“I don’t know how to properly explain it. It’s wonder and aggravation.” He chuckles. “But mostly it’s just…it’s almost like she can’t get a grip on the situation and she’s trying to figure you out.”
I shake my head and really try to think about why she would have any sort of animosity toward me. “I gotta be honest, man. I didn’t really notice.”
Annnnd, there’s a lie I’ve wanted to tell since I met Rowan.
Liam nods. “That’s probably why she doesn’t seem to like you much. Be a little nicer, will you? You bugger.” He gives me a hard look. “She doesn’t need hard-ass bodyguards. She needs people who she can trust. As long as we don’t get too attached, we’ll be fine. We need her comfortable, mate.”
“I get it,” I say, understanding where he’s coming from. He knows what he’s talking about. I just don’t want to put my guard down. The last time I allowed myself to do that, I nearly ruined someone’s life. I’m not about to let my obsessive-compulsive personality come out because of some pretty girl.
Screw ‘em and leave. It’s as good a motto as any.
“Get some sleep. Rowan has to be at the theater at seven. I’ll have Evan and Chris…Christ, it’s weird to say their actual names.” He grins and I have to agree. “They’ll go do a sweep of the area and we can bring her in. You can stay with her or I can. It’s up to you. But, you know I’d rather be the one to stay.”
I roll my eyes and get up from my seat. “I’m sure you would. But, no. I’ll stay with her. You and the guys can man the doors.”
“Man the doors?” he says wounded but has a smile plastered on his face. “You cocksucker, you just want her for yourself.”
I smile and make my way upstairs after offering Liam a goodnight.
When I finally drag my body into bed, flashes of Rowan flood my mind. She’s magnetic, that’s for damn sure. Her persona is confident and shy, yet charming and funny. She has no problem making jokes with the guys, and every so often I kick myself for not engaging with her.
How is it that I can keep a cool head around her, but the moment I’m alone, I can’t stop myself from thinking about her?
Her woman-powers must be extra potent, I think, just as I succumb to the blackness of sleep.
“Well, hello handsome,” a random guy says behind me as I enter the Hadley Theater in downtown New York.
I turn to face Zander, Rowan’s roommate, and snicker under my breath. The guy is over-the-top, but you can’t help but like him. “Hey, Zander. Having a good morning?”
“It’s better now that I’ve run into you.” He pokes my chest in a playful manner.
“How’s it hanging? To the left or the right?” Zander laughs at his joke.
I awkwardly place my hands in my pockets as my eyes bulge and I swallow past the anxiety in my throat.
I look away from Zander’s penetrating gawk when he licks his lips. “It was good to see you, Zander.”
Zander opens his mouth to speak, but quickly walks away.
We’ve been at the theater for just over two hours now and it seems everyone but Rowan has been on stage. The first hour, I decided to sit backstage and watch from the side, but that quickly led me to a front row show of Rowan and some guy kissing. They were trying to be sneaky, but I saw it.
I didn’t stare like some stalker idiot. It’s my job. I quickly averted my eyes and moved my ass down into the seats in front of the stage.
From what Rowan told us last night when we were discussing the important people in her life, she didn’t mention a boyfriend. So, seeing her hanging all over some guy seemed inappropriate. Something like this is information the team and I need to know.
And for the record, I don’t know why I’m jealous. I just met her yesterday. But watching them sets my blood boiling. I already feel like I have claim on her.
I should probably talk to Rowan about him after we leave.
“Lark, come in,” Evan says into my earpiece.
My eyes cut to the back of the auditorium and I stand. “Go for Lark.”
“We’ve got a situation out here.”
My legs move before I have time to think about it and I’m out the door within a matter of seconds. What I stumble upon shocks me. Massive amount of people are shouting and screaming at the top of their lungs. I step over an arm as it attempts to grab my leg. The woman attached to said arm is on her knees on the ground attempting to get her body underneath the barricade. The hysteria is downright intense. Camera lights flash like fireflies in the summer night and I shield my eyes.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
Evan eyes stay on the crowd wearily and I hear his voice in my ear. “They think Jennings Cohen is inside the theater.”
