by Joanne Rock
He didn’t normally have to field many questions about his private life since his history was well-known around the precinct. Warren had been introduced to the local detective squad by the arresting officer who brought him in after the elder Vitalis was shot and killed. Warren’s career ambitions had changed forever that night, shifting from finance—his father’s dictate—to ballistics, thanks to his wrongful arrest.
“Actually, my brother was on the outs with my abusive father long before our father was murdered. By Andy, actually. His prison term is up next month.” That was the short version of the story. The one that kept most people from pursuing the matter any deeper.
Warren sipped his coffee and waited for her to make polite excuses on her way out. Instead she stood there for a long moment, as if frozen, making him regret that he couldn’t seem to soft-soap his past in more easy-to-digest doses.
“Your father abused you?” she said finally, surprising him by keying in on that particular fact as she picked up her mug from the coffee table next to her.
“My father was a bastard for too many reasons to recount at this hour, but my brother never stuck around long enough to make that trek into social services that might have helped us out. Andy’s method of taking care of the problem was…a hell of a lot more devastating.”
There were shades of truth in that statement, but he couldn’t pick through them now with her watching him.
It had taken Warren a long time to forgive his brother and understand what he did. Especially since Andy had remained silent while Warren got picked up for the crime he didn’t commit. Warren had been dissociating himself from the memories of his six-month stint in a juvenile detention center for a long time, so he possessed a certain amount of skill at the dispassionate retelling. The hell of juvie had made his father’s beatings seem like a walk in the park.
An experience he’d spare her.
“Your poor brother. Poor you.” Tabitha clutched her mug with both hands and traced the handle with her finger. “I’m so sorry you had to go through that.”
Her sympathy seemed genuine enough when plenty of people looked at him like a social deviant for having been brought up in that kind of environment. But then, Warren figured the pop-psychology culture had given the general American public enough knowledge to understand you didn’t survive stuff like that without sacrificing some parts of yourself. The worst criminals often came out of abusive situations.
But Tabitha didn’t look at him as if he was a serial killer in the making and that—damn, that was nice. If Melinda had ever—
But those were stupid thoughts. Useless thoughts. Melinda hadn’t wanted to hear anything about his past.
“That’s not how most people see it. There was a huge outcry when my brother got off with just a fifteen-year sentence.” Legions of his father’s wealthy friends had sympathized with a peer whose ungrateful kid had—in their minds—only wanted to come in to his inheritance early.
None of them seemed to consider the circumstances behind the incident or the years of abuse that made Andy crack. And, Jesus, Warren didn’t want to think about this shit today.
“I think I remember reading about that case, actually,” she admitted. “I was still in junior high but I remember it being a big deal. Your brother is some kind of genius, right?”
A blood-deep bond with his brother made him smile at that, the truth of Andy’s IQ part of the reason he hadn’t been able to handle his home life. The genius factor had been an angle played up in the papers.
“He’s brilliant. He finished high school early and got accepted into the top colleges for physics.”
How different their lives would have been if Andy had simply taken a scholarship and left town. But the road lined with what-ifs was endless and Warren figured the time to change the subject was long overdue. He couldn’t afford for her to ask any more questions.
“Can I give you a ride to work?” He set down his mug and reached for his keys, not surprised to realize he’d started sweating since his shower. He mopped his forehead and knew he couldn’t blame it on the weather in mid-March.
Hell. He was still a mess after all these years. The darkness of those memories snuck up on him at the stupidest times, and threatened to reduce him to the cry-ass teenager he’d been back then.
“That’s okay. You didn’t think we were followed last night, right?” She shivered and rubbed her hands over her arms.
Warren acknowledged that while this change of conversation might be good for him, it probably sucked for her to be reminded that someone wanted to see her hurt.
“No one followed us.” He’d made sure of that. “But if someone’s been watching you, there’s a good chance that person could be waiting for you at your job site today. This is the same place I met you yesterday, right?”
“No. I’ll be in midtown at the studio today, but I don’t want to put you to any more trouble. I know I probably overreacted by showing up outside a crime scene last night.”
Which reminded him he’d have to answer to his department chief about that. No way the news of his visitor at a murder scene would have been kept quiet around the precinct. He’d have to squash any mutterings of unprofessional behavior first thing today and then bury himself in work. In fact, he’d been toying with the idea of bringing her ex in for questioning. As a big-shot producer, Manny Redding knew de Milo, and Tabitha, too.
“You have every right to be spooked and you’re smart to be careful.” He jingled the keys in his palm, grounding himself in the here and now to ward off the mental demons that had been let out of their cages for a few minutes this morning. “I’ll drop you off on my way into work and swing by the set after I analyze the bullet I found last night. That might help us figure out if it’s safe to go back to your place.”
Her curt nod wasn’t exactly enthusiastic, but he couldn’t blame her for having mixed feelings about hanging out with a guy whose brother had gone on trial for attempted murder, a guy who hadn’t said one word to her about their night together.
Crap.
“Thank you,” she told him simply, picking up the small bag she’d brought with her from her apartment the night before. “I appreciate it.”
