by Sarah Curtis
She heard Nate’s laughter and knew he would give her a few second head start. He loved the chase as much as she loved being pursued.
She stopped short when she reached the steps. A package about the size of a shoebox sat on the top stair wrapped in happy birthday paper. She looked over her shoulder. Nate had slowed to a walk at her abrupt stop. “Another present?” she asked her lips quirking.
He shook his head, a frown forming between his brows.
Confusion replaced her amusement. “Well, someone did.”
She started up the steps, but Nate’s booming voice stopped her. “Wait.”
She halted. Nate came to her side, wrapping an arm around her waist. “Let me take a look at it first.”
She stayed put as he took the few steps up, bending at the knees to look it over before picking it up.
“No suspicious ticking noises?”
He scowled over his shoulder. “Not funny.”
Okay, in light of her accident, maybe it wasn’t.
Nate opened the front door, and Victoria took that as her cue it was okay to follow him in. He walked through the entry and living room, disappearing into the kitchen. He already had the paper off the box by the time she joined him.
It really was a shoe box. Victoria frowned at the bold black swoosh on the side of the box. Someone sent her sneakers?
Nate lifted the lid. “Fuck,” he said, blocking her view of the contents with his body.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” He closed the lid, shoving the box down the counter. “Why don’t you go on up and get ready for bed. I’ll be up in a minute.”
She crossed her arms over her chest and jutted a hip out to rest it against the counter, crossing her feet at the ankles. “Really? Please don’t tell me you thought that would work.”
He had the grace to look sheepish. “I was hoping it would.”
She shook her head. “Not a chance. What’s in the box?”
He went to her, placing his hands on her stiff upper arms. “Something sent by some sick fucker that I don’t want you to see.”
“Is it a body part?”
He barked a laugh. “What? No!”
“Then I can handle it.”
“Tori—”
“Nate,” she talked over him.
They were at a deadlock. Him not wanting to show her. Her not wanting to be sent up to her room like a little girl.
They had a staring contest. A long one. One she was determined to win.
Finally, he let out a long breath. “Fine.”
They went back to the box, and Nate lifted the lid. A bouquet of dead roses, their petals darkened and brittle with age with the stems cut short to fit in the box and tied with a black ribbon, lay nestled on a bed of white tissue paper.
They were silent a few moments until she said, “There’s a card.” Shoved at the side of the box was a white envelope with Victoria’s name scrawled across it in black marker.
“I know, but I don’t want to touch it until the cops get here.”
“You’re going to call them tonight?” she asked in surprise, though she didn’t know why she was other than the fact it was late.
“Yeah.” Nate pulled out his phone and started scrolling through his contacts. “You might want to change into something more comfortable. I have a feeling it’s going to be a long night.”
Victoria eyed his expensive, custom-tailored suit. “You too.”
He looked up from his phone with a smile. “I’ll be up as soon as I make this call.”
Using his shoulder for support, she raised on her tiptoes and brushed his cheek with a kiss. “Okay.”
Feet dragging, she left the kitchen, bemoaning the unexpected and definitely unwelcome twist to the evening.
≈≈≈
Waiting for Smith to show, Nate restlessly paced the living room impatiently looking at his phone every five minutes and noting it had been over an hour since he’d called the detective.
He hadn’t said anything to Victoria, but having that package delivered to their doorstep bothered him. A lot. And for the same reason he didn’t like shit delivered to his trailer. Access. How did the person get in?
He lived in a gated community with a guard on duty until eight every night. Gate codes were changed regularly every three months. Security patrolled the neighborhood hourly. And these were all things he’d make clear to Detective Smith. If he ever got his ass over there.
He was so antsy, if he were a smoker, he’d be smoking or a heavy drinker, he’d be tossing back fingerfuls of scotch. He was neither. Growing up in the business, surrounded by easy-to-get drugs and even easier-to-get alcohol, he’d seen the downfall of many teen and twenty-something actors. Not that he’d had anymore common sense than the average know-it-all-punk, but his mom had certainly had, and she’d been constantly on his ass, never once turning her head away, pretending not to see. He owed her a lot for that.
He stopped pacing long enough to check on Victoria. Curled up in an extra-large, overstuffed living-room chair, she still slept. She’d crashed within ten minutes of snuggling into it. Noticing she’d been extra tired lately—not that she’d admit it—it was his new mission to get her to rest more. He watched the silent rise and fall of her chest, before his eyes fell to her hands pressed between her thighs. She looked cold.
Going to the couch, he picked up the crochet, brown and tan throw his mom had made two Christmases ago and laid it over her, tucking it behind her shoulders to hold it in place. He brushed away a lock of bangs that had fallen over her eye and felt such a rush of love, it was almost crippling. He would never let anything hurt her.
His phone buzzed, and he looked at the screen. Thank fuck, Smith had finally arrived. He pushed the button activating the gate then, taking a detour to the kitchen to pick up the box, went to the front door, opened it, and stepped outside. He figured some fresh air would probably do him good, and he didn’t want their conversation to awaken Victoria.
