Survival Instinct (Instinct Series)

by Janie Crouch

  Chloe gave a little wave that tried to be friendly and nonchalant but failed miserably and turned and walked towards The Pit, barely able to stop herself from running.

  She was walking up the steps when Shane caught up to her.

  “Chloe, are you alright?” he asked.

  Why do you ask? Because I’m acting like a complete moron?

  She turned slowly to him. “I’m fine.”

  Shane studied her for a moment, looking like he was going to say something else, but finally asked, “Are you going anywhere for the break?”

  “Oh, I have a house in Los Angeles. Nadine and I have always gone there for the break.” All of that was at least true.

  “I see.”

  He didn’t see what she really wanted him to, that was for sure. “Enjoy your time in the Hamptons.”

  “I’ve been invited to the Hamptons, but didn’t say I was going.”

  “What kind of person turns down five days in the Hamptons with America’s sweetheart? Don’t you have some friends who would kick your ass just on general principle?”

  Shane smiled. “Maybe. But I’ve never been afraid of a good fight.”

  Was he really considering not going with Alexandra?

  A blinding pain chose that moment to burn its way through her brain.

  You’re mine.

  We are meant to be.

  Forever.

  “Chloe!” Shane was holding both her upper arms in a tight grip. She had no recollection of him grabbing her at all.

  “What?” She focused on the button at the collar of his shirt, fighting dizziness.

  “You spaced out for like two minutes in the middle of a conversation. I thought you were going to faint.”

  That might still happen.

  “I don’t faint.” She breathed through her nose trying to manage the pain without vomiting. Conversation Hearts was overwhelming her even past Shane’s coolness.

  “You’re white as a ghost. Let’s get you inside.”

  She grabbed the door frame and planted her feet. “No, I’m fine. Just… low blood sugar or something. Listen, you should go to the Hamptons with Alexandra. I need a break from everything.”

  Shane stepped closer. “Maybe I don’t want to go to the Hamptons with Alexandra. Maybe I’d rather spend time with you.”

  Hearing those words an hour ago would’ve had her pulling him by his shirt and throwing him to the couch to have her way with him.

  Now all she wanted to do was get him to leave. Even if she wanted to be with him how could she explain everything going on in her head? She’d to tell people too many times only to have them never look at her the same way again. To think she was a freak.

  And Chloe was a freak. Maybe she could explain hearing voices in her head. But standing here almost doubled over in pain because some lunatic was blasting his obsessive emotions through her mind?

  She couldn’t expect Shane to understand that. Hell, Chloe didn’t even understand it.

  He was much better off with Alexandra.

  Chloe opened the door to the den trailer and stepped inside, careful to position herself so he couldn’t come in after her.

  “I just need to be alone. You should go with Alexandra. Trust me, you’ll regret it if you don’t.” She shut the door between them.

  Chapter Eleven

  Chloe waited until Shane was no longer outside The Pit door, then somehow managed to drag herself over to her own trailer and into bed.

  She stayed there for twenty-four hours just trying to survive.

  At one point the pain inside her head became so bad she almost hoped she would die. All of Conversation Hearts’ obsessive thoughts were starting to blend together. Every heartbeat the man took was consumed with this woman. He needed her with a desperation that bordered on panic, and the longer they were apart the more manic he became.

  And Chloe was suffering the consequences.

  She only got out of the bed to use the bathroom. She sipped water and ate peanut butter crackers that happened to be on her bedside table.

  How long could she continue to live like this? She couldn’t keep hiding it. There was no way she could function, no way to think clearly, with someone so desperate inside her head.

  She lay clutching a pillow to herself, trying to focus on anything else but the screaming voice in her mind. The only thing she could think of was Shane. The only man in years who had caught and held her attention in every possible way. The man Chloe had successfully chased straight into the arms of a beautiful and charming actress.

  Now a different type of pain overwhelmed Chloe.

