attractive.

  All the while, Janine hung around the room looking embarrassed, guilty. I knew my assistant well enough to know when she had something she didn’t want to tell me. I also knew it was only a matter of time before she opened up. She was never good at keeping secrets from me. Ricardo asked her a few questions in front of me, such as wondering where she was when I was attacked.

  “I was getting Charlotte a cup of tea,” she said, looking at me out of the corner of her eye.

  “I remember asking for another cup,” I murmured. It was a vague memory, but it was there. Probably the last memory I had before everything went black.

  “How far did you have to go for a cup of tea?” he asked.

  “Not very. The craft service tent wasn’t far from the trailers. But there was a line, so I had to wait.”

  “Even when the star wanted something?” the detective asked with a smirk.

  “Yeah, even then.” Janine twirled a strand of poker-straight black hair around one finger, one arm wrapped over her abdomen. She looked small, scared. I felt sorry for her, even though I was the one in the hospital bed with stitches in my scalp. They throbbed dully, and I wondered if I’d need surgery to cover them up. The nurses assured me the scar wouldn’t be noticeable once my hair grew back around it, but I wasn’t so sure. What did they know, anyway? They were just nurses. They didn’t have the entire world dissecting the way they looked on a daily basis.

  “And when you came back? What did you see?”

  “The door was still closed, like it was when I left. I knocked before opening it, the way I always do. And I saw her.” She looked at me, tears filling her eyes. “It was so awful.”

  “Around how long did it take you to get back with the tea?” the detective asked, while his partner or lackey or whoever took notes.

  “I don’t know. Ten, maybe fifteen minutes. I remember thinking Charlotte would be annoyed with me for making her wait so long.” I averted my eyes when the detective glanced my way. I could feel him judging me, like I was a dragon lady for wanting my tea when I wanted it.

  After another half hour of questions, when it was well past midnight, the detective and his team left us alone. Janine burst into tears the moment the door shut.

  “It’s all my fault,” she wept, hands over her face.

  “It’s not,” I said. I wished I could sound more reassuring for her sake, but the fact was my head hurt like a mother and I was exhausted.

  “It is. I should’ve gone back sooner, but I didn’t. if I had been there…”

  “If you had been there, that maniac would’ve hurt you, too. I’m sure of it. I’m glad he didn’t.”

  “You think it was a man?” she asked, lowering her hands from her red, tear-stained face.

  “I’m just assuming. Wouldn’t you? I mean, would a woman do that?”

  She shrugged, then went to the bathroom. I heard the water running in the sink, heard splashing as my assistant washed her face. Of course, I had no idea who could have attacked me. Women could be just as vicious as men. Maybe even more so. I’d known enough nutcases in Hollywood to fill two memoirs.

  Changing the subject was what I needed to do just then, so I asked, “What about the press? Have you talked to Patrick about them?”

  “I couldn’t get a hold of him when I first called.” She came out patting her cheeks with paper towels.

  “What’s the point of having a press agent if you can’t get a hold of him? We have to get the upper hand before the tabloids come out in the morning with the story.”

  “I hate to break it to you, but you’re already up on a few sites.”

  “Terrific. See if you can call him now. It’s only ten on the coast.” I rubbed my temples, going over everything that needed to be handled.

  “Brian’s in the air. He should be here soon.”

  “Thank God for that,” I murmured, closing my eyes. I couldn’t take care of everything by myself, not when I had a lump the size of a golf ball on the back of my head. I touched my fingers to it, wincing as a sharp blade of pain pierced my brain.

  “Careful,” Janine whispered, taking my other hand. “You have to be gentle with yourself right now.”

  “Who would do this?” For the first time since waking up in the ambulance, I felt fear unfurling in my stomach. It seemed to spread all through me, slowly, planting roots here and there so it could grow and overtake me.

  “We’ll find out. I’m sure we will.” I could tell from the total confidence in her bloodshot eyes that she meant it. I told myself to believe her. I didn’t have any other choice.

  I pulled my phone from the bedside table. Sure enough, I had thirty text messages and sixteen missed calls. Word was spreading. “I’m trending on Twitter,” I said, laughing almost bitterly. “All it took was a near-death experience.”

  “They’re all messages of love and good wishes,” she pointed out. Always trying to look at the bright side of things. I gave her credit for that.

  “Give the internet time. Opinion will shift until all of a sudden, I deserved it.”

  “You’re too hard on the public,” she said, shaking her head as always.

  “Just keepin’ it real,” I smirked. She didn’t know how it felt. Nobody did. I was alone. I couldn’t even call Josh—his new squeeze would probably answer if she saw my name on the ID. Skank. He was my one true friend, the only person I could rely on for as long as we were together. But that was over. Funny how a blow to the back of the head and a little strangulation will cast a sharp light on a person’s life.