He approached the white Dodge Charger after it came to a stop in his drive. The car door opened, and Smith stepped out. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, his hair slightly mussed, so different from the put-together guy he’d met on two previous occasions, it reminded him the lateness of the hour.
“Detective,” Nate said by way of greeting. “Appreciate you coming so late.”
“Not a problem, Mr. Reed. With this job, I’m used to odd hours.” Smith nodded to the box Nate held. “Is that what arrived tonight?”
“We found it on our doorstep when we came home this evening,” Nate said handing the box over. “It was wrapped in gift wrap. No address or postmark.”
“We, meaning you and Ms. Lee?”
“That’s correct.”
Smith opened the box, his eyes narrowing at its contents. His driveway was well lighted, revealing clearly what the box contained.
“You said you found this on your doorstep?” Smith pulled out a ballpoint pen and started poking around in the tissue.
“Yes.” He didn’t elaborate, curious what conclusions Smith would come to.
“Did you open the card?”
“No. I thought it best not to touch anything.”
Smith grunted, nodding.
“If you’d like to take a better look, we can go into the kitchen. Victoria fell asleep in the living room, and I don’t want to disturb her.”
“Let me grab some gloves from the car.”
Nate led Smith into the kitchen where the detective pulled on a pair of latex gloves and removed the envelope from the box, opening it carefully. Inside was a greeting card, the front embossed with a generic “Happy Birthday” and the inside blank save for four words written in what was becoming very familiar handwriting. You don’t deserve him.
Smith replaced the card, tucking it back in the box before speaking. “Any idea who this mystery fan is? A disgruntled ex?”
“No and no. If I did know, I would’ve said something. Nothing is more important to me than Victoria’
s safety.” When Smith didn’t say anything, Nate continued. “My address isn’t a secret, but the average person wouldn’t know it.”
“The average person, no, but for someone this obsessed, it wouldn’t be too difficult to find out.”
“What about the security here? The person delivered the package to my doorstep.”
Smith shrugged. “Not hard. They could have hidden, waiting by the gates until someone came home and opened them, and then snuck in behind them. Could’ve exited the same way.”
Nate nodded. As disturbing as that sounded, he supposed it was plausible.
“I’ll check with management tomorrow and see if there are any cameras that could’ve caught something. I’ll let you know if we get a hit.”
Nate hadn’t even thought about the possibility of video surveillance. Guess that’s why he wasn’t a police detective. Nate nodded. “I want to know as soon as you find anything out.”
“I need to take this,” Smith said, putting the lid back on the box.
“Not a problem. I don’t want the damn thing in the house.”
Nate showed the detective out and followed him to his car. He shook his hand. Now that something was being done, he felt a bit more magnanimous and offered his gratitude for dragging the guy out of bed. “Thanks for coming out tonight.”
“Just doing my job, Mr. Reed.”
“Nate.” At the detective’s nod he went on, “You could’ve waited until morning to come, but you didn’t. Just wanted you to know it’s appreciated.”
“I’ll be in touch when I know something. In the meantime, call me if anything else happens.”
Nate watched the detective drive off then went back inside and locked up. He turned off lights and checked all downstairs windows, keeping the living room for last, after which, he scooped Victoria up and carried her to bed, where he held her close all night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“Babe?”
“I’m in here,” Victoria answered Nate, from deep in the closet.
She’d finished pulling a silk tank over her head when she spied Nate, leaning against the closet door jamb, arms and ankles crossed. God, he painted a pretty picture. Hair damp and finger combed back from his face. Sweat glistening on his skin. His damp t-shirt was wrinkled near the hem as if he’d scrubbed his face with it. She felt cheated, missing a view of those spectacular abs.
Her lips curled up. “How far did you go?”
He shrugged a shoulder. “Couple of miles.” He nodded to her outfit. “Where are you off to?”
“I got an email from Simon. I need to do a voice-over for one of the scenes.”
“Only you?”
Victoria slid into a pair of sandals, shrugging. “Not sure. The email wasn’t copied to anyone, but he could have sent individual ones, I guess.”
Nate went to the dresser and picked up his phone. “I didn’t get anything.”
Victoria stepped out of the closet. “Maybe just me then.”
Throwing his phone back on the dresser, he said, “Give me five minutes to shower, and I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t need to bother. I can go by myself.”
Nate stepped over to her and placed his hands on her upper arms. “It’s not a bother. I want to go.”
In the three days since the package had arrived Nate had barely left her side, but she didn’t mind, and she wasn’t going to argue spending more time with him. “Okay.”
“Good.” He kissed her forehead.
She watched him disappear into the bathroom and went downstairs when she heard the water turn on. Walking through the rooms, so vast and large, she could see herself putting her stamp there. Pictures of her family and friends, intermingled with photos of her and Nate. The souvenirs she’d collected over the years chronicling her life. The purchases she and Nate would make to fill barren space.
She moved into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water from the fridge, opening one for herself and setting the other on the counter for Nate. She could see them living life there, expanding their family, growing old together.
