“Hey, Livie,” I said into the phone. “Your homework done yet?”
“Not yet, but almost.”
“Your teacher called me this morning. You did really well on your English test.”
“Yeah?”
“That deserves ice cream. What flavor do you want?”
“Chocolate?”
“Are you asking or telling.”
“Telling. I want ice cream.”
“That’s better.” I settled down on the edge of the couch in the corner of the room. “Is Beth there?”
“Yeah. She’s downstairs watching TV. Do you want me to go get her?”
“No. We’re about done here, so I’m headed home in a bit. Anything else you want from the store.”
“Nope.”
“Get back to the homework, okay?”
I disconnected the call and lay back against the couch.
“Do you think I’m a terrible mother?”
“I think a mother who kicks her sixteen-year-old daughter out of the house because she is pregnant is a bad mom.”
“But not a porn star?”
“Just because you make these kinds of films doesn’t mean you’re a bad person. Hell, you’re the boss. I think that says a lot about who you are.”
“Yeah, well, can you imagine what all those PTA women would say if they knew what I did? Always walking around with their noses up in the air, while their husbands are ordering my videos late at night on their fancy televisions and computer systems.”
Susie laughed. “They should give you medals. You’re probably making their sex lives a hell of a lot better than they’d be otherwise.”
“You think?”
“It probably takes one of your videos to get those men hot enough to want to fuck their stuck-up wives.”
It was my turn to laugh. Imagining the woman who pulled me aside and explained that my daughter couldn’t wear blue socks with her school uniform because it clashed with the green in the skirt finding her husband watching one of my videos in the dark of his home office…it was almost too much. I giggled until my stomach began to ache.
Susie draped my jeans and t-shirt over the arm of the couch and then sat down beside me.
“You did the best you could, Quinn. You should never second guess yourself.”
“Yeah, well, this stalker thing…I thought I’d put all that in the past when I changed my professional name and went faceless. No one is supposed to know who I am.”
“Maybe it’s just someone in the business, trying to spook you?”
“Whoever it is took pictures of my kid, Susie. I don’t care who it is…you don’t do that sort of thing.”
“I know.”
She took my hand and squeezed it gently. “I’ve heard good things about Dragon Security. These people will keep you safe.”
“Did you see that guy?”
Susie blushed a little, even as a huge smile burst over her face. “He’s…”
“Gorgeous.”
“Yeah.”
We both kind of sighed, sitting there thinking about the hunk of a man who’d be following me around for the next few days at least. I’d never seen eyes quite like that on a man. And that rugged jaw? He was like something out of a romance novel. The last time I’d seen a man that good looking, I’d gone with Olivia to see an adaptation of one of her dystopian novels at the movie theater.
I could make so much money with a man like that in my videos.
“Do you think he’d consider doing porn?”
“If he did, I’d volunteer to do his body makeup.”
I dissolved into giggles again, laying my head on her shoulder as she laughed, too.
Susie kissed my cheek and left, promising to see me early the next day for the following day’s shoot.
I got dressed and smoothed my long, blond hair into a ponytail. I caught sight of myself in the mirror, stared at the simple concert tee and the jeans, thinking I almost looked like any other twenty-six-year-old girl. Except I wasn’t your average twenty-six-year-old girl. I owned my own house, free and clear. I was raising a ten-year-old daughter on my own. And I owned my own business. Most twenty-six-year-old girls were just beginning their lives, just beginning their careers and their families. But I didn’t have the cushion of time and schooling as they did.
I sighed, turning from the image to grab my bag. He was standing in the same place when I came out of the dressing room, leaning back against the wall, his ankles crossed and his hands caught behind his back, like he was bored. But the second he spotted me, he straightened, catching the door for me as I approached.
I headed toward my car, but he came around me and gestured toward an SUV parked at the curb.
“I’ll drive.”
His voice was so deep that it practically vibrated in my chest. And he was so tall that he more than towered over me. If he bent just right, he could probably fold his body completely around me. I was used to big men, some beautiful men. The producers I’d worked with in the past loved to pair me up with men who were much larger than I was, too. Something about the appearance of dominance. I learned a long time ago not to take too much notice of their size and to focus on the parts of them that I had power over. But there was something about this man—maybe because this wasn’t work—that made something deep in my belly turn to jelly. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t security. It was both and neither.
Vincent helped me into the SUV and waited while I hooked the seatbelt over my body before he secured the door and walked around. I watched him in the rearview mirror. He seemed casual about his movement, but I thought I caught him surveying the parking lot around us with a glance that was less than casual.
I pressed my hands into my lap and tried not to stare at him as he drove me home.
