Craving Midnight

by A. M. Hargrove

  “My guess is it’s in Daddy’s desk drawer, or a safe in his office. If not there, it’s in a safe in his house.”

  “The cleaning service.”

  “And the safe?”

  “Our man, Teddy. He can tap into anything.”

  “Security cameras?”

  Leland laughs. “Rashid, who else?”

  “They’re closed circuit.”

  “You know damn well he can hack into those and send some phony video feed to the security guys. Don’t ask me specifics. I’m not smart like that, but remember how he did it when we had to get into that office over in Beverly Hills? He did some magic thing that worked like a charm.”

  “Yeah, but maybe they all don’t work like that.”

  “Call him. He can at least tell you what he’d need.”

  I call Rashid and he says he would need to hack into their system and control it from his end. How he would do it, I have no idea. I’ll let him worry about that. All I care about is that there’s a possibility it can work. I give him the name of the law practice and wait to hear back from him.

  Motioning to Leland, I say, “Let’s go tell dumbass what’s going on.” When we get back to the conference room, our guy looks like he’s ready to cry.

  “Okay, here’s the deal. We can’t do anything for you unless we get the phone. So give us a few days to work on it.”

  “Like I told you, I only got forty-eight hours.”

  “Then we’ll work on it for forty-eight hours. If we can’t deliver, we don’t charge. But if we get the phone—and don’t ask us how we got it—your bill is gonna be pricey.”

  “I can work with that.”

  I stare him down. “One more thing. No more fuck-ups. I don’t work with people twice for shit like this.”

  “You got it.”

  He tells us everything he possibly can about this girl. I don’t care if it has to do with how many times she farted, but we need details. Believe it or not, his memory of her is pretty fucking amazing—even the non-naked parts. The girl ran her mouth. Told him all kinds of shit. Emily records everything. From what we gather, sounds like Daddy will have everything we need at his office.

  Now the fun starts. The next night our guy joins their cleaning crew. Rashid does his thing with the security cameras. He’ll run a loop that will block out what’s going on while our guy is in Daddy’s office, cleaning. Luck happens to be in our camp. The phone is in the drawer and not the safe, which our guy found when he picked the lock with ease. He takes the phone, and makes sure the power is off.

  As soon as he has it, he cleans the office and leaves. We signal to Rashid to bring up the camera again and it’s back online, with no one the wiser. We meet our guy to retrieve the phone.

  Now comes the fun. We disable the tracking by putting it in airplane mode while our video/photography expert goes to work on the phone. He alters each video and photo our client is in, removes him, and inserts a different man with his face cut out or blurred to the point where he can’t be recognized. Every text is also deleted. Unless the videos were uploaded to a flash drive or computer, we’re good. If they were, our client is still up that shit creek.

  We take the phone back to our guy who’s waiting for us and call Rashid. He spins his magic again with the security cameras; the phone is taken out of airplane mode and delivered back to Daddy’s drawer.

  Two days later, our client calls and says the charges against him were dropped. He’s crying like a baby. I let him know to keep the tissue around because he’ll be crying again when he gets my bill.

  That attorney must not have been very smart. Had that been my daughter, I would’ve made duplicate copies of those videos and photos. But then again, I’m a suspicious fucker because of this business I’m in, so go figure.

  Leland is in my office and I grab the back of my neck for a second before I ask, “You don’t think he forced her to do anything she didn’t want to do?”

  “You’re joking, right?”

  “No.” I look him squarely in the eye. He doesn’t budge.

  “This wasn’t the first time that girl did this. My guess is she’s been around that dog-and-pony show a few times. I’m not sure you paid attention, but it looked to me she was auditioning for a porn. She had her phone at the perfect angle, set to capture everything. Did you pay attention to what else was on her phone?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “Let’s just say Daddy needs to keep a better handle on what she does. There were a lot of nude pictures on there, and they weren’t of our guy.”