“We need to talk later anyway.” He shrugged into his coat and held hers out for her while she slid an arm into each sleeve.
The familiarity of the act landed another blow to his gut, a reminder that he was getting too close too fast when he didn’t know much of anything about Tabitha except that she might be headed for a big bout of more publicity if it turned out someone wanted to hurt her…or worse.
She was young and beautiful with a scandal in her past—precisely the kind of target pseudojournalists loved for selling papers. And Warren had somehow ended up sleeping with her despite an intense dislike for the New York media.
Turning her in his arms, he kissed her hard since he didn’t know how much longer he had with her before the press got hold of a story brewing. She held back for a moment, her lips unyielding in taut surprise at the intimate invasion.
But then her fingers flexed against his neck, lightly scratching the base of his scalp in response. She softened, warmed, melted beneath his lips and Warren was tempted to forget the need to be cautious all over again.
Too bad his refusal to look a situation in the eye was directly responsible for his brother’s rash action nearly two decades ago.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake again.
* * *
“TABITHA, YOU’RE ON.”
The stylist waved her on to the bathroom shower set shortly before noon after a delayed shooting schedule had put the day’s production scenes behind.
She had to get back into directing. Tabitha peeled off her robe before setting foot in front of the camera and felt every eye on her in the drafty studio as she bared herself in the nude body stocking that covered only the essentials. What was she doing? Maybe it was spending the night with Warren, but for some reason today she didn’t feel like sharing her b
ody with the camera.
She’d taken the body double work after her marriage broke up to pay the bills and to thumb her nose at her controlling husband, who wanted to keep her under lock and key.
It seemed like a good idea at the time since she’d felt defiant and needed to call the shots for herself again.
This isn’t me.
Not until today had it occurred to her how reactive she was being. Warren had endured so much worse in life than she had and he’d used his past to do something noble. Something that made a difference. But Tabitha had allowed her emotions to dictate something that wasn’t right for her. And somehow it took sleeping with Warren Vitalis to make her realize it.
Was that being reactive, too? What kind of weak-willed wuss was she that she made changes because of the men in her life?
Gyrating to the music piped into the studio, she did her best to perform the sexy shower dance the script called for in a low-budget movie. The camera focused on her hips, her thighs, her naked back and the curve of her rump, as a light mist coated her skin. But the lens never took in her face. Never the real her.
She did her job mindlessly because it required no thought. What the hell had she gone to film school for if she was going to let her ex run her out of the industry?
“Cut!” The director’s shout jarred her, freeing her from her shower dance that would appear on television with another actress’s character.
Bad enough Tabitha had been living life without taking credit for her own ideas and talents. For the past year she hadn’t even been taking credit for her own body that she’d worked damn hard to make peace with.
Fired up and eager to talk to Warren about her discovery, Tabitha had to stop herself from racing through her after-work clean-up to meet him. He’d called earlier, putting off his lunch hour until she’d finished her scene so that he could pick her up and see her home. Above and beyond the call of duty, but he’d insisted, saying he would arrive within the next—she checked her watch—half hour.
Ready to leave the set of Total Exposure, Tabitha changed into her street clothes and cinched the waist of her favorite purple skirt. She wasn’t ten steps off the soundstage when she spotted a familiar figure coming toward her.
Two familiar figures.
Manny Redding and the bimbo girlfriend who had played a starring role in the end of Tabitha’s marriage.
With nowhere to hide in the corridor of the cable television studios, Tabitha bared her teeth in a half grimace, half smile, and decided to brazen it out.
“Look, Manny darling, there’s your ex-wife, the struggling actress,” Evelyn Benson called in a voice that was meant to be heard. The auburn-haired former Playmate wore her typical do-me attire—a backless dress with a plunging halter neck that exposed cleavage of unfathomable depths between her jiggle-free breasts. “Are you still having to sell your body to make ends meet darling?”
Manny said nothing as he stared at her like a man scrutinizing subjects in a lineup, analyzing what she’d changed about herself. What aspects of her he didn’t like now that she didn’t listen to his wardrobe advice for every casting call. His fish-mouth expression suggested he disapproved.
Thank God she was doing something right.
“Hello, Evelyn.” Tabitha’s smile-grimace widened. “So sorry to see they botched your boob job. Thank goodness the new set balances out your hips at least, even if they are a little lopsided.” She attempted a pitying gaze and walked faster, wanting no part of a catfight, but unwilling to let the woman’s remark pass unchallenged.
“Wait a minute, Ev.”
Tabitha recognized Manny’s director voice from his days behind the camera, but she kept on walking up the corridor away from them.
“Tabitha.” He used the same voice on her and she could hear his footsteps close behind her.
Mostly she wanted to avoid him because he was her cheating ex and she hated him for trying to shut her out of the industry, but in this quiet back hall, deserted except for the three of them, Tabitha remembered that Manny had reported her gun stolen without telling her about it. Had the weapon really been lifted? Or had he wanted the police to think the gun was missing because he had other plans for it?
