by Desiree Holt
She only hoped he meant it. “Just remember, I’m right here with you.”
Then the door to the room opened and a young man in a polo shirt with the station logo on it greeted them. Blake was out of the chair, all smiles and shaking the man’s hand. She wondered how in the hell he did it, and made it look so easy. Her admiration for him continued to grow.
“Jeff Groman,” the man said. He shook Sam’s hand, too. “We’re ready for you, Mr. Morgan.”
He led them down a hallway and into the studio. Sam took in the cameras stationed at different positions and the number of people moving around, doing whatever it was they did. Bright spotlights lit the set, half of which was the familiar news desk set up, the other half a conversation area with a couch and two chairs.
“Miss Quenel?” Jeff touched her shoulder and pointed to a director’s chair. “We’ve got a seat for you over here. Or if you prefer, right here is a good place to stand. We find that most of the people who deliver our guests prefer that.”
Good, because she had no intention of sitting someplace where she might not be able to move fast if needed. Not that she expected this nut job to attack Blake here in the studio. First of all, he’d have to find a way in. But her motto was “alert, always ready.” It had never failed her.
She watched as Jeff Groman guided Blake to the conversation area, situated him in the armchair, and fitted him with a microphone. People moved around, speaking into their mics, changing the lighting, getting ready. Then Dan Gilardi, the host who’d be interviewing him, joined him, sitting at the end of the couch closest to the chair, introducing himself. Getting him comfortable.
And then it was time. The director cued them, counting down from five, and they were live.
Sam had been holding her breath, although she wasn’t sure what for, and finally released it when she saw things were going well. Gilardi asked Blake all the usual questions: where he got his ideas, what kind of research he did, how he put his stories together, if his characters were based on real people. If she hadn’t known better, she’d have thought this was a walk in the park for him. He was relaxed, smiling, friendly.
God. The man was incredible. Stressed out, upset about Grant Kennelly, never knowing when the stalker was going to strike again, yet there he sat, cool as a cucumber, relaxed as if he was chatting with a friend. She’d seen the behavior of a number of other high-profile figures and her admiration for the man Blake had grown into took a giant leap forward. She wasn’t ready yet to hand over her heart by any means, but she was seeing a side of the man that surprised her.
Finally Gilardi talked about the book signing that evening, the location and the time.
And then they were finished. The lights over that part of the set went off and Gilardi rose and shook hands with Blake. Alan Moretti, who had come on to the set to watch the segment, moved forward.
“Great interview,” he enthused. “I can see why your fans love you.”
Blake grinned, relaxed now that he was out of the torture chamber. “Thanks, but I think it’s my books they love.”
“Speaking of books, we brought some into the guest lounge. Would you mind signing them for the staff?”
“Of course not.”
Half an hour and another round of handshakes later they were done and back in the car.
“Whew!” Blake leaned back in his seat. “I’m always worried I’ll put my foot in my mouth and say something that will give my agent or my publisher a fit.”
“I don’t know why. You did great up there.”
“Thanks. Hope this afternoon’s interview goes as well.” He pulled his cell from his pocket and scrolled through his notes.
“We’re meeting this guy for lunch, right?”
“Yes. Henry texted the info to both of us.” She edged into another lane of traffic.
“Anything from Avery today?” he asked.
“Not much, but I’ll bring you up to date on what we do have. How about if we grab a cup of coffee someplace and I can go over it with you?”
They found a small coffee shop that suited their purpose and carried their drinks to a table at the window. Sam had tried to park close enough so she could keep an eye on the car and see if anyone approached. Unfortunately, the sidewalk was crowded with people, so periodically it was lost to view.
Blake blew on his coffee, took a sip, and leaned forward. “Okay, give. Does she have anything new? And anything else on Grant’s beating?”
Sam took a hit of her own coffee, black with an extra shot, and scrolled through her phone for Avery’s message.
“They collected a ton of prints but we don’t know yet if any of them belong to your stalker. Vigilance is running them through our system and Sheri’s detective is running them through IAFIS, the national fingerprint database, but so far nothing. We do know that he’s a large man, so that’s something.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Grant Kennelly is pretty heavyset. This guy carried him from your parents’ back door to the Kennellys’ hedges.”
“Oh, right.” He swallowed some coffee. “So I should start being careful of heavy men with big feet?”
She swallowed a smile at his grumpiness. There was nothing funny about this at all.
“Avery’s got them combing through every part of your life since high school, especially once your first book was published. You never know who’s jealous of your success or what triggers something like this. I do have to say you’ve had a lot of interesting people in your life.”
He barked a short laugh. “No kidding. Get after Henry, too. I was lucky enough to sign with him in the beginning. He could probably tell you about some idiots who might fit the bill.”
“Oh, rest assured, we had Henry send us a list right at the start. But the machine keeps chugging. Whoever this is, Vigilance will find out.” She checked her watch. “We’d better get going. You don’t want to be late for lunch with the reporter.”
