“Read the e-mail first. It came to the office yesterday. I was going to forward it to you, but Jon said your e-mail had been hacked. I printed both the English and French versions.”
Sarah opened the envelope and pulled out the magazine spread, before reading the attached e-mail.
Sarah,
I just thought you might like a copy of my article going out in the magazine this week. I really adored our talk at the café in Cannes.
Enjoy!
—Christophe Laurent
She browsed the article uncertain what she would find. When Sarah finished, she was in awe. She couldn’t believe he had written such a complimentary article about her. It cited her short story that was published while she was in school and the screenplay she was in negotiations for selling. Somehow Christophe knew about the bidding war that had occurred but didn’t mention that the war was most likely due to the fact that Jonathan playing lead was part of the package. She laughed as she read the last line. “Jonathan Williams better keep her happy or another man, namely me, is going to swoop in and steal this gem of a woman.”
“Wow. I can’t believe he wrote that,” admitted Sarah.
“I’m going to get quotes of the English version out as soon as the mag hits the stands.”
“Maybe everyone will stop hating me.”
“Nobody hates you, Sarah.”
Sarah glared at her, trying to emphasize that she didn’t believe her.
“You can’t let the haters get to you. You’re a target right now, but that will calm down after the wedding. And you seem to have made a fan in France without anyone’s help. It will get easier, I promise.”
“Thanks, Remi.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jonathan
HE ROLLED HIS HEAD on his shoulders, back and forth, trying to relieve the muscle knot tightening between his blades. Jon hated these tours. The constant travel, the rigid schedule and the lack of sleep were all taking tolls on his body. He understood this kind of expedition for big box office films like The Demigod series, but this little indie film was only going to be released to a limited number of theaters, let alone countries. He felt a bit sorry for the promoters. They were never going to recoup the cost of this tour in ticket sales. Maybe he was the one he should feel sorry for, though. He was the one being abused. He tried to remember his fans were his motivation. Some of them had waited outside in the scorching heat for days just to catch a glimpse of him. He wanted to give them a good show—sign their autographs and take pictures with them. They were the reason he was here torturing himself.
He reached back and dug his fingers deep into the muscles of his neck, desperate to alleviate the pain. The hotel that they were heading to supposedly had an extensive exercise facility and he was going to use it. He really needed to work out. It had been days since he had a chance to lift weights or let loose on the treadmill. Maybe they had a rowing machine. That would help. It wasn’t just his body that needed the release; it was his mind, too. Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted to Sarah.
It’s not that he didn’t trust his security team back home. Craig had spotted the stalker’s note on Sarah’s car after all. It was just that the thought of Sarah’s life being threatened was like being eviscerated and then dragged across a giant cheese grater by his intestines. She meant more to him than his own life, and he was stuck on the other side of the world repeating shallow sound bites while he posed for pictures with people he didn’t even know.
“I’m going to get a massage. Do you want me to set one up for you, too?” asked Leslie, looking almost as exhausted as he felt.
“Nope, I’ll pass.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter how professional the massage starts out, I always get propositioned.”
She looked up from her phone at him. “I can schedule it with a dude.”
He rolled his eyes. “You think that matters. Male, female…I always end up in the same awkward situation. No, thanks. I’m going to work out, get a hot shower, and catch a nap. Maybe Sarah can release some of my tension in my dreams.”
“Yuck! Don’t…I just ate. It hasn’t even been two weeks. You’re not going to make it to the wedding night.”
He smiled. “We’ll make it. Honestly, all I want is to hold her in my arms.”
“Piff,” Leslie snorted. “Really. You can’t stop talking about her body.”
“OK. That was a lie. But I would be satisfied if I could just wrap my arms around her. I can’t wait until we get home.”
“Our contact at the FBI wants to meet with us when we get back. They have a picture of the person that put the note on Sarah’s car. It’s not a great shot because her face is blocked by a hat, but they want us to see if we can identify her. It was from the hotel’s parking lot cameras. I’ll set the meeting for the day after we get back, just to give us a day to relax,” announced Sam.