She was so lost in thought, dreaming of her future, she didn’t hear Nate enter the kitchen until he spoke. “You look so serene, what puts that expression on your face?”
His thumb trailed down her cheek then across her lips that tipped up into a smile at his touch. “You.”
“Me?”
“Thoughts of you and me, together, growing old. Will you still love me when I’m wrinkled and gray?” she teased.
But she could tell he took the question seriously, his eyes warming and his features relaxing. “I think I’ll love you more, knowing that with each line and each gray hair, I was there to witness them. The memories we’ll have built together, overfilling my heart.”
His words covered her in warmth, filled her with love, hers for him and his for her. She pressed herself against him, hugging her arms around his body, his engulfing hers. Creating one unit with the proof of their love, nestled between.
“Hello?” Victoria’s voice echoed through the deserted soundstage. She didn’t detect any movement, nor did she receive an answering reply.
“Are you sure you weren’t to meet at the sound facility in the post-production building?” Nate asked.
She pulled out her phone to check the email. “I think this is where Simon said.”
She walked aimlessly forward, her face buried in her phone screen. She heard Nate’s footsteps echoing somewhere behind her. “It does say to meet here.” She raised her voice a little, feeling Nate was no longer near.
“Try giving him a call.”
Victoria nodded, scrolling through her contacts.
The next thing she knew, her name was shouted, and strong arms surrounded her as she was lifted off her feet. Then events blurred together.
The sensation of falling but landing on a solid, warm body.
The loud crash of glass shattering and metal hitting wood.
The tiny pellets of pain from something striking the exposed skin of her legs.
The arms coming up to shield her head as the body rolled, changing their positions, protecting her from further harm.
The heavy panting breath in her ear.
The fast, steady heartbeat against her chest, dueling with her own.
It had all happened in a matter of seconds that had felt like minutes.
Hours.
A lifetime.
The weight on her lessened as Nate came up on his elbows to stare down at her. “Are you okay?” His hands pushed the hair back from her face, his eyes seeming to search every square inch they could see.
“I… I think so. What happened?”
As if coming out of a trance, Nate jumped to his feet, helping her to hers. His hands moved over her body as she peered around him, staring at the wreckage littering the floor not a foot away from where they stood. A two-foot wide lighting fixture lay broken, its innards spilling out, multi-colored glass shards decorating the ground around it. She tipped her head back, her eyes scanning the catwalk above, but she couldn’t see anything past the glaring lights.
A trickle of blood snaked down Nate’s arm drawing her attention. “You’re hurt.”
“I’m fine.” He moved to her back, crouching low. His fingertips grazed her legs. “You have a few nicks.”
He stood back up, pulling out his phone, and making a call.
The implications of what had just happened started to set in, and she found herself growing dizzy. They could have been seriously injured or even killed. Her vision became blurry and spots danced before her eyes. A high-pitched buzzing rang in her ears, muffling the sound of her name being called. She felt a strong arm encircle her waist, and she grabbed at it like a lifeline. Her last thought before her world went black, as silly as it was… She now knew what it felt like to faint.
≈≈≈
“I want answers, and I want them now!” Nate had lost all patience.
He’d already lost his mind when Victoria had fainte
d in his arms. And his temper when it had taken the EMTs too long to arrive. And he’d completely lost his shit when he’d called Simon only to discover he’d never sent Victoria an email to meet him, to begin with.
So, yeah, he really had nothing else to lose, making him a very unstable man at the moment, with Smith the unlucky recipient of all Nate’s fury.
“I understand your frustration, Mr. Reed. We’re doing everything we can to get you those answers.”
Nate knew he was. Police swarmed the building as they spoke, searching for leads. Searching for anything that might help them find who was behind the attacks on Victoria. But it wasn’t enough, damn it. And it wouldn’t be until the person was caught.
“Frustration is mild compared to what I’m feeling,” he seethed not ready to let his anger go. Anger that stemmed from his inability to control the situation.
He felt a hand on his arm and stiffened, ready to attack the next person in line, until he heard her voice. “Nate.”
He turned to her, his body relaxing. Only for her. Staring down at the one person he’d move heaven and earth for, do anything to protect, he said in a lower yet no less gruff voice, “Go sit back down, sweetheart. I don’t want you on your feet.”
“I’m fine.”
“You fainted.”
“Two hours ago.” She moved closer to his side. “I want to go home.”
He knew what she was really saying, she wanted him to go home. Away from the scene that brought his anger to the forefront. And he would give in because he would do anything she asked.
Before he could answer, a woman approached their group. Dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, her bright blue hair swept up in a mess atop her head, Nate wouldn’t know she was part of the investigation if not for the latex gloves she wore on her hands.
She spoke to Smith. “A word.”
“Excuse me,” Smith said his gaze directed at Nate and Victoria.
After Smith stepped away, he heard Victoria say, “We need to talk about this.”
They did. They hadn’t spoken since before she’d fainted, since before the EMTs had arrived. She’d been too disoriented and he too damn angry. “We do.”
