by Lucy Score
“We’ll see if it gets us anywhere. Keep me posted, and I’ll let you know if we hear anything on our end from Ganim.”
“Have fun globetrotting,” Travers said, without bothering to hide the envy.
Xavier grinned. “You track down Ganim and get him off the street, and I’m sure we could find some space for you at Invictus.”
“I just might take you up on that.”
Xavier disconnected the video chat and kicked back in the desk chair. Waverly exited the hotel’s bathroom, hair still damp from her shower. “No good news?” she asked, tugging a brush through her hair. For the sake of appearances, Waverly and Xavier kept separate hotel rooms in the posh, five-star London high-rise. But for the sake of convenience, she stayed in his. To Xavier’s thinking, it added another layer of security too in case someone on the hotel staff felt chatty about Waverly’s room number. And it was damn convenient to have her all to himself every night.
“No news at all,” he shook his head. “It doesn’t make any sense. This guy is obsessed with you. He shouldn’t be able to control his impulses to contact you.”
“If he contacts me, will it give you something to work with?”
He gave her the eye. He knew where Waverly was going with this. “Have you been talking to Travers?”
Waverly crossed to him and stepped between his legs. She tugged at his tie. “He may have called yesterday.” She pushed him back when he tried to come out of his chair. “Just think for a second. We’re on radio silence right now. There’s nothing externally tempting him to reach out again. Now, tomorrow? With about forty interviews exploding all over the media, I imagine he’ll have a harder time controlling those impulses.”
“Angel, are you saying you want to use your interviews to piss this guy off? Because you know what I’m going to say to that.” Xavier tried not to let himself be distracted by the way her fingers were working his buttons free.
“I’m saying I can’t control how an unstable person will react to what I say, even if it’s all perfectly innocent. And, I’m half a world away. What’s he going to do?”
Xavier dropped his forehead to her chest, tugged at the tie of her robe. “If I catch you doing anything reckless, I will stop the interview and throw you over my shoulder and lock you away.”
Waverly pouted prettily. “Here I thought you were going to tie me naked to a bed.”
Xavier pulled the tie of her robe through its loops until it came free in his hands. “Maybe I won’t even let you make it to the junket tomorrow. Maybe you’ll still be tied up, and I’ll still be inside you.”
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“What are you wearing?” Xavier frowned at her as Waverly slid the backs on her earrings.
Waverly avoided Kate’s gaze in the foyer mirror when she answered. Kate was a giggler under pressure, and she didn’t need Xavier to be tipped off that they were up to something. “What? Every important inch of me is covered. You can’t possibly have anything to complain about,” she teased.
He studied her outfit again and continued to frown.
Kate’s phone signaled a new text. “Oh, goodie. Looks like Media Barbie decided to fly in for this. She’ll be here in two. X Factor, can you save me a headache and go down and meet her?”
Waverly waited until he’d left the suite before breathing a sigh of relief. “I was afraid we weren’t going to squeak by on that one.”
“How in the hell does he know to be suspicious of that shirt?” Kate demanded. “His instincts are ridiculous!”
Waverly ran her hand over the pintuck lace of the blouse. The illusion neckline and pleated front with its tiny satin covered buttons was intact. But the tailor had removed the long sleeves and the full satin skirt. She’d used part of the skirt to make an extra wide hem with a flirty bow on one side. Paired with skinny black leggings with leather accents and a pair of lipstick red Ferragamos, Waverly looked modern and chic.
No one would know, just by looking at the shirt, that twelve hours ago it had been a wedding dress. No one except for Les Ganim.
Waverly wasn’t sure what reaction he’d have to seeing his mother’s beloved dress, the dress he sent to Waverly, renovated into a casual top. But he would definitely have a reaction.
There was just one thing left to do to seal the deal. She sent Kate on an errand for water from the wet bar and snagged her friend’s cell phone from the dresser. She opened up the social media messaging app and scrolled through the messages until she found him. Les Ganim. Her thumbs flew over the keyboard on the screen.
I hope you’ll be watching today. I have a special message for you.
Just to let him know that it was definitely her, she took an unsmiling selfie of just her face and added it to the message.
“Let the games begin,” she said grimly.
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The junket began at precisely nine a.m. and was strikingly similar to the one in L.A. that Xavier had attended. Even the food had been Americanized to keep their Hollywood guests happy. The only real difference was the majority of the journalists here spoke with British accents.
The questions this time around were much different. No one cared whether or not Liam and Waverly had an affair on set or if the director made anyone cry. They wanted to know about Ganim and the L.A. premiere. What happened after your bodyguard dragged you off of the carpet? When did you know everyone was okay? Where do you think he’ll strike again?
Gwendolyn gloated next to Xavier, a proper cup of tea balanced on a saucer in her hand. “God, the studio is eating this attention up,” she said with a satisfied smile. “We’ve got Liam being a hero on the carpet, Waverly the damsel in distress, and a creepy bad guy waiting in the wings. Odds Maker is offering action on whether this premiere gets bombed, too.”
“Wouldn’t that be just great?” Xavier said, the sarcasm sharp enough to puncture Gwendolyn’s bubble.
