Cold Peril_Military Romantic Suspense

by Emily Jane Trent

  When he hopped on board, his ankle complained as a result of the fast jogging. The nagging ache was the least of his concerns. Once in his seat, Garrett dialed Marlene. He needed to hear her voice, and know that she was okay. Buckner would be blocked at the studio from seeing her, but that didn’t put Garrett’s mind at ease.

  Buckner was desperate. His actions showed it.

  When Garrett got her voicemail, he dialed security at the studio. He knew the guard who answered. “Steve, this is Garrett…can you put Marlene on the phone?”

  “That might be difficult,” the guard said. “It’s a zoo here right now. The media is swarming the place. The cast are giving interviews.”

  “Have you seen Marlene?”

  “Sure, I saw her. She was talking to a media guy. I’m sure she’s the center of attention.”

  “Do me a favor. It’s important. Go and find her. Have her call, no matter what’s she’s doing. It’s an emergency,” Garrett said.

  “She can’t be far. Anna was right beside her. They can’t be hard to find. I’ll tell her to call you.”

  Garrett’s veins flooded with adrenaline, and his pulse raced. This wasn’t good. He had to get there fast. Leaning to look out the window, he could see the street was in the distance, not far up ahead. He’d be there soon, probably, before Marlene even called him back.

  He sent a text to Travis, keeping it brief: Buckner not home. Cut my brake lines. No injury. On way to studio.

  When the street car stopped at a light, Garrett hopped off and took off running. He prayed he’d find Marlene knee-deep in journalists, looking radiant and charming them with her witty replies. He wanted nothing more than to feel foolish for having imagined the worst.

  Chapter 23

  The press junket was one of the most exhausting but important parts of releasing a feature film. Marlene knew that a large percentage of the film’s budget was designated for promotion, so she intended to give it her all. She wore a nice dress with leather pumps. The event was fairly casual, the atmosphere designed to make friends.

  The distributors and publishers of the upcoming film had planned an afternoon press junket at the studio. The promotion of the movie involved advertising campaigns, including everything from magazines to conversations in chat rooms.

  The press would be allowed to visit the movie set and gain insight into how some of the special effects were done. Interviews with the director, producers, and stars of the film were especially popular, so would be the pinnacle of the event. Even a few private interviews had been authorized, and one was scheduled for Marlene, as well as a separate one for her director.

  The public relations firm provided food and drinks, along with goodie bags, posters, and keepsakes. The journalists would circulate and interact, then have the opportunity to ask the cast questions. The questions avoided anything too serious. Why did you become involved in this production? or Which actor is most like their character? were the types of things the public wanted to know.

  The studio had been spruced up for the occasion, and many rooms were opened up so the press could look around. Security was tight, but the guards knew how to remain in the background and not ruin the mood of the event—although a junket was often a stressful experience anyway.

  Marlene had been to more of these types of events than she could count. The journalists were herded around like speed daters and could only ask basic questions, none that were of a personal nature. She was determined to make it a pleasurable event. After all, the point was to stir up excitement about the film, and there was no better way than to create rapport with the actors. Fans loved hearing about their favorite stars.

  Anna escaped a band of reporters and went to Marlene’s side. “How you doing?”

  After giving a brilliant smile to the two journalists who’d been hanging around, Marlene turned to her friend. “I wish Garrett was here. He’s late.”

  “What happened to him?”

  “I’m sure he got delayed at the office or something, but I haven’t had a moment to call him. My phone’s in the dressing room, and there’s no way to slip away.” Marlene admonished herself for needing her bodyguard’s support. It wasn’t as if there was a lack of security. She admitted that she really just wanted to see his handsome face, and know he was there during the interviews.

  “He’ll be here,” Anna said. “I know he won’t miss it.” Then a group of journalists spotted her and Marlene lost her friend’s attention.

  As the minutes ticked by, Marlene began to wish she’d worn more comfortable shoes. Maybe she could sit down during her private interview, away from the hub of the main group. That should be soon.

