Between the Lies (Between the Raindrops #2)

by Susan Schussler

  He and Sarah had talked about this. With all the trouble they had been having with their personal life being leaked to the press, why would she log on to this site? It was known for how easy it was to hack. And why was their engagement photo in the background? That was just asking for trouble. He almost called for Sarah to explain, but instead, he squished his eyes together and took a deep breath. He knew she missed her friends, and he felt guilty for stealing her from them. He set the laptop back on the couch, then clicked on the red box with the X in the corner of the screen to close the site before heading out of the room.

  Chapter Two

  Jonathan

  JONATHAN SPUN HIS chair to the side to catch a better look at the monitor in the main house’s security office. The large flat-screen was divided into sixteen different camera views. He clicked the computer keyboard nervously to enlarge each view one at a time. A couple of paparazzi were in cars outside the gate. Click. The white van that always seemed to be on the street strategically blocking the camera’s line of sight. Click. The front door of the main house: clear. Click. The front of the guesthouse: clear. Click. Inside the rock wall’s left side: clear. Click. Right side: clear. Click. The pergola by the pool: he stared at the monitor a second and toggled the buttons to zoom in on Sarah’s face. She was laughing as she visited with Leslie. God, she looked beautiful. Her dark hair shimmered as she turned to look up at the camera. He must have moved the camera with his adjustments. Her green eyes penetrated him as if she could see him. Then Leslie said something, and her attention returned to the magazine on the table. Jonathan strummed his fingers as he watched her on the large screen.

  “What does it mean?” he asked.

  “Nothing. It means nothing, Jon. Don’t even think about it,” said Isaac.

  “Then why are you all here?” Jonathan turned to meet his agent’s eyes. He knew Isaac was lying.

  “It’s not something you should worry about. You getting all upset isn’t going to help.”

  “It’s easy to ignore the threats, pretend they’re not real,” contradicted Sam. “That just makes them more dangerous.”

  “Jonathan gets threats all the time.”

  Jon turned to spy on Sarah again as he listened to his head of security and his agent argue. Then he clicked the monitor back to the split screen view of all the cameras before asking, “What makes this one different?” He spread the three typed letters out in front of him next to the keyboard and examined the pictures on each.

  “It’s the same person who sent the one in January. The print’s the same. The way the pictures are inserted is the same. Even some of the wording is the same. But Isaac let everyone in his office handle the letter before we could get any prints off it. He even tossed the envelope. There’s not much left for us to work with,” stated Sam.

  “That’s the girl’s job. She opens the mail. Sam, are we going to start with this again? I can’t change it now. Get over it.”

  “I just don’t want any more stupid mistakes,” Sam boomed in his intimidating voice.

  “Maybe you should send over one of your militia to open the mail. I’m sure they would do a much better job.” Isaac glanced over to Craig and Raul when he said the word militia.

  “Just stop. What does it mean?” Jon asked again, rubbing his fingertips across his forehead.

  “It means that it may be time to get the FBI involved,” stated Sam.

  “That’s just going to bring the press in, Jon, and open it up to all kinds of crazy copycats.” Isaac folded his hands behind his head as he leaned back in his chair.

  Jonathan looked to Sam for confirmation.

  “That can happen,” Sam admitted. “But this guy most likely means what he says, and that’s why we’re all here. Raul and Craig have experience with terroristic threats from their special ops duty, but it’s different stateside. The FBI has teams of people that work on this kind of crap every day.”

  Jon looked to Raul and Craig and asked, “What do you think?” His two new security members were both former special ops marines. They handled situations very differently than Sam with his police background, and Jon valued their opinions, too.

  “The guy wouldn’t have been so specific if he didn’t plan to follow through,” answered Raul with a slight tinge of a Puerto Rican accent.

  “I’m not going to let anyone hurt Sarah,” stated Jon.

  “Nobody wants that, Jon,” added Isaac.

  “The notes weren’t explicit. It may not be Sarah at all. The guy could mean you,” stated Sam.