“Sounds good. I can’t wait to put the whole stalker ordeal behind us.” He looked over at Sam and added, “I know that even if we figure out who it is, it probably won’t make the stalker go away. She can keep on stalking, but at least we’ll know who to stay away from. I couldn’t have told more than a few people about the walls in the guesthouse, but I don’t remember who I mentioned it to and who I didn’t. I felt as if I was giving out contact names to the CDC to prevent the spread of STDs when I talked to the FBI last. I’m glad Sarah wasn’t there. She doesn’t need to know all the dirty details about my past. You wouldn’t believe how intrusive their questions were. I guess my honesty is worth it if it helps find the stalker.
“Have you ever had to do that before—I mean, give names to the CDC?” asked Leslie with a dropped jaw.
“No. Have you?”
He turned back to Sam and asked, “Did Raul and Craig say how Sarah’s weekend with her friends went? Did the girls keep them busy with their exploits?” Jon chuckled to himself imagining all the trouble Sarah and her friends got into.
“No. Raul said they were homebodies all weekend, hardly went out at all.”
“Oh.” That was worse. It meant Sarah was too freaked out by the stalker to enjoy her friends’ visit. “Is Sarah doing all right? She seems fine on the phone, but I’ve always had a harder time reading her when I can’t see her face.”
“She’ll be fine. We’ll be home in two days.” Sam checked his phone and met Jon’s eyes. “I hope the facility has free weights. I can never get a good workout on those machines.”
“I think they do. It looked pretty good sized,” added Leslie.
The car slowed as it pulled up to the hotel. A dozen people stood behind a velvet rope barrier watching the car expectantly. “Do you have a pen, Leslie?”
“There goes our work out,” proclaimed Sam, handing Jon a black Sharpie.
“It won’t take that long. We have a couple hours,” said Jonathan.
“You’re just encouraging more people to come stalk you,” added Leslie.
That was a poor word choice. “We’re only here for a night.”
The door opened and he followed Sam out. The crowd screamed as he approached, and Jon dragged a smile onto his tired face. With Sam at his side, he motioned that he would sign autographs. It didn’t matter that he didn’t speak the same language, miming was universal. Leslie checked them in, while Jon stayed, posing for pictures and signing his name.
When it came time to leave for the premiere, there were twice as many people behind the rope, just as Leslie had predicted. Unfortunately Jon didn’t have any time to give them, and he felt badly to disappoint them.
The red carpet and the screening went smoothly. As they headed back to the hotel, relief encompassed him. It was their last stop, and they would be catching a flight home in the morning. The crowd was growing outside the hotel and as much as he hated disappointing his fans, he just couldn’t muster enough energy to sign any more autographs. When Sam told the driver to go around the block and pull into the back entrance by the kitchen, he smiled. Sam had read his mind.
/> Overall the tour ran smoothly. He and Amy Richardson even found a way to be cordial to each other. The last few nights they posed for pictures together, exciting the crowd into believing the movie’s love interests could be more than just coworkers. It was good for ticket sales and his job. It’s called acting for a reason.
He hit the shower first, trying to wash the entire tour down the drain and put it behind him. The hot water burned as it ran over his muscles, and yet it was just what he needed. The next stop was home. And Sarah. Jon couldn’t wait. He’d told the press point-blank in London that he wasn’t the father of Mia’s baby. It hadn’t come out as smoothly as he had hoped, but at least the press was clear that the baby wasn’t his and that he and Sarah were still getting married. He turned and the water spray doused his face. Sarah. Anytime his eyes closed, he envisioned her. Just the thought of her awoke his aching body, stirring places only she could quench. He’d spent this entire tour planning their wedding night. Sitting through screening after screening of the same film provided ample hours for him to think about how he could pleasure her on their honeymoon. That thought wasn’t helping. He was going to save all his energy for the wedding night like they had planned. He ran his fingers through his hair to wash away any lingering soap and shut the water off. He toweled off and slipped on his last clean pair of boxer briefs. Steam rose from his heated skin in the air-conditioned room. He collapsed on the bed and clicked the TV remote.