  Marlene chatted with members of the press when they approached her. She was friendly and answered their questions, adding some humor when appropriate. It was best to keep things light. The hallways wound around to various sets so the press could take photographs.

  Relieved to have the crowd move ahead of her, Marlene held back near the main area. Her interview was coming up, and she didn’t want to miss the reporter. It was someone from a prominent entertainment channel.

  Marlene watched the crowd filter down the hall. She turned, hoping to see Garrett, but he hadn’t arrived yet. Security dotted the vast studio, and some stragglers lingered to look at movie posters or read material about the upcoming film release.

  Then a man appeared beside her. He wore tinted glasses, so she couldn’t see his eyes. A press pass dangled around his neck, and he had a camera over one shoulder. “Hello, Marlene.”

  Instinctively, Marlene smiled. This must be the journalist who’d arrived for the personal interview. She’d thought that she’d be called to the director’s office, but maybe not. Before she could inquire about where he planned to conduct the interview, or to verify his name, the man leaned closer.

  Marlene felt a prick at her waist and glanced down to see the sharp tip of a knife at the base of her ribs. She froze, unable to make sense of the situation.

  “Don’t show any reaction. This stiletto can slice into you before you can scream. Turn around as if everything is normal, and walk down that hallway to your right. Make everyone think you are on your way to do an interview,” the man said.

  Marlene hesitated, trying to think of a way out. If she screamed loudly, then security would rush to save her. But she might be dead by then. The knife glinted under the lights, and she had no doubt the man would make good on his threat.

  To buy some time, Marlene did as he asked. She turned and walked slowly down the hallway with the stranger beside her. Breathe, breathe, she thought. I have to get away.

  *****

  Getting inside hadn’t been a problem. Faking press credentials had been simple. And people were so easy to fool. All Buckner had to do was look the part, and he’d been accepted as one of the journalists welcomed with open arms.

  He’d known the studio would have security, so he’d prepared. Metal detectors were used to screen each arrival for weapons, but his ceramic gun had gone unnoticed. Its glass fibers hadn’t so much as caused a blip on the scanner.

  The thin stiletto had been concealed up his sleeve, taped to his forearm. It had given Buckner pause when the detector had indicated there was metal on his body. But he’d just smiled and lifted his arm. In a bored voice, he’d said, “Sorry, it’s my watch.”

  Buckner had worn a Swiss Army watch with lots of fancy dials. The guard had checked out the watch, saying he’d like to get one of those, then waved him through. That had been a close call, but Buckner hadn’t been seriously concerned. This mission was meant to be, and he wasn’t going to be tripped up by something as trivial as studio security.

  For a while, Buckner had blended in, getting used to the surroundings. His plan had been mapped out some time before, but it was too early to execute it. From a distance, he’d watched Marlene without being obvious about it.

  Security roamed about, so Buckner had made an effort to ask a few questions of the cast and express interest in the
film. He had been interested, but not in the movie. His focus had been on the star, and Marlene had looked lovely as she entertained the visitors.

  It had done his heart good to watch her. Marlene was beautiful, admired by fans and press. She was talented and charming. Best of all, she was his. Buckner had waited much too long to make that reality come to pass.

  The time had finally arrived, and he knew Marlene would be pleased when she finally understood the situation. She’d be relieved to know that a man like Buckner was willing to look after her, care for her. She shouldn’t have to be on her own. What had happened to her brother hadn’t been her fault.

  Buckner would rescue her. It was too bad that Marlene hadn’t seen the light sooner. But then Flynn had most certainly lied to her. That could be dealt with, though. Buckner was the stronger man, the more efficient soldier, and he’d win this battle.

  When Buckner had approached her, he’d been surprisingly calm, considering how long he’d strategized and looked forward to that moment. Yet it was to be expected. He’d been trained for battle, and had learned how to control his reactions.