  “So we talk to the FBI and then what?” Jon made the decision. He couldn’t sit around any longer waiting for something to happen.

  “Then they tell us what to do. They’ll keep it quiet if needed,” Sam answered.

  “Could the letters be related to the recent leaks to the press?” asked Jon.

  Sam shrugged. “Hard to tell.”

  “OK. Is there anything else I should know?” Jon turned back to the security monitor.

  “No. I’ll keep you updated,” stated Sam.

  With his heart still in his throat, Jon rose and turned toward the door. He needed some time to calm down before he faced Sarah. “I need a drink.” Jon nodded toward his agent, and Isaac followed him out of the room and down the hall. The bar in the media room was stocked, and Jon spotted his dad’s scotch decanter right away.

  “Scotch OK?” he asked as he took out two lowball glasses and set them on the wooden bar top. A knot grew in his stomach, just like the one that had been there the last time he drank scotch. It had been years. Jon opened the icemaker and scooped a couple of cubes into each glass with his hand.

  As he poured the amber liquid, filling the glasses half-full, Isaac asked, “When did you start drinking scotch?”

  “Shortly after the accident. I used to drink my dad’s scotch just to piss him off. He already hated me for killing Jack. Back then I figured it couldn’t hurt our relationship, so what the hell. This won’t bother Dad now. I’ll replace it.” He handed Isaac a glass.

  “The problem with the stalker isn’t that bad. This kind of thing happens all the time. You can’t take on every crazy out there.” Isaac took a sip, keeping his eyes pinned on him.

  Jon brought his glass to his lips, tilting it to let the golden liquid warm the back of his throat. A slow burn traveled downward as he swallowed. He remembered it tasting better. He rested the tumbler against his temple. The cool glass felt better than the burn on his throat. “The last time I drank it was that week you tracked me down in Atlantic City, remember?”

  Isaac nodded again. “You haven’t spoken of Atlantic City in almost four years. What’s on your mind?”

  Jon pushed his hands through his dark hair and inhaled deeply. “Not my best moment.”

  “Not your best, Jon.”

  He emptied his glass in one gulp and met Isaac’s eyes. “I don’t ever want my life to be in that place again.”

  “It won’t happen. We won’t let it.”

  “Can you guarantee that? Because that’s what I want. I want a guarantee that Sarah’s not going to get hurt because of me. Or my mom. My dad. Leslie. Remi. You. I want a guarantee that I won’t kill someone I care about.”

  “What do you want me to say?” Isaac looked up from his drink. “I personally guarantee that no one will get hurt.” He stared at Jon with a somber expression.

  Jon shook his head. There were no guarantees in life. “You are so full of crap.”

  “But my crap smells like gardenias.”

  Jon chuckled, still shaking his head. Isaac had always been there for him. He was more than his agent—he could always depend on Isaac to get him through. Sure he was arrogant and pushy, but he always had Jon’s back. He had been at Jon’s side from the beginning, and that type of loyalty was hard to find. “Are you sure you don’t want to be in the wedding? You should be.”

  “Nah. That group of rock stars you have standing up with you would be too humbled by this handsome face. They wouldn
’t be able to handle me upstaging them.”

  “You’re probably right.” Jon got up and poured himself another drink. “You want a refill? We may as well get our fill if I have to replace it anyway.”

  “No, thanks.” Isaac took out his phone and began typing.

  “Got a hot date tonight?” Isaac was always on the phone, but he didn’t usually text.

  “No, but I did score a date with Lizbeth Hanson next week,” he answered as he shoved his phone back into his jacket pocket.

  “You better not screw that up. Her dad will blackball us.” Isaac’s love life was a welcomed distraction.

  “Oh…I think you are a big enough star to hold your own against Mr. Moneybags. Besides, I heard she hates her daddy. She sided with her mother in the divorce.”

  “Just play nice with her. I don’t need any more enemies.” He definitely had enough enemies.

