by D. V. Berkom
“Where were your other friends?”
“It was just me and Jarvis. The thing at the hotel hadn't happened yet. Kind of cramps my style to have a bunch of people around, you know?”
“I thought you A-listers always rolled with a posse.”
Miles waved his hand dismissively. “Like I said, it cramps my style. Besides, I get tired of people wanting to hang with me because I'm famous and know people.”
“Well, now you have me to get between you and the hangers-on. I guarantee that won't be a problem while I'm around.”
Miles smiled. It was the first genuine smile Leine had seen him use since she'd arrived.
“That's good. Did Walter explain that I need you to be my shadow? Twenty-four-seven, Leine. That's what I'm paying for.”
Leine sighed. “Yes. He briefed me. I trust it doesn't extend to the bedroom?”
Miles' eyes widened for a second, then crinkled at the corners as he grinned. He wagged his finger at her and said, “I think I'm going to like you, Leine.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
“REALLY? YOU'RE WORKING SECURITY FOR Miles Fournier? Oh my God, mom, you've got to let me meet him.” April practically squealed into the phone. Yet another reaction Leine would never have predicted from her almost twenty-one-year-old daughter.
Now that the District Attorney decided to drop manslaughter charges against April, things were progressing well between the two of them. Leine didn't think of their relationship as estranged anymore. Not after April shot and killed the psycho who had abducted her and tortured Leine.
A serial killer was as good a bonding agent as any.
The only problem now was April wanted to learn the business. To put her off, Leine told her she'd train her in self-defense to start. Couldn't hurt.
“We'll see how things go, April. The job only lasts two weeks, so I'm not promising anything. I had no idea you liked Miles Fournier.”
“Are you kidding me? He's totally sexy.”
“You think? I didn't get that at all.”
“Oh, mom. The way you're tuned into Detective Jensen, you can't see anyone but him.” April sighed. “It would do you some good to lighten up, maybe date someone else, you know.”
Leine laughed. “So says my daughter who's joined at the hip with a cute geek named Cory.” Cory had been instrumental in locating April after Azazel, the Serial Date Killer, abducted her. The two of them re-kindled their friendship and it developed into something more. Leine was all for it—the kid was nice and knew his way around a computer.
“Mom, can I tell you something?”
“Anything.”
“I'm really glad we're back to…normal. I missed you.”
Leine's heart did a joyful little flip. During her hunt for April and the killer, she'd sworn she would do everything in her power to heal their relationship, no matter what. Looked like her efforts might be working.
“Me too.” Leine cleared her throat and blinked back the tears that threatened to make an appearance. “I'd better go. I have a lot of work to do before the day's over. And, yes, I'll see if there's some way for you to meet him.”
“Awesome! Thanks, mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, honey.” The words felt strange and wonderful in her mouth. It was a good feeling to know she wasn't alone anymore. Leine had her family back.
***
“You ready to go?” Leine asked, watching Miles carefully comb his hair. They were about to attend their first outing together—a handprint ceremony at Grauman's Chinese Theater. Miles grumbled about all the appearances he was expected to make, but Leine could tell by the way he made sure everything was perfect, from his hair to the fit of his Brioni suit, that he was being disingenuous.
“Yeah. One more thing.”
She followed him down the curved staircase to the entry hall. Miles jogged toward the kitchen while Leine checked the nine millimeter in her shoulder holster. She'd insisted Miles wear a wireless transmitter so she could remain inconspicuous at the event, fading into the background like he requested, while still keeping her eyes and ears on him. The tiny receiver she wore had a range of fifty feet. Safe was much better than sorry.
Miles returned to the foyer with a large thermos in hand. Leine eyed it warily. She sighed. It's only two weeks, Leine.
They walked out to the waiting limousine. Leine had ordered the car early, swept it for bugs and bombs, and ran a brief background check on the driver. She was in constant radio contact with the two guards hired to patrol the perimeter. The security company Leine hired installed most of the equipment on the estate earlier that day.