His phone beeped with a notification of an e-mail from Sarah. What was she doing up at this time of the night? It must have been three in the morning at home. His stomach twisted as that thought sank in. Somehow the stalker had hacked into her e-mail. She’d changed her password, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t happen again.
All that discomfort you forced Sarah to endure having those scars removed, and you’ll still never get to see her in a bikini again. It seems pointless and cruel. But that’s not new for you.
What the hell did that mean?
He quickly clicked on the embedded video. As his heart hammered violently, he watched the camera pan around the courtyard at his house and focus on a dark spot in the pool. Sarah rose out of the water, ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it from her face, and then, with a smile, she waved. The video cut to black with the words the end. Jon’s stomach began to retch.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Sarah
SARAH SANK INTO the bucket seat, the leather hot against her back. It was the first time since her car accident in December that Sarah had enough confidence to wear just a sports bra and yoga pants out in public. It was as if the plastic surgeon had done a voodoo ritual and her scars magically became invisible…well, practically invisible. She dug in her bag and plucked her T-shirt from the bottom. It was one thing to work out in a sports bra, but something completely different to wear one into a juice bar.
“It’s a shame you got your scars fixed for nothing. Jonathan won’t even get to see you in a bikini.” Cami glanced at Sarah’s bare stomach before pushing the button to start the engine.
“What are you talking about? He’ll be home late tonight.” Sarah pulled the T-shirt over her head, before adding, “I bought four new bikinis for the honeymoon. One of them is really tiny. I mean, seriously small, like Miley Cyrus’s bikini small. But it is so cute I just had to get it and I know Jon will love it. I’m not sure if I can wear it in public, though. I’ll show it to you sometime and you can give me your opinion.” She was still burning off the adrenaline from the workout, and she felt as if the energy was causing her to blurt out her every thought. She buckled her seatbelt before taking out her phone and typing a text to Craig, just to let him know they were headed to the Caboose Juice.
“Let your bodyguard stew. He doesn’t need to know where you are every minute of the day. He has LoJack on your phone anyway. He’ll figure it out.” Cami pulled out of the back parking lot toward the Caboose Juice three blocks away.
Sarah hit send and tossed her phone back into her bag. “No really…I’m OK with it now. Ever since that note was left on my car, I don’t have a problem with just shooting them a text or bringing them with me when I go out. It helps me feel safe. Do you know if the Berry Bloom smoothie has raspberries in it? I was going to try it the last time I was there, but I’m not a big raspberry fan.”
“I’m not sure, Sarah.” Her voice sounded irritated.
What had she said? They rounded the corner, and Sarah watched as they passed the bright red-and-white juice café. “There was a parking spot right in front. Didn’t you see it? If we go around the block, it might still be there.”
“You know…I changed my mind. I’m not really in the mood for juice. We’re just going to go for a drive.”
“I was really looking forward to getting an energy boost. Would you mind? I’ll run in really fast.”
“I don’t think so, Sarah.” Cami’s voice sent a shiver up Sarah’s arm.
“That’s OK. I’ll just get out here and walk back.” The car was stopped at a light a couple of blocks from the Caboose Juice. Sarah reached for the door handle, but when she pulled on it, the door didn’t open. She tried the window, but it didn’t budge either.
“I had it installed last week. Child locks are usually only in the backseat, because it is too dangerous for the little munchkins to be next to an exploding airbag, but I gave the guy at the garage a sob story about how my grandmother had Alzheimer’s and kept trying to open the car door while I was driving. I told him how scared I was that she would get hurt. I guess I’m still a decent actor. It’s amazing what you can get done if you just ask. Just look at you.” She looked over at Sarah and smiled. “I asked you to come without your bodyguard and here you are. All I had to do was ask.” Cami turned back to the road, gripping the steering wheel tighter as she pressed the accelerator.
