The Omega Team: Saving Summer (Kindle Worlds Novella)

by Tiffani Lynn

  “You won’t. Trust us.” She pats my back before saying, “I’ll leave you time to think,” and walks back inside, her long brown ponytail swishing behind her.

  Chapter Eight: Summer

  I know Mike’s mad and I understand why, but I’m suffocating in this situation. I need the freedom to live my life and I can’t as long as this madman is stalking me. I find it hard to believe that a big-time French director has to resort to stalking to get a woman. There are thousands of beautiful, younger women who would jump at the chance to do his movie. I could even refer about 20 to him in the next 10 minutes. I don’t get why he’s all over me. Hell, no one even knew my name until last year and for Hollywood standards, at 43 years old, I’m ancient. I just happen to fit a certain niche for now. In a year this could all be different and I could be back to waitressing. But I want to live this for as long as the industry will allow it. While this freak show is on the loose I can’t do anything and it pisses me off.

  Athena comes back inside and says, “I did my best. Now we wait. Summer, you can use the computer in my office if you’d like.”

  “I think I’ll just wait here. He’ll come back soon.”

  “Grey,” Athena says, turning to him, “why don’t we work on a plan in case he caves on this. We need to look at a couple of possible locations.” He nods and leads Athena from the room with a hand at her hip. I sigh, a little jealous of how easy their affection is. Hudson and Owen follow, leaving me alone in the conference room. I pull up my social media accounts on my phone and scroll through until the door finally opens a half hour later and my big sexy protector comes through the door, his expression still dark like a rain cloud.

  I stand up and face him, keeping a close eye on his expression. When the tightness around his eyes and mouth relaxes at my touch I breathe a sigh of relief.

  “Don’t be mad at me,” I whisper.

  “I’m not mad at you. I’m scared and I’m not the kind of man who’s okay with being afraid. Do you understand that I’m in love with you?”

  Using my pointer finger I trace his eyebrows, the slight slope of his nose and down across his lips. “Yes, I get it. I also understand that I’m in love with you too and I don’t want to live under lock and key with you. I want everyone to know that you’re my man. Your family, my crazy mother, our friends, our colleagues, the tabloids. Everyone. I don’t want to hide inside anymore. Please do this so we can have this new life together without the crazy threat looming in the background. I want to lie next to you at the beach and stare at that bronze six-pack blatantly instead of sneakily, now that I can. I want to fly out and see Val together, and go as your girlfriend, not only as her best friend. We can end this. I trust your team to do this right.”

  He exhales and I can tell he’s frustrated. I’m surprised when he says, “I know you’re right but this is hard for me. It goes against everything I believe. My job is to protect and keep people—especially those I love—from harm. I’ll go along with this, but you’re going to follow our guidelines. No going out on your own with this. I’m already freaked out about the whole thing as it is.”

  “I promise. Please go into Grey’s office and plan whatever it is that will end this.”

  While they’re planning, I’m back on social media and checking my email. When they still aren’t done a couple hours later, I pull up solitaire on the computer and lose myself in the game. I should be afraid, considering this guy has proven to be totally crazy, but the safety I feel with Mike and Omega Team is beyond compare. I need to trust their plan and not falter if Jean Christopher pulls something unexpected like what happened with my mom at the book signing.

  A couple of hours later Mike comes back to find me. “Okay, you ready? Everyone is on their way in to discuss this. We made it as simple as possible as far as you’re concerned.”

  He waits for everyone to sit around the conference table and then explains. “Athena is taking you to dinner at the Parmesan Palace. We’ll have someone on the front door, at each of the emergency exits, and the entrance to the kitchen. We’re expecting him to make a move when she uses the bathroom near the end of dinner. If he doesn’t take the bait, then we move the whole operation to your house and Athena will leave after half an hour to give the appearance that you’re alone.”

  “That seems pretty elementary. You don’t think he’ll see straight through that? After having you practically tied to me for the last week I think he’ll find it suspicious that you aren’t with me. Hell, anyone who watches the old episodes of 21 Jump Street would probably figure that out.”