“God, I hate these things. You always have to be on.” Miles settled back in the seat as the car began to move, opened his thermos and poured himself a healthy drink. “You want some?” he asked.
“No thanks.” Leine gestured toward the mini-bar next to her. “Why not drink their stuff? Much easier than bringing your own, yes?” He couldn't be that paranoid. She'd assured him she checked everything in the car, including making sure the seals were intact on the booze.
Miles took a long draw from the glass and grinned. “It's hard to make a slushy in a limo.”
They made it to the theater without incident, and the limo parked at the back entrance. Leine had checked in with the theater's administration office earlier in the day for the layout of the venue. Paparazzi, along with a throng of fans, crowded the front courtyard behind metal barriers. Notorious for his unfriendly attitude toward the photographers, even when they were invited, Miles needed to be kept far away from them.
On the way, he'd polished off the thermos filled with tequila and Leine detected a slight slur when he spoke. Hopefully he'd lay off the booze until the party afterwards. If not, he'd be über trashed by the time they left, and Leine wanted to reduce the possibility of dramatic exits. She didn't have enough of a bead on him yet to know if he'd be hard to handle. She'd read about a scuffle or two with photographers in one of the celebrity magazines, but they were prone to sensationalize. Leine needed to judge his personality for herself.
Introduced by a famous late-night comedian, Miles made his entrance onto the red-carpeted dais to enthusiastic applause, camera flashes and wolf-whistles. Leine melted into the background. Thankfully, he hid his inebriation well and appeared in control of the stage.
Contained by the metal barriers, the crowd pressed forward to get a better look at their latest movie star du jour. Several rows of chairs for VIPs stood between them and the stage. Leine had to admit, the venue evoked a nostalgic sense of movie history and reminded her of when she was a kid and her family had taken a vacation to Hollywood. The forecourt still held the same fascination for tourists as it did then.
She moved through the crowd, one ear on Miles' speech, the other tuned to what was going on around her. Leine wore dark slacks and a matching jacket, blending with on-site security, and sported a good pair of running shoes. She never wore heels on the job. Too many ways to lose your target. Leine hated when television shows and movies put women cops and investigators in stilettos when they were supposed to be working. How the hell were they supposed to stop the bad guys? Throw their shoes at them? Maim them with a sultry glance? It was hard enough to stay upright in them.
She recognized several celebrities sitting in the VIP section. As she scanned the crowd, movement to her left caught her attention. A young girl was trying to climb through a gap in the metal barrier, apparently to get to Miles.
Leine started toward her, but before she could get close enough, the girl's expression changed to one of surprise and what could only be described as panic. In an instant, she was gone, disappearing into the throng. Leine searched the crowd, looking for what or who scared her off. Two men, one with a bandage covering his nose, stuck out from the mass of pre-teens and their mothers. They both wore bulky jackets, zipped closed against the warm afternoon. Leine walked toward them, her hand instinctively moving to the gun under her jacket. She noticed a uniformed cop nearby and, thinking b
etter of it, lowered her hand.
One of the two men glanced at her and said something to the guy with the bandage. He turned to look at her and narrowed his eyes. They immediately changed direction and started to thread back through the crowd, away from Leine.
She stopped and watched as the two men broke free from the mass of people and hurried down the sidewalk in the opposite direction of the ceremony. The little girl was nowhere to be seen. Leine wondered why the two men were after her. Her gut told her the reason wasn't good. With a job to do she turned her attention to the crowd, pushing the image of the little girl's face, along with an uneasy feeling, to the back of her mind.
Miles placed his hands into the wet cement to explosive applause, mugging for the cameras with a big grin on his face.
