by Kayla Myles
The door opened and I struggled to keep my resting bitch face on even when all I wanted to do was scream. I could never get used to that emotionless face no matter how much I saw it.
He was wearing a black suit and tie for the occasion, but I wasn’t fooled. He could clean up well and turn himself into Brad Pitt for all I care, but that doesn’t change who he is or what he did to me.
The corners of his mouth lifted into a small smile that made my skin crawl, but I kept my resting bitch face steady, not letting him know how revolted I was.
“You look very pretty,” he marveled, and I just stared at him, refusing to say a word. He walked closer to me, placing his finger under my chin so he could make me stare into his eyes. “Are you ready to get married?” he said, and I scoffed, moving my head away from his touch before glaring at him.
“I’m ready to get out of here,” I told him, and he chuckled, shaking his head, almost as if the very concept of my escape was ludicrous to him.
“And how will you manage that?” he asked, lifting one eyebrow so high that it almost receded into his hair line. “We have this place surrounded. No one can get in or out without my men knowing. There is no way for you to escape. Unless, of course…,” he trailed off and tilted his head, crossing one arm over his chest so he could lean his other arm on top of it, perching his chin on his fist. “…you were expecting someone to come and save you,” he murmured.
It was my turn to smirk at him.
“What? Do you honestly think that pathetic guard of yours is going to rescue you?” he snorted, I shook my head, making his brows furrow in confusion.
“No,” I said, my confidence evident in my face and tone. “I don’t think,” I said.
I knew.
Chapter 1
Veronica
A couple of months earlier…
“Veronica! Veronica! Look over here!”
“Miss Langley, what do you have to say to-,”
“Oh my God, Veronica Langley! Please sign my shirt!”
I smiled and placed one hand on my hip and projected, forming the perfect angle to which they can take a great shot of my look for the red carpet premiere of my latest movie. I looked absolutely fabulous from head to toe, Joan Rivers wouldn’t have been able to criticize my outfit if she were still alive.
I struck a couple more poses for the paparazzi before coming near the barricades holding the fans from entering. I smiled warmly at them and made sure to sign whatever they gave me, stopping a couple of times to let them take some selfies with me. One of them actually had the balls to ask if they could have my number so we could chat, and I laughed and told him he was adorable. I may be a star, but I was not an idiot. To give my personal contact details to a complete stranger, regardless if he or she was a fan of mine or not, was a total no-no. I’d be inviting potential stalkers to disrupt any semblance of privacy I’ve barely managed to scrounge up. And it’s not like I didn’t have enough problems already…
I blinked my eyes rapidly, forcing those thoughts out of my head. This was not the time to think about some crazy, messed-up stalker who’s out to get me.
I smiled wider and wiggled my fingers at the crowd with a small wave before walking inside the theater.
I looked around and saw a couple of reporters inside the venue. They’re probably the ones who got the exclusive rights to cover the event. Sasha, my PR agent, hadn’t told me of any last-minute changes in the lineup of interviews I had to do for the movie, so I guess I had nothing to worry about. I engaged my costar with some idle chitchat as our director got busy fielding questions about the movie, all the while hoping the minutes passed by faster so I could get out of these damn heels.
Yes, it took a while to make me look this good and these heels from Milano are part of the package, but the least they could do was make them damn comfortable for hour-long stands, right?
“Excuse me, Veronica?” I heard someone call out from behind me and I turned around to see a young girl in a black shirt labeled ‘CREW’ at the front and holding a lapel mic with one hand. “Please come this way for your first interview,” she said, holding her arm out to show me the way.
I frowned.
“I’m sorry, but I wasn’t aware I had an interview scheduled before the movie starts,” I told her, and she smiled thinly.
“We’re very sorry for the last minute changes, but something came up and we had to swap your schedule with Diana Agron’s.” she explained.
That was strange. It is not like Sasha not to inform me of changes beforehand, no matter how abrupt the changes were.
“Please allow me to contact my manager about this, to be sure,” I told her, but she shook her head and placed her hand on my back, lightly pushing me forward.
“Rest assured we have communicated this with your handler,” she said.
I’m probably just being paranoid. My best friend, Leila, always did say I had to lay off the coffee so I wouldn’t be so jumpy all the damn time.
I sucked up the bad feeling in my gut and smiled at her before letting her lead me to one of the doors. She opened the door and I spotted a solitary folding chair at the far wall of the room with a small round table next to it. The movie poster posted up against the far wall a bit haphazardly, as I noticed it being held by colored thumbtacks.
I looked around the room and although I spotted a couple of equipment like camera stands scattered around, the room was bare except for a few silver metal boxes.
There were a handful of people wearing the same shirt as the woman who escorted me here, but something didn’t feel right with them, as well. First off, the men were a little too buff to be crew members, and none of them were setting up the cameras or the light fixtures. They were just there, standing by the door or the two large windows covered in black plastic, the kind used for garbage bags. They looked more like they were guards rather than crew members.
