Survival Instinct (Instinct Series)

by Janie Crouch

  Everyone had pretty much ignored the notes until they started showing up attached to knives, with instructions for the people involved with Day’s End to kill themselves or be killed.

  Three days ago, another knife had arrived. Except this one contained not only a sicko note, but was covered in blood. Real blood, not the corn syrup and food coloring type.

  And it had been in Alexandra Adams’ dressing room.

  Yeah, the curse jar had been plumb full of money that day.

  Alexandra had thrown a fit, of course, and within the hour had three extra security guards. The big behemoth guys had barely been out of the camera shots, Alexandra had wanted them so close.

  Figuring out how the stalker/letter-writer/general sicko was getting onto the set had been the topic of much discussion. But Day’s End had hundreds of people on the set every single day between the cast and crew. And the knife had shown up on a day when they’d been shooting a large scene with even more extras than usual. So narrowing it down had been tough.

  “No, nothing else from the stalker. But the studio is sending a security expert. We’re supposed to give him full cooperation.”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Alexandra doesn’t have enough muscle surrounding her?”

  Nadine sighed and Chloe knew it wasn’t going to be good. “This new person isn’t for Alexandra. He’s going to be in charge of all security for the entire set and surrounding area. Full access to everything.”

  Chloe held out her hand. “I’m going to need to borrow a dollar. Maybe five.”

  Nadine laughed. “Just give him a chance. It’s someone Adrienne recommended when she got word about what was happening. Because yes—don’t give me that look—I told her. She’s worried about you. We both are.”

  But Nadine’s concern didn’t have to do with the stalker on the set. “Don’t change the subject to get out of trouble. Tell me about security.”

  “He’s from Linear Tactical, that group Adrienne worked with to help find the kidnap victim for last year. Adrienne said Zac Mackay and his group are the best. That whoever they sent would be laid back, fun, and completely fit in to the madness here.”

  “But full access? You know how I feel about having strangers around poking their noses into everything.”

  Nadine wrapped an arm around her and kissed her on the top of the head, one of probably, oh let’s see...one person in the world who could get away with doing that without Chloe ripping off a limb.

  “This is the home you’ve built for yourself with your own two hands. I know that,” Nadine said. “You don’t want anyone messing with your house. But you’re going to have to let this go, because you have other things to worry about.”

  “Ahem, why don’t you just come right out and call me a control freak already, Nadine.”

  Nadine rolled her eyes and gave Chloe a smile. “Oh, honey, you go way beyond that. But you’ll let the security expert in to do his job, because if not, we’re going to end up with a bunch of cops around here and once the press gets word of what’s going on it will be a free-for-all. And I know you don’t want that.”

  “No fair. You’re just trying to get me to have to put money in the curse jar,” Chloe muttered. She had gone out of her way to become friendly with the townspeople of Black Mountain over the last three years, including Sheriff Linenberger . And since the stalker hadn’t hurt anyone, none of the antics had been officially reported, although Chloe had let the sheriff know what was going on since he’d heard about it through the grapevine.

  Chloe and Nadine walked down the steps of the porch, getting out of the assistant director and lead camera operator’s way. They were discussing tomorrow’s shot down near the lake that took up a couple acres of the five hundred acre property the show rented. It would be a pretty exciting scene.

  Which was saying a lot given the nature of the entire show.

  “Okay, I won’t kill the security guy,” she told Nadine, taking a deep, calming breath in the chaos going on around and around in her mind. “I’ll try to avoid him all together. Maybe if he fits in as well as my sister thinks, I won’t even notice he’s here.”

  “Good.” Nadine nodded and gave Chloe a side glance. The same kind she’d been giving her for the past three months. The making-sure-you’re-not-about-to-collapse side glance.

  “I’m fine, okay?”

  “Nothing happened today? Nosebleed? Headache?”

  Chloe rolled her eyes. “No, Mom. I’m fine.”

  Nadine’s spiel about Chloe’s need to rest and figure out what was happening was interrupted as the two other writers joined them at the bottom of the stairs.

  Travis Oakley slipped his arm around Nadine since they’d been dating for a few weeks, but his eyes stayed on Chloe.

  “Justin and I think we’ve worked out next week’s scene where the hunter closes in on Tia,” Travis said without any other greeting, which wasn’t unusual for their inner group.

  “Did you have to move around the mob scene?” Nadine asked.

  “We’re not idiots,” Justin grumbled.

  Chloe automatically situated herself between Justin and Nadine as they all began to walk towards the large luxury trailer that served as the offices for the creative team, what they affectionately called The Pit. Justin was a brilliant writer, but he didn’t play well with others, and was often hostile to Nadine. He was sick a lot, prone to having to take a few days off for his health every few months. He’d even gotten fired from another writing gig because of it. Chloe had snatched him up.

  Maybe he was a jerk because of being in pain and sickly all the time. Justin wasn’t ever going to be someone she went out of her way to spend time with, but his creative talent couldn’t be denied and Day’s End was better for it. Which was all that really mattered to her in the long run. She could take his sickness, his surliness, as long he helped her create a great program.