Jennings?
“Jennings isn’t here. We’ve done a sweep of the grounds. I’d know if a celebrity was here,” I assure, swatting someone’s hand away from my face.
“I don’t know what to tell you, Lark.”
I huff and pull out my phone, trying to blink the camera flashes away from my vision. “Hold on. I’ll be right back. Keep these people at bay.”
“Got it,” Evan says, pushing his arms out, struggling to get the crowd to stop inching toward the door.
“Liam. Come in,” I say, stepping back inside the auditorium, away from the pandemonium.
“Go for Liam.”
“Have you by chance seen Jennings Cohen in the building? There are hundreds of fans at the front entrance who claim he’s here,” I say, watching Rowan on stage, sitting in a chair, reciting some sort of monologue.
I find myself hypnotized by Rowan’s commanding presence while I wait for Liam to answer. “Jennings Cohen? As in the actor?” Liam finally answers. “The same one who has a museum of Oscars in his house?”
I roll my eyes and grin, still listening to Rowan. “Didn’t know you were a fangirl, Liam. Good to know. But, yes. That Jennings.”
“Don’t be cheeky, arse. No. And the security system hasn’t gone off either. If he was here, we’d know.”
I nod. That’s what I thought. “Thank you.”
Pushing the screen on my phone, I hit Jennings’ name and sit down.
“Well, well, cousin,” Jennings greets. “How the hell are you?”
“Jennings, hey. I’m good, buddy. I’m sorry to be so curt, but are you in New York right now?” That bad feeling in the pit of my stomach is starting to churn and I don’t like where my imagination is heading.
“New York?” he questions. “No. I’m in L.A. with Whitley. What’s going on?” His voice shakes by the end and I know his mind can’t help but go back to the incident seven years ago when a crazed fan kidnapped Whitley.
“Hold on, man.” I say, setting the phone down. “Evan,” I radio. “How did these fans find out about Jennings being in town?”
Less than a minute passes, yet somehow it feels longer. “They say it came from Twitter,” he radios back.
“Jennings,” I say into the phone. “They found out on Twitter.”
“Twit—,” he stops. “Oh, shit.”
“What?” I ask, beginning to panic.
“Apparently, I’ve been hacked. Whitley! Call my manger. Someone hacked my Twitter account,” he yells.
“Wait.” I start to think. “Why would they pinpoint you here? At this theater?”
Jennings huffs, aggravated. “I have no idea. But thank you for the heads up. You doing okay? You’re in New York?”
“Oh, yeah. I am, actually. I’m on an assignment.”
“They let you out into the field, huh?” he asks, excited for me.
“Yeah, it’s pretty great. I’m on a detail for a Broadway actress,” I pause, looking on stage. She’s not there. “And, I gotta let you go. I’ll call you later.” I stand up immediately and scan the theater.
Right before I hit the END button on my phone, I hear Whitley talking at hyper speed in the background and her tone makes me stop. She utters the name of one of the key players in the human trafficking group tha
t’s targeting Rowan and my phone drops from my hand. I don’t know how she got the name, but this feels all wrong.
And then it clicks.
“LIAM, CHRIS, EVAN!” I shout into the microphone. “The crowd outside is a diversion. Find Rowan and get out. Now. Find Rowan!”
The guys let me know they understand and I bolt backstage as fast as my feet will allow me.
“Rowan!” I shout unnerved. “Where’s Rowan?” I ask the group of people stretching on the side of the stage, but they shrug their shoulders and get back to whatever it is they’re doing.
Cameron comes strolling across the stage and I step in front of him, suddenly feeling like he, not me, somehow failed Rowan. My chest puffs and I stand tall, looking down on him. “Have you seen Rowan?” I spew her name and he steps back, but doesn’t necessarily step down from my obvious aggravation with him.
His eyebrows crease and he shakes his head. “No, she was just on stage.”
