by Shayla Black
They were hopeless.
“You’re right.” She took her phone from the nightstand and brushed past him, trying to hold her tears in. “We should get to the studio.”
How cruel was life that she’d finally met a man with the kind of character she admired—a guy she could genuinely fall for, actually trust—only to have to give him up?
“I glanced at the traffic this morning. It’s a bear. You’re going to be late if we don’t move out soon.”
Reluctantly, she nodded. “I’ll hurry.”
“I’ll give you some privacy.” With another sharp nod, he stepped out of her bedroom.
She frowned. The lover who had shared her bed last night had not cared one whit about her privacy. He’d wanted to know everything she thought and felt as he filled her with stroke after endless, tormenting stroke. He’d used every one of her replies to unravel her body all night, taking her from one climax to the next. The man who had just retreated now seemed utterly unreachable.
Fighting off the bite of worry, she padded naked into the shower, quickly washed her hair then tossed in some product. She shoved it into a wet bun, wriggled into some yoga pants and a T-shirt, then brushed her teeth, moisturized her face . . . and looked in the mirror. Her restless mind wouldn’t slow her worrying.
What was she going to do without Cutter? What would he think if she admitted she was already wondering if she could keep him? If she told him she had feelings for him that ran deeper than expected after one night?
Shealyn swiped gloss across her chapped, well-kissed lips and dashed out of the bathroom, phone in hand. She automatically launched the home screen to check for messages, Tweets, and industry news.
What she saw stopped her cold.
PRIVATE NUMBER: You didn’t come alone. You’re going to pay.
Shealyn froze, gripping her device tightly as her heart started to race. With all the upheaval of Tower’s come-on and the pleasure of Cutter’s touch, she hadn’t had time to dissect the near-death experience. Now it came rushing back. The heat of the engine. The roar of the car. The revving of her terror.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” Cutter asked from the doorway.
She blinked and realized she was breathing so hard, the sound was nearly a whine. Of course he would hear it. Of course he would come running.
Trembling, she turned to him. Seemingly in slow motion, she handed him the phone.
He scanned the screen. A surprisingly strong, sibilant curse spilled from his throat with a growl. “Don’t panic, sweetheart. I have feelers out. I’ll follow up this morning.”
“What do you think the blackmailers intend?”
“Could be anything. My best guess is they’re threatening to expose you.”
“Why? They’ve got their money.”
“But you didn’t follow directions. They know it, and that’s partially my fault. Let me fix the problem.”
“How?” She trembled. “Even if you figure out exactly who’s responsible, would they really be sloppy enough to leave evidence behind to prove it? And like you said, if we call the police, the news will be everywhere.”
“Then let’s get proactive. What if you called that PR person of yours, um . . .”
“Sienna,” she supplied.
“Yeah. Tell her to send out a statement that you recently strayed from Tower and you deeply regret it. The two of you are reevaluating your relationship and you’d appreciate privacy during this difficult time, etcetera. That way if the video comes out, you’ve let the air out of these assholes’ sails and you don’t have to pay them again.”
She cringed. “I don’t think we have a choice. I’ll call Sienna when I get a break today, but I have to tell Tower first. This affects him and his career, too. Christ, what a mess. And . . . I worry a public admission of guilt won’t stop these guys from trying to kill me again.”
He gritted his teeth. “It may not.”
“Maybe you should stay longer,” Shealyn blurted.
Yes, she’d been looking for a reason to hang on to him, but not because she feared for her life.
“Let me see what I can figure out this weekend, then we’ll decide what to do. You don’t have any filming scheduled?”
“After today, we’re done until Tuesday, when we’ll film promo spots. Tom’s daughter from his previous marriage lives in Seattle. He’s heading there for the weekend to celebrate her birthday.”
Cutter nodded. “I’ll look into this text. Don’t worry.”
“But I do. And I hate that asking for your help puts you in danger.”
“It’s my job.”
“But he tried to run you over. You’re risking your life for me and—”
“He tried to run you over, too. I’m more equipped to deal with it. So I’ll see what I can do to find some answers. My goal is to make you safe so we can both get back to our lives.” Cutter put a hand to the small of her back to guide her out the door. “Let’s get you to work.”
His gesture, usually comforting, now made her want to sob.
Shealyn twisted away. “You’re right. Let’s not make this more difficult. It would be better if you didn’t touch me.”
He dropped his hand immediately.
That was the last thing Shealyn wanted but he merely nodded as she let herself out the door and slid into his SUV. He got in, occupying the seat beside her. Even though she didn’t look at him, she felt him right beside her. So close, but so far away . . . How would she deal when he wasn’t there anymore? Once she could feel his absence all the way down to her soul?
CHAPTER 12
“. . . just got your message,” Hunter Edgington said through the phone late that afternoon. “Uncle Logan was an idiot, wasn’t he?” he crooned as much to his infant son as he did to Cutter. “Phoenix agrees.”
“What did Logan do?” Cutter could only imagine.
The two brothers had long ago been dubbed Fire and Ice. Hunter was always calculated, careful, almost mechanical in his precision under pressure. In that same op, Logan would be reckless, willing to do anything—no matter how crazy—to succeed. Together, they balanced out each other. Apart . . . he could only imagine what crazy crap Logan had managed to get himself into.