“Oh, now Xavier. Your business isn’t hurting from this exposure either,” she scoffed, then sipped. “I’m sure your calendar is booked with new client appointments.”
It was. Micah was happily handling the influx and making noises about Xavier coming back to focus on hand-picking and training a new crop of executive protection agents. Invictus was already outgrowing its current model, three years ahead of their projections.
“My number one concern is Waverly’s safety,” he reminded her. “And yours should be, too. Something happens to her and you might go awhile between meals before you find a new ticket.”
Gwendolyn laughed. “You haven’t been in the industry long enough to get jaded like the rest of us, yet. But it looks like you’ve been around a certain client long enough to develop some overly protective feelings for her.”
She shot him an amused look and headed over to call time of death on the interview.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
The day passed in a blur of interviews and photos. Waverly felt like she’d answered the same questions a thousand times. But Gwendolyn hadn’t complained about any robotic replies, so she figured she’d kept the answers natural enough. From where she sat, she and Liam had nailed the interviews. Excitement about the film seemed genuine even if it had initially been sparked by crisis, and though each interview focused heavily on the terrifying L.A. premiere, she’d been able to bring it all back around to talk about the film. Hopefully the studio would be happy.
After the last interview had been given, she said good night to Liam and let Xavier usher her and Kate into the elevator. She leaned against her friend on the back wall of the elevator. “I can’t wait to take these shoes off,” Waverly moaned.
“I can’t wait to put on pajamas and eat something with the sodium content of a bottle of soy sauce,” Kate agreed.
“I can’t wait until you two quit complaining,” Xavier teased. “You try standing around behind the scenes trying to look scary all day. It’s exhausting.”
“Poor wittle Xavier,” Kate crooned. Waverly snickered.
>
The elevator doors opened, and they all plodded down the hall and piled into the suite where Waverly wasted no time peeling off her shoes.
“Uh-oh,” Kate said, glancing up from her phone, her eyes wide.
Xavier’s cell rang in his pocket. He fished it out and frowned at the readout on the screen. Kate clamped her hand over Waverly’s wrist when he answered it and dragged her into the bathroom, locking the door behind her.
“What? What is it?” Waverly demanded.
Kate held up her phone. Waverly’s Facebook page had a new message. From Les Ganim.
“I can’t believe it actually worked,” Waverly gasped. She grabbed the phone and opened the message.
The pounding on the bathroom door started then.
“Waverly if you don’t open this door in two seconds, I’m kicking it down,” Xavier threatened from the other side.
“Uh, just a second,” Kate called out. “We’re peeing.”
“You are not peeing. Get your asses out here now!”
“I can’t believe you messaged him! What were you thinking?” Kate hissed. She snatched her phone back from Waverly and ran to the window. “Okay listen. I think the ledge is wide enough for us to crawl out on. One of us will probably fall, but I’m willing to take that chance.”
Waverly sighed. There was no use prolonging the foreplay of battle.
“We’re coming out,” she said to the door. “But on one condition.”
“What?” he snapped out.
“You can’t yell at us.”
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Xavier paced back and forth in front of the couch. Kate was slumped down looking like a kid who’d just gotten detention. Waverly on the other hand looked bored. Her chin rested on her palm
“You’re wearing the man’s dead mother’s wedding dress.” It was the third time he said it, yet each time he was more incredulous than the last.
Waverly examined her nails. “The FBI needed him to make contact, and he made contact.”
It took all of his control not to pick her up and shake her, which technically he hadn’t promised he wouldn’t. He’d only promised he wouldn’t yell.
Xavier took a deep breath, yet still felt the urge to yell. He gave up on the pacing and sat down on the hideous hammered gold foil coffee table and rubbed his temples. “Did I or did I not make myself perfectly clear when I said that I didn’t want you doing anything reckless? Was I not speaking English? Perhaps you temporarily lost your hearing?”
She had the good grace to look the teeniest bit guilty.
“You would have said no if I told you what I wanted to do.”
“And could you possibly think of a logical reason why I would say no to you wearing your stalker’s dead mother’s wedding dress to do thirty-five interviews that will be splashed all over every media outlet in the world?”
Waverly bit her lip, and he wanted to kill her. Or kiss her. It was a confusing urge.
“But it worked,” she argued.
“To what end, Waverly? So far they haven’t been able to trace his online activity. What’s going to make this time any different?”
“He responded to me, X. He wants to talk to me. Maybe he wants to tell me where he is or at least why he’s doing this. Any information we get out of him could help stop him.”
“We?” Xavier shook his head. “Angel, there’s no ‘we.’ There isn’t even an I at this point. It’s the FBI. They’re running the investigation, and except for a handful of peon IT tasks that they’re willing to delegate to us, they aren’t going to let us take the lead here.”
“So they’re just going to let it go?” she cried.
“No. They’ve just assumed control of your Facebook page. From now on Ganim will be talking to an agent posing as you.”
“Awh, man,” Kate moaned. “What about all the stuff on the public side? We can’t have some middle-aged suit posting shit on Waverly’s page. We’ll lose half our followers in a week.”