I didn’t like this. I’d not felt threatened quite like this in a long time. I needed to control my life, and I’d had it pretty much in hand for years. When I was young, when Olivia was an infant, I was out of control. I never had enough money, never had the things I needed to provide for her. When a guy came into the fast food restaurant where I worked and told me he’d pay me five thousand dollars for a day’s work, I thought it was a joke. I nearly turned him down. But I needed the money more than I needed to hold on to my dignity. When I arrived and realized exactly what it was he wanted from me, I again turned to leave. But then I thought of all the things five thousand dollars could buy Olivia. Clothes. Diapers. A decent daycare. Money for a proper doctor to give her her shots. I did it. I closed my eyes and told myself that it was for Olivia. That I would never do it again.
But a month later, the money was gone and Olivia had an ear infection. The month after that, she needed another round of shots and clothes that fit better. After a while, I quit pretending that this was the only way. I took control. I refused to take roles that required me to do anything that made me uncomfortable. And then I refused to take roles that showed my face on film. I accepted that I had to make my living as a porn star, but I didn’t accept that it required me to give up my privacy and my shattered dignity. I was very careful from that time on, making up a professional name and keeping my business and my personal life separate. The last thing I wanted was for Olivia to be confronted by some punk kid on the playground who knew what I did, or to bring the dangers of that world into hers through the hands of some crazed fan. I’d seen it happen to actresses I’d worked with early in my career. I wasn’t going to let it happen to me.
Yet it had. Someone figured it out.
It started with a letter that came to the post office box I rented about a month after we moved to Houston. A fan letter that gushed about a movie I’d done three years ago. Then another, writing in the same block lettering, talking about certain aspects of my body that made it clear this person watched several of my films over and again. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t a big deal, that someone had simply made a lucky guess, but they were harmless as long as I checked the mail before Olivia got to it. But then the pictures came.
The letters had become steady, coming every few days. They continued to be gushing words of admiration. But the pictures…they were of Olivia playing in the yard at her school. It was as if the author was saying he knew where I was, what I had to lose. It felt like a threat against everything I’d built for myself, a threat against the only thing that truly mattered to me. It felt like a threat against Olivia.
I checked around and everyone said Dragon Security was the way to go.
“My daughter…she doesn’t know anything about this. Not about my work, or my studio, or the threats. And I’d rather she not find out.”
Vincent glanced at me, as he guided the SUV into my neighborhood. “You realize I’ll be escorting the both of you to and from home for the next few weeks, and I’ll be staying with you.”
“I was hoping we could tell her you’re a distant relative. A cousin, maybe?”
He didn’t say anything until he pulled the SUV into my driveway and the engine was off, the humidity already beginning to seep inside with the air conditioning off.
“The only way I can protect you is if I have full control over you and your daughter. You have to do what I say…when I say it. Do you understand?”
I didn’t like it. But I understood.
His dark eyes—hidden slightly below those thick lashes—studied me for a long second.
“Cousin. If you think that’ll work…”
“Thank you.”
Chapter 3
Vincent
She was not what I expected. When Megan said my target was a porn star, I expected a woman who looked twice her age, as though she was used up before her time. But she was youthful. Beautiful. So petite that she could almost pass for a teenager—which I’m sure she’d used to her advantage a time or two in her movies. I found myself watching her as she led the way into the house, watching her body move, remembering the sight of her as she lay on that massive bed in the middle of the studio.
I hadn’t signed up for this when I agreed to work for Dragon Security.
“Beth?”
Quinn led the way into the kitchen where a middle-aged woman sat at the kitchen table, leafing through a fashion magazine. Her face brightened considerably when she looked up at Quinn. For a minute, I thought they might be lovers, her joy at seeing Quinn was that intense.
“How was work? Boring, as usual?”
Quinn shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Not terribly exciting.”
“I suppose insurance can be that way.”
My eyebrows rose, but I didn’t say what came to mind. It wasn’t my business to comment on the lies Quinn chose to tell the people in her life.
The joy in the woman’s face tempered a little when her eyes fell on me. Quinn glanced at me, too, almost as if she’d forgotten I was there.
“This is my cousin, Vincent. He’s going to be staying with us for a little while.”
“Oh?”
I thought I saw a flash of anger cross the woman’s face. But then she smiled quite pleasantly, stepping into me with her hand raised.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You too.”
“Where’s Olivia?” Quinn asked.
“Upstairs. She’s been a little reluctant to do her math homework. I think she might be struggling with those algebraic equations they’ve been introducing.”
“Yeah. Math isn’t her strongest subject.”
Quinn reached into her back pocket and slipped something into the older woman’s hand. “Thanks, Beth. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
The older woman’s face lit up once again. “Anytime.”
I stepped out of the way as she left and then watched Quinn climb the stairs. I took the opportunity to walk around the ground floor of the house, checking it out for security purposes. It was a nice house, a Victorian with a rambling floor plan. There was a long hallway that split the first floor, a sitting room off to the right of the front door, a small playroom to the left. There was a powder room, access to the basement, and a large living room toward the back of the house. And a huge kitchen with French doors that opened onto the small backyard. It was a lovely home that was tastefully decorated. If I wandered in here without knowledge of the owner, I would assume it belonged to a low-level executive, not a porn star. But it wasn’t ideal when security was a priority. There were too many windows. Too many corners. Too many places for a stalker to hide.