  My throat ached from all the talking. I hated the way my voice rasped. Luckily, at least according to the doctors, something must have scared the attacker away before they could finish the job. The bruising to my throat was light and would probably fade in a matter of days.

  “I guess production’s been shut down,” I said.

  “Brian said he’d talk to the producers about it when he gets in. It’ll probably have to wait until morning.”

  I hated feeling like I was in limbo, just waiting to see what would happen to my life because of some psycho with a grudge against me. The memory of the detective asking who might have reason to hurt me was enough to make me not sure if I should laugh or cry. Who didn’t want to hurt me? After all, I was famous, and the line between love and hate was a fine one.

  ***

  Six hours later, I still hadn’t slept. I wasn’t supposed to until the doctors knew my brain didn’t suffer any damage. I’d already been through three rounds of scans by the time the door to my room opened. I sat up expectantly, thinking Brian would come barreling through the door with a million excuses as to why he was just arriving.

  Only it wasn’t Brian, with his dark sunglasses and
perfect tan. It was Detective Ricardo, looking like he hadn’t changed out of his dark blue suit or even slept. Behind him were two men. They both wore dark tees and jeans, and both of them were built like a brick shithouse. I suddenly wished I had at least wrapped a scarf around my hair, anything to look a little more presentable.

  “Miss Banks. You look better than you did when I saw you earlier.” Ricardo gave me a sympathetic smile.

  “I can’t say you do,” I smirked. “Did you sleep at all?”

  “No, Miss. Not when there’s a case like this in the balance.”

  “What good are you to the investigation if you’re sleepy?” I asked.

  He grinned. “I think you should talk with my boss. He might actually listen to you.” Then, he turned and motioned to the men he’d brought with him. “This is Paxton Lewis and Spencer Nelson.” Both men nodded. I didn’t know who was who, but assumed the one closer to Ricardo was Paxton since his name came first. He looked a little older than Spencer, with fine lines around his dark eyes. I was used to examining faces to see who looked older/younger/better/worse than the last time I saw them. I couldn’t help it.

  Spencer’s steely gray eyes seemed to bore into me. I matched his stare with my own, expecting him to blink. He didn’t. His eyes didn’t shift one bit. I hated to be the one to back down from a staring contest, but Ricardo was talking to me.

  “Your assistant contacted Paxton earlier this morning at your request,” he said.

  I pried my eyes from Spencer’s to reply. “That’s right. I think it’s the smart move, don’t you?”

  “I do,” he agreed, nodding solemnly. “It’s very smart. These guys are the best in the business.”

  “Do you work together a lot?” I asked Paxton.

  “Frequently.” Oh. Well, that said a lot. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and I realized he was ex-military. It explained the incredible shape he was in, too.

  “I’ll feel much better knowing you’re with me. I’m sure the producers of my film will, too.”

  “That’s me, actually.” I looked at Spencer, and again felt like he was staring a little too hard.

  “You’re the one?”

  “I’m the one.”

  Paxton cleared his throat. “Spence is one of the best I have. Believe me, Miss, when you’re in a sticky situation, he’s the one you want with you.”

  I saw Spencer’s cheeks redden a little and knew he picked up on his boss’s unfortunate choice of words. So he wasn’t just a pretty face. He had a sense of humor, too. But something about his straight posture and the lift of his chin told me he didn’t let it out much. Not while he was working, anyway.

  I shrugged. He was better than nothing—and it might not be bad to have something nice to look at. And he was definitely nice with those broad shoulders and thick arms. If the private security thing didn’t work out, I thought, he could make a living as a fitness model. “I guess I don’t have much of a choice. What do we do next?”

  The guys looked at each other. “Normally, we’ll talk fees,” Paxton replied.

  I waved a dismissive hand. “You can talk about that with my manager. Brian should be here soon. I’m not worried about cost, of course.”

  “All right. Otherwise, you give us the keys to your place and we install our surveillance equipment.”

  I blinked. “Is that really necessary?”

  Ricardo spoke up. “It is. If this person could sneak in and out of your trailer in the middle of a busy film set, there’s no telling what they’re capable of otherwise.”

  “There’s already security in my building—tight security,” I protested. The word “surveillance” was enough to leave a bad taste in my mouth. Nobody wanted to feel like they were under surveillance.

  “And we’ll work with them.” Spencer’s handsome, sharp-featured face was blank. Matter-of-fact.

  “Try to look at this from my point of view,” I said, and I felt my head throbbing as I did. The monitors attached to my chest picked up my increased heart rate, beeping faster and faster. “I’m in front of cameras all the time. My apartment is the only place where I have a little privacy. I mean, who’s watching the footage?”

  “Our surveillance experts. They worked in the field overseas and use that expertise every day to keep our clients safe.”

