by Sue Wilder
“With a threat assessment, we draw a circle around the subject. Actions involving people or things outside that circle are non-personal, low-level threats, like harassing the director, disrupting the set. That’s our first pattern. Actions to get you off the show. Once the goal is achieved, the actions stop.”
“I get fired, then no more accidents on the set.”
“Right.” Garrett turned his head to check the GPS monitor, his gorgeous face caught in the sunlight. “The second pattern invaded your circle. The graffiti violated the sanctity of your home. You were physically attacked. Someone wrote bitch on your car—also inside your circle—which tells me it hasn’t ended and he followed you here.”
My foot flicked, and I rubbed hard at my jeans. “How does the fire fit in?”
“The motorhome is part of The Four Kingdoms. But you’re already gone, so it doesn’t fit the original harassment. Unless we look at the motorhome as a symbol of Dacree—you, inside your circle. Then it makes sense, why our unknown destroys it in a very visible way.”
“Why?”
“To keep his actions hidden, and you frightened. He knows you’re here. He wants to keep you here, afraid to go home. Or he wants you in a panic, running somewhere else. Either way, you’re isolated, without a support system. And where you go, he goes. Finishes what he started.”
The logic in Garrett’s argument revealed the strategic way he thought, and while it fascinated me, I found the information hard to process. With Brand, I knew he was still angry. But I knew no one angry enough to hurt me.
Ahead, the jetties came into view, with the waves larger than they’d been only hours ago. Garrett handled the Ibiza with the competence that defined everything he did. This man, who had wounds and walked through life alone—somehow, he’d become important, and it startled me. Despite our power dynamic, I felt protected, as if he respected my need for autonomy, and I remained quiet as he moored the boat, then walked with him up the hill to the bar. When we reached the entrance, I hesitated, aware of my messy hair, the casual hoodie and jeans.
Garrett took my hand. “Relax. You’re a beautiful woman, Soleil, no matter what you’re wearing.”
“I thought you called me trouble now.”
“I am.” His fingers curled warmly around mine. “In my head.”
The bar was warmth and voices, laughter and energy. Filled with young professionals, couples and singles. Work attire, evening glamour or casual chic blended with people simply having fun. The experience was not what I expected, and I glanced around as we wove between tall tables and upholstered booths. Our progress was slow. Patrons greeted Garrett like an old friend, and he gave each group his attention, working the room with an impressive energy.
For the entire time, he held my hand, and I watched him, unable to understand the enigma. I’d never imagined Garrett this way, not after his brooding bad boy act that first day. Automatically, I leaned in as we approached another room, smaller and more intimate. Through the framed opening, I could see a white-enameled fireplace. Upholstered chairs surrounded a large table, and two couples were present.
“Garrett.” A tall man held out his hand in greeting. He was attractive, with sun-bleached hair and an easy, rugged vitality that matched Garrett’s. The man beside him flashed a killer Denzel Washington smile. Garrett made the introductions. Caleb Manning, and his wife Lis. Tyson Lemay and his fiancé Jacqueline—Ty and Jack, they insisted, once we were all seated.
Lis was as gorgeous as her husband. I learned she’d been a star in advertising before moving to the west coast. Caleb Manning owned a commercial construction company—Millennium—with a national reputation.
Ty was a deputy sheriff, while Jack was moving her business to Newport. Rearranging her priorities, she said depreciatingly, while Ty kissed her forehead and began describing an impressive client list.
Our rapport was immediate. Lis talked about her foundation for TBI. Jack was in public relations, with a reputation for crisis control—which I could certainly use. I marveled at the way they radiated joy. Lost count of the times Caleb touched his wife’s hand. Ty was the same, leaning back and smiling while Jack told one of her animated stories.
When Ethan arrived with whiskey samplers and plates of food, disappointment washed over me. The evening moved faster than I expected, but my stomach growled, and both the smoked salmon and seared scallops wrapped in bacon proved irresistible. The dressed crab was a delight, along with apple slices and a variety of cheeses. Even an assortment of orange chocolate appeared on the table before Ethan walked away.