  “You know me. I’m all about nice when it comes to women.” Isaac laughed like he didn’t believe his own words.

  “Hey, Jon.” Leslie walked into the room and balanced on the arm of Jon’s chair as she grabbed the tumbler from his hand. “Zander’s scotch. You live dangerously.” She smiled and downed the rest of the amber liquid before setting the empty glass on the table next to her. Her face twisted with a bitter pucker.

  A snorted laugh broke from Jon’s lips. “Enjoy that, did you?”

  “I guess it’s an acquired taste,” Leslie said, looking to Isaac.

  “You can’t say she doesn’t know how to take charge.”

  Leslie narrowed her eyes at Isaac, and Jon wondered what his comment meant. Was Leslie who he texted? He watched the two as some kind of unspoken conversation passed between them. “What was that?” Jon asked. “What’s going on between you two?”

  “In his dreams,” answered Leslie as she flopped onto the leather couch.

  “They’re good dreams, Leslie. You’d like them.” Isaac broke out laughing. “Do you want the details?”

  “No.” She turned quickly from Isaac to Jon. “We’re just concerned about you. I left Sarah with a couple of tabloids to check out, and her friends should be here soon. I didn’t mention your meeting, but you have to tell her at some point.”

  “I know. I just don’t want to ruin her weekend.” He struggled with telling her. Sarah always believed the best in others and knowing about the stalker would change that. He didn’t want her to become cynical about something she had no control over. Yet, he didn’t want her to get hurt. He had hurt her enough.

  Sarah

  Sarah couldn’t wait for her friends to arrive. Sam sent a car service to pick up the girls from the airport, and they would be arriving any minute. Having a whole weekend to spend with her best friends would be unbelievable. They always made her feel at home, normal. Her friends knew all about her. She wouldn’t need to put on a show for them. They wouldn’t judge her for what she wore or how much she ate. They wouldn’t care if she drank through a straw or ran her fingers through her hair when she got nervous. They never called her on petty junk, like her socks not being the right shade of pink to match her blouse. She couldn’t wait to spend the entire weekend with them.

  Sarah pushed aside the magazines that Leslie had showed her and opened her journal. She paged through the last three months. This book was almost full. She would need to replace it in a few days. She paused on an entry from three weeks ago, written in red pen. The bright color screamed from the pages. She didn’t usually use red, but it reflected her mood the day she wrote it—the day after she and Jon had met up with Mia Thompson at a charity event for a battered women’s foundation. She knew Mia would be at the event, but she didn’t realize how Jon’s ex would enrage her.

  Mia kept joking that Sarah must be pregnant. But it was more of a jab than a lighthearted ribbing, and Sarah felt that she was implying that the only reason Jon would marry her was if he had knocked her up. It irritated Sarah to her core, but that wasn’t the worst part. Mia acted like Sarah was invisible, never acknowledging her existence, only talking to Jon, and then, when Jon got hung up in a conversation with some big producer, Mia swung around to attack Sarah, with full knowledge that he wouldn’t hear her.

  “Jon and I have a connection, a bond, that can’t be broken. We’ve known each other a long time, and I understand him in ways you never will. Hollywood seeps into all aspects of our lives and if you are not part of it, you will never understand Jon. Just keep that in mind when you plan your future with him. He will never be yours completely.”

  “Really? Because I’m the one he’s marrying.” Sarah tried to keep her voice calm and emotionless. This woman was impossible. Mia and Jon’s relationship ended two years ago and yet she felt entitled to him?

  “Oh, I doubt that you will last long enough to make that happen.”

  Sarah gasped. She couldn’t believe that she was having this conversation with her and Jon was oblivious to it. She smiled, waving her left hand in front of Mia’s face as she glared at her. She wasn’t going to listen to her. She already had enough insecurities about Hollywood. Sarah quickly maneuvered herself back to Jonathan’s side and stuck there like glue the rest of the evening, not even acknowledging Mia again. She felt bad that she had stooped to that level. It wasn’t her. She tried to live in a better world. Sarah wasn’t usually affected by what other’s said, but Mia burrowed under her skin like no other person she had ever met.