  I have a flashback to my days at Crestview. Some of the girls there were fairly aggressive, particularly Felicia Cunningham. She had a thing for giving blow jobs. She seemed to corner either Prescott or me all the time. I think half the guys in school were either sucked or fucked by her. But she never wanted to be videoed. Then again, we didn’t have phones that could video back then, not that I can remember anyway.

  “Maybe she just likes fucking. Who knows?” I ask.

  “Well, we can expect a hefty bundle because of that appetite of hers.”

  That young girl has me thinking about the porn industry and my mind flips to Midnight. I wonder what she’s up to. We haven’t talked since yesterday. It’s not that I don’t want to see her, because that couldn’t be further from the truth. I want to see her too much. But she’s busy with work. That’s what my brain is telling me.

  But something entirely different is in my heart. And I’m ignoring it. Completely.

  Chapter 19

  Midnight

  Exhaustion weighs my limbs down, making them feel leaden. Sleep has eluded me for the past couple of weeks. I haven’t seen Harrison. We’ve only talked or texted. Normally, this lack of communication wouldn’t be a problem for me. I’ve never given a damn about men before. Fact is, I’ve never really dated much or even had a boyfriend. So why him? Why now? I need to focus. My concentration needs to be razor sharp.

  I stumbled through my lines today, but fortunately, Holt was on point and made it appear like I was the sad, sappy wife who was ignored while he was planning his stupid bank robbery. He and I had an argument, in character, and we had to do more than several takes because of my forgotten lines. I was angry with myself at being so invested in Harrison. I channeled that anger to Christine and the scene came out as one emotional piece of drama.

  “Cut,” Greg yells, and I collapse on the chair behind me.

  “Hey, you okay?” Holt asks.

  “Yeah. Just exhausted.”

  “Sit tight. I’ll get you some tea.”

  He’s been so courteous over the last few weeks, I can barely recall asshole Holt anymore. A mug of tea is shoved into my hand and I lift my eyes to see his smiling face. His eyes are kind, soft green today.

  “Thanks.” I sip the herbal concoction and hide my grimace. I hate tea but Holt swears by it. He doesn’t drink coffee—says it decays your brain cells and prevents you from bringing out your emotions. I call huge bullshit on that but I drink tea on the set to please him. I’ve learned a happy Holt equates to a happy Midnight.

  He takes a seat next to me and goes into a lengthy explanation about the benefits of chamomile tea and melatonin. Bless him. I want to tell him I need Harrison to lick my clit until I come and then fuck me like a wild panther, but I refrain. I wonder if that would shock him. A gigantic yawn overtakes me and Holt’s eyes widen.

  “Jeez, I’ve never seen someone yawn like that.”

  “Sorry. I’m glad today’s Friday. I plan to spend tomorrow in bed.”

  A lopsided grin, the one the women love, takes away his serious expression. “You want some company?”

  I’m floored. The horrible tea I just took a sip of lodges in my airway. I sputter, then it explodes out of my mouth as I erupt in a spasm of coughing.

  “Christ, are you okay?”

  Speech is impossible. People stare as I cough and choke. Holt stands and pounds my back.

  “Say something, dammit.”
>
  My hand goes up in the air, because talking isn’t possible while coughing. Finally, when the episode passes, I say, “Damn, that went down the wrong hatch.”

  “You scared the shit out of me.”

  “Scared the shit out of me too.” Only I’m not referring to the tea.

  His hand is still on my back, massaging it between my shoulder blades. This is totally awkward.

  “So, are we on for a weekend together between the sheets?” He waggles his brows.

  “Uh, yeah, about that. I’m kind of seeing someone.”

  He jerks back and nails me with a glare. “Nope, that definitely won’t work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  He sits back down and says, “You and me, we have this ... this chemistry going.” His hand waves between us. “It’s time to connect away from the set. We would be great together.”

  I’d like to inform him I’m the girl who used to give blow jobs on film for a living but I zip my lips. He would just die.

  “Aren’t you dating someone?”