“I just had a call from Agent Travers who, after informing me what you two walking migraines did, that you will be providing content to the agent running the page.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing.”
“Isn’t Ganim going to know it’s not me? I mean, he’s delusional, but he’s not an idiot,” Waverly asked.
“We will also be feeding the feds any information they deem necessary to sell the pretense,” Xavier explained and rubbed a hand over his face.
“So, can I read his response? Kate took the phone away from me before I could get past the first line.”
Xavier met her gaze coolly. “Let’s just say Ganim’s not too happy to see Mommy’s wedding dress desecrated for the sake of modern fashion. He’s looking forward to the opportunity to teach you some respect.”
Waverly’s shoulders lost some of their self-righteous defiance. “Oh.”
Xavier’s phone rang again.
He paced away into the foyer. “What?” he answered.
“Uh, yeah. Is this Xavier Saint?” The voice was vaguely familiar.
“Who’s this?”
“This is Arnie. The photographer? We met at the Sinners and then at the premiere, before it blew up.”
“Right, I remember. What’s going on, Arnie?”
“Well, the guy who left the package for you at the Sinners was just here again.”
“Where are you? And is he still there?”
“At the Sinners. He left something at the gate again and then walked away.”
“Arnie, if you follow him I will personally punch Douchebag Joe in the face for you.”
“Already in the car.”
Xavier snapped his finger at Kate. “Call Travers now.”
Kate sprang up and began frantically looking for the phone that was still clutched in her hand.
Xavier rolled his eyes and gestured to Waverly. She got up, yanked the phone out of Kate’s hand, and dialed.
“Okay, where are you, Arnie?” Xavier asked.
“I’m on the Sinner’s street heading down the hill.”
“How long ago did he leave?”
“Like a minute. I was sitting in the car and don’t think he saw me.”
“Was he on foot or in a car?”
“Uh, he was walking.”
“Okay, good. If you see him, try to keep a safe distance. I don’t want him to know you’re following him.”
“He’s the same guy who blew up the premiere, isn’t he?” Arnie gulped.
“Yeah, which is why you can’t lose him,” Xavier said.
Waverly handed him Kate’s phone.
“Travers?” Xavier snapped.
“What’s up? You’re interrupting my lunch.”
“Put your PB and J down and get your men over to Lockwood Drive,” Xavier snapped.
“You got something?”
“A photographer spotted Ganim at the Sinners’. He’s tailing him now.” Xavier switched to the other phone. “You still with me, Arnie?”
“Yeah. I got him. He’s still on foot. Walking pretty fast. Oh! He’s stopping at a car.”
“What kind of car?”
“Blue? Like a darkish blue.”
Xavier looked heavenward and prayed for patience. “Can you see the plates?”
“Uh-uh. Not from here. He got in. He’s just sitting there.”
“Wait until he pulls out onto the road and then start following him but not too close.”
“Am I going to have to arrest him? Like what’s involved in a citizen’s arrest?”
“I don’t think it’s going to come to that,” Xavier said dryly.
“His taillights came on! He’s moving,” Arnie announced.
“Okay, wait ‘til he starts moving and then ease up on him.” He switched phones again. “Travers, tell me you have people mobilizing.”
“We’re dispatching two teams. One for Ganim and one for the ‘surprise’ that he just messaged Waverly about le
aving. Tell me what kind of car we’re looking for?”
“A blue one.”
Travers swore colorfully in his ear.
“Hang on,” Xavier told him. “Arnie, what have you got?”
“So the car is still blue. I think it’s a Honda. An older one. The rear passenger door is a different color, like primer or something.” He rattled off the license plate number.
“Where is he headed now?”
“Out of the neighborhood. Turning onto Linda Flora.”
“Which way?”
“Uh, right?”
Xavier repeated the description of the car and the plate number to Travers. He heard yelling and then swearing in the background.
“Uh, Mr. Saint?” Arnie said in his left ear.
“Yeah, Arnie.”
“He’s turning onto Bellagio. I think he’s—”
“Heading for the 405,” Xavier finished the thought for him. Shit. “Where’s your team Travers, and why the fuck don’t you have someone sitting on the house?”
“I don’t have time to educate you on all the ways budget cuts have fucked our investigations. We’re tapping the locals to keep up with everything.”
“Well tap whoever you have to. He’s headed for the 405.”
“Christ,” Travers muttered. Xavier heard him pick up his desk phone again and start yelling.
“Arnie, what’s going on?”
“We’re heading for the on ramp. What do I do?”
“Stay with him.”
It took Arnie exactly forty-two seconds to lose Ganim in the early afternoon traffic. Xavier sank down on an occasional chair covered in a thick-legged chair with dizzying floral upholstery. “It’s okay, Arnie. You did good. Listen, I’m going to have an Agent Travers from the FBI call you, and unfortunately, I don’t think he’s going to want you to talk about this to anyone.”
Arnie sighed in his ear. “No good deed goes unpunished.”
“I’ll still punch Douchebag Joe for you.”
Arnie sounded more cheerful. “I’ll hold you to it.”