She turned, knowing Warren would arrive soon. Plus gophers and set assistants ran through these halls all day even if the corridor happened to be empty right now.
“I’m meeting someone.” She paused to look at her watch even though she knew the time. If there was any chance Manny hated her enough to fire a shot into her apartment, she wanted to make it clear that he might get caught if he tried anything now. “Besides that, I thought we agreed to communicate strictly through our lawyers?”
He smoothed his silver-colored tie with the practiced hand of a perpetually well-groomed man. At one time, she’d loved the way he always worked to make a favorable impression, a quality she’d wished for her disorganized self. Only later did she see the sharp suits and weekly haircuts as facets of a supremely self-absorbed man.
That’s when the midnight Häagen-Dazs binges had started to seem like such a good idea.
“Actually, I had to fire Braeden so I’ll be sending you the name of my new attorney soon.” He had the audacity to put a hand on her back as he reached her and Tabitha thought she’d scream.
Stepping out of his reach, she guessed Manny had only initiated contact to make Evelyn jealous. He was, after all, a master manipulator.
“Braeden O’Leary is your best friend.” What kind of shark attorney could Manny have gotten if he let go of the guy who’d made Tabitha’s life hell? She figured Braeden must be made of pure ice if he could have continued working with Manny after Manny stole Braeden’s girlfriend. Evelyn was nothing if not ambitious.
“No matter. He’s gone. Renewing some old contacts in the film business after a long time away from production.” He shook his head as if to ward her off an unpleasant subject. “I hear you had some trouble at that flea bag dive you call home these days.”
Tabitha tensed, grateful that at that moment she heard a door open into the back hall. A set assistant who looked all of twelve ran out into corridor, phone in one hand and a clipboard in the other as she rattled off twenty menu items for a lunch order. The reminder that this was a public building helped Tabitha breathe a little easier as her ex waited for her response.
“How do you know what goes on in my life?” Chills chased each other down her spine to think Manny could have sent her that e-mail, fully aware of her every move.
“The cops coming to see me was my first clue. Thanks for tossing my name on to the list of suspects, Tabitha.” Cold fury turned his eyes a darker shade of blue. “Bad enough stupid de Milo gets himself offed the week I slap him with a lawsuit. Now you want to make me out to be some kind of drive-by gangster?”
Warren talked to Manny? Her heart pounded while Evelyn shouted down the hall that she was going to be late for her appointment if Manny didn’t hurry up.
“I can’t help what the police do.” Nor, it seemed, did she have any advance warning of moves they might take that could create turmoil in her life.
“Be careful where you start pointing fingers, Tabitha. I’ve let you keep your body double work because it amuses Evelyn to see you peddle your wares to pay the rent, but I guarantee I can make that vanish, too, if you want to start trouble for me.”
“Is that a threat?” Tabitha took a pen and paper out from her purse. “Care to repeat it for me so I can get it down verbatim? I’m keeping records for the cops.”
Manny growled, perhaps as a warm-up to another threat, but the door opened on the other end of the hall this time and Warren walked into the building. Commanding and so incredibly sexy, Warren looked as though he meant business. If Tabitha hadn’t known him so well, she would have been running for cover at the dark look in his eyes.
Instead, the rush of relief was so great her knees wobbled for a moment before she took a deep breath to steel herself. She didn’t know what she expected in a showdown betwe
en the man representing her past and the one in her present, but she hadn’t expected Warren to stand toe-to-toe with Manny and breathe fire through his nose.
But that was pretty much the way the confrontation looked from her point of view as Warren’s big, muscular body eclipsed Manny’s slighter form.
“If you can’t keep away from Tabitha, there are ways to restrain you that don’t involve an order from a judge.” Warren kept his voice icy and his body positioned between her and Manny while she stepped out of the way. “If I see you anywhere near her again, I’m going to show you the way of pain. You got me?”
Tabitha didn’t hear Manny’s answer, but she suspected he’d agreed to Warren’s terms. Manny was an adulterous creep, but he wasn’t stupid.
The encounter gave her a moment’s pleasure in the vicarious revenge department since she would have loved to have knocked her ex into next year on more than one occasion. But as grateful as she was to have Warren intervene for her, she knew she couldn’t allow it to become a habit. She’d never make it in New York as a director if she couldn’t deliver her own ass kickings when needed.
CHAPTER 8
WARREN HADN’T EXPECTED Tabitha to be thrilled that her ex was on his list of suspects for harassing her, but he hadn’t expected her to go stone-cold silent on the subject, either.
Tabitha had barely spoken two consecutive words since they’d left the studios in midtown and now, winding their way through lunch-hour traffic toward his apartment, he wasn’t sure how to handle the obvious tension in the car.
Had the sight of his inner badass freaked her out? He’d toned it down for her sake since he would have been all too glad to test the strength of her scumbag ex’s jaw. Bastard.
“You might not want to take work that puts you in close proximity to your ex until we can be sure he’s not the guy who’s shooting through your window.” He’d meant to say something more reassuring, but it bugged him that she’d been talking to the guy this afternoon in a quiet corner of the building.