I found comfort in Garrett’s voice as he joined the conversations. The brush of his arm against mine felt possessive. He explained the sampler, small shot glasses filled with different whiskeys. I’d never realized there were so many brands, tastes. Sweet, or with a tang like bitter apple, and I learned the finer art of pairing food to whiskey. What to drink with dinner. Which whiskey for dessert. I laughed more than I had in months. Relaxed next to Garrett as if we, too, were a couple. And I realized what he offered—a support system. Friends who didn’t have motives of their own.
Garrett’s gaze slid toward me, and I turned to smile at him. He tipped his head slightly, smiling back. Then the conversation changed.
“I shared some details with Ty,” Garrett said. “Got him up to speed.”
Ty slid a business card across the table. “Call anytime, ma’am,” he said while Jack elbowed him in the ribs, adding that calling a woman ma’am sounded like he was writing a speeding ticket.
“And we’re friends,” I pointed out. “Just use my name.”
“Well, I was afraid if I called you Dacree, your dragons would come,” Ty answered drolly, while everyone around the table groaned, including me.
“I’m never living that down, am I?”
His grin was heart-stopping. “Not when it makes you blush like that. But seriously. Anything happens out there at your house, makes you uneasy, you call me. Direct. I’ll make sure someone gets out there right away.”
“Thank you.” I slid the card into my clutch purse.
“Have you thought about my offer,” Caleb asked, looking at Garrett, and Garrett looked at me.
“Millennium has an impressive security department,” he said. “He’s offered a team, and I’d like men stationed on site, but at the very least, we install cameras and monitor 24-7.”
I toyed with my fork. “What kind of cameras?”
“Tiny,” Lis put in before her husband could answer. “You won’t even know they’re there. When Caleb first took charge—without asking.” She pretended to glare. “I wasn’t sure about it. But I have an app on my phone. It’s so easy to use, and that system saved us more than once.”
“What I like is the privacy,” Jack added. “It’s a closed system through Millennium, with panic buttons for fire, ambulance, everything you need. And I feel safer when Ty’s not home.”
“Think temporary.” Garrett turned to face me. “Once we solve the problem, you decide what to do, keep the system or remove it. But this gives everyone peace of mind. And Connor agrees.”
I set the fork aside. “You’ve talked to him?”
“He asked. I told him, and he agreed not to tell Luna until I talked to you. I have Max doing backgrounds on the bluff tenants. So far, everyone seems clean. Two of the houses are empty. A surveillance team can stay in the house across the street, work in the yard. Come and go at odd hours. Look ordinary, but be there if needed.”
I folded my hands in my lap. “I appreciate the offer, but I’d like to think about the men.” I looked at Caleb. “I’ll pay for the security system since I’m responsible for the need.”
“We can make that happen.” Caleb was like Garrett in his willingness to assume control, but with an easy, charming dominance that made him hard to resist. I glanced at Lis. She smiled in commiseration.
Garrett checked his watch—expensive, but not worn as a display of wealth. There was a military precision about the way it
circled his wrist.
“It’s getting late.” He pushed his chair back. “We’ll go back across the bay and I’d drive you home.”
“You’re closing tonight,” Caleb pointed out, as if he knew Garrett’s schedule. “Means you’d have to make a return trip when Lis and I can take Soleil home.” He smiled in my direction. “It’s not out of the way, and I’ll show you how I’d like the system installed.”
I forced a smile in return. “I’d like that.”
My heart hammered, though. I enjoyed being with Garrett, and I didn’t want our time to end. But when he didn’t counter Caleb’s offer, my awkwardness increased. Perhaps he needed the space. The day had been emotional, first with Wentz. Then Oz. We pushed our chairs back, and, as a group, we moved through the bar to the entrance door.
Caleb and Ty left to get the cars, while Jack, Lis, and I remained inside. Ethan signaled to Garrett. He excused himself and walked away, and I didn’t realize I watched him leave until Lis gently touched my arm. “Tell Garrett you’ll stay until closing. Let him take you home.”
“What about looking at my house?”