***
Mara heaved a sigh of relief as Yuri and the other man with him inexplicably turned and walked away from where she'd been hiding. That had been close. They'd almost caught her. She would have to be more careful next time. She watched the tall, pretty woman in the dark suit return to the side of the stage near Miles Fournier. Mara assumed she was a friend of his. Getting Miles' attention was a lot harder than she thought it was going to be. She had to think of a better way. If she couldn't talk to Miles, maybe she could somehow get to the woman, or someone close to him.
Now that the ceremony was over, the crowd broke up and people started to leave. The costumed characters who usually worked the area hassling tourists for money started drifting back to the forecourt, approaching anyone with a camera to pose for a fee. For a moment, Mara panicked, wondering where she was going to go. It was almost dark and she needed to find a safe place to sleep. She'd already tried going to a homeless shelter, but they wanted to know where her guardian was. Mara knew if she said she didn't have one, they'd call the police or some other agency and they'd send her back to the foster monster in Nevada. Besides that, scary people stayed there. She didn't feel safe. Miles Fournier was the only person she could trust in L.A. She had to talk to him before Yuri and the others found her again.
She sagged to the curb next to a bike rack and leaned her head on her forearms. She wished her real mother would come looking for her. The day the people came to take her away had been the worst day of Mara's life. They told her that Mara was going to live with a nice woman. Only the woman wasn't nice. Neither was her boyfriend, and he was a cop. He used to hit Mara in the stomach, telling her no one would believe her if she told because there weren't any bruises. One time, when he'd been drinking, he tried to take her clothes off. Her foster mother walked in on them and started screaming at Mara. That's when she ran away. She'd walked half way to her old apartment when the nice man offered her a ride. She knew now she shouldn't have gotten in the car, just like everyone always warned her.
“Are you okay?” One of the performers dressed as SpongeBob Square Pants stood in front of her, cartoon hands on non-existent hips.
Mara glanced up at him, tears welling in her eyes. She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Aw, man. Here—” SpongeBob held out his hand. Mara hesitated a moment, then grabbed hold and allowed him to help her to her feet.
“Are you by yourself?” SpongeBob asked as he scanned the people walking by on the sidewalk.
Mara nodded. “Y-yes.” She knew she shouldn't trust anybody, but she was so tired. And besides, how could anyone who looked like SpongeBob be bad?
SpongeBob looked around once more and said, “C'mon with me, sweetheart. I'll get you set up with some hot food and a place to sleep for the night, okay?”
Mara nodded, grateful to let a grownup take control, even if he was dressed like a cartoon character.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE AFTER-CEREMONY PARTY WAS in full swing when Miles made his entrance. Held at the Malibu beach home of an industry bigwig, the venue's understated opulence acted as the perfect backdrop to the trendy crowd of beautiful people. Leine stayed within range of the transmitter, while making herself inconspicuous. Not a difficult thing to do—as soon as people realized she wasn't famous or influential, they left her alone.
She paused for a moment at the bar and ordered club soda with lime from the bartender. A Mediterranean-looking man of medium height with an intense expression walked over and stood next to her. Leine guessed he was in his early thirties.
“They're all here, aren't they?” he said, surveying the crowd.
When Leine didn't answer, he turned to look at her. “You're new to this group.” He extended his hand. “Rico Pallini. Miles Fournier's agent.”
Leine shook his hand and said, “Leine Basso. Miles’ security.”
Pallini smiled. “Figured. You have that aura about you.”
“Meaning?”
“Secure. Won't take shit off of anyone. Looks to me like you could hold your own in a fight.” He took his drink from the bartender. “Am I right?”
Leine gave him half a shrug and turned her attention to where Miles chatted animatedly with a distinguished looking older man she thought she recognized.
Pallini leaned against the bar. “Miles is pretty freaked out about what happened. He said you were referred by LAPD.”
“That's right.” Leine replied, still watching Miles and the other man.
“Do you really think they were trying to kidnap him? I mean, Miles is an actor, if you catch my drift.”
