"Second, I'll need a list of new hires at the hotel. Anyone who started after you settled on this as the place you'd stay."
"That wasn't my decision." His shoulders relaxed and he finally sat back into the couch. "The studio picks the hotel and negotiates the deal."
"Any idea how long ago it was?"
He quirked one eyebrow. "A couple of months? Maybe three? I know there were a lot of discussions about which hotel sent the best message. The old money elegance of this place? The flashy, over the top tackiness of that new place along the river? Something in between?"
"Why?" she asked, puzzled.
"Hollywood is all smoke and mirrors. Image is everything. This is an indie project, so they picked the Drake. Elegance. Class. Reflects onto the project. Gives it more heft."
"Spending that much effort on which hotel to stay at sounds stupid. But whatever. I need that list of new hires."
"I'll see what I can do."
"You'll do better than that." She narrowed her eyes at him. "You're a big star with a lot of power. Use it. If I was stalking someone, I'd find out where he was staying and get a job there. I need to screen any new hires."
"Let me make some calls."
Finn stood up, pulled out his phone and punched in a number. "Hey, Mike, it's Finn. I need the name of everyone who's working at the studio. And whether they're from L.A. or local. How fast can you get it to me?"
He listened for a long moment, then clenched his jaw. A muscle in his face twitched. "You think I'm being a prima donna? You're the one who arranged this bodyguard for me, asshole. Part of her job is checking out the people around me. She needs it tonight.
"And after you do that, get a list of new hires at the hotel. Beginning when we made the reservations for the cast and the staff."
He listened for a long moment. "Fine. I'll tell Officer Donovan that her services are no longer needed. I'll let the police Superintendent here in Chicago know, too. Let him know who's responsible."
Mia stood up and reached for the phone. She wasn't going to let some suit leave Finn unprotected and vulnerable.
Finn spotted her moments before she grabbed the phone out of his hand. He shook his head violently and spun around to keep her away from the phone. Her hand landed on his back, palm flat against him, and she jerked away.
His shirt was warm from the sun, his back firm beneath her fingers. Hard with muscle and bone. Too familiar.
Memories from earlier unspooled in her head. The way he'd shivered when her fingers crept beneath the waistband of his ridiculous pants. The way his muscles had tensed when she touched him.
The way he'd touched her.
She walked toward the window, staring at the people on the beach below her. Finn said something to the guy on the phone, but she didn't hear him through the blood roaring in her ears.
"Hey," Finn said.
She glanced over her shoulder. He was so close that the gold flecks in his green eyes glittered like specks of sunlight.
She turned and stepped back from him. "You're really going to let him fire m… your bodyguard? You know that's a stupid thing to do." She wasn't going to make it personal.
He shrugged one shoulder. "A note and a wedding ring are weird. A little disturbing. But they aren't really threats." He studied her for a beat too long. "I suspect you'd rather be doing real police work. This is your out."
"This is real police work, and I don't want an out." The thought of leaving him unprotected was unacceptable. "And besides, you know your godfather would just send someone else. Who'd want the same lists I want."
One side of his mouth curled up. "Glad to know you don't want to leave." He studied her for a long moment, his eyes hooded. "I don't want you to go, either. If my bodyguard has to pose as my girlfriend, it's good there's some…chemistry between us. Makes it more believable."
"Yeah." She cleared her throat, trying not to think about that chemistry. "Besides, people have already seen us together. Awkward to have a different 'girlfriend' show up."
His mouth curled into a smile. "When you knocked on the door this morning, I got the impression you didn't want to be here."
He'd been right. She'd accepted the job because her captain had implied it would give her a leg up in the interview for a promotion to detective. She hadn't looked forward to babysitting a spoiled, obnoxious actor.
Finn was none of those things. She'd…enjoyed his company. And now she was invested in finding his stalker. It had become a challenge.
"It was really early. I hadn't had any caffeine. So any impressions you got were wrong."