Oh god! What had she done? Sarah needed to get out of here. She needed to distract Cami. Her phone was in her bag. If she could unlock it and push the button for the panic app that Craig installed on it, she could alert him to her predicament. It would connect her phone with his and he would be able to hear the conversation in the car. He said she could use it anytime she felt threatened. At the time, she thought he was just trying to placate her. He said it could save her life. She hoped he was right.
“Why are you doing this, Cami? I don’t understand,” asked Sarah, pulling her bag onto her lap and positioning it so she could slip her hand inside without being too obvious. “I thought we were friends.” They clearly weren’t friends. Cami had been using her to keep tabs on Jon. She’d been stalking her this whole time, tormenting both her and Jon.
“Yeah. That’s the hard part about this. But there was really no other way to get you into a car alone with me.”
“Why do you want me in the car with you so badly?”
“That will be revealed in time,” she said with a worried look on her face, as if she hadn’t worked all the details out yet.
Sarah slowly inched her phone to the edge of her bag. This was going to be harder than she thought. She needed to unlock her phone, and she couldn’t even see the screen or the fingerprint scanner. She turned, pretending to look out the window, and then skimmed her eyes down the sports car’s door. The glossy wood panel reflected the light from her phone like a mirror. She swiped her finger, but it didn’t work. Her fingers were shaking so badly that her print wasn’t registering correctly. She couldn’t remember her alternative password. Ever since she got the phone, she’d only used the print scanner. She needed to calm down.
“What do you have against me anyway? Did you used to date Jon?” She took a deep breath and tried the scanner again.
“No. I never dated him, and I didn’t want to hurt you. It’s just what has to happen.”
Sarah’s phone screen opened, filling with icons, and she tapped the picture of the linked chain. “Cami, you sent us all those threatening letters and now you have me trapped in your silver Audi. What do you want with me?” Her voice was st
arting to shake. Was she too obvious with the description? She needed to tell Craig what road they were on or at least a landmark or two, and she needed to calm down so she could think.
“You’re my ticket to paying back Jonathan for ruining my life.”
“How did Jon ruin your life? You don’t even know him.”
“I never dated him, but I know him. He took my life from me. He stole everything I loved.”
Cami wasn’t making sense, and Sarah needed to make sense of this. “How did he do that, Cami?”
“I was engaged once. We didn’t have the rings, but he had asked me. Then Jonathan killed him. He killed my Jack. He was jealous of his brother, and he drove into oncoming traffic on purpose. He stole the only man I’ve ever loved. He left me maimed and unable to do the job I wanted since I was a little girl. He took everything from me. Don’t you see? Now I am going to take everything he loves from him. Payback’s a bitch.” Cami’s gaze turned to obsidian—hard, rigid, and dark.
Sarah’s breath faltered. She knew she couldn’t reason with her. She was insane. Tears trickled down Sarah’s cheeks. She had to hold on until the police caught up with them. They had to find her soon. There was LoJack on her phone. They had to be on their way.
“Why are we getting on the Ten? What are you going to do to me?” Why hadn’t she just stabbed or suffocated her while she slept. She could have poisoned her a hundred times. Why did Cami want her in a car?
“I’m just looking for the right opportunity. You see, we have to be going fast enough for my plan to work.” She sounded perky and amused now, as if her day couldn’t be any better.
Cami’s words tightened the growing knot in Sarah’s chest. She tried to suck in a breath, but no air could get through. Cami was going to crash the car. “If you crash the car, you’ll get hurt, too.”
“Here’s the deal, Sarah. I might get banged up, but you’ll be dead. Do you want to know why I’m so certain?” She didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “Because I disabled the airbags on your side of the car, even the side ones. I learned how on YouTube. And your seatbelt, it’s hanging by a thread inside the door. I cut it. As soon as there’s any pressure on it, it will snap. You’ll go flying into the windshield. You’ll be dead and Jonathan will be devastated. Besides, I don’t even care if I die. What does it matter anymore?”
Between the Lies (Between the Raindrops #2) Page 32