Besides these muscled men, I spotted two people, a man with ridiculously coiffed hair and a woman with kinky jet blue locks that ended at her shoulders were seated on plastic chairs with their bags on their laps, fidgeting a bit in their seat. I made eye contact with the woman and she immediately looked away and started to scratch her arm but not before I caught the anxious look on her face.
I’m really not liking the vibe I’m getting right now.
She saw me looking at the windows and she laughed somewhat awkwardly, somewhat forced, and I could almost see the wheels turning in her head as she struggled to say something.
“To block out the light,” she stammered, and I nodded, even though I doubted her explanation.
I sat down on the chair and she snapped her fingers toward the crew setting up at the other end of the room. Two people immediately got up and headed towards us, one of them lugging a big metal black case. She opened it, contained tons of makeup, powder, brushes, and applicators. The other one took a comb and hair spray from his utility belt and all three got to work with their own task. They worked on my hair and touching my makeup while the first went to work fixing my lapel on my gown.
The door opened again and I saw my personal assistant, Mimi, come inside the room while she discussed something with a woman holding a couple of placards. She’s probably the interviewer.
It was odd I didn’t recognize her, nor was I familiar with the name of their channel. Call me arrogant, but I’ve been to plenty of interviews since I became an actress, and in that time, I’ve familiarized myself with the people who interview me and the stations, be it on TV, radio, or the internet. I didn’t want to sound snooty or superior to them, as I made it a point to get to know them off cam.
I took a glance at the card she gave me. Linda Drier, CandyMag. Her contact number and email address were at the corner of the card as well, but nothing was ringing a bell.
I heard someone clear their throat and I looked back up to see Linda smile at me and the makeup artists hurried over to her while Mimi tiptoed towards me, ducking at the last minute so she didn’t get hit in th
e face with a hair dryer.
“Hey, I’ll be getting a quick java drip from that coffee shop I saw earlier. You’ll be finished before the movie starts, right?” she asked, and I raised my eyebrow at her.
“Aren’t you going to explain anything to me?” I asked, waiting for her to tell me why my schedule was messed up. She merely shrugged and blinked at me.
“No. Why?” she said, completely oblivious. I narrowed my eyes at her.
I really didn’t understand where Sasha dug this one up because she sure as hell wasn’t qualified for the job. As far as personal assistants go, Mimi was at the bottom of the barrel. She screamed her ass off the first time she saw me and then proceeded to take a selfie…followed by several more each week so she could gain more followers on her Instagram account. As for doing her job, though...
Well, she left much to be desired.
When she was certain I wasn’t going to say anything, she fished her phone out of her pocket and smiled widely as she looked at the caller on the screen. I rolled my eyes. It was probably her darling boyfriend again. She turned around and left and I sighed before sitting up straighter as Linda signaled to the cameraman that we could start.
I answered her questions and made sure to bolster the film as much as possible in the limited time I had left. I kept checking my watch whenever the camera wasn’t panned on me and when I saw that it was almost time for the movie, I smiled and answered my last question.
Except when she fired off another question it made me very confused.
“I’m sorry, but aren’t we supposed to wrap this up now?” I asked, subtly reminding them I had to leave. Linda looked nervous and kept looking around the room.
“Oh, b-but I still have more questions for you to answer,” she said. I smiled indulgently although inside I was pretty much seething. I had already given up more than enough time for the interview, and I was starting to realize questions were merely being rephrased or asked previously.
“Maybe we could continue this after the movie,” I told her. I was so going to kill Mimi for this, I swear to—
“You can’t leave!” Linda said, her voice raising a pitch higher, and I furrowed my brows at her. I looked around as the burly crewmen got up from their posts and started to walk towards us.
That bad feeling I had in my gut earlier? It heightened ten-fold.
Chapter 2
If he hadn’t been listening to his gut instinct that time, Chase Lincoln would have never figured out there was something wrong, and rising superstar Veronica Langley would’ve been in terrible danger.
He had recently opened up a new branch of Delta Security and needed work, so he asked a friend to hook him up. Thankfully, Arclight Hollywood was looking for somebody to provide the security detail for the upcoming premiere, and Chase landed the job.
He had everything set down to the wire—he had his team help out and arrange the blockades for the fans, assigned each person to an exit, memorized the list of people who would be coming to the event, plus their personal staff, the employees in the theater, and reviewed the timetable of the premiere.
And that was how he noticed something was wrong.
He kept an eye on the people who entered the cinema, and noticed Veronica was missing. He asked around about her whereabouts and one of his men told him that her PA had left to go get some coffee. Strange behavior, considering she was supposed to be ‘assisting’ Veronica, but he let it slide since he had more important things to check on.
Further probing led him to know that one of Arclight’s employees did not inform him of additional people added to the list. He practically scared the bejesus out of the employee as he admitted they bribed him to get in and they claimed to be for a YouTube celebrity gossip show and needed to interview Veronica.