Leine turned and gave him one of her icy stares. “Mr. Pallini, I'm here because Mr. Fournier thought what happened at the hotel was a threat to his life and livelihood. I have no feelings one way or another, except that my job is to keep him safe, whatever the threat level.”
Pallini raised his hands. “Whoa. I didn't mean to piss you off.” His chuckle sounded more like a nervous giggle. “Seriously,” he continued, “I'm glad to see he's got a professional watching his back. He looks like his old self tonight. I think that's because of you.”
Or the thermos full of tequila, Leine thought. She mentally filed Pallini away as a suck up.
Miles' voice grew louder and he began to act and sound agitated. Without a word to Pallini, Leine moved toward him and the gentleman he was speaking with. Pallini followed and grabbed her by the arm as she was about to intervene in the conversation. She turned back, anger edging out annoyance. Pallini dropped his hand and took a step back.
“That's Stone Ellison, the head of Voyeur Films. Probably the most powerful man in Hollywood right now.”
“I don't care if it's Jesus H. Christ himself. My client is distressed and I need to know why.” She turned back, but realized Miles had calmed down and was speaking in a more neutral tone. Leine melted back into the crowd, but remained close. Pallini stuck with her. Great, she thought. Now I'll have to lose this idiot.
“They're talking about an upcoming project. It's best if you steer clear.”
Leine bristled, a slight twitch starting near her eye. “I'm sorry. Are you telling me how to do my job? Because I don't see anything that tells me you're qualified to give me advice. Maybe you should do whatever an agent does and leave me to do what I do. Besides,” she nodded her head at Miles and Ellison, “shouldn't you be part of the conversation, protecting his interests?”
It was Pallini's turn to bristle. “Ellison wanted to talk to him alone. I'm not happy about it, but whatever Ellison wants, Ellison gets. Besides, Miles won't sign anything until I look it over.” He delivered the last statement with a smug look.
“Good to know. We're clear, then? You let me do my job and I let you do yours?” Leine asked.
“Yeah. We're clear.” Pallini scowled but backed off. She knew she wasn't making friends, but she had a job to do and Pallini resembled an annoying gnat with delusions of being a raptor. Granted, she hadn't quite gotten over her dislike of Hollywood types and it showed. She'd have to modify her reactions in the future if she was going to be effective in her job. Flies and honey and that kind of shit.
As the night wore on, Miles continued to drink heavily. He appeared to handle himself unti
l well after midnight, when, in a random moment, he latched onto a young woman's breast. The woman, wearing a body hugging strapless dress and high heels, giggled drunkenly and whispered into his ear. He nodded and continued to feel her up. Another partygoer whipped out their smart phone and aimed it at the couple. Leine stepped in front of the photo taker as they were about to snap the picture and suggested to Miles they leave.
“Sure thing, Leine.” He turned to the woman whose breast he still held and asked, “Seeing as how we're intimately acquainted, might I request the pleasure of your company back to my place?”
The woman giggled again and nodded, almost falling off her stilettos. Leine caught her arm to steady her. Miles let go of her breast and offered his elbow. With another giggle, she wrapped her arm in his and Leine led them through the last of the partiers to the waiting limo.
Miles and the young woman weaved their way toward the open car door and fell inside, one on top of the other. Laughter erupted from the interior. Leine stood near the door, waiting until they'd untangled themselves before she pulled out her phone.
“May I have your social security number or driver's license, please? I need to run a quick check before we leave. I'm sure you understand.”
The young woman frowned slightly before lapsing back into a giggling fit. Miles laughed along with her as if she were the funniest person he'd met all evening. Leine cleared her throat.
“Your identification?” Leine repeated.
“Wait a minute…I think it's in my bag…” The woman dropped her purse on the ground outside the car, spilling the contents, and erupted in a cascade of giggles. Leine bent to retrieve the purse, wondering again at the stupidity of taking the job when Miles ordered the driver to go. The chauffeur glanced in the side mirror before slowly pulling away from Leine.