"Good to know, Officer." His eyes twinkled. "I guess your little confession means you didn't hear me refuse to fire you."
Her relief was way out of proportion to the significance of this job. Trying to hide it, she said, "Just don't want another officer to have to replicate all I've done so far."
"Yeah, that would be a shame." He leaned closer. "And some parts of it would be impossible for another officer to duplicate."
"What?" She tried to look puzzled and ignore the buzzing in her chest. "You don't think someone else would have confronted Ginny at the studio?"
He tilted his head to the side, and the Finn she'd met earlier in the day was back. "Not what I meant," he said, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Not sure anyone else would have been able to…" He paused, and her heart beat a little faster.
"Bond with Pete so fast," he finally said, the corners of his eyes crinkling in a grin.
Chapter 10
Wide awake and twitchy at one a.m, Finn slid out of bed in his boxers and tee shirt and wandered out of his bedroom. A fat crescent moon hung over Lake Michigan, the reflection of its pale light gleaming on the dark water, roiling and churning with the endless waves.
Finn watched it for a while, the repetitive ripple of light hypnotizing. The lake was restless tonight, too.
The reason for Finn's restlessness slept in the bedroom on the other side of the living area.
Her door was open.
He told himself to ignore Mia's room as he moved forward, drawn by an invisible cord. He stopped in the doorway.
The moonlight glimmered into her room, too, its milky light splashed on the floor. Mia sprawled on her side in the queen-sized bed, one leg drawn up beneath the other. The blankets were mussed, leaving a spaghetti-strapped shoulder bare.
One of her arms was tucked beneath the pillow. The other was draped across the bed, as if she were reaching for her lover in her sleep.
Not a good picture to have in his head.
He'd watched her that evening as she typed on her computer, frowning at the screen in concentration. Occasionally, she'd scribble something on a pad of paper beside her. Completely absorbed in her work.
So absorbed that she didn't see his gaze return to her, time after time. He'd wished he could see into her head. Learn her process. Know her better.
Finally, around ten, she'd stretched her arms behind her head, outlining the shape of her breasts. And that dark bra she wore.
Banishing the memories, he turned away from Mia's door. The Oriental rug was soft beneath his feet as he padded to the mini-bar and removed a can of V-8 juice. He popped the lid and drank it down, then tossed the can in the trash.
When he wasn't watching Mia work, he'd spent the evening going over his script and his blocking instructions, moving around the room to plant the muscle memory in his brain. Mia had glanced at him once, then returned to her work. She'd been so engrossed in it that she hadn't looked up again.
Earlier that day, she'd been equally engaged in kissing him.
Was she as focused in everything she did?
It would be the height of stupidity to find out.
He was afraid he was stupid enough to try.
Sighing, he returned to his room and climbed into bed. Laid down and stared at the ceiling, going over his lines until he fell into a restive sleep.
* * *
When Finn walked out of his room the following
morning in jeans and a tee shirt, he found Mia already standing in the living area, talking on the phone. When she spotted him, she said, "Gotta go. Love you, too.
"Morning," she said, pocketing her phone. "I ordered room service breakfast – the same thing you had yesterday. I should have asked last night what you wanted, but didn't think of it."
"That's fine." He nodded at her phone. "Let me guess – another brother?" He wasn't going to fall into the trap of over-reacting again.
"Nope."
Trying to ignore a tiny flick of jealousy, he struggled to keep his expression politely interested. He knew he'd failed when her eyes twinkled at him.
"That was my mom. Updating me on my cousin Charlotte and her twin brothers, who are waiting in the wings, so to speak."
"Waiting in the wings?" Finn wrinkled his forehead. "What does that mean?"
"My aunt Helen is pregnant. With twins. Just found out they're both boys." She sighed. "Poor Helen."
"She's not happy about it?"
"No, she's thrilled." Mia's eyes sparkled, and Finn couldn't look away. "But my brothers Connor and Quinn were hell on wheels when they were kids. Now Helen has to wrangle two more Donovan boys."