  It wasn’t the sharp agony of a burning ice pick being poked into her head, it was just the dull sadness of what would never be. Shane wasn’t meant to be hers.

  She latched on to that ache since it eased the agony. She pretended Shane was in bed holding her. Could almost feel his arms around her as if her body was remembering it. She drifted off to sleep in a hazy memory of his body wrapped around hers on The Pit couch.

  When she woke she felt a little better. Conversation Hearts’ emotions gone from her brain, at least for right now. Maybe he was asleep. Maybe he’d gotten his girl. Hell, maybe he was stoned and it was taking his desperate edge off. Chloe didn’t care. All she cared about was that her mind was her own. Perhaps the cast and crew wouldn’t come back from the break and find her dead body in her trailer.

  She looked over at the clock and saw the bright red 10:30 glaring at her. AM or PM? A glance at the window confirmed PM. She’d been in bed for nearly thirty hours. Chloe forced her stiff muscles to move then shuffled into the kitchen to make coffee. She slipped on yoga pants and a sweater.

  She would work since she was going to be up all night anyway. For the past few months every time she kicked everyone out for one of her infamous “writing alone” sessions it had really been because she was afraid she wouldn’t be able to hide what was happening to her. So she needed a real one.

  She made and ate a sandwich and brought her coffee cup to the kitchen table, listening to a thunderstorm begin to rumble in the distance. Good. Let it rain, she loved storms, especially when she wanted to write, to get lost in her creativity.

  Opening her laptop she shifted in her chair, thankful Conversation Hearts was still silent. The other voices floated in her head but she ignored them, as she had her whole life.

  They were almost like a stream rushing by, the thoughts of others, both positive and negative. She wasn’t sure whose voices she heard—she’d never been—whether it was people who were close by, or just loud emotionally. Usually she didn’t care.

  She closed her eyes and waded into the river of voices. She needed to write a scene where Tia Day, the main character in Day’s End played by Alexandra, had to sneak through the woods to find shelter and food for the creatures she was taking care of.

  The hunters were after her. Wanted to lure her out. This was what she needed the voices in her head to help give her inspiration for.

  One good thing about the voices was that they rarely failed her. Too many options. She just had to pick the most clever ones and apply them to the situation she was writing. It was her superpower. And it felt good to be back in her element, to have a little break from the crazy.

  Well, one of the crazies. There were so many to pick from in her life.

  She began to write, the scene flowing easily, others making themselves known to her mind as she let the words surge through her. She smiled. She could almost smell another Emmy. The thunder rolled closer and Chloe stood to crack a window, breathing in the water—permeated air.

  I will teach them to ignore me. His body will rest on the bottom of the lake the way the other should have. But this one will never be found.

  It was just a normal voice, not Conversation Hearts. The thought was just one of many that ran through her mind in the river of voices. Her subconscious caught it. Held it. It didn’t work for the scene she was currently on but maybe it would another. She let it go. Focus
ing on just one voice in her head was exhausting, like constantly swimming upstream. She could only do it for short spurts at a time, so she tended not to try at all unless it was pretty important. She sat back down and began writing again.

  The evil must be stopped. Everyone is gone. Very convenient to schedule a break now.

  Chloe stopped typing. Break? Everyone gone? Evil must be stopped?

  Crap. These were the thoughts of the show’s stalker. Chloe closed her eyes and cast all her focus on catching that one voice in her mind.

  To protect the evil is worse than the evil itself. He must die.

  Chloe stood, still trying to focus on that one voice over all the others.

  If this was happening right now she had to try to stop it. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing while some maniac decided to kill one of the guards in charge of protecting the empty set.

  She slipped on her shoes and stumbled out the door trying to remain locked on the thoughts of that one voice in her head.

  Fitting. He saved the last one and now he would be the one to die. He took them out of the lake, and now he would die there.