  Sarah hadn’t told Jon about it that day. She didn’t want him to say something to his ex and give her the satisfaction of knowing how much she was irritating her. But the next day when she was writing about it in her journal, Jonathan sat down next to her. She was tense from the memory of the previous day and when he gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, she exhaled loudly. She didn’t realize she was holding her breath. He gazed at her with curious eyes as she closed her journal. She definitely didn’t want him to read her entry.

  “So…” he said with a questioning expression.

  “What?”

  “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Mia yesterday?”

  Sarah’s head dropped against the back of her chair in exasperation. She couldn’t believe that woman complained about her to Jon. “What did she say?”

  A smile grew on his face. She knew her tone had given away exactly what she was trying to hide.

  “Sarah, I haven’t talked to Mia, but if you want me to, I will.” He chuckled, and she scowled. That was the last thing she wanted.

  “Why do you think something happened then?”

  He turned on his iPad and set it on top of her journal. “The tabloids seem to think that you two were catfighting yesterday. There are about thirty articles that go into great detail about a big blowout you and Mia had. Did I miss something?” Sarah looked down at the tablet on the table in front of her, and of course the picture was of her waving her ring hand in front of Mia’s face—Sarah’s hand positioned to be practically giving her the finger, with Mia in mid eye roll.

  “Sorry.” Sarah didn’t want to look like the crazy girlfriend.

  “Don’t be. This kind of press can’t hurt. Remi sent me the link. She wants me to get you and Mia out together more often.”

  “Remi is a sadist. How could she wish that woman on anyone?”

  Jon laughed. “She’s not that bad.”

  “Your publicist’s not, but Mia, she’s horrible.”

  He leaned in closer and wove his fingers through Sarah’s hair. He nudged her head to the side to open up access to the tender skin of her neck as he whispered, “I chose you. You’re the one I love.” Then he placed featherlight kisses down her neck.

  ***

  Sarah smiled, savoring the memory of the rest of that afternoon and how Jon made her completely forget about Mia that day. When she opened her eyes from her daydream, her friends were walking out the door into the courtyard toward her. She jumped to her feet and ran to them, pulling Jessica into her arms first.

  “I can’t believe you�
�re here,” she squealed as her friend’s arms enveloped her.

  “Oh my god, Sarah! Are you kidding me? Look at this place. We’re never leaving. I can’t believe you live here,” said Megan. Sarah smiled and pulled Alli and Megan into her arms with Jessica in a giant group hug.

  “I live in that house.” She pointed to the guesthouse. “You guys came in through Jon’s parent’s house. Ours is not as impressive.”

  “Still, all you need is a Greek god to share your bed. Oh…that’s right. You have that too,” added Megan.

  “He’s a demigod, a half-blood.” Sarah laughed. “But don’t call him that to his face. That’s just a character he plays and lately he’s been a little sensitive about being objectified. How was your flight?”

  “We rode in first class—freaking fantastic,” said Megan.

  “So you liked it?”

  “Yes,” said Jessica.

  Sarah led them into the guesthouse, and they plopped their bags on the living room floor. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she said again. “Let’s go back outside. I can show you the house later. Tell me everything that’s happening back in Minnesota.”

  They headed back outside and quickly fell deeply into conversation as Sarah mixed up a blender full of margaritas.

  Jessica thumbed through one of the magazines that Leslie had left. “Don’t kill me, but I’ve seen this one already. There’s a picture of you and Jon on the cutest couples page. Did you see it?” She opened it to the article near the back. “See?” Jessica flipped it around so everyone could view it.

  “Aw. Aren’t you two cute?” cooed Megan mockingly.

  “Shut up,” said Sarah.

  “How do you deal with all the pictures that are taken? You have no privacy,” Alli asked pulling the magazine closer so she could get a better look.