“Yeah, because I’m really looking forward to it so much.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You know, every personality I’ve worked with eats this kind of stuff up. They can’t get enough of it. I thought celebrities craved the media.”
He nodded. “Most of them do. But twice I saw friends of mine crucified for the sake of a good story, hung out to dry for no reason at all. I can’t help wondering if I’ll be next in line. And with this stalker business? I’m gun-shy about everything.”
“One of the things Avery does is train her people to handle the media. We have a lot of high-profile clients, so there’s always a lot of media contact. I won’t let them set a trap for you. I know how to redirect the conversation.”
His lips curved in a tired smile. “Annemarie was good at that, too.”
“Annemarie sounds like a real paragon.” Oh, hell. She hoped that didn’t sound as waspish as she thought. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out that way. I gather she was an incredible help to you.”
“She was. That’s why I was shocked when she just left the way she did.” He ran a hand over his face. “And why I’m still struggling with the news of her death.”
“When we get to the car,” she reminded him, “don’t react to anything I do. The stalker is sure to be watching and I don’t want to give anything away.”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Anything like what?”
“If there’s a new message, you’ll see.” When she bent down to pick up her purse, and she was out of sight of the window, she slid a folded piece of paper inside her sleeve. Then she led the way out the door.
Blake spotted the note first as they approached the car, a folded sheet of paper placed beneath the passenger side windshield wiper.
“Damn it to hell.” He gritted his teeth. “This bastard is all over me and we can’t get a smell of him.”
Sam wasn’t too happy herself. Whoever this was had to have waited for
the right opportunity when a crowd obscured the view of the car to leave the message. But that meant that he was close to them, keeping an eye on them, watching them. The itch between her shoulder blades told her she wasn’t wrong.
“Don’t let him see you’re angry,” she told Blake in a quiet voice.
“What do you mean? Is he watching us? Where the hell is he?”
He started to look around but she put a hand on his arm and squeezed, hard.
“I’m sure he is, and he’s watching for your reaction. You won’t be able to tell who it is because he obviously does disguises well. And just looking for a large man won’t do you any good, because there seem to be a lot of large men walking around here right now.”
“But—”
“He could be in any one of these storefronts, looking out the window, glancing over people’s heads. Waiting. Watching. Do not give him the satisfaction.”
“If I see him, I’ll kill him,” Blake growled.
“And that would certainly make good material for our reporter friend who’s waiting for us, right?” She reached for the folded paper, then shielded her movement so she could switch it with the one in her sleeve. “We’re going to give him something to think about. Maybe he’ll get mad enough to make a mistake.”
Without unfolding it, she crumpled the paper into a ball and tossed it in the trash can by the lamppost.
“What the hell?” Blake tried to retrieve the paper but she pushed him away.
“Get in the car.”
“But—”
“Get in the damn car, Blake. For once can you just listen to what I’m telling you? Please?”
She could almost see the steam coming out of his ears but he got into the car, snapped the seat belt in place with far more force than was necessary. She watched to see if any cars pulled out behind her and when none did, and they were away from that street, she slid the real note from her sleeve and handed it to Blake.
“Here. I’m not worried about fingerprints anymore. Vigilance has enough to work with between what you left them and what they lifted from your parents’ house. Open this and read it.”
“What is this?” he growled, unfolding it. “Sam? How the hell did you do this?”
“A sleight of hand trick Mike Pérez taught me my first month at Vigilance. He’d used it to smuggle a document out of a meeting. What does it say?”
“Shit.”
“It says shit? That’s all?”
“You know that’s not what’s on here. Damn it, Sam, he watched the television spot this morning.”
“Well, of course he did. He’s your number one fan right now. So read it to me.”
“You made a big mistake this morning. You don’t appreciate the right people. But you’ll pay. Soon everyone will know what you’ve done.”
Blake handed the folded note back to Sam.
“You’d think if what I’d done was so hideous I’d remember, wouldn’t you? Damn it, Sam. This is driving me nuts.”
“Well, pull yourself together, because we’re almost at the restaurant. Get through the interview then we can crash in the room until the signing tonight.”
The restaurant had a parking lot at the side. With no spaces available at the curb, Sam considered herself lucky that she scored a spot right against the wall. She made sure the front of the car kissed the concrete, which was the best she could do.
She slid her hand through Blake’s arm as they walked to the front of the building. “Okay, let’s go make you more famous.”
Chapter 9
The stalker sat in his car, watching, his rage slowly building. Damn it to hell. Did nothing go his way? It was that damn bodyguard who was screwing up everything. She was the one calling the shots. Otherwise he was sure Blake Morgan would be completely rattled and afraid by now. Almost killing the neighbor should have pushed him over the edge. Instead it gave him an unexpected rush. He could hardly wait to do it again.