  Oh my God. The guy was talking about Shane. But Shane wasn’t here, right? Hadn’t he gone with Alexandra? Chloe flew down the steps, across the field and into the woods that surrounded three-quarters of the lake. The moon provided some light in the darkness, but even despite how well she knew this area after shooting here so long, she still had to struggle not to fall.

  A bullet in his skull just like something from this evil show. It’s not the knives to cut out the evil, but at least a part of it will be gone.

  Should she yell for Shane? Would he hear her? No, that would just cause the stalker to panic, right? To shoot?

  She could feel the stalker savoring the moment. She pushed herself to run faster, limbs and branches smacking at her, leaving scratches on her face and hands. The rain was beginning to fall now, making the ground more slippery, treacherous. Chloe fell, but forced herself to get back up.

  For someone who was in the Special Forces, he sure is a sitting duck. Yes, stand at the edge of the water, duck.

  Focusing on just the stalker was becoming more exhausting. Spots were beginning to blur her vision. She kept running, her breath sawing in and out as she pushed herself further. She was almost there.

  The thunder will hide my tracks.

  She was too late. She wasn’t going to make it to the water, to Shane, in time. But maybe she could make it to the shooter, stop him. She pushed herself faster.

  Time to die, soldier. You should have stayed honorable and protected the country rather than whoring yourself and protecting evil.

  Using every ounce of mental energy she had left she focused on the voice, trying to picture more clearly in her mind what he was seeing.

  And then she didn’t have to. She saw him standing just a few yards in front of her, dressed in all black including a hood over his face, rifle pressed up to his shoulder. She was breathing so hard she couldn’t even shout to get his attention.

  She just ran as fast as she could and barreled right into him.

  Chloe had never tackled anyone in her life. It freaking hurt. The loud roar of the rifle going off half deafened her as she and the stalker fell into a tree beside them.

  Had she been in time? Had the bullet hit Shane?

  Chloe rolled over, away from the stalker, struggling to get her breath. She sucked air in and yelled at the top of her voice. “Shane!”

  It wasn’t nearly as loud as she wanted it to be. Even if the shot hadn’t hit him, would he even hear her?

  She kept crawling away, trying to see through the dark and drizzle, fighting against the exhaustion that already pulled at her from concentrating on the stalker’s voice in her head. A rough hand grabbed her ponytail and yanked her back.

  “Bitch.” The word ground out of the man’s lips as he moved over her. Chloe brought her arms up to try to protect her head but she was too late to stop his backhand catching her in the face.

  Stunned by the onslaught of pain, Chloe bucked her hips trying to get the man’s weight off her. Freeing one leg she brought it up and used it to kick as hard as she could in his ribs. She grabbed at the rifle lying beside them and tried to use it as a club to hit him.

  He caught it and threw it out of reach. “I don’t need a gun to kill you.”

  Chloe screamed as loud as she could, cursing when the thunder drowned it out. Was anyone close enough to hear her? Had the shot hit Shane? And even if it hadn’t, how would he be able to find her? If anyone could, it would be him.

  She bucked again, trying to get away but this time her attacker was ready. His laugh – full of vindictive joy—echoed in her ear.

  She tried to scream again, but he was ready for that too. One hand pushed over her mouth stopping any noise.

  The other wrapped around her throat and began to squeeze.

  Chapter Twelve

  Shane hit the ground the moment he heard the gunfire. It didn’t come close enough to put his life in danger, but the shot had definitely been fired in his direction. There were zero positive reasons why anyone would be out here in this weather. Even fewer why they would be with a rifle.

  Shane’s own weapon was out of his holster in an instant as he ran from the edge of the water into the cover of the trees. There he stopped. Breathing. Listening. Pulling that focus he was so famous for around him like a blanket.

  Chloe screaming his name, barely discernible through the damn storm, almost splintered that focus entirely. What the hell was she doing here?

  Chloe should be relaxing in her house in Los Angeles right now. Not be on this set, in a storm screaming his damn name, for God’s sake.

  Particularly not when it was following a gunshot.