  “The man is unhinged. He’s not analyzing anything at this point. He’s looking for opportunity. His assistant said that when he last saw Jean Christopher, he hadn’t showered in days or changed clothes, and he was muttering things to himself.”

  “What if that’s an act?” I gnaw on my fingernail and fidget a little.

  “If it is, we still have you under protection and can go back to the drawing board tomorrow if he doesn’t make a move today. We all feel like he’s lingering, waiting for you to be alone for a few minutes.”

  “Okay, I’ll do my part.” I’m nervous, but ready for this to be done. I’m also skeptical that it will be this easy. Nothing in my life has ever been easy.

  At dinnertime I’m in the car with Athena, on my way to what I keep telling myself is a lovely Italian dinner with a friend. I do my best to push the nasty part of the whole thing out of my mind so I don’t appear nervous. We’re about to find out what kind of actress I really am.

  Athena pulls through the parking lot slowly to make it look like she’s searching for a spot up close, but part of the plan is to give Jean Christopher enough time to follow without issue. When we finally park I do my best to ignore the chills dancing down my spine. They’re probably imagined. We don’t even know if Jean Christopher followed us. I swallow down my fear, square my shoulders and exit the vehicle with Athena following me to the building.

  I’m not 15 steps away from the car when Athena makes a strange noise and I turn to find her on the ground. I don’t know how she got there, but Jean Christopher is standing above her pointing a shaky revolver at her head. Terror engulfs me when I realize he’ll probably pull the trigger. The man has clearly lost it. His eyes are wild and flashing nervously from left to right.

  “I knew it wouldn’t take long to get you once that asshole was gone. Let’s go!” he barks in heavily accented English and gestures for me to turn in the other direction. I go where he points, my stomach knotting tighter with each step. I could run but that would leave Athena vulnerable. I need to draw him away from her before I try to escape.

  There should be two people in place inside the restaurant and two people arriving within five minutes after us, but there’s no one out here now. We’ll be gone by the time anyone figures out what happened, and worse, I couldn’t tell if Athena was breathing. She was just lying motionless between two cars.

  With the gun at the small of my back, Jean Christopher guides me over a few rows to a black sports car with dark-tinted windows. He yanks the door open, urging me inside, and my fight or flight instinct kicks in. There’s no freaking way I’m getting in that car. I turn as quick as I can and throw a wild punch, missing his jaw but stunning him enough that he doesn’t move out of the way completely and I nail him in the throat. Gasping and choking, he drops the gun and stumbles back a little. “Bitch,” he wheezes.

  I scramble away, bending low and running as fast as I can through the parked cars, not caring where I’m going, only that I get away. I need to get to the restaurant, to people who can help me. He must have recovered quickly because I can hear his feet pounding the pavement behind me. I turn left and cut through the next row of cars. I glance back to figure out where he is and the window next to my head shatters as a bullet whizzes past.

  I scream and drop low, crawling along the ground in my attempt to get away from this car. He knows I’m over here, but I have no idea where he is. I climb to my feet but
stay crouched down and do my best to listen for his footsteps. My blood is roaring through my system at full force and it sounds like a raging river in my ears as the adrenaline continues to pour through my body. His feet appear under the rear bumper of the car I’m behind and instead of being afraid this time, I’m in full fighting mode.

  I spring to my feet and run toward him, using everything I have pent up inside me to go berserk on him. I’m kicking, punching and clawing at him, trapping him against the car. All he can do is cover his face and try to avoid my flailing limbs. He clearly never expected me to be a fighter. I must get one good knee-shot to the groin because he doubles over and I pause to catch my breath. He stands back up and smirks at me and I realize I didn’t get him in the balls. It was a trick to get me to stop attacking him.

  The anger in my body explodes and I charge him, tucking my shoulder into his gut like a linebacker, shoving him all the way back and smacking him into the car in the next row. His elbow comes down hard on my back and I stumble backwards, breathless. Damn that hurt.

