Black Light: Rescued

by Livia Grant

  Ryder barked a bitter laugh. "That would be a little hard for her to do since I'm protecting her for free."

  Trevor's eyes widened, "Why the hell would you do that?"

  Ryder stepped into his personal space, inches away before adding, "For the same reason you would if Khloe asked you to." The taller man's eyes widened with understanding.

  "All right, everyone... stop arguing. We don't have time for this. Randy and Cathy, I'll be over in a minute. We need to get started on hair and makeup." Khloe turned to the Kaplans next to add, "Ryder is right. I'm done letting you turn the threats against me into an advertising opportunity. Cooperate with him, or go home."

  He didn't think it was possible for her to be more beautiful, but watching her take charge and stand up for herself gave him an instant boner. She was so strong and yet so fragile. A dichotomy of nature wrapped up in a too-small package that all he wanted to do was steal away to keep all for himself.

  Fuck. Not unlike her stalker.

  The irony of his realization was unsettling, although it gave him a lead on a possible motive.

  Khloe'd turned her attention back to the tall men in the room. "And you two... grow up. The pissing contest is already getting old. I trust you both, so you'll have to figure out how to work together."

  She isn't nearly as cute when she's mouthing off to me, though.

  Even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. Her strength was refreshing.

  She didn't wait for an acknowledgment, stomping away from the drama to sit in the makeup chair at the other end of the trailer.

  The remaining occupants of the room dispersed to all corners of the trailer. It felt a bit like prize fighters going to their corner between rounds, resting up for the next bout of punches. He couldn't stop a small smile from forming, acknowledging that, so far, he was having a surprising amount of fun with his unexpected side-job.

  He filled the time organizing a few items from his duffle bag. It only took her crew twenty minutes to transform Khloe from the girl-next-door to gorgeous actress. As she stood before him, he could tell she was looking at him nervously, her previous confidence hidden.

  Aware every set of eyes were on them trying to figure out who the new guy was to their boss, Ryder pulled her into his arms for a tame hug, leaning low to whisper in her ear. "You're stunning... but, not quite as beautiful as you were around three this morning."

  Her sharp intake of breath at his mention of their encounter was followed by a full-body tremble that had her falling against him in a way that told everyone in the room the real nature of their relationship. When they separated, she had an adorable blush shining through her layer of makeup.

  Ryder pulled a small gold bracelet from the pocket of his slacks. A rather lame decorative four-leaf clover charm hung from the chain.

  "Hold out your arm. I want you to wear this."

  He wasn't surprised at her reaction. It hadn't been his first choice either, but he had to take what he could get on his hasty supply run on the way to the airport.

  "Um... thanks, but it's not really my style," she said diplomatically.

  "Yeah, well, it's not meant to be a fashion statement. Just wear it. I'll explain later." He didn't have time to explain that there was a tracking chip in the charm that would allow him to track her with his cell phone anywhere in the world. For now, he didn't need to worry her further with such details.

  They were five minutes late leaving the trailer. Someone had sent a souped-up golf cart to pick up Khloe. With the driver and one other passenger already in the back seat, there were only two seats left. The asshole McLean rushed to take the front seat, assuming he was leaving Ryder without a seat in the impromptu game of musical chairs.

  Unfazed, Ryder held Khloe back while he took a seat in the only empty slot and then reached back to lift her into his lap. He knew he was being a jackass, but he couldn't stop flashing a grin at the disgruntled McLean.

  "Problem solved," he gloated.

  "I'd have thought you were too old for childish games like this," she chastised him quietly.

  His palm squeezed her ass through the thin pencil skirt she was wearing for the courtroom scene she was about to film.

  "Are you kidding me? I love this game." He was happy to see his hands were having the desired effect. She shifted in his lap, her eyes widening as she encountered his thick erection under her bottom. He added suggestively, "In fact, I could play all day."