  “I’ll read over what you’ve done tomorrow, okay?” Nobody was offended by Chloe’s words. At day’s end, Day’s End was her baby. She had final say on just about everything.

  “Also, boss, check this out.” Justin pulled a newspaper clipping out of the folder in his hand. Who even read a printed paper anymore? “I saw this last week and meant to bring it up, but then the whole crazy-stalker-knife thing happened. It’s not often that a headline looks like it was ripped from one of our episodes.”

  Chloe stopped and looked at the article Justin was holding.

  Killer Hunting Psychics.

  She caught Nadine’s panicked glance at the topic of the article. Only Nadine knew about Chloe’s voices. Travis and Justin had probably heard rumors, but Chloe had never confirmed them one way or the other when either of them, particularly Travis, had asked.

  According to the newspaper, someone was killing self-proclaimed psychics up and down the East Coast. This latest murder had taken place in Greenville, South Carolina, which was less than two hours from the set.

  “I was thinking we could add a couple psychics into the show,” Justin continued. “I mean, we have vampires, shapeshifters, and zombies. Might as well throw some psychics in too. Our show would be just like the news. Never thought I would say that.”

  “I’m not sure.” Travis was shaking his head, obviously finding the idea of it distasteful. “They’re so tame, you know, compared to the other creatures. Not very strong. Plus, the people who were killed obviously weren’t real ones.”

  Justin chuckled. “Not psychic enough to know that someone was about to kill them, that’s for sure. Idiots.”

  Travis and Justin continued to argue the pros and cons of adding the new characters as they walked towards The Pit. Chloe and Nadine kept out of it. Chloe never referred to herself as a psychic, never mentioned her abilities to anyone at all, but the fact was, she could hear people’s thoughts.

  The general public tended to freak out when they knew that.

  “It’s a solid idea, you guys,” Chloe finally said. “Let’s flesh out the plot and see if we
can fit it in. Also, the studio is sending in a security expert to coordinate all the…security stuff around here and to investigate our friendly neighborhood stalker. We’re supposed to give him access to anything he needs. I’ve been assured that he will fit in just fine and will not hamper our creative energy in any way. We won’t even know he’s here.”

  “Like that guy walking towards us who definitely doesn’t scream I’m-a-Navy-SEAL or anything?” Travis’ eyebrow was raised so far it looked like it had found a new home in his hairline.

  Chloe stared at the man in question. Didn’t seem able to turn away from him even if she wanted to. His long legs were encased in perfectly creased khaki pants, a collared light blue shirt tucked in—also perfectly—at the waist. His broad shoulders were covered in a tailored suit jacket under which Chloe was willing to bet all of this year’s salary lay a shoulder holster for a gun. His posture screamed military. The way he carried himself — the set of his shoulders and lift of his chest.

  Alert. Deadly. Ready.

  But impressive as his body was, it was his face that drew her more. There was nothing pretty about him. His face was rugged to the point of being harsh. His jaw already holding some stubble even though it wasn’t even yet lunchtime. And she had no doubt Mr. Military Man had shaved this morning, unquestionably during his perfect morning routine. His dark hair was cut close to his head, as if he couldn’t quite decide whether to keep it military short or go for a more relaxed style.

  His eyes were hidden behind aviator sunglasses, but Chloe knew he saw everything. Knew he saw her and that if she stopped him right at this moment, blindfolded him and asked him to tell her where everyone was, he’d be able to do so with astounding accuracy, even though there were more than a dozen people milling around that he hadn’t looked at directly.

  This man was the epitome of cool, calm, and collected. She could feel the former radiating off him. Wanted to close her eyes and sink towards him. Her brain, always under such constant onslaught with the thoughts of others, and particularly the one voice that had been searing through her mind so agonizingly lately, wanted to bask in this man’s ice. Wanted to douse herself in it.

  But she couldn’t. Because while she had no doubt this man would be able to organize the hell out of security and unquestionably catch the stalker and freeze him with his ice-beams after leaping tall buildings in a single bound, there was no way he wasn’t going to hamper the creative energy of the set. Energy that Chloe relied on not only to make Day’s End the greatest show on television, but to keep her own sanity.

  He was already sucking in her energy and they hadn’t even spoken yet.

  Ten seconds later he was standing directly in front of Chloe with his perfect hair and jaw, perfect shirt tucked into his perfectly pressed pants.

  “I’m Shane Westman with Linear Tactical. We’ve been hired for security,” he said, taking off his sunglasses. Chloe wasn’t a bit surprised to find he had perfectly icy blue eyes. “I need to know who’s in charge.”

  There was no way this Shane Westman could stay. No possibility Chloe could allow it.

  He was too perfect. Too distracting. Too everything.

  And he was very definitely not laid back.

  She looked over at Nadine. “I have a feeling I’m going to need to borrow a bunch of dollars for the curse jar.”

  Chapter Three

  Chloe had put a week’s salary in the curse jar by the time she got off the phone with the studio and then Adrienne a few hours later.

  Shane Westman was completely trustworthy, competent, and thorough. The studio had run a background check on him as soon as Linear Tactical had said who they were sending. The man had a stellar military record and was well-respected by everyone in the known universe and their mothers.

