by Janie Crouch
But instead, his gut was telling him his own life was crumbling. He didn’t know why, and more importantly, he didn’t know how to stop it.
Almost everyone from the wedding party was out on the beach to congratulate the newly engaged couple and to surround Anne in thankfulness that she was alive and okay.
But not Lexi. She wasn’t here. Again, refusing to let herself really get involved with anyone’s life.
Because she wasn’t who she claimed to be.
His brain was putting it together, although he wasn’t sure if his subconscious was trying to hurry that process along or stop it altogether.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. Tristan.
He accepted the call and brought the phone up to his ear but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to, Tristan was already talking.
“Gavin, sweet baby Jesus and all his disciple babies, you are not going to believe what I’m about to tell you.”
“Lexi isn’t who she says she is.” His words were emotionless. Numb, like he felt.
“How did you know? Did you figure this out already and not tell me?”
“No.” The numbness was taking over his whole body. “I just have my suspicions. Who is she? A criminal?”
It had to be someone he knew, that was why she seemed familiar.
“You were right about it all. The easiest thing to trace was the phone call from Mac’s bar. That was a call to a parole officer in North Carolina.”
So not a criminal, an ex-criminal. “Why didn’t all this show up when I ran her through the system?”
“That ties into the guy whose picture you gave me, the one she’s been paying. His name is Justin Romig, and he’s irrelevant. But he’s tied to Dashawn Cussler, one of the best ID forgers out there. Cussler isn’t the type of guy you go to if you’re trying to sneak into a club when you’re underage. This is the guy you use when you need your ID to withstand a background check.”
“So she’s not really Lexi Johnson.” He’d known that all along. He’d let it go rather than force the issue and then convinced himself it wasn’t true, but he’d known from the very beginning that Lexi Johnson wasn’t who she really was.
“Nope. But I cross-referenced her parole officer with that date you wanted me to check out to see what had happened in the world—and believe it or not, I got a match.”
Gavin scrubbed a hand down his face. “Tell me.”
“Alexandra Adams.”
It took him a second to place the name. “The actress? The one on the show where Shane Westman took over security?”
“Yep.”
Shane had been in the Special Forces with Gavin. He’d planned to join Linear Tactical when he got out of the army a couple years ago, but had taken a security job as a favor for Zac. He’d fallen in love and never made it out of North Carolina.
Alexandra Adams had almost gotten Shane’s now-wife killed.
Everything in Gavin’s mind shifted. He could see it now, clear as day. “The eyes.”
Lexi Johnson’s and Alexandra Adams’s eyes were the same. Remarkable, unmistakable.
“The eyes,” Tristan agreed. “It looks like her nose was broken sometime in the past two years, which changed the fundamental shape of her face, and the rest of her changes are skillfully applied makeup. But yeah, the eyes are the same.”
“Send me what you have.”
“Are you okay, man?”
“Just send it.”
He didn’t wait for Tristan to send him the info. All it was going to do was provide proof for what Gavin already knew: Lexi was a liar.
He stormed toward his hotel room, hardly able to fathom his own stupidity at being fooled by a lying woman once again. Evidently he was a complete idiot who let himself get led around by his dick all the time.
The information from Tristan arrived as he got to the door of his hotel room. He didn’t stop to read it, but he couldn’t keep his eyes from the photo at the start of the file. He enlarged it—Alexandra Adams from three or four years ago. She was coming out of a restaurant or club of some kind, dressed to the nines, smiling at cameras.
She looked nothing like Lexi until he zoomed in on the eyes. The eyes were the same.
He stopped and stared at the picture. Not just the same color . . . the same sadness, the same exhaustion. He tamped that down. What kind of idiot would he have to be to feel sympathy for a woman when he was holding undeniable proof she was a liar? He swiped to the next picture.
Her fucking mugshots.
Still the same eyes.
He resisted the urge to throw his phone against the wall. That wouldn’t change any of this.
Nothing would change any of this.
He let himself into the hotel room. Soft noises came from the bathroom. He walked in without knocking and found Lexi sitting on the luxurious padded stool in front of the large mirror, as if it were her throne. Her makeup was spread out in front of her like her subjects. A glass of wine beside them.
He glanced over at the oversize tub. It was filled with nearly every towel in the bathroom.
Evidently while they had been rescuing Anne and Marilyn, Lexi had decided to have a bath and a glass of wine.
Her startled eyes met his in the mirror. Her hands went to her hair, pulling it down to cover most of her face.
How many times had he seen her do that? He’d thought it endearing, a nervous habit. What it really had been was an accomplished actress’s tool to make sure she wasn’t discovered.
He’d caught her mid-process. She looked different than how she had when he’d seen her down on the beach, but not quite fully Lexi either.
“Marilyn and Anne are fine, in case you were wondering.” He leaned against the doorframe. “As a matter fact, Noah just proposed to Marilyn out on the beach.”
She nodded, her eyes not meeting his in the mirror. “I’d heard they were okay.”
“From who?”
Her eyes darted to the bathtub.