“Caleb can do that tomorrow.”
My nerves fluttered. “I don’t know.”
I turned to search for Garrett, but he stood beside the bar with a woman. Maggie Jackson. Her hand rested possessively on his arm. A black sheath dress complimented her tanned shoulders and the silky way her hair moved. She was talking animatedly, staring up at his face. I watched as Garrett nodded, then turned to guide her down a darkened hall.
His hand pressed lightly against her back.
I cleared my throat, gripped my clutch purse. Hit the mark, Soleil. Play the role.
Walk out the door.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I adored Luna’s sense of style, especially in her bathroom. Vanilla candles scented the air. Sultry jazz floated through the sound system, and I stood naked, pouring bubble bath into the claw-foot tub because I craved the childhood comfort.
Caleb and Lis had come and gone.
I’d locked all the windows and doors. Turned off the downstairs lights except for one above the stove, and now I sank into scented water and let the warmth surround me. The curved end of the tub embraced my head. A smooth porcelain rim supported my arms, and the only missing piece was a glass of wine.
But I’d consumed enough alcohol for one night, and as my thoughts drifted, my eyes stung—for what damn reason I didn’t know.
And it angered me, crying in a tub filled with bubbles because a man I hadn’t thought about in years belonged to someone else. I wasn’t the old Soleil, going after men because I could, and what I wouldn’t do now was involve myself with another woman’s man.
I’d made that vow standing on a boat dock, listening to Connor talk to Luna about guilt and forgiveness, and what they both did for remembrance.
That moment broke my heart in so many ways. I was still picking up the pieces. And if I was honest, Garrett and I were too alike in the wrong ways. He kept his secrets just as deep as I kept mine, and neither of us shared openly. He isolated himself. My relationships were all contractual, and I recognized the distance he guarded because it matched my own. I doubted if either of us had ever formed a trusting relationship. Knew the kind of love Luna and Connor shared. Lis and Caleb. Jack and Ty.
Water splashed as I surged forward. God—I hated these moods when I indulged old pain like I was fifteen again, torn up over some boy who told me to take my sweet cupcake ass somewhere else because he had better things to do.
You’d think, after all these years, I’d own the confidence I projected as an actress. But inwardly, I was a mess. Often, I’d bring home the emotions, the person I pretended to be, sometimes arrogant. Manipulative.
Other times, so exposed and vulnerable, it was difficult to function. There’d been one film where I played a murder victim, and afterward, I had episodes of sleepwalking. Unexpected panic attacks.
The affairs I had were meaningless. Some were pretense for the publicity. Others were real and foolish. But the film industry wasn’t glamorous, and I’d done too many things I now regretted.
The water grew chilly and I climbed from the tub. With only a towel, I returned to my chosen bedroom and slid naked into bed. Beneath the icy sheets, I shivered, but the tingling had more to do with sexual gratification I couldn’t give to myself, and hadn’t received from a man since even before Brand. He’d told me once that my expectations were too high, and with my sultry reputation, I could hardly ask around. Check my orgasms against those of my friends and trust they wouldn’t lie—or broadcast my failure to the world.
I rolled on my side, rubbed the heel of my hand between my thighs. It wouldn’t satisfy the ache, though, and it was foolish, starting what I couldn’t finish. I had toys at home in Malibu, hidden beneath my underwear. Toys could take the edge off, but I’d panicked when I left. Forgot them in the drawer.
Or maybe I knew I couldn’t satisfy what I ached for using toys. What I missed was tenderness. An erotic touch from a man who loved me. God, how I longed for the warmth of hard arms, the thrust from a virile body. One body. His—pointless, when he was involved with someone else. I swiped at my face, rocked. When my cell chimed, I expected Luna on the call. But the deeply masculine voice greeting me made my heart thump.
Garrett sighed. “I woke you.”
“No, I wasn’t asleep.” I was afraid he’d hang up before I got it all out. “Did you just get home? You sound tired. How’s your back? Did you eat anything?”
“You’re my mother now?” He was amused, which meant I’d been rambling. I rolled over, cradled the cell close to my ear. Closer to his voice.