  He bats the air again. “Not anymore. I told her to take a hike after the first kiss you and I shared.” He scoots his chair around to face me. “I felt it, Midnight. I know you did too. It was surreal.”

  It was part of the scene, the characters. Is it possible he’s delusional?

  “Holt, you’re right. But we were in character, remember? We were acting.”

  “No, that’s not true. It was the real thing.”

  He continues to stare, as if what I said is completely irrelevant. So I continue. “And like I said, I’m with someone.”

  “You’ll have to dump him. We’re cerebral, Midnight.” Then he jumps up and is gone. What the hell does that mean?

  The rest of our shooting that day is fucked. Holt is stilted and forced with all his lines. I try to overcompensate, but it’s shit. Even Greg calls him out, but he tries to blame it on me, saying I’m not stepping up to the plate. It escalates into a huge fight, with Holt storming out of the studio.

  Danny approaches me. “What the fuck happened between you two?”

  “The truth?”

  “Yes!”

  “He wanted to spend the weekend in bed with me and I told him I’m seeing someone. He completely changed after that.”

  Danny throws his arms in the air and lets out a long, anguished sigh. “Not this again.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We went through this with Jennifer Arlington. When he found out she was almost engaged, he flipped. Couldn’t get why she wouldn’t dump her guy for him.”

  “Yeah, well, it’s not happening in my case.”

  Danny flips his hand. “Don’t worry about it. If he doesn’t get his shit together, we’ll pull the studio heads in here. That usually does the trick.”

  “I hope so. Things were going so well.”

  “You guys totally click on camera.”

  “Yeah, well, he confuses it with real life.”

  Danny taps my arm. “Do me a favor. Keep that piece of info to yourself, will you?”

  “Yeah, no worries there.”

  And all this time I thought he was just a prick. Who knew he was a nutjob too?

  Luckily, we were scheduled to shoot a scene without Holt today. It’s not long and involves a phone call. It only takes a few minutes, but the director has me run through several takes. I’m off because of what happened, and I finally deliver what he wants. It should’ve been an easy one, but by the time we wrap up, my body is in knots.

  It’s after seven when I walk through the door of my apartment. All I want is a glass of wine and some relaxation out on my cute little patio. I’m standing in the kitchen when I decide to give Harrison a call. A sense of disappointment hits when it goes straight to voicemail.

  “Hey, it’s me, Midnight. Just giving you a call to uh ...” What exactly am I giving him a call for? “To see how you’re doing, I guess. Yeah, to see how that fix-it guy who needs therapy is doing. Hope you’re fine. I miss you. Maybe you’d like to come over for a little fixing. Okeydokeys, smokie pokies. See you around.” I hop off the call and feel like the biggest dork. That was the stupidest message I’ve ever left anyone in my life. What the hell! Okeydokeys smokie pokies. I’ll see you around. And come over for a little fixing? Where the hell did that come from?

  I pour a glass of wine and guzzle it down. I’m going to have to get drunk to get over this one.

  I’m on my way out to my patio, bottle of wine and glass in hand, when someone bangs on my door. A grin spreads across my face. I wonder how much hell he’s going to give me over that dumbass message. I skip over to the door and all signs of amusement flee. Holt stands there, one arm propped on the doorjamb, and he says, “We need to talk.”

  He gives me zero opportunity to respond as he pushes his way past me and blasts into my apartment, leaving me standing there stunned. I’m hugging the bottle of wine like a baby when I regain my senses and find my voice.

  “Holt, what’s going on?”

  “Like I said. We need to talk?”

  “Okay, why don’t you have a seat?” I extend my arm out, the one holding the empty wine glass, and add, “I’ll be back in a second.”

  He stops me by saying, “I don’t want to sit. You and I belong together, Midnight. You have to give us a chance.”

  Shit. This is so not cool. My phone’s in the kitchen, where I put it down when I went to grab the wine.

  “I thought I already explained myself.”

  He waves his hand. “That’s a minor issue we can fix. Dump him. You can’t tell me—you can’t possibly admit you didn’t feel what I did on the set.”