  “You’re mine! Quit fighting me!” he screams, his French accent thick as he grabs my hair and forces my face upward to look in his eyes.

  As I’m assessing the situation for my next move, Mike pops up from behind the car and slowly creeps toward my crazed captor. Mike hasn’t drawn his attention so I do my best to focus on Jean Christopher, feeling the spit droplets hit my face as he growls, “Cela a pris trop de temps.” This has taken too long.

  In a move I don’t anticipate, Jean Christopher’s mouth crashes to mine roughly and I attempt to recoil, but he holds me in place by the hair. Just as I’m biting down hard on his tongue, he drops away from me to the pavement. Because he’s slow to release my hair, I’m tugged down with him, leaning over his knocked-out form. I scramble backwards and stand. When I see Mike’s okay I breathe a sigh of relief. He lifts his sneakered foot and rests it on Jean Christopher’s chest as he pulls me against him, kissing the top of my head without a word.

  In less than a minute, the parking lot is swarming with police, restaurant customers and people from nearby businesses. Mike shoves his 9mm into the back of his jeans and lifts his hands in the air as the police approach cautiously, guns aimed at us. I turn toward them fully and yell, “It’s okay, this guy is okay. The guy on the ground is my stalker.”

  We spend a long time answering questions for the police and being looked at by the EMTs on the scene. When Jean Christopher finally comes to, he’s cuffed and sent to jail after a brief once-over by the paramedics. By the time we get back to Mike’s house I’m exhausted. He lets Scooter out to go to the bathroom and I change into one of his T-shirts.

  When Scooter comes trotting back inside I scoop him up and place him in my lap while I get comfortable on the couch. Mike drops down beside me and drapes an arm over my shoulder and we sit like this for a long time, watching some old game show on TV. I don’t think either of us is really paying attention to what’s on, but it’s nice to focus on absolutely nothing for a change.

  The next morning I wake up to find it’s only me and Scooter in the house. A note on the counter next to a warm pot of coffee indicates that Mike had to run to the store and will be back soon. After I drink a cup, I take a quick shower. Then I sit on the back porch, relaxing as Scooter sniffs what looks like the entire backyard.

  “M!” Mike shouts as he slams the front door. I stand and lean my head inside.

  “I’m out here with Scooter.”

  He kisses me long and hard. He’s happy about something. “Looks like you already showered. I was hoping to join you,” he tells me.

  “Too late,” I tease and sit back in the rocking chair I was occupying before he came home.

  “Have you called your director or agent today?”

  “I called before my shower. Filming is postponed for six weeks.”

  “Good, you can go with me to Colorado to surprise Thea for her birthday in three weeks.”

  I think about it for a second and realize I have no reason to say no. I’d love to see Valerie and Thea. I’m a little concerned about what she’ll say about my relationship with Mike though. What if she freaks out? That’s not really her style, but I’ve also never had to tell her that I’m in love with her brother. It may make the dynamic between the three of us weird too. Considering my mom is such a screwup, their family is the only one I have. If this upsets her, I don’t know what I’ll do.

  “Why are your eyebrows scrunched up?” he asks as he leans in and runs his thumbs over them, smoothing them down.

  “What if Val gets upset?”

  He stands up and crosses his arms over his chest. “Why would she?”

  “I don’t know, but we used to be…I don’t know. A group? Now, we’d be a pair plus her. Won’t that be weird?”

  “You don’t think she’ll be happy for us?”

  I shrug and look away, not wanting to contemplate her response. “I don’t know after everything she’s been through.”

  “Val loves you. She loves me and she’s always wanted us to be happy, like we want her to be. It’s going to be okay. I promise. Trust me, please.” He pulls me out of my seat and wraps his arms around me. “Don’t worry, things will only change for the better.”