  Yet standing close to Marlene had its effect. Her perfume wafted around him like a hypnotic drug. With her so near, Buckner’s desire for her surged. But he shouldn’t jump the gun. There was plenty of time. He had to do this right.

  Her long blond hair curled down her back, and the dress she wore accentuated her best features. In fact, all of Marlene’s features were her best. If she had any flaw, Buckner didn’t see it. It would really be too bad if he had to kill her.

  Marlene’s shoes clicked on the floor as she walked slowly down the hallway. They were out of sight now, safe from anyone’s curiosity. She stalled, leaning away from his knife.

  “Don’t make a sound,” Buckner said in a low voice, “or you’ll be dead in an instant. This blade can go straight through your heart.”

  Marlene began to walk again. He could see her trembling, and it made him feel good, boosted his ego. She knew who was in control. Buckner had been looking forward to this. Now things would change. He’d finally get the respect he deserved.

  The demeaning attitude that Marlene had displayed the one time he’d spoken to her wasn’t evident now. At that event, she’d been haughty, like she was above it all. Without any consideration for him, she’d brushed him off. Now Buckner had the upper hand, and she realized his power. That thought produced a high like no drug ever had.

  It would all be over soon, and justice would be served. You’re mine, Marlene. We belong together. The thought seemed so real that he wondered if he’d spoken the words aloud. Buckner guided her down the hallway to their destination, knowing the outcome. There wasn’t anything she could do about it. He was in charge, and her bodyguard had no chance of saving her.

  *****

  Marlene was terrified. The tip of the knife pricked at the fabric of her dress. Involuntarily, she held her breath, afraid that she might accidentally lean into it. Without needing confirmation, she knew the guy was Buckner. It had to be. And facing him in person was so much worse than being the victim of his attacks from afar.

  Her senses were heightened. Buckner was unpredictable, and she had no experience dealing with such a man.

  With one hand on her arm, Buckner guided her down the empty hallway. She smelled a mothball odor, as though his clothes had been stored in a trunk, long past their usefulness. His body odor was repulsive, and a wave of nausea hit her.

  Buckner’s rough handling, his threats, and his gritty voice served to intimidate her. Marlene didn’t intend to be his victim, and swore she’d discover a way to escape. Yet panic gripped her at the knowledge that he might kill her before she got her chance.

  If only Marlene could call for security, but that was impossible. She didn’t have her phone, and if she screamed, she’d be dead. The studio walls were thick, and the chance of anyone hearing her was remote. She was too far away now.

  She prayed that Garrett would get there and save her. But her heart fell when she realized he might not make it in time. Buckner was frightening, an evil that she wasn’t sure how to fight. She feared that he had no mercy in his heart.

  If only she knew what he wanted from her. If Buckner’s goal was to kill her, then why not just do so? What was he waiting for? What was this really all about?

  The movie studio was like a huge maze, with various areas assigned to different sets. Buckner forced her down the hallway, turning right then left, as if he knew where he was going.

  Confused and scared, Marlene steeled herself not to give in. There had to be a way. She couldn’t have come this far only to lose in the last moment. She waited for her opportunity.

  At the end of a dark corridor, Buckner stopped. Marlene considered running, but he still held the knife on her. With his other hand, he removed the tinted glasses, folded them, and put them in a pocket. Then an evil grin distorted his features, his cold eyes freezing her soul. The glacial blue of his eyes was nearly transparent. A chill raced up her spine.

  Buckner retrieved a thin device from his pants and waved it over her, checking for trackers. Marlene’s pulse pounded. She wondered how he would react when he discovered the devices, and whether he’d fly into a rage.

  But he didn’t. Buckner smirked. “The shoes…that’s kind of obvious,” he said. “Take them off.”

  Marlene removed her shoes and held them in her hand. When he reached for them, she handed them over.