Of course, he’d have to choose carefully. A random episode would mean nothing. And it also had to have the right effect on the signing tour. He didn’t want the tour cancelled. He had something spectacular planned for the finale. No, he wanted one that would send a message to that piece of scum, one that showed him how close he was and that he could do this at will. It couldn’t be connected directly to Morgan by the public, though. It was important for the tour to continue, for him to be able to implement his plan at the different stops along the way.
He smiled, thinking of the steps leading up to the finale, each one destroying the man a little more until at last they reached the ultimate act of revenge.
But that bitch kept interrupting his plans. Like today, when she crumpled his note and threw it away without even reading it. For a moment rage had blinded him. How dare she dismiss his notes like that, as if they meant nothing. They meant everything, each one carefully crafted to lead the piece of shit one step closer to reality. He’d wanted to retrieve it from the trash can, but it was across the street and the sudden surge of traffic had made it impossible.
And he didn’t want to hang around to get it. He had other things to do. Plans to make. He grabbed his tablet from the seat beside him and brought up the tracking program. He’d managed to place a tracking device on the car Morgan and the woman were using, laughing silently at how easy it was. He’d just dropped something behind the car and when he went to retrieve it, stuck the little device in place. It was important for him to know everyplace they went so he could move forward with each step of his plan.
Remember, he kept telling himself, the point for now was to unnerve him. Throw him off his game. Make him take a good hard look at things and realize someone knew what a fake he was. How he’d lied and fooled the public all this time.
That interview this morning had enraged him. The stalker had listened carefully but the man had ignored the most important part of his career. The thing that had made his career. The reality behind Blake Morgan. But no. He’d left it out. Deliberately, the stalker was sure.
Well, not for much longer. Soon everyone would know the truth about what he’d done.
Soon.
* * * *
As soon as they were back in the suite, Blake stripped off his jacket and tie and tossed them on a chair.
“I need a drink. Preferably a big one.” So many different emotions were seething inside him he couldn’t make himself settle down. Lunch had been fine, and the reporter no worse than others he’d met with. But the note was making him twitchy, along with the certain knowledge that the stalker was seldom far away from them.
Sam grinned. “Good idea, but how about after the signing tonight?”
“How about—never mind. Where’s that note?”
“Right here.” She held it out to him.
You made a big mistake this morning. You don’t appreciate the right people. But you’ll pay. Soon everyone will know what you’ve done.
He scraped his fingers through his hair. “Mistake? What kind of mistake? I answered all the questions honestly and politely. And who don’t I appreciate? My readers? I thanked them a bunch of times.” He looked over at Sam, who was sitting at the little table with her laptop. “I don’t know what the hell this guy wants from me.”
“And that’s really the sticking point here,” she told him. “If we could figure that out, we might know who we’re dealing with.”
“Anything new from Avery?”
“Yes and no. Yes, an email but no, nothing of value. They’ve run all the prints from your parents’ home. The only stray ones they found belong to the woman who cleans for them once a week.”
“We could have figured that,” he pointed out. “Whoever this is, he’s not stupid enough to leave prints anywhere.”
Sam looked over at him. “You know, at first I wondered if this was some jilted female in your past out for revenge.”
“
I told you,” he snapped. “You won’t find anything like that. Have I had relationships? Some, but nothing very long or lasting. And every single one of them ended amicably.”
She laughed. “You must have some magic touch, Morgan. Surely there’s some woman out there who believes you strung her along and then dumped her.”
He was beside her in two strides, cupping her cheeks in his hands.
“Listen to me, Sam. Please, listen to what I’m telling you.” He blew out a breath and crouched in front of her, taking her hands in his. “I know we agreed to take this slow and see what happens, but I need to tell you this. I’m sorry if you think it’s too soon. I’ve lived with the memory of that night and what might have been for a long time. No other woman ever got to me the way you did, despite how young we were at the time. The more I’m with you, the mature Samantha, the more I’m coming to believe you’re the only one for me. Can you believe that? Please?”
Yes, Sam, please believe me.
Maybe he was wrong to tell her this so soon, but he couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer.
He lifted her hands and kissed each of them, then cupped her face again and brought her mouth to his. God! Her lips were so soft and she tasted so hot, a flavor that rushed into his system and heated his blood. He took the kiss deep trying to show her how he felt about her, what he felt for her. He only broke the kiss when he needed to breathe. He lifted his head and found Sam looking at him with a stunned expression.
“You were more than just a date to me, Sam. I know that sounds stupid, considering the age we were at the time. But think about this. Think about how it’s been when we make love.”
“Blake, please. I’m not anywhere near ready to deal with this yet.”
He held her face between his palms. “Listen to me. Did you at all believe the things I said the other night? Or how it is when we make love? Yes, Sam, made love. How can I make you believe I’m not that immature teenager anymore? I haven’t been for a long time, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe. So jilted lovers after my ass? I’ve never been with a woman long enough for her to consider herself one. Period.”