  Chapter Nine: Mike

  It’s been five weeks since Summer and I became an item. As I suspected, Valerie was thrilled about our new status as a couple and since our visit to see her, Summer has relaxed even more into our relationship. I had a week-long assignment out of state right after we returned from Colorado and just got back home last night. Every day we talked on the phone at whatever time I had available and she stayed with Scooter. Now we only have one week together before she has to return to Key West to shoot, and she’s been quiet. I’m not ready for her to leave yet and I’m hoping that’s her issue too. The one week apart was too much for me, but I didn’t say anything because I know she’s afraid that’s what will end us.

  I lean in the doorway to the bathroom and ask, “M, you about ready?” I ask, leaning in the doorway to the bathroom, anxious to leave for our visit with my grandparents. There’s more to tonight, but she doesn’t have a clue.

  “Yes, let me put on my lips,” she says, just like she always does before she puts her lipstick on.

  Once she’s done I lead her out to the truck, opening the door and helping her inside. By the time we reach my grandparents’ house my palms are a little sweaty so I wipe them on my jeans.

  “Why are you nervous?” she asks as I’m opening the door.

  “What?” My mind is so muddled with what’s about to happen that I don’t know what to say.

  “You’re nervous. Your palms sweat when you’re nervous. They always have, since we were kids. Remember the time you had to sing that solo in elementary school and when they passed you the mic your hand was so sweaty the mic slid right through and bounced on the ground, causing that awful sound and making half the audience go deaf?”

  “How the hell do you remember stuff like that?” I ask her.

  “I pay attention, that’s all. Besides, that was funny as hell.” She giggles a little and I get out of the car, not wanting to explain what the issue is. When I come around to her side of the car she’s already gotten out so I shut her door and instead of leading her inside my grandparents’ house, I lead her to the middle of the front yard and stop dead.

  “What are you doing? Why are we standing in the grass? Your granny is waiting on us.”

  “No she’s not.” I take both of her hands in mine and hold them lightly, aware of my sweaty palms. When she looks up at me, her blue eyes watch me intently.

  “I brought you here because I’m feeling really sentimental. This exact spot is where I was standing 35 and a half years ago when you came into our yard looking for new friends.” Her eyebrows draw together like she’s thinking about what I’ve said. “Your hair was in two uneven, fuzzy pigtails, you had on a blue sundress with one strap that kept falling off, and you had dirt on your hands
and bare feet. I thought you looked like a dirty little angel. From that day forward you’ve been part of my life. It didn’t matter how far I went or how long I was gone. It didn’t matter who I was dating or who you were dating. We kept our friendship alive and it’s the most precious thing in my life. Or at least I thought it was, until I kissed you that first time after our Colorado trip. There’s not another woman on this earth that I want to spend the rest of my life with. I thought about waiting a little longer to ask, because this part of our relationship is new, but I don’t need to. I knew I loved you long before our first kiss so I refuse to waste any more time.” I lower myself to one knee and pull the little blue-velvet box from my pocket. As I pop it open I watch the first tear slide down her face and my nerves kick up another notch. Please don’t say no, I chant over and over in my head.

  “Summer Jessica Arden, will you marry me?”

  She’s silent as the tears run down her face and my stomach is clenched up tight. Is she about to break my heart?

  She reaches out and places her hands on my jaw and runs her thumbs over my cheeks. “Yes,” she says, her voice scratchy with emotion. I pull the marquise cut diamond ring from the box and slip it on her ring finger. The tears continue down her face and before I can stand she says, “I have something to tell you.” She swipes at her river of tears and ends up smearing them rather than wiping them away. After a big swallow, she says, “We’re gonna have a baby.”

  I blink up at her. “What?”

  “A baby. We’re gonna have a baby.”

  I look down at her stomach and back to her face. She’s smiling and sniffling.

  “Really?” I ask, unable to believe this is happening.

  “Yes, I found out while you were gone and I was afraid to tell you. I was worried you’d think I was trying to trap you.”

  “Trap me? I’m more likely to trap you than vice versa.”