  He’s not anywhere near joking. The man is delusional. I have to handle this in a way that won’t set him off or alienate him.

  “Well, yeah, I completely felt what Christine would feel if Finn kissed her, you know, how their characters would feel toward each other.”

  He shifts back and forth. “That’s not what I felt. It wasn’t acting for me. I wasn’t in character when I kissed you, Midnight. That was me, Holt Ward, kissing you, Midnight Drake.” He pounds his chest.

  Fuck, fuck, fuckery hell. Why me?

  “Holt, I’m totally flattered that you felt such emotion in that particular scene.”

  He takes his fist and slams it into the palm of his hand. It happens so fast I flinch at the sound. Through clenched teeth, he says, “You seem to be missing my point. I wasn’t in character and it wasn’t in that particular scene.”

  He’s frightening me. I need to think of something to do, and fast.

  I take the honesty route. “I’m honored and don’t quite know what to say.”

  “Say you’ll be with me. Or try at the very least.”

  His eyes look a little wild. Maybe he’s drunk. I can’t tell. My best course of action is to get the hell out of here, but my purse and car keys are in the kitchen with my phone. I decide to skirt around him and go in there. The kitchen is a pass-through so he can’t trap me in there. If I grab my purse and run like hell, I can get away from him. There is no other choice. I refuse to give him the upper hand. No man will ever have that kind of control over me again.

  I make my move toward the kitchen, only I don’t get that far. His hand latches onto my wrist—the one with the wine glass—as I pass and he begs me to reconsider. I can’t let him know of my intentions to leave.

  “You have no idea how good we could be together. Give us a chance, Midnight. We could set the world on fire.” He sounds like he truly believes this.

  The only chance I want to give us is a chance for me to get the hell away from him.

  “I have to think about this.” Maybe this will satisfy him so he’ll let me go, and I can grab my purse and run.

  But he has different ideas. Whatever I said gave him the go-ahead for a relationship. “I knew you’d see things my way.” A huge smile slowly spreads across his face.

  Before I know it, he whips me into his arms and grabs my hair. Then h
is mouth crashes into mine, bruising my lips. I taste blood and this throws me into a panic. I can’t allow him to see it. My heart is beating so hard, I fear he’ll hear it. All I can focus on is getting away from him. I’m still holding the bottle of wine, which is smashed between us and crushing the shit out of my ribs, and the glass—which is useless as a weapon because he still grips the wrist of the hand it’s in—so I’m damn helpless to fight.

  Until I remember I have my legs. I lift a knee in a rapid-fire move and catch him in the groin. He groans as he releases me, allowing me to hightail it to the kitchen.

  He’s on my heels though, pissed off, yet begging me to stop.

  I grab my purse and make it out the door, blinded by fear. I’ve been through too much shit with crazy, angry men to deal with another one. I don’t hesitate for a half a second, but when I get through my door, I crash into the wall of someone’s chest, and that’s when I totally lose my composure. My fists fly out, and all I know is I have to make it to my car or shit’s going down.

  Then his voice breaks through my insanity, and the blood sings in my veins. Everything relaxes because I recognize the cone of safety.

  Chapter 20

  Harrison

  After my run, I hop in the shower and let the cool water sluice over me. It’s heaven. When I’m dried off, I grab my phone to see I’ve missed a call from Midnight. Her quirky message puts a needed smile on my face. I decide to take a chance and pay her a surprise visit. Maybe she’s up for dinner tonight. I’ve purposely given her a wide berth because she needs to stay centered on her film, and any distraction could be a bad thing for her.

  I park out front but when I get to her door, she flies out right into me, and on her heels is Holt Ward. Talk about chaos. I’m not sure she knows it’s me at first but when recognition hits, she sags against me. I have to catch her to keep her from falling.

  “What’s going on? Are you okay?” I ask. My gaze pings between the two of them.

  “Thank God you’re here,” she breathes, panic edging her tone.