I was standing at the French doors off the kitchen, looking out into the growing gloom of the backyard when Quinn came back downstairs.
“You need to have dinner and take a bath first,” she was saying.
“But Mom,” a softer, higher voice was saying, “my friends all get an hour of television every night. Why do I only get half an hour?”
“You’re lucky you get any television on a school night at all.”
“Mom—”
“Please don’t argue with me, Olivia. You know the rules as well as I do.”
I turned and found the most beautiful little girl staring at me. She had these huge eyes that seemed even bigger as she studied me. She looked like a miniature version of her mother, down to the same curly blond hair and green eyes. But there was something about the shape of her chin, the width of her jaw, that was clearly inherited from her father. She’d be a knockout when she was older, but for now she was simply a precocious child in need of protection.
“Hello.”
“Who are you?”
“Olivia, be polite,” Quinn demanded.
“But who is he?”
“I’m Vincent,” I said, squatting down so that I was just below her eye line. “And you must be Olivia.”
“You don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child. I’m mature for my age.”
“Olivia!”
She glanced at her mother, irritation flashing through those expressive eyes. “I am,” she insisted.
I straightened, stepping back slightly so that she didn’t have to crane her neck to look up at me.
“Who are you, Vincent?” she asked as politely as she could.
“He’s my cousin,” Quinn answered for me. “He’s going to stay with us for a couple of days.”
“Why?”
“Because I said so.”
“But I thought you didn’t have any family?” Olivia frowned, the wheels clearly spinning in her head. “You told me that I didn’t have any grandparents because your parents died when you were young and you didn’t have any other family.”
“Yeah, well, Vincent is a distant cousin I forgot I had.”
“Where are you from?” Olivia demanded.
“California.”
“What part?”
“San Diego.”
“That’s near Camp Pendleton. Were you a Marine?”
“Olivia! Really, you’re being rude, asking so many questions,” Quinn said.
“Yes, I was,” I said, squatting down in front of her again. But this time it was to reveal the tattoo on my shoulder, the Marine insignia that I had placed there when I was on leave after basic training. It was the most painful thing I’d ever done, not because of the tat itself, but because my drill sergeant had every man in the squad punch me on the healing tat in punishment for disobeying rules that stated that a Marine’s body belong to the Corps and should not be altered in any way. Never mind that every other man in my basic’s class had the same tat when we returned to base that spring afternoon.
“That’s cool,” Olivia said, reaching out a finger to touch it, but not quite making contact. “Do you have any other tattoos?”
“A few. Why?”
Olivia shrugged. “There’s this show on cable, LA Ink, and they have some pretty neat tattoos on there.”
“When do you watch that?” Quinn demanded.
Olivia looked a little sheepish, as she stole a glance at her mother. “Beth lets me watch sometimes.”
Quinn’s expression tightened even as Quinn focused on me again.
“Can I see the others?”
/>
Quinn had enough.
“Olivia Elizabeth, go get washed up for dinner!”
Olivia was clearly disappointed, but she leaned in and whispered, “Maybe you can show me tomorrow.” Then she ran off to the powder room. I straightened, aware of Quinn’s displeasure.
“I don’t know where she gets that stuff. I didn’t even know she knew what a tattoo was.”
“It’s hard to protect a child in this day and age.”
“But I do everything I can, yet she still manages to surprise me.”
Quinn reached into the fridge and pulled out a glass casserole dish, the sound of the aluminum foil coming off the top drowning out her next words. She was clearly annoyed, though I wasn’t sure if she was annoyed with me, or the world in general.
She was a porn star…and she was annoyed that her daughter knew what a tattoo was.
Interesting.
Dinner was a concoction of tortilla chips, hamburger meat, and lots of cheese. It was the first home cooked meal I’d had in a long time, and for that reason, it tasted better than anything I’d had in a long time. Afterward, Quinn took Olivia upstairs. I stuck around the kitchen, washing up the dishes mostly because it was something to do and my mother had ingrained in me the idea that a guest did all he could to make the life of the hostess easier. I was drying my hands, thinking about the weak lock on the French doors when Quinn came back.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, thank you.”
She looked uncomfortable, like she wasn’t used to accepting help from someone.
“I don’t know how much Megan and Sam explained to you about our services,” I said, hanging her hand towel back on the handle of the oven door.
“Not a lot. I didn’t have a lot of time to talk to them.”
“Dragon has a set protocol for bodyguard services. They’ll come out here tomorrow and set up a security system in the house that will be wired not only to the computer systems at Dragon’s main offices, but will also relay information to an app on my cellphone. I’ll be able to monitor the house from almost anywhere in town.”
She pulled out a chair and settled in it, her hands folded in her lap as she listened.
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