  They'd arrived at the entrance to the lot they were filming in. Ryder gave her ass a pinch as he lifted her up and out onto her own feet. He took her hand as they left the heat behind them for the darkened hallway.

  A few minutes walk took them to an opening where a replica of a traditional courtroom appeared. She adorably smiled up at him before taking off to talk with a group of men about a dozen feet away. Ryder's trained eye started evaluating the environment for threats... clues to who might be behind the threats to his princess.

  He stayed on the sidelines on purpose, out of the way, but where he had the best vantage point to watch the cast and crew interacting with Khloe. Makeup was touched up, costumes were checked, refreshments delivered, dialogue reviewed. He made mental notes of people and actions so he could ask her questions about them later. It wasn't ideal that he hadn't had more time to debrief with her and the evidence prior to being thrown into her detail.

  It also wasn't lost on him that Trevor had purposefully taken a protective stance exactly opposite Ryder on the far side of the set. He begrudgingly admitted the guy looked to be taking his job seriously.

  They were about to begin filming when his cell phone started ringing in his pocket. He pulled it out in time to see his boss's name on his caller ID. Flashbacks of the diplomatic disaster he'd thrown the country into the week before invaded his thoughts, distracting him from his current mission. He hit the IGNORE button on the call.

  If he really needs to talk to me, he can leave a message.

  He flipped the phone to silent and threw it back in his pocket. When he looked up, several crew members in the area where giving him dirty looks for making noise. They distracted him momentarily and when he glanced back to where he'd last seen Khloe, she was gone. A quick scan of the area proved she was no longer on the set.

  And neither was McLean.

  His heart lurched. He'd only looked away for a few seconds. He'd never forgive himself if anything happened to her. There were faux walls, doors to nowhere, and large recording equipment making the area a mini-labyrinth. He took off to the last location she'd been standing in hopes of seeing where she might have gone.

  He was standing in the middle of the now empty courtroom when he spotted her waiting off-stage with the guy he suspected was the director.

  A grizzly looking guy with a beard like Santa Clause shouted at him. "Hey, who the hell are you? We're about to start shooting! Clear the set!"

  The hardened undercover operative forced on his best placid facade as he stalked toward Khloe. Their eyes met as he approached, and he could tell she was already in character, preparing for the upcoming scene. That was too damn bad. He'd forgotten to lay down some important rules.

  "I need to talk with you."

  The director answered before she could. "You haven't delayed us enough? Don't know who you are, but there's no time for chitchat. We have hours of work ahead of us."

  He towered over the shorter, portly man with an out-of-place fishing cap on. "I need one minute with Khloe." When the man started to object, Ryder raised his hand like a stop sign. "I insist."

  He squeezed her elbow, pulling her into motion beside him until they had a modicum of privacy amongst what looked like some old props and new cleaning supplies.

  "I can't believe you embarrassed me like that. I'm working here," she hissed.

  "Yeah, well so am I, and I don't appreciate you getting out of my line of sight."

  "You're kidding, right?"

  He hesitated, not wanting to scare her, but knowing she needed to take the
threats more seriously if she was going to stay safe.

  "Where did the first break-in take place?" Her caramel-brown eyes widened in alarm. When she didn't answer, he added. "In your locked, private home. And where was the second threat left?" He again answered for her. "In your locked, private trailer."

  He had her full attention. Drudging up the scariest moments in a person's life will do that.

  "If he can get to those places, he can get to you anywhere." Tears welled in her eyes. It struck him that in his past, seeing a woman crying usually meant he was having fun at one of the BDSM clubs he frequented. Things had changed the night he met the remarkable woman standing in front of him. These tears weren't fun.

  "I swear to you, I won't let that happen, but you need to be smart. Don't go anywhere alone. Don't leave the area without me or McLean with you."

  She protested, "Don't you think you're being a bit melodramatic? I mean what if I need to pee and you aren't around to escort me?"