I grind my teeth and walk past him. “Liam, any word?” I ask, pushing my earpiece farther into my ear so I can make sure I hear every word.
The microphone screeches. “No. Nothing. She’s not on the north side of the building.”
“Chris? Got anything?”
“Nothing here,” he answers.
“Crap,” I mutter to myself.
“Evan, please tell me you have something,” I plead.
Even answers, sounding melancholy. “She’s not here, either.”
I stop my incessant searching and take out my phone, again. Opening the app, I search for Rowan’s burner phone. The app shows the phone is still in the building and I go in search of it. Following the little green arrow, I make my way to the back of the building where the dressing rooms are. Pushing open every door, I yell her name but come up short.
“Stay at your stations,” I say to the guys through our radios. “She couldn’t have left without us knowing.”
Zander walks inside the door, flicking his cigarette in the trashcan and smirks at me.
“Have you seen Rowan?” I ask, not in the mood to listen to his advances.
“No.” His eyes grow wide with concern. “Why? What’s wrong?” He’s panicked by my tone and I shake my head.
“Nothing. If you see her, come get me immediately.”
“O—okay,” he agrees, but doesn’t move. “Is there any way I can help?”
I shake my head and clasp his shoulder, walking away.
“Rowan, where are you?” I say silently, walking into the woman’s dressing room. My senses are heightened, and I’m not sure if that’s a good idea or not considering I have no idea what goes on in here. “Rowan,” I whisper-yell, walking on my tiptoes, hoping to not disturb any women who might be in the area. I’m probably not allowed in here, but I can’t actually care when it comes to the safety of the woman I’m supposed to be protecting. “Rowan, dammit,” I say; now crouching low to look under the doors of the bathroom stalls.
The last stall in the back is open, the door slightly askew, and I walk to it with caution. Placing my right hand on my gun, I push the door open further with my left and step in the doorway. With as much carefulness as I can muster, I breathe a sigh of relief when I find Rowan sitting on the top of the toilet, lid closed, with her head between her knees.
“Rowan.” I exhale. “Rowan, what are you doing?” I probe in a hushed tone, looking around, hoping we’re alone.
Her head wobbles back and forth on her legs and refuses to look up.
“Rowan, why are you in here?” I ask more sternly now. She should not do things like this when there is a group out to get her. One wrong move and things could go south. This is important, and I don’t think she fully grasps what could happen if I let her slip away even for a little bit.
She sniffles a bit, and I see she’s upset. Maybe even…crying?
“Dammit, Rowan. What’s going on?” I question, my tone harsh.
“Just, please, go away,” she says muffled, still not lifting her head. Her shoulders quake and I step farther into the stall.
“What happened?” I ask in a kinder manner. I’m fairly pissed at her, but my manly, aggravated demeanor goes right out the window when I think she might be in pain.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.” She sniffles. “I’m fine. I just need some time alone.”
“Not a chance. I’m not going anywhere. Just give me a second.” I walk out of the stall and down into the room with all of the vanities. “I found her,” I tell the guys. “Wait for my signal. We’ll be leaving soon.”
They all respond to me with an affirmative.
I shut off my earpiece and walk back to where Rowan is holed up. When I get back to the stall, she’s sitting and pulling toilet paper from the dispenser. She looks up at me and snorts in the wad of paper. “I’m a mess…if you couldn’t tell.” She wipes another piece of paper gently under her eyes.
I soften and I crouch down, meeting her face-to-face. “What’s going on, Rowan? You had us scared out there.”
She takes a deep breath and swallows. “I’m having a really bad day.”
“Care to elaborate?” I tempt, steepling my fingers under my chin.
She wiggles her nose and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Not really. And besides, it’s not part of your job, Lark. I’ll be okay.” She gives me a fake smile and stands up.
And, why do I care so much? Caring would imply attachment. Which is something I swore I wouldn’t do.
So, I take a tentative step back and let her have the little space that the stall offers. “Right. You finish up and I’ll be right outside. We’ll leave when you’re done.”