Feeling guilty for taking a bath when somebody might’ve been dying?
“One of the members of the resort staff told me.”
He had no way of knowing whether that was true or not, so he let it go.
“If you give me a minute, I’ll be right out,” she said, picking up a brush and smoothing it along her hair.
He crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, I’ve never seen you put on your makeup.”
“It’s not terribly exciting. Nothing really to see.” Now her eyes met his.
He gave her a smile that held no humor whatsoever. “Oh, changing everything about your appearance would definitely be something most people find interesting. I definitely do.”
32
He watched the color drain from her face. She set down the brush in her hand.
“You know. Is it because you recognized me or something else—did someone post about me being here on social media?”
She was concerned about how many likes she got on a photo? Jesus. He raised an eyebrow. “Does it matter?”
She shook her head. “Not to you, I suppose.”
He pointed to the makeup. “Take it all off. Surely, since I’ve seen you naked so many times, I can see what you really look like.”
She didn’t respond, merely picked up a bottle, poured some of its contents onto a cotton swab, and wiped it across her face.
Gavin wasn’t a big television watcher. He’d always been more of a reader. But he’d still heard of Alexandra Adams, of course. Knew who she was, even without the ties Linear had with Shane Westman.
Gavin had applauded when she’d been sent to prison for obstruction of justice and filing a false report by a no-nonsense judge who didn’t care that she was a famous actress. The judge had told her she was lucky she wasn’t facing accessory to kidnapping charges with a sentence that would span a decade or more. As far as Gavin was concerned, Alexandra Adams had gotten what she deserved. He hadn’t thought of the woman a single day since.
But now that woman sat facing him in t
he mirror.
She was definitely different without the makeup. Her face a little more full, her cheekbones much less pronounced. Even her nose and forehead looked different.
“I don’t understand how it’s possible. How you’ve fooled everyone.”
She shrugged with one shoulder. “Most people don’t look too closely. It’s a mix of regular makeup and special-effects techniques. It tricks the eyes into believing my face is a different shape than it really is.”
“You wore this all the time, even when you slept in my bed?”
“My makeup is by far the most expensive thing I own.” Her voice was low, calm. “It’s long-lasting and mostly waterproof. It’s meant to withstand a full day of filming under hot lights or other difficult circumstances.”
“But it came off today while you were snorkeling?”
“Today, I made the unfortunate mistake of removing it myself before I went out in the ocean. I didn’t think anyone would see me.” She took a sip of her wine.
She was relaxed enough to sip her fucking wine, hand loose on the stem. Meanwhile he felt like he was a half second from punching through the wall.
“It’s not all just makeup.” He’d be damned if he got out his phone and studied the differences between her now and the photos Tristan had sent, but even without any makeup, he could see there was a difference between her face and what it had been a couple of years ago. “Your face is different.”
She nodded. “Broken nose and a fractured cheekbone changed the overall shape of my face. Certainly makes the makeup job easier.”
“When did you break your nose and cheekbone?”
“Second day of prison. Someone didn’t like me.” Another sip of wine. “Or, to hear her tell it, she accidentally tripped and fell against me and pushed me into a wall with all her weight. Either story, same result.”
Gavin was pissed that he couldn’t control his wince at the thought of her face being slammed against a wall with enough force to break bones. “Am I supposed to feel sorry for you?”
Those green eyes fell away from his gaze in the mirror. “No. I don’t expect anyone to feel sorry for me.”
“Your actions almost got two people killed.”
“And I went to prison for it.”
She was so icy. So calm. So still. He couldn’t believe she was just sitting there. In the months that he’d known her, he’d never known her to be this still.
He had to take a step back. For the first time in his adult life, he wasn’t completely sure he was in control of his anger. Jesus, he’d walked in on Janeen fucking another man and hadn’t felt one tenth of the fury burning through him now.
And she was sitting there like a queen on her throne.
“So what did you do, Alexandra? Come to Oak Creek to escape the press? That’s why you didn’t want to be in any photographs? The press would hunt you down and life isn’t quite so easy when people won’t let you sweep your past sins under the rug?”
She stiffened. “Yes. Exactly. You’ve got it all figured out, obviously.”
He wanted to shake her. Not because he wanted to hurt her, but because he wanted to knock her out of this cool disdain. She was acting like she was the wronged party. Like she was the one whose world was being ripped piece by piece into nothing.
“You probably should’ve done better research than coming to the town housing the friends of the people you almost got killed.”
Those green eyes got big now. “You know Chloe Jeffries and Nadine MacFarlane?”
“No, but we work with Shane Westman and Wyatt Highfield, neither of whom appreciated the danger your stunt put the women they love in.”
“They work for Linear Tactical?” Now she seemed a little more rattled.
“Shane took that security job for the studio as a favor to Zac. Wyatt followed to help when the danger skyrocketed—which it did thanks to you. Good thing Wyatt has been away on a mission for the past couple of months. I wonder if he would’ve recognized you, since you are directly responsible for nearly destroying the life of the woman he loves.”
“I-I had no idea either man was part of Linear Tactical.”