“Oh, he had the fantastic idea to buy a Razor scooter. Not for himself, of course.” Hunter’s tongue-in-cheek comment would have made Cutter laugh if he’d been in any mood for antics. “No, he bought it for Tyler Murphy’s boys. Because the mountain of toys Ty and Delaney have amassed for their kids couldn’t possibly be enough. And before he gave this scooter to three rambunctious boys under the age of five, naturally he had to try it out. Down their sloped, L-shaped driveway, despite the fact that he’d never ridden one.” Hunter sighed. “So my younger brother has just come home from the ER—a broken finger and twelve stitches later. He also managed to sprain his knee. It’s swollen like a bitch. So whatever he was working on for you? No idea, and he’s loopy on pain meds right now.”
Cutter tried not to lose his mind. Logan hadn’t injured himself on purpose. But of all the terrible timing . . . “I need an ID on someone, pronto. I sent Logan a picture a few days ago. I also need to see if a story checks out.”
If Logan couldn’t confirm Foster’s identity or coma, he’d have to ask Shealyn for access to her phone to scan that Facebook group her ex’s sister had set up for him, find whatever verifiable information he could. And if she didn’t agree . . . well, he knew her password. He didn’t like the idea of snooping behind her back again. But he liked even less that a thug who had footage of a stranger seducing her in a dressing room was willing to kill her for money. Like a stray thread, Cutter would rather snip off the loose end of this blackmailer for good. To do that, he needed answers, which had proven damn elusive so far.
While Hunter murmured assurances in his ear, Cutter scanned the set for his charge. Yep, Shealyn was still whe
re he’d last seen her . . . and still wearing something white and lacy and far closer to nothing than he’d like. Tower still had his arm around her waist, holding her close as if he had every right to touch her anywhere, at any time, for any reason.
Despite the fact that Cutter planned to marry someone else, he wanted to beat the shit out of the puffed-up actor.
“Everything else all right there?” Hunter’s tone told Cutter his boss was fishing. The brothers talked a lot, especially about “their fuck-ton of problems,” in other words the staff they’d inherited when their father retired and left his security business to his three sons. Until now, One-Mile had been their primary pain in the ass. Cutter had gone out of his way to be dependable, efficient, and as close to perfect as possible. The other guys who worked for EM Security Management weren’t quite so easy to deal with. Trees seemed all right, just taller than hell and a wicked-smart loner. But Zyron had a mouth that wouldn’t quit . . . and a soft spot for the shy new office assistant. Josiah was downright reckless. Oh, he went above and beyond to ensure everyone stayed out of harm’s way but when the action went down, he didn’t give two shits about his own safety, as if he had a damn death wish.
Hunter and his brothers relied on Cutter to take care of business without mess or fuss. So they hadn’t taken well his admission that their cleanest operative was involved with a client.
“Let’s cut to the chase. Ms. West is definitely still in danger, and whatever we may or may not do in our private lives isn’t anyone’s concern.”
“Is that what you think? Let me make this clear: Don’t take clients to bed, Bryant.”
Unlike Logan, he couldn’t fault Hunter for breaking that rule. Kata had already been his wife when someone had decided he should off her. Hunter had merely stepped in and shut that down. Of course, it had nearly cost him his life—and his marriage.
“Anything else you want to talk about?” Cutter prompted instead. He might work for Hunter, but he wasn’t saying a word that would jeopardize Shealyn. If EM Security Management didn’t like it, they could fire him.
“You’re a stubborn bastard.”
Cutter took that in stride. Maybe he was. Yes, he’d taken one look at Shealyn West and made some stupid choices. They were behind him now and he wasn’t proud of his lapse, personally or professionally. Yes, he had control over his hands . . . but who really had control over their heart? “Says the guy who met his wife at her birthday party and got her tipsy so he could elope with her that same night.”
“Hey, she was already tipsy.” Then he swallowed a laugh. “Okay, I was a stubborn bastard, too. Just . . . don’t let Shealyn West mess with your head. You’ve got a job to do.”
And he knew exactly how important it was that he didn’t screw this up. “Understood.”
“At least you have good taste in women. She’s pretty.”
Way too beautiful, inside and out, to resist.
“Call me as soon as you know anything,” Cutter insisted.
“Yeah. You know . . . my brother and I bluster and maybe we give you a hard time because we expect a spotless op from you. But you can talk to us. I mean, if you need to.”
Because discussing his screwed-up love life with his bosses wouldn’t be awkward at all. “Thanks.”
They rang off, and Cutter forced himself to watch the filming in progress. Tower had Shealyn pressed against the desk in his make-believe office. With one hand, he ripped off his tie. With the other, he braced himself on the hard surface, above her body. Then he kissed her—with way more gusto than he had during Monday’s takes.
Cutter watched the man’s mouth work over Shealyn’s, and all he could remember were the hours he’d devoted to worshipping her, the desires he’d communicated to her through their kisses. Seeing another man press his mouth to the soft, rosy lips he’d consumed—hell, owned—burned him where he sat.