"Connor and Quinn are twins?" When Mia nodded, Finn shook his head. "Jeez. Do you have a spread sheet to keep track of your family?"
Mia tilted her head, some of the sparkle disappearing from her eyes. "Aren't you close to your family?"
"Of course we're close. I see them at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Sometimes a time or two during the year, as well."
"That's too bad," she said softly. "How far away do they live?"
Completely unnecessary guilt swept over him. "My parents and sister live near San Francisco. My brother lives in New York," he said, feeling as if he needed to apologize for his neglect of his family. "Everyone's busy."
"Yeah, it's tough for all of us to get together, too." She studied him for a long moment. "I'm sure you do the best you can."
He could practically hear her thinking, "Loser." Feel her patting him on the head. Telling him, "You did your best." "You tried really hard." "Trying is what counts."
"Yeah," he said. "We have a great time when we're all together." And didn't that sound pathetic.
A sharp rap on the door announced what he hoped was their breakfast. After sleeping very little last night, he needed coffee. As he headed for the door, Mia stuck her arm out. Stopping him. He froze.
"I get the door," she said.
She dropped her hand and squinted into the peep hole. Watching her, Finn rubbed his chest where her palm had flattened against him.
As she squinted into the peep hole, Mia absently touched her hip. Making sure her gun was there.
It wasn't.
"Hold on," she called. "Be right there."
She dashed into her room, emerging in less than a minute with the gun in place, struggling into a suit jacket. Light gray. Her shirt was black.
He wouldn't be getting a glimpse of her bra today.
He'd been looking forward to that more than he should have been.
Flipping the jacket so it covered her gun, Mia opened the door. The waiter rolled a cart inside, positioned it by the window, then pulled a folded newspaper from beneath his arm. "This was by the door," he said, setting it on the table. "There was a letter on top of it." He nodded at the neatly folded newspaper. "It's inside."
The newspaper flopped open to reveal a plain white envelope. No writing on the front. Mia stilled, staring at it. Tucked her hands behind her back. To keep from reaching for it, he realized.
Turning toward the kid, Finn pulled out his wallet and handed the waiter a few bills. "Thanks," he said.
"No problem, sir." The guy headed for the door, then hesitated. He glanced over his shoulder. "I really like your movies, Mr. O'Rourke."
"Thank you," Finn said, bracing himself for the eager questions that usually followed that statement. "Does everyone in the hotel know I'm staying here?"
"I don't think so. No one's talking about you. I only know because I delivered your breakfast yesterday, too." His gaze flitted to Mia, studying the newspaper, and back to Finn. "I didn't tell anyone. Won't."
"Thanks." Finn really looked at the kid, studied his earnest expression and polite demeanor. He glanced at the boy's name tag. "Josh. I appreciate that. Can you arrange to deliver our meals whenever you're here?"
The kid's eyes lit up. "I sure can, Mr. O'Rourke." He swallowed. "Or, I guess, you can. You have to call hotel services and request me. Then, when I'm on duty, I'll deliver everything to your room."
"Great. I'll do that right now." He smiled at the boy. "See you tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir!" Grinning, Josh stepped into the hall and pulled the door closed behind him.
As soon as the door was closed, Finn turned to Mia. "What's in the letter?"
She was moving toward her bedroom. "I need gloves before we open it."
She returned moments later, pulling a pair of blue latex gloves onto her hands, a clear plastic bag held between her arm and her body. Snapping the second glove into place, Mia set the bag down and picked up the letter, examining the envelope. Turned it over, then back to the front.
Finally, she walked over to the cart holding their breakfast and picked up a knife. Wiggled it into the end of the envelope, then slit the envelope open.
Mia peered inside for a moment, then dumped a piece of paper into her palm. Newsprint. He couldn't see it clearly, but it had jagged edges, as if it had been torn out of the paper.
Frowning down at it, Mia flipped it over. Froze.