“If she’s not here to scold you.”
“She’s in Arizona. Where it’s warm and far away from the ocean.”
Oz. The ritual ached in my heart. His mother would grieve, too. “Did you talk to her tonight?”
“Yes.” Faint rustling from his end had me imagining his hand, rubbing across his face. Or he was shifting his body in bed, the way I moved restlessly in mine.
“How was she, if I may ask?”
“You may ask. She’s fine. Worried about me.”
“How are you?”
“I’m more interested in how you are.”
“I’m fine.” I pulled at the sheet. “Thank you for introducing me to your friends.”
“They’re good people.”
“Caleb looked at the house,” I said. “We’re going ahead with the security system.”
His laugh was low. “Good choice.”
“You know what this reminds me of?” My turn to laugh softly. “Being that cheerleader again, having a late-night conversation with the football jock who’s suddenly wondering why he called, maybe too embarrassed to say much.”
“I’m not embarrassed. I wanted you to stay tonight. Not leave with Caleb and Lis. I thought you wanted to stay, too, when you were talking with Lis.”
“I thought about it, but…” The confession was hard. “I saw you with Maggs, and I won’t step between the two of you when her feelings are obvious. I made a promise to myself—”
“Stop talking.”
“Garrett…”
“I’m calling you, not her. What Maggs thinks comes from her own imagination. We shared a few dinners because I wanted someone else to talk to, other than Ethan. She was available. Keeps making herself available, so I told her tonight I wasn’t interested in more. I took her to my office to do it in private. That’s all you saw.”
I chewed on my lower lip. “You’re calling me trouble in your head right now, aren’t you?”
“If the name fits. And yes, I feel like I’m eighteen again, jock-stupid and calling in the middle of the night, lying in my bed and talking to Dacree of Wyvern.”
“I should sic my dragons on you.” The tease was easy in the dark, wrapped naked in the sheets, when he flirted so effectively. Another unexpected side to Garrett Kincade that got beneath my skin.
“You s
hould ask me to come over.”
“No, I shouldn’t. We both know that would be reckless.”
He was silent, and then, “You’re probably right. Go to sleep, trouble.”
“Goodnight, Garrett.”
I held the phone curled to my chest long after he disconnected, slept fitfully, and in the morning, I found the Fed-ex package from Shirl’s agency waiting on my doorstep. From the thickness of the envelope, I guessed she’d sent a new script, and as I bent to pick it up, Marsh caught my attention.
I wondered why nothing changed with Marsh. He wore his rumpled clothes and watered the yellow flowers in a new-looking ceramic pot. He waved. I waved back out of courtesy before bending to check on Luna’s red geraniums. They remained moist from the overnight fog.
Coffee became my next priority, and I went to the kitchen, needing caffeine. I still wasn’t over my midnight conversation with Garrett. He turned my world upside down, and I’d curled in the dark as if fifteen years hadn’t passed, listening to the whiskey-warmth in his voice.
He’d never called me during high school, but last night, we interacted like those two kids we’d been, young, hesitant, taking small steps toward each other over the phone and in the dark.
We’d always had an emotional connection, a bridge that brought us together. That bridge was still present, pulling at me, if I dared to cross.
The coffee machine beeped. I prepared my favorite mug before cutting open the Fed-ex package. A new script meant work could distract me, and I settled in my favorite chair. The coffee waited nearby, reassuring, but an hour into the read, the coffee remained untouched. I felt out of sync. My pulse hammered in my throat. My mind made connections that shouldn’t be there.
Outside, the drone of a lawn mower carried.
Inside, I heard nothing at all. The house was too quiet, isolating me with the words on the page, and wildly, I wondered what role Shirl had in mind. If she imagined me in the lead role. Or as the antagonist.
Because I was reading a script that exposed my deepest guilt. Revealed how twisted I was inside, vile, and I surged to my feet. Let the pages fall and scatter like dying leaves. My pulse jerked, then raced. When I knocked into the table, coffee spilled onto Luna’s perfect floor and I never noticed.