What was she thinking? Feeling? Was Tower’s touch arousing her? Was she reconsidering the man as a lover because he would be here long after Cutter had gone?
He needed to stop fucking thinking about her. But he didn’t know how. He’d never had to try to resist a client before.
The scene dragged on, the heated kisses continued. Tower, in full character as the powerful Dylan, took what he wanted from his ingénue star, Annabelle. By all appearances, Shealyn returned his passion, panting and gasping and clutching at Tower, seemingly desperate for more. The sounds she made reminded Cutter of those she’d eked out in need when he’d been deep inside her last night. Yes, he knew her job was to act out whatever the script contained. In this case, that was for Dylan and Annabelle to turn up the heat on their forbidden affair, despite his destructive marriage, the vicious press, and her scheming family. Logically, Cutter knew that. Realistically, he didn’t want another man touching her.
For his sanity, he needed to take a giant step back. For her safety, he couldn’t.
Son of a bitch.
When they finally came up for air, Cutter swore he’d gripped the arms of the wooden chair so hard he’d left splinters. Tom yelled, “Cut!” Both stars rose to their feet. Tower was awfully slow to release her. His hand lingered at her waist.
Cutter couldn’t stand it anymore and barged his way closer as the hair and makeup people flurried around her and wrapped a gentle but firm clasp around her elbow, easing her away from Tower. “Do you need a trip to your trailer?”
She blinked, seemingly startled by his sudden presence beside her. “Actually, that would be great. Tom . . .” she called to the director. “I’ll be back in five.”
“Take ten. We need a few to set up for the next scene.”
“Thanks.” She headed for the door, and Cutter followed.
So did Tower.
As Shealyn stepped into her trailer, Cutter blocked the stairs to the door, keeping Tower at bay.
Instead of chasing her, the actor snarled his way. “You and I need to have a few words, Bryant.”
They didn’t. “My job is to protect Shealyn, not to entertain you.”
“You think you’re funny? I don’t like the way you look at Shealyn, like you own her.”
“I don’t. This is just my resting dick face.” He turned away to focus on Shealyn because every moment he was haggling with this tool was a moment he wasn’t protecting her.
When Cutter reached for the handle of the trailer door, Tower seized his arm. “Hey, I wasn’t done talking to you.”
Icy fury froze Cutter. He glared over his shoulder and cast a pointed glance at Tower’s fingers clutching his biceps, squeezing as if he thought the pressure would hurt. “Don’t touch me. I can take you apart.”
The steroid junkie scoffed. “You? Is that a threat . . . or a joke?”
“It’s the truth. I took down a shitload of terrorists in Afghanistan, many in hand-to-hand, so you’ll be a breeze. You’ve got three seconds to let go.”
With a curse, Tower released him. “Stay away from Shealyn. You don’t belong in her world. I’ll be better for her in the long run.”
Had Shealyn admitted that she’d spent the night with her bodyguard or was the actor merely guessing? “Like you were good for Nicole Rogers? Classy . . . Publicly ditching her for your new co-star while privately still sleeping with her. I’m sure she felt valued.”
Tower’s eyes widened as if he hadn’t expected anyone to know another of his dirty little secrets before they narrowed again. “Nicole was different.”
“Keep telling yourself that. Only Shealyn decides who she wants close to her. Not me. Not you. So fuck off.”
Cutter stomped the rest of the way up the stairs and let himself in the door. As soon as he locked it behind him, he scanned the space for Shealyn. Normally, posers like Tower never rattled him. Right now, he was shaking with anger. Jesus, he was allowing his emotions to get the better of him and it was dangerous—in more than one way.
/> Shealyn stepped from the bathroom, rubbing lotion into her hands. She stopped short when she saw him. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t like Tower’s hands on you. I don’t want him kissing you. I’m going to hit him if he pushes you for more.
Then again, maybe she’d reconsidered her feelings. Maybe she’d taken his warnings this morning to heart and decided to give Tower a real chance.
At the thought, Cutter fought off the urge to crush the douche.
What did you think was going to happen if you told her nothing between you could last? That she’d pine away the rest of her days in celibate misery?
No. Separation between them was for the best. He had to pull his head out of his ass. She had a career to think about. He had Brea and the future.
Easier said than done. No wonder Logan and Hunter had both warned him about getting involved with a client.
“Nothing. Are you all right?”
She paused and braced a hand on her cocked hip. “You mean am I upset that Tower suddenly decided to act like he’s actually my lover? It makes for good TV. I don’t feel physically threatened, if that’s what you’re asking. And if you and I are better apart, then how I feel shouldn’t matter to you.”
“You’re always going to matter, even when I’m not here.” He shouldered his way past her and checked the small interior of the space. “Your trailer is clear. I’ll walk you back to the set when you’re ready.”
“Wait.” She stopped him with a word. “I’m sorry if I’m snippy. Nothing that’s happening now is easy. I don’t mean to take my frustration out on you.”
Yes, she was under a lot of stress. But he heard the yearning in her voice. They both wanted more together—time, pleasure, opportunity to see where this could lead. The cards had been stacked against them before their hand had even been dealt.