  Shane rushed into the wooded area, safety be damned. He didn’t care if someone shot at him. Getting to Chloe, protecting her, keeping her safe, was important.

  His black t-shirt and jeans gave him more freedom of movement than a blazer would have. As the rain began to fall more steadily, his wet clothes would help him blend in better with the darkness.

  Burying all his emotions—particularly the feeling of panic that threatened to bloom at the thought of Chloe being out here in the woods with a killer—under a wall of ice, Shane stopped again and listened. Something—a grunt, a branch breaking—caught his attention ahead and he ran once again.

  Glock in hand, Shane moved silently through the trees. It didn’t matter who the shooter was, Shane had no doubt in his ability to outmaneuver him in the current situation under the cover of darkness. Uncle Sam had made sure Shane could outmaneuver anyone in this situation.

  Chloe, on the other hand, was relatively defenseless.

  Her terrified scream, so weak it was almost drowned out by the thunder, had him sprinting again.

  Where were they? Shane would find him. But could he do it before Chloe was hurt or killed?

  For just a moment the nightmare of his last mission pressed down on Shane. Chloe’s life depended on his decisions now, just like his men’s had.

  They had all died.

  He was not going to allow that to happen to her. Shane waited a few more seconds to see if he could get a fix on the shooter. When he couldn’t, he did what he would never normally do: gave up tactical advantage.

  “Chloe, where are you?”

  He yelled it as loud as he could, knowing it now made him a target, letting the shooter know exactly where Shane was. It would hopefully draw the man’s attention to Shane and away from Chloe.

  Chloe’s lack of response threatened to rip the air from Shane’s lungs. There were many reasons he could think of why Chloe wouldn’t respond. None were good.

  Closing his eyes he listened for anything that would clue him in to where she was. A moment later he heard it.

  A sob.

  He sprinted towards the sound, Glock raised. A few seconds later he rounded a tree and found Chloe there on the ground. He looked around but she seemed t
o be alone.

  Keeping his weapon raised, Shane crouched beside her, relief beating in time with his heart. She was breathing. She was injured, but she was at least alive. “Chloe, are you okay, sweetheart?”

  “He ran when you yelled, but he’s still nearby.” Her voice was cracky. Strained. “Y-you should go after him.”

  Damn it, Shane was tempted to. Wanted to catch this bastard. But there was no way in hell he was leaving Chloe here. She might not have any life-threatening injuries, but Chloe definitely wasn’t okay.

  He helped her sit up, but even then she remained huddled against the tree. “We need to move, just to make sure we’re not sitting ducks if he decides to double back.”

  She nodded, but he didn’t like how still she was. She moved all the time. Was never this still. “Chloe, are you hurt, baby? You are, aren’t you?”

  “No.” Her voice was hoarse again. “He was choking me but stopped when you yelled. Ran.”

  He pushed her damp hair away from her face. “No broken bones? Internal injuries?”

  “No.” She shook her head but it was weak at best. “Let’s move.”

  She was almost too shaky to go. She was in shock at least. He needed to get her somewhere safe and warm. He tucked an arm around her and led her back towards the direction of the lake. The shooter would not have gone that way if he was trying to make an escape.

  By the time they were near the water he was carrying most of Chloe’s slight weight. He found a unique cluster of trees, providing shelter on three sides and a slight overhang. He tucked Chloe into the small hole the trunks made then crouched himself in front of her, his back to her. No one was getting to her without going through him first.

  He took his phone out of his pocket and called the security trailer. All the bodyguards had gone with their respective actors or actresses, but there were still half a dozen security members—all of whom Shane had vetted himself—working the safety of the set.

  “Security of—”

  “Kassler. It’s Shane.” He cut the man off. “We’ve got a shooter down on the east side of the lake. Send the entire team in this direction. Now. Track my location on this phone and send it to them so they know where we are. And have them be on the lookout for someone carrying a rifle. Call the sheriff and have him get an officer out here right away. Crime lab too. “