“Wait—actually.” She stops, putting her hand on my upper arm. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to come out like that.” She sulks, taking her hand away and I watch as she drags it through her thick hair. “It’s just…never mind. I’m fine. Give me a minute.”
The word “fine” officially has new meaning.
I nod and swiftly walk out of the room and I nearly bump into Liam who is standing outside the door. “What’s that all about?”
I shrug a shoulder and lean my body against the wall. “No clue. She’s okay. I found her upset, but she wouldn’t tell me what happened. She’s still in there gathering herself.”
Liam’s eyes move toward the door as he takes a step, but stops himself. “What else happened?”
Letting out a deep breath, I look down at my feet, shuffling a bit. “I really do think this was a distraction of some sort. Jennings isn’t here, and we were all running around the theater trying to find Rowan. Something doesn’t feel right.”
Liam absorbs the information and bobs his head. “We’ll be even more cautious from now on. If the group is somehow connected to what happened today, we will figure it out. Until then, let’s have eyes on her at all times,” he instructs. “Twenty-four-seven detail.”
“Don’t I at least get to pee alone?” Rowan jokes, exiting the bathroom. She looks much better. Her face is no longer its special shade of red and her eyes aren’t so hunter green anymore.
“We’ll discuss it.” Liam winks and I can’t help but roll my eyes when he turns to walk out into the alleyway behind the building.
“Ignore him,” I quip, whispering so Liam can’t hear.
Rowan offers me a side-glance but doesn’t respond, leaving me to wonder if I somehow, in my convoluted way, pissed her off.
THERE’S A CERTAIN CALM ONE feels right before a storm hits. It doesn’t matter if it’s snow, rain, or tornado, there’s always that eerie quietness that echoes its loud murmur through the air just before the big BAM.
Kind of like now.
I don’t like it. This kind of calm freaks me out.
The house is eerily quiet, and as I lay in my bed contemplating the storm that might hit at any time, I can’t help but wonder how I got to this point in my life.
It’s happens so fast, you know? No one expects their life to turn upside down. If anything, we avoid the thought at
all costs. But now, as I toss and turn, my brain goes to that place.
I feel safe, sure. The four behemoths I have protecting me is a definite plus.
So, why can’t I stop my mind from meandering to the worst possible scenarios?
Stupid brain, shut up.
It’s well past three in the morning, and the lingering scent of night is beginning to fade away. My eyes finally start to grow heavy when a creak from outside my door startles me wide-awake.
“Hello?” I whisper, quietly pulling the covers off of me to grab the closest object that’ll inflict pain. “Who’s there?” I ask, louder this time.
A brassy clunk in the hall causes me jump. I hop off the bed and grab a clothes hanger from my closet in defense. It sounds as if someone ran into the hallway table, so I do my best to quietly walk to the door and open it. Another scrape against the hardwood floor pushes me in to full freak-out mode and I run into the hallway screaming like a banshee, swinging my arms in different directions, hoping to make contact with whomever is out there.
“Jesus,” Lark grunts scooting backward just in time to dodge me. “Rowan? What the hell?”
I push angrily against his chest, stopping my attack and shake my hair out of my eyes. “Lark? Seriously?”
“Seriously to you.” He gives me a stern look, and in the dim light of the hallway, I hate to admit it, he looks glorious. I hadn’t noticed the broad, strong chest staring me in the face, and the sleep pants he’s wearing hang dangerously low on his hips. But, good lord, now I do. The roundness of his ass is noticeable and the tight skin just above his pant line makes me want to stare like an idiot.
I avert my eyes and take notice of my own appearance. Petite sleep shorts, a white tank top…and no bra. Fantastic. With a very strong attempt, I alter my face to look stern and step back, crossing my hands over my very noticeable boobs.
“What are you doing here? I thought Chris was on duty tonight.”
The corners of his mouth twitch as if he’s fighting a smile. Which sort of makes me want to crush his foot with my own.
He makes no attempt to retort. He simply stays planted in his spot, observing my outrage, which makes me fume even more.
The Truth of a Liar Page 5