  I wished there were somebody there on my side, but I had already sent Janine to the apartment to pick up some personal things for me. I couldn’t leave the hospital looking like hell. It was just me against the three of them, and all three of them looked at me with a similar expression. The big, strong men and the helpless little girl.

  “I don’t want anything in my bedroom,” I said. “That’s a firm no. Do you know what happens if your feed gets hacked somehow? The whole world will watch me sleep.”

  Paxton looked like he was trying to hide a smile. “Miss, with all due respect, that simply doesn’t happen. Detective Montez wouldn’t recommend us if that was a possibility.” Montez. Right. That was his last name.

  “I’m glad you think this is funny, but it’s very real for me.” I folded my arms.

  “And this is real for us,” Spencer replied. I watched his jaw working, like there was so much more he wanted to say. “Which is why I’ll be with you day and night.”

  “I have my own bodyguard,” I informed him icily.

  “And he did a great job keeping you safe yesterday, didn’t he?”

  I opened my mouth to argue, but Ricardo’s raised hand silenced me. “This is how Lewis Security does business, Miss Banks. The fact is, I wouldn’t have recommended them if it didn’t seem like the attack against you was personal.”

  “Well, sure. They attacked me personally.”

  “I don’t mean it that way. If they’d tried to shoot you from a distance, for instance, this would look more like an average stalker or crazed fan. Our perp took a real chance, then went so far as to try to strangle you. They meant business.”

  My hand encircled my throat. I had nothing to say to that.

  “If they’re willing to take such chances to get close to you, there’s no telling what they’ll do next. They may even become bolder, thinking they got away with it the first time. And they’ll likely want to finish the job.” The detective’s brow furrowed with concern. “I’m sorry, but every precaution must be taken.”

  There was no way to argue with him, because I saw how right he was. I couldn’t risk my life. The thought made me shiver, but I wouldn’t let any of the men at the foot of my bed see how terrified I felt just then.

  “Can I have my purse, please?” I pointed to where it sat on the little sofa beneath my window. Ricardo picked it up and brought it over so I could fish out the keys. I held up the one to the front door of the suite I’d rented for the duration of the film shoot, then handed it to Paxton with a sinking feeling.

  Chapter Three – Spencer

  I stepped through the open front door, whistling at my first look at where I’d be staying for as long as the case went on. “Wow. For a place she’s only renting while she makes a movie, this is a pretty nice place.”

  “Don’t forget huge.” Tricia, one of the techs, was on a ladder in one corner of the living room. “I usually only need a short ladder to get this done. We had to break out one of the expandable babies so I could reach the corner.” She mounted a camera in the joint between the walls and ceiling. I guessed the ceilings were maybe fifteen feet, if not twenty.

  Another one of the techs walked through. “I heard it used to belong to Sarah Jessica Parker.”

  “I heard it belonged to an Italian prince,” Tricia fired back.

  “Why would it belong to an Italian prince?”

  “Why would it belong to Sarah Jessica?”

  “Okay, guys. Focus.” Paxton talked through, checking up on everything. His forehead was heavily lined as he scowled—not at the banter, but in general. He usually got that way when we were starting a new case. Especially a complicated one.

  “Cat
ch me up.” I dropped a bag of clothes and toiletries by the living room sofa. My home base. At least it looked like a comfortable one, and long, too. I wouldn’t have to bend my knees.

  Pax took me on the tour of the apartment. The word “apartment” didn’t seem to do it justice. There were three bedrooms, two full bathrooms, two half baths, a library, a wine room between the dining room and the butler’s pantry, an entertainment room and a home gym. The kitchen was roughly the size of my entire apartment.

  “Who needs this kind of space when they live alone?” I couldn’t get over it.

  “Rich people, I guess. So, you see what a challenge this is gonna be.” Pax rubbed his temples. “All this space.”

  “Well, we’ve been in big houses before. Big estates. Without the benefit of a security guard at the front desk, either.” I tried to remind myself not to look like a complete open-mouthed idiot as I walked from room to room. I had the feeling if I got in the habit of letting my client know I was overwhelmed by her world, she would use that against me. I didn’t have the highest opinion of her just from the few minutes we were together.

  “Speaking of the security guards, I wouldn’t expect too much from them.” Pax sighed again. “A bunch of retired cops who would rather take a nap during the overnight shift.”

  “Nothing wrong with retired cops. They might be the best allies we could have here.”

  “Not when they’re only interested in taking a nap. They’re a little lax in general. It’s a nice neighborhood. They don’t expect any trouble.”

  “So, what? They need a robbery to happen on their watch to believe there might be an issue?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. Well, that’s why we’re here. They’ll at least keep an eye on who comes and goes. And they know they have to clear anybody—absolutely anybody—who tries to get past the lobby.”

  “For any tenant?”

  “For any tenant. Each of them will make up a list of regular visitors, but otherwise? No more letting people up without asking who they are.”