Dread snaking through his gut, Finn moved closer. Stared over her shoulder at a piece of newspaper and saw his face – one of his stock publicity photos. A large X covered the middle of the picture. Whoever had done it had pressed so hard that the pen had torn through the paper.
The caption beneath the picture read, 'Finn O'Rourke, in town to film Dark Vengeance, was spotted at the Art Institute yesterday. He seemed to be enjoying the art. But it looked like he was enjoying the company of an unidentified woman even more.'
Beneath the photo, the sender had written, 'I should have known you'd betray me with another whore, just like you betrayed me with Gemma. We are through.'
Finn reached for the picture, but Mia put a hand on his arm. "Don't touch it." The latex gloves felt cold and sterile on his skin, and he wanted to rip the glove off her hand. Feel her skin against his.
She took her hand away and carefully slid the picture back into the envelope. Then put it into the zip-closed plastic bag she'd brought from her room, sealed it and peeled off her gloves. Grabbed a pen and wrote something in the white square at the top of the bag.
Her gaze was serious when she finally looked at him. "She's escalating. This is a threat."
"It's just an X on a picture torn from the newspaper," he said. But a chill had shivered over him when he read the words the stalker had written.
"She's deleting you from her life. And maybe she wants to delete you permanently. She was certain you wanted her. That you'd come to Chicago for her. And now you've disappointed her. You were seen in public with another woman."
He couldn't tear his gaze away from the photo, the visible evidence of a tsunami of anger and hatred directed against him.
Moving closer, she set her palm on his forearm. Gently curled her fingers around him, as if she were trying to comfort him. The imprint of her fingers burned into his skin.
"You have to take this seriously." Mia stared up at him, as serious as he'd seen her. "She might be one of the stalkers who tells herself that if she can't have you, no one can." Mia glanced at the bag holding the letter. "That's my take on what she wrote."
She let him go. Slowly. As if she'd rather be touching him.
"Damn it!" He stared at the plastic bag. The envelope looked ordinary. Common. Nothing special about it.
But the picture inside this envelope was anything but innocuous.
Another realization made him f
reeze. He grabbed Mia's hand. "Maybe she wants to delete you, too." He gripped her hand more tightly, cursing the unknown woman. His godfather, who'd sent Mia to guard him. The production company, who'd decided to film in Chicago.
She didn't pull away. The talc on her hands from the inside of the gloves made her fingers powdery and slick. Cool. She held his hand tightly, studying his face, and he knew she'd see his panic. Mia was a scary smart woman.
"Maybe she does," she said calmly. "But she's not going to delete either of us. I know how to take care of myself. We need to worry about you. Not me."
"Of course I'm worried about you. You didn't ask for this. You're not a public figure."
"I did ask for this, Finn. I agreed to take the job. To protect you." She squeezed his hand. "And I will."
She held his gaze, her eyes confident. Reassuring. As if she thought he was afraid for himself.
"Let me be clear," he said. "I'm worried about you, not me."
For a moment, her eyes softened. The woman who'd kissed him at Millenium Park yesterday gazed back at him. Vulnerable. Open. Yearning.
Then her hand dropped away from his. Her expression changed, as if the shutters came down. Instead of Mia, Officer Donovan studied him. "If that's true, you're either a saint or an idiot. She's not interested in me. It's you she wants. You she thinks has betrayed her."
She pulled her phone out of her pocket. "Who did you call the last two times you found something outside your door?"
All business. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly. He could be business-like, too. "Doug. My godfather."
"The Superintendent."
"Yes."
"What's his number?" she asked, her finger poised over the keyboard of her phone.
He rattled off the numbers. After dialing, she pushed 'speaker'. The phone rang on the other end, then a woman answered. "Superintendent Walsh's office. This is Mary speaking."
"Hi, Mary," Mia said. "This is Officer Donovan. I'm the officer assigned to his godson's protective detail. There's been another note left at his door, and someone needs to come pick it up. Take it to the lab to be analyzed."
Protect Me (The Donovan Family Book 6) Page 9