Gavin shrugged. “Shane never really was. He was about to start when Zac asked him to take the security position, and then he decided to stay with Chloe. Wyatt does a lot of our international work, so he isn’t around much.”
He had no idea why he was telling her this, as if he should be reassuring her. His hands tightened into fists at his side. “Why didn’t you tell me, Lexi? From the very beginning you should’ve told me who you were.”
“I . . .” She stared at her own reflection in the mirror. “It’s complicated.”
“That doesn’t really excuse anything.”
“I know.” She stood up like she was going to come over to him, but then sat back down, her face pale. “I just—nobody believes me when I tell them . . .”
“Tell them what?”
Her mouth opened, then closed twice as she swallowed whatever it was she was going to say. “I was going to tell you. That’s what I meant last night when I said I wanted to talk. But you said to wait and—”
He let out a snort, his fist pounding low against the doorframe. “Really? You’re going to throw this back on me? You should’ve told me who you were weeks ago, Lexi. Not lied to my face every single day.”
He left the bathroom. He couldn’t stay in there with her. Or he’d say something—or God, do something—unforgivable in a moment of anger.
And goddammit, he wanted her to get off that fucking throne of hers and come out here. He wanted them to yell this out. Wanted her to apologize to him for cracking off a huge piece of his fucking heart.
Wanted to be mean enough to her that she would face him eye to eye.
But she didn’t come after him. She stayed in the bathroom like the selfish queen she was.
He walked back to the doorway. She was still sitting there. “That’s it, huh? We’re not worth fighting about?”
If so, then she definitely didn’t feel they were worth fighting for.
“I can’t chase you into the other room, Gavin. I—”
“No need to bother,” he cut her off, turning away again. “I get it. You’re not going to chase me. That tells me everything I need to know. I’m done with this.”
He slammed out of the room before she could say another word.
The wedding was beautiful.
A late-afternoon ceremony with the gorgeous waters of the Pacific as a backdrop would probably make any wedding lovely. But the fact that yesterday could’ve ended in tragedy made this wedding that much sweeter.
Anne’s dress hid the bandage supporting her ankle. Maybe she and Zac did a little less dancing at the reception than they might have if she wasn’t dealing with an injury, but it was a fair trade-off.
Zac had an arm clamped around his wife’s waist like he was never going to let her go. Of course, that had been true way before yesterday’s mishap.
Gavin looked down at the drink napkin in his hand and the cute words embossed on it.
Anne and Zac. Love from A to Z and back again.
Gavin took a sip of his whiskey. Clever. Especially because it was so true.
Lexi hadn’t shown up for the wedding. Anne had asked about her, and Gavin had carefully sidestepped the question, mostly telling the gentle doctor he wasn’t sure where Lexi was. He definitely wasn’t about to tell Anne or Zac that they’d inadvertently invited a notorious actress to their wedding.
Gavin was a little surprised Lexi didn’t show. From Anne and Marilyn’s telling of the tale, Lexi was as much the hero as Marilyn had been. Again, Gavin didn’t set the record straight. Didn’t tell anyone how slowly Lexi had been moving when she first arrived to get them.
Maybe her scraped knee had slowed her down, although that hadn’t looked like much of an injury. Maybe she was out of shape. In the end, everything had turned out all right.
Jesus, was he making excuses for her now too?
Glass in hand, he left the reception on the patio and wandered off toward the beach, where the sun was setting in a glorious blaze of fire on the horizon. Gavin wanted to appreciate it, but he couldn’t.
He was foundering. His entire world had been shaken to the core, and it had everything to do with Lexi. Alexandra.
He was in love with the woman, and he wasn’t sure what to call her.
His initial wave of fury had subsided. He still had plenty of anger left, but he also had questions. He’d been so angry last night, felt so betrayed, there was no way he would’ve known what to ask. Not that he would have been willing to listen to any response she would’ve given anyway.
He’d been up all night. He hadn’t gone back to the room at all until he’d been forced to go to get dressed for the wedding today. All her stuff had been gone. The housekeeping staff had been there and all traces of Lexi had been erased.
Like she’d never been here at all.
Was that what he wanted? To erase every trace of Lexi from his life?
No. God, despite the haze of anger and confusion, he knew that wasn’t true.
He’d spent most of last night in the resort’s small business center at a computer, researching everything he could about Alexandra Adams.
Evidently some of what she’d told him during the blizzard was true. Her parents had died when she was fifteen right as her career skyrocketed, then her aunt and uncle had taken custody of her.
The differences between pictures of fifteen-year-old Alexandra right before her parents had died and the same girl a year later were staggering. The press had blamed grief, but the signs of the drugs her aunt and uncle had been giving her were evident if someone knew to look.
Five years later, at the age of twenty, the height of her career, she was undeniably beautiful.
But her eyes were haunted. Everything about the picture had made him want to reach through the screen and help her.
As her career continued, Alexandra seemed to have everything anyone could ever want: beauty, fame, riches. Multiple relationships, although none of them had lasted long, plenty of travel, and A-list friends.