  He reached on the shelf behind her to pull out an empty five-gallon bucket. He grinned. "Then, like you did at Black Light, you can pop a squat over the bucket here in the corner." He was rewarded with a mortified groan from Khloe before he got more serious. "I mean it. Do not leave the area without me, understand? I think you can guess how I would likely deal with your defiance on this."

  Her eyes widened with understanding before she teased him with her best imitation of an Army salute. "Yes, sir."

  Little did she know, she'd be saying 'yes, sir' often to him in the future if he had anything to say about it.

  "Can I get back to work now?" He heard the snark in her tone, but nodded yes. Only when she turned to retrace her steps back to the director did he pop her on the ass with a swat. She swung around, surprise on her face. "Hey, what was that for?"

  He leaned in, loving the scent of his own soap on her. "Just a preview of what to expect if you get too sassy, young lady."

  Raw desire mingled with apprehension in her beautiful eyes at the thought of being spanked. Little did she know, he'd be lighting up her ass just for fun, regardless of whether she earned it or not. The only thing she could control was whether it would be a good girl spanking or a naughty girl spanking. For her sake, he hoped it was the former.

  The next thirty minutes flew by. Ryder found another out-of-the-way place to observe, thoroughly enjoying watching her working her magic with her co-stars. Before he'd met her, he'd assumed, probably like the rest of the world, that Khloe Monroe was another pretty face in Hollywood, working her way to the top on her knees. Not that he was an expert in these matters, but she was the utmost professional. He watched the rest of the cast and crew defer to her, showing her respect he guessed was hard-earned in an industry like show business.

  The vibration of his phone distracted him again. This time he wasn't surprised when it was Webster calling. If he was calling twice in less than an hour, something was up. He looked around, spotting McLean nearby. He was tempted to take the call, to see what they had to say to him, but he couldn't do that unless he trusted McLean to handle solo protection duty.

  Ryder approached him, finally leaning in close to speak softly. "I need to take an important call. You think you can..."

  The bastard cut him off. "I've been protecting her for almost two years on my own. I think I can handle it."

  Ryder raised his hands in the universal surrender motion, before weaving away from the set, down the hall they'd entered through and back out into the mid-day heat. A feeling of dread settled in his gut as he found the number to Langley and hit SEND.

  Brandon answered on the first ring. "Glad you called."

  "Yeah, well you're not an alarmist so two calls in less than an hour while I'm supposed to be on vacation got my attention. What's up?"

  "We got confirmation. Viktor Volkov is dead."

  Ryder didn't need this call to confirm that. He'd seen many men die over the years. The old man may not have breathed his last breath when Ryder left, but he'd known Viktor wasn't long for this world when he'd left him bleeding out on the floor of the Bratva mansion.

  "Not surprised. What's the fallout been like?" That was less predicable.

  "That's why I'm calling. Artel is calling in favors from everyone he knows. He's not even trying to hide that he's looking for you." His boss paused before adding, "There's a hit out on you. A big one."

  "I'd be disappointed if there wasn't," he quipped. "Who'd he farm it out to?"

  "Everyone. He's made it an open field on your head."

  Okay, that was a surprise.

  "Do I want to know how much?"

  "Probably not. You should be honored though. I think it breaks the agency record." The seasoned agent on the other end chuckled as if they were talking about winning a bowling trophy.

  "Great. Not exactly the kind of award I was going for."

  "So far there's no indication he's uncovered your real identity, but if he's willing to pay enough, it's only a matter of time before he gets it. I don't need to tell you to stay lost until we work this out."

  "I should have fucking offed him when I had the chance," Ryder groused.

  "I'll deny I ever said it, but I wish you had, too. He had a hard-on for you even before you burned yourself. Artel has serious money and absolutely no conscience. I'd sure as hell hate to have him out for me."