  “Flynn thought he was so clever, did he? Well, let’s leave him a trail and make him worry.” Buckner dropped one of her shoes in the hall, and, holding the other, he motioned for her to start moving again. When the shoe on the floor was out of sight, he dropped the other one. “That should do it.”

  Marlene didn’t like this one bit. Garrett had put trackers on her as a precaution. It would have been useful, except it appeared that Buckner wanted to be found. He was leading Garrett to them.

  Garrett was in danger, and might be caught off guard with these tactics. Buckner wanted him out of the way. She knew that much, but she didn’t know exactly what her captor had in mind. Yet she had no choice but to go with him.

  They went a bit farther, then stopped again. The look in Buckner’s eyes wasn’t at all reassuring. His expression was riddled with evil, his eyes narrowed, and his lips stretched thin. He was a horror to look at, but Marlene couldn’t turn away.

  Buckner spoke in an eerie voice that echoed in the empty space. “You’ll be fine, Marlene, if you do as I tell you to.” But his next action seemed to contradict that. He grabbed her wrist and held the tip of the knife over her hand.

  Marlene suddenly felt faint.

  “I’m not going to slit your wrist. That would be too messy,” Buckner said. “I just need some blood.” He pricked her finger, barely touching it but drawing a good amount of blood—evidence of how sharp the knife was. Then he let it drip onto the floor, making bright red spots.

  Marlene stared in shock.

  “Let’s put your bodyguard in the right mood, and make him wonder what’s happened to you,” Buckner said. “You’ll lead him right to us.” Farther down the hall, he pricked another finger…more blood.

  Marlene pressed her fingertips against the palm of her hand to stop the bleeding. The minor pain in Marlene’s fingers paled in comparison to the dread that was building inside her. She was in the hands of a psycho with a knife, and Garrett was going to walk into some sort of trap. She could sense it.

  Then Buckner turned a corner and opened a door. He shoved Marlene inside. The darkness nearly pushed her to the breaking point, but she refused to allow any weakness. After he shut the door behind them, he flipped on some low ceiling lights.

  There was just enough light to enable Marlene to see into the room. Buckner pushed her forward. They were inside a sound studio. It was a room that hadn’t been used in a while, in a part of the building that wasn’t likely to be visited anytime soon. Items were strewn around and cables were piled up. The air smelled stale.<
br />
  “No one will hear us in here,” Buckner said.

  Marlene looked around, trying not to reveal how frantic she was. They were in a soundproof room, designed for recording. Once that door closed, there wasn’t a chance that anyone in the hall would hear them—even if someone happened to walk by.

  The situation seemed to grow worse by the minute. Marlene had the impulse to run for the door; maybe she could make it out before getting caught. But it was hopeless. That knife would plunge into her back before she made it three steps.

  Stepping deeper into the interior, Marlene took in the details of the environment—what Garrett had referred to as situational awareness. It was a long room with padded walls and an acoustic ceiling. There was a variety of equipment and control panels. On the floor were a bunch of tangled cables attached to an electrical box.

  But there were no weapons, not even something that would serve as a club. No sharp items, and no furniture except a couple of stools in front of one of the control panels. Marlene actually considered lifting one of the stools and cracking it over Buckner’s head.

  Bad idea. She figured she’d get as far as grabbing the stool before her life was over.

  There had been times when Garrett had spoken about preparedness, but Marlene was vague about that. She seemed to recall that even when they functioned in civilian jobs, ex-SEALs did stuff like put razor blades in the tongues of their shoes, or carried some kind of cord that could be used as rope.

  The thought of strangling Buckner gave her a flicker of perverse satisfaction. But it was fleeting. She was alone in a sealed room with a madman, and her best weapon was her fingernails. If he came any closer, she’d scratch his eyes out—even if she did bleed to death from a stab wound. At least he’d remember her, and suffer at her hand as much as she could manage.

  Buckner sauntered up to her, wielding the knife as a reminder. “I’m sorry, Marlene.”