by C. J. Miller
The possessiveness that ripped through Jack was only because she was a client. Anyone close to her was a potential threat. Not that the male model could be hiding a weapon; his attire concealed next to nothing. Jack forced himself to look away. He walked around the area trying to burn off the unwanted emotion and looking for anyone new or anything out of place.
When Jack looked at Marissa again, she was standing with the other female models and the male model was being photographed alone. Marissa had added a pale yellow scarf to the white dress. The other women were wearing similar outfits in light colors, only theirs were more conservative.
“It’s pretty boring, right?” Clarice stood next to him holding a clipboard. She had been on the set in Seabrook and had struck up a conversation. Her name had been mentioned in connection with the incident at Ambrose’s fashion show.
Jack didn’t know what to make of her. In control on the set, her clipboard her constant companion, she should know if something had been wrong at Ambrose’s show. Jack had read the statement Clarice had made and she had indicated that she’d noticed something wrong when Avery wasn’t waiting to walk the runway.
“They take hundreds of pictures of the same thing,” Jack said.
“Each picture is different. Facial expressions and the lighting,” Clarice said.
“What are they selling?” he asked.
“The shoes,” Clarice said.
Jack looked at the shoes the models were wearing. He hadn’t noticed them before. Tall, strappy and each appeared wildly uncomfortable. Jack couldn’t picture anyone buying those impractical shoes. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
Clarice laughed. “San Terese shoes. Very hot right now.”
“Not my style. I’m a sneakers or boots kind of guy,” Jack said.
“I can see that,” Clarice said. “Marissa said you work around the clock. Guess that means you need more practical shoes.”
Saying he worked around the clock was technically true. He could call in backup from the West Company if he needed a break. Based on his instructions from Griffin and Kit, he was only to rely on Marissa’s bodyguards for appearances. They were not trained in the same manner he and his colleagues were. “For now.”
“Why?” Clarice asked.
Jack didn’t like giving away details about his job. “She hired me as part of her team.”
“None of the other guys work around the clock,” Clarice said.
None of her other bodyguards worked for the West Company. Connor West, owner of the West Company, held his employees to a high standard. They were experts in their field and had a higher than average success rate at accomplishing the jobs they’d been hired to do. With his injury keeping him from overseas work, Jack wouldn’t make a mistake that would throw doubt on his abilities. “We’re being extra careful.”
Clarice looked away and Jack caught something in her eyes. Did she know more about Avery than she had told the authorities? “Something on your mind?” he asked.
Clarice fiddled with the clipboard. “I was there.”
“At Ambrose’s fashion show?” Jack asked. He had known that. If he gave her enough space, she may provide important information.
“I was working. It’s my job to know what the models are doing and if they’re ready or not. I should have been keeping better track of Avery. If I had...” Her voice grew tight and she brought her hand to her throat.
Jack couldn’t discern if the guilt laced in that statement was because she’d had a hand in the incident or she incorrectly believed she could have prevented it. “You couldn’t have known what would happen. You can’t blame yourself.” Unless she had something to do with Avery’s death.
“I keep rethinking the day and trying to figure out if I missed something. Someone had to have noticed something.” Clarice touched her earpiece and sighed. “Excuse me. Wardrobe issue.” She hurried off. Jack turned his attention back to the set and to Marissa.
The photographer was again taking pictures of Marissa. She was standing in front of a black backdrop contrasting her white outfit. A fan was blowing her hair and she was looking at the camera, her expression serious and her eyes piercing.
“Could we try a different angle?” the photographer asked. “Let’s try bedroom eyes. Sultry expression.”
Like flipping a switch, Marissa lowered her head and pouted her lips. Jack would call that hot. Definitely sexy.
“Isn’t duck-face out?” one of the other models said to another. The three giggled.
Jack moved closer. He wasn’t here to defend Marissa from jealousy, but he didn’t like the cattiness. Before meeting Marissa, he would have assumed it was par for the course and every model was vicious and undercutting to others. But Marissa didn’t have a bad thing to say about anyone.
“My agent told me they want to replace her on this campaign,” a red-haired model said.
“Her thighs are huge. Talk about needing editing,” another said.
“I think her hair is going gray,” said another.
The vitriol in their comments rolled off him. He guessed they spoke this way about anyone more successful than they were. From what he had seen, they were the accessories. It was Marissa and the mostly naked guy’s show.
Jack cleared his throat and the three models glanced at him. They straightened and turned, adding him to their circle.
“Hey there,” one said.
“Haven’t seen you around before,” another said. She winked at him.
Jack had wanted them to stop talking crap about Marissa. He had no plans to exchange pleasantries. “I’m new to the modeling business. Learning what I can.”
“Are you a model?” one asked.
“Nope. I’m working security for Marissa,” he said.
“What is she like to work for?” one asked.
“She’s great. Not demanding. Professional. She’s had a tough time, but she rises above the petty.”
Suddenly, they wouldn’t make eye contact and were busy patting their hair and inspecting their nails. After a few awkward moments, they walked away. Jack didn’t pursue the conversation. If they wanted to pout about his unwillingness to spread vicious gossip about Marissa, he was fine with that.
The photographer snapped his fingers. “We need a break. I need my other camera. Other camera! And change this set. Next one.” He strode in the direction of his assistant.
A flurry of activity moving the set and the lighting while Marissa walked toward him.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
“I see nothing to worry about,” he said. The set was secure.
“What do you think of the shoot?” she asked.
She was wearing more makeup than he was used to, especially around her eyes. Her outfit was flowing, almost like a Roman toga. “It’s different than anything else I’ve seen.”
Marissa took his elbow and led him a few steps away. “I heard some of the other models talking about me. Was it about Avery and me and our falling out?” Worry creased the corners of her eyes.
“No.”
Her shoulders slumped. “I’m trying to focus on the shoot and not let Avery’s death bother me. I’m trying to forget that someone wants me dead.” She blew out her breath. Grief leaked from every pore. “But I’m tired. I’m tired of this. I’m tired of all of it.”
“Do you want to leave?” he asked. He could whisk her off the set, claiming a security breach. Since the attack in her home, Marissa hadn’t slowed down to process it.
Marissa swallowed hard. “I can’t. Let’s get through this and then we’ll go.”
At the rate she worked and with her limited free time, she was heading for a breakdown. He was worried about her. “You’ve been through a lot and I’ve seen this play out with other clients. The stress will get to you. You need to take a break.
”
She crossed her arms. “I can’t. I have to honor my obligations.”
“I admire that commitment. But I’ve seen your schedule. We’ll slow down some. Work in some breaks,” Jack said.
“Tell you what. After this, we’ll run away for a few hours just you and me.”
She was called back to the set. She winked at him and Jack was left thinking about time alone with Marissa. Lust hit him low and hard. He’d keep it