  Ryder's feeling of dread was growing. He'd never even considered it before, but his presence could actually be putting Khloe into more danger than she'd been in before he'd arrived. A vision of Artel Volkov hurting Khloe the way he'd seen the monster hurt dozens of other women had Ryder's breakfast ready to make an appearance on the pavement.

  "Did you hear what I said?" His boss regained his attention.

  "Sorry. Can you repeat that?"

  "Chip Marshall wants to meet you. Something about thanking you in person for saving his family."

  "That'll have to wait. I've got too much shit going on to deal with that right now. Anyway, I was just doing my job."

  "Maybe, but not many agents would have gotten them all out alive. Listen, I gotta run to a damn budget meeting. Watch your six, will ya? And check in in a few days so I know you aren't road kill."

  "Nice. Thanks for the heads up."

  He stayed outside long enough to regain his cool composure despite the growing heat. It would do no good to panic. He needed some time alone to think through his options and make some decisions on next steps, but that would have to wait until they got back to the cabin.

  Anxious to get back to the set to catch Khloe in action, Ryder opened the door, noting that it wasn't secured in any way. The head of security was not going to like the shit about to fly his direction when Ryder finished his analysis of the studio's security, or lack thereof.

  It didn't take long to retrace his steps to the courtroom set, but instead of filming in progress, he found a bunch of extras milling about in the jury box. A quick glance around found the director and Khloe gone along with several other men who'd been loitering in suits. His blood pressure was rising with each second that ticked by without Khloe in sight.

  It wasn't lost on him that he'd be happy to see McLean in that moment, but even that asshole was missing.

  Stay calm. McLean is probably with her, as he should be.

  He asked one of the remaining crew, "Hey, did you see where Khloe went?"

  The guy didn't look up from the piece of furniture he was staining. "That's above my pay grade. They don't tell me where they're going. They don't tell me when they'll be back." Nice. A disgruntled employee.

  Ryder went back to the secluded area where he'd talked with her less than an hour before, pretty sure he wouldn't find her squatting over the bucket, but he had to check just the same. He searched for five minutes before he remembered the tracker.

  What a dumbass.

  It only took a minute to pull up the tracking app on his phone. He'd tested the accuracy before giving the bracelet to her. The homing device would track within six feet. When
the pinpoint marker showed she was still in the building, he sighed with relief. Using the app's map, he wound through the maze of darkened sets until he arrived at a huge door labeled Costume Department.

  The world's largest and most eclectic closet greeted him when he went through the door. The room had to be almost one-hundred feet long and fifty feet wide with triple layered rods hung in row after row–thousands of costumes and accessories from every genre... every time period...

  "Can I help you?"

  A portly woman with thick glasses looked up from the sewing machine she was working on behind the entry's counter.

  "Yeah... I'm looking for Khloe Monroe."

  The costume designer smiled indulgently. "Honey, she doesn't come to me. I go to her."

  "But... I..." He didn't want to disclose he'd put a tracking device on her. "I gave her a gold bracelet, and I was told it was in here. Did someone bring in..."

  While he was talking, she'd stood and walked to a pile of suits and dresses waiting to be rehung. When she turned, she held up the bracelet.

  "This what you're looking for? I wondered where it had come from."

  For the first time in a long time, Ryder panicked. Truly started to lose his shit. Snatching the tracker from her without another word, he took off running in the direction of the courtroom set while he switched over to his phone and called McLean.

  "Hello." At least the asshole answered.

  "Where the hell are you guys?" he shouted.

  "Who is this?"

  "Don't be stupid. This is Helms. Put Khloe on."

  He waited for Trevor to dish shit back. It didn't come.

  "She's not with me."

  "What? I told you not to let her out of your sight."

  The jerk tried to defend his stupidity. "I had to take a piss. These sessions can last hours. I'm sure she's still filming."

  "Do you really think I'd be calling you if she were on the set, asshole? You had one job. One fucking job!" Ryder ended the call before he lost his shit.

  Think. Where the hell would she go?