  As if Chloe couldn’t tell all of that by the perfect creases in his khakis.

  She wasn’t worried about whether he could get the job done. Any idiot could see that he’d accomplish everything he put his mind to.

  She was worried about her ability to get anything done while he was around.

  She’d gotten more and more upset as the studio had asked her very logical questions: had Shane done something to offend her? Or make her think he was incompetent? To worry her or someone else?

  It didn’t take long for her to realize that trying to explain to the logical studio executives that Shane Westman’s presence might hamper her creative force made her just sound like a nutcase.

  And she was a nutcase. But she knew having that man around was going to change everything about everything. Chloe didn’t like change. She liked the chaos she’d built around her because it was hers, and she controlled it. Having Westman around threatened that.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t want everyone safe—she did; of course she did—but couldn’t they find someone a little less…commanding? Forceful? Sexy? Damn it.

  She hung up with the studio, knowing that the only way she was going to get rid of Shane was to either bold-face lie about him or threaten to walk out herself. She wasn’t prepared to do either, particularly when the studio was starting to suggest that it may be time to bring in law enforcement also. The only people she wanted around less than Shane was law enforcement. They would just muck up the creative energy even further.

  She felt the coolness pour over her mind just before she heard him speak.

  “That’s quite a mouth you’ve got on you there, peanut.” He was leaning against the doorframe of her office, looking cool and comfortable.

  Peanut. Of all the motherfuc—

  Maybe she needed to worry less about whether he would distract her from her work and more about whether she might spend the rest of her life in prison for murder if he stayed.

  She didn’t say anything, knowing the words that would come out right now would just prove him correct about her language.

  He was twirling his sunglasses by the stem. “You’re lobbying pretty hard to have me gone given we’ve spoken less than a dozen words to each other and you don’t know me at all.”

  “What have you been doing for the last few hours?” She’d told him not to make himself comfortable as she stormed off, but he’d evidently ignored her.

  “Looking around, getting a lay of the land. Trying to look for weakness in your security.”

  “And?”

  “In the two and a half hours I’ve been here, I’ve spotted at least a dozen places someone could infiltrate the set with the intent to inflict damage.”

  She raised an eyebrow and leaned back in her chair, pulling from some of the coolness he still had radiating from him, and he had it in spades. God, the cool felt so good to her brain. All the writers — yellow-bellied cowards that they were — had bailed as soon as Shane had returned to the trailer.

  His words didn’t surprise her, that there were so many holes in their security or that he was able to pinpoint them so quickly. She wasn’t even surprised at the military-precise terms that he used.

  “I see you’re twirling those glasses with your left hand,” she observed, trying to match his cool. “Undoubtedly, so you can use your right to do a quick draw from that shoulder holster under your jacket if we’re attacked suddenly by violent criminals or drug-running aliens.”

  She’d surprised him, she saw it in the slightest flaring of his nostrils. He gave a nod. “Very observant. Get many drug-running aliens around here?”

  She shrugged. “With this show, more than you might think.”

  “Look,” he said, those blue eyes still seeing way too much. “I’m here as a favor to a friend not because I have any desire to hang around a television set.”

  That, she believed. He looked like someone who belonged on a battlefield actively fighting. A solider, not a guard.

  “Rather do something more active? Go around shooting people and chasing bad guys? Is that what you normally do for Linear Tactical, Mr. Westman?”

  “Shane. And actually I’m just starting with the company, although I’m close friends wi
th all the founders. I’ll be doing training, simulations, and private citizen instruction for them.”

  “You don’t strike me as a training and simulation sort of person.”

  He’d stopped his twirling and was now just studying her with those eyes. “I’m here because you need me. People you trust asked people I trust to get a job done. So are you going to let me do it, or what?”

  She really didn’t like him. Didn’t like the way he was all logical and calm. It made her want to put more money in the jar. That fact that she knew she was being unreasonable and contradictory.

  Her computer dinged and the email she’d been waiting for popped up. The abbreviated version of the background check the studio had done.

  She printed the paper and began walking as she read.

  Thirty-five years old, no criminal record. Went to college then joined the Army where he stayed for twelve years. He’d received all sorts of medals and awards whose meaning she didn’t understand. No mention of what he did while he was in, but she had no doubt he’d excelled, no matter what it was. Honorably discharged six months ago.

  “Anything interesting?”

  She looked up after the last sentence. “You’re from this area.”

  The twirling began again. “Yep. Raised by my grandmother. Left before this show ever came to town.”

  For just a second she did what she rarely ever allowed herself to do, even when she wanted to. She tried to pick out Shane Westman’s voice inside her head. See what he was thinking. She didn’t do it very often because it was a gross invasion of privacy, plus, it just generally tended to creep her out.

  She sat back down, staring at him to try to get a fix on his thoughts and he calmly stared back.

  Nothing. She couldn’t hear him at all, which might mean he was empty—headed, but she didn’t think so. She could feel that damned coolness where his thoughts should be. She felt her eyes drifting closed because the crispness just felt so good against her mind.