He put two and two together and ordered his men to look everywhere in the cinema. They managed to find Veronica, bound and gagged, and rescued her safely into their custody.
He called the police, gave them his account of what transpired, and Veronica’s handler, Henry Stevenson was all thanks and praises.
He was a short, stout man with very little neck, and his hair was receding a bit from his forehead. The second to the last button of his white shirt was about to pop due to his protruding belly, and the buckles on his belt looked worn and thin. He spoke with a British accent and his brown mustache twitched whenever he stopped speaking. He had a very warm and fatherly personality though. Chase was able to relax while they talked.
Henry placed his hand on his forehead with a sigh and a shake of his head, the color on his face coming back from the redness from before when Chase watched him rip Veronica’s personal assistant to shreds. Chase knew the girl probably deserved it, but shouting at her in public was probably too much. Still, it wasn’t in his place to get involved, so he stayed back.
“To tell you the truth, my good man, we have been getting a lot of threats and suspicious fan mail for Veronica lately,” Henry admitted. “At first, we just kept dismissing it as one of those ludicrous attempts by fanatics, but after this failed kidnapping attempt--,” he sighed once more, his eyes downcast and exhausted.
“Well, have you narrowed down the suspects?” Chase asked, and Henry shook his head.
“Sasha and I have been trying to narrow it down, but it’s taking a while to sort everything out. For now, I think the best course of action would be to focus on Veronica’s safety,” Henry said, and Chase nodded in agreement.
“Yeah, I think so too,” Chase murmured. “If you don’t mind me asking, em…,” Chase trailed off, scratching his head nervously. He thought he really needed to work on his sales pitch. “Can I ask you what your plans are for that?”
Henry smiled at him, clapping Chase’s back with his meaty hand. “My boy, I believe I have, and that is actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about.”
***
Chase was floored by Henry’s offer. He had not expected the old man to trust the security of one of his precious stars to his very inexperienced hands. He was new to the game, and since he had done a good job at providing security back at Arclight, Henry was offering his company the job.
Henry had wanted Chase to be Veronica’s bodyguard personally, but Chase turned it down, with the excuse he already had his hands full running the company. Chase didn’t think he could pull off protecting someone as high profile as Veronica Langley, not with the skills he possessed at the moment, and certainly not with the degree of danger she seemed to be at risk of.
He was struggling now. He wanted to accept the offer, but at the moment, none of his men had the proper abilities to protect her. He needed someone with the right skill set, who was equal parts protective yet deadly. But who?
He was startled out of his thoughts by his phone ringing, wondering who could possibly be calling him at 2 in the morning. Regardless, he picked up the call, and after a few moments of speaking, his eyes lit up as he found a solution to his problem.
“Hey man, listen. If you’re really looking for a job…”
Chapter 3
Jason
“Good afternoon, folks, this is your captain speaking. We will be descending to LAX in about fifteen minutes. We hope you had a pleasant flight with us and hope you enjoy the rest of your trip. This is Captain Edward Davenport wishing you all a very nice day on behalf of Etihad Airways. Thank you.”
The announcement stopped and my small screen finally played the movie I was watching. I woke up from sleep about three hours ago and decided to catch up on my Marvel movies I missed during my mission in the Middle East. So far, Guardians of the Galaxy was just as great as I heard it was.
The curvy flight attendant that had been semi-flirting with me came on the aisle and told me to put up the blinds on my window, and I obliged. I winced as the first ray of light shined through the crack and I closed my eyes to try and block out the rest, the shine making the lids of my eyes go red. I turned my head away and opened my eyes to let them adjust to the brightness, a
nd I caught the man I was sitting next to fidget and turn away from me.
I smirked a little and looked at my screen again, touching my hairy chin. A lot of us let our beards grow out so we could blend in with the folks in Afghanistan, and I hadn’t touched a razor in five years. This poor sap probably thought I was some sort of terrorist.
Hmm, maybe it was time for a shave.
I took my seatbelt off and crossed over the man onto the aisle so I could head onto the lavatory. I spotted the flirty flight attendant earlier and raised my hand out to call her attention. She smiled and batted her eyelashes.
“And what may I help you with, sir?” she said, her voice ending with a slight purr. I kept my stance relaxed and gave her a small grin.
“Yes, ma’am. I was wondering, do you have a razor I could use? It’s been a while and I think I could use a good shave, I said, pulling on the ends of my beard in emphasis. “Don’t want the locals to get the wrong impression,” I told her and she giggled.
“I hardly think you’re threatening at all, sir. Not with the uniform like that,” she said, looking at me surreptitiously from head to toe. I was still wearing my camouflage shirt, pants and black combat boots out of habit, and I realized what attracted her to me was the uniform. “But as a matter of fact, we do have a razor here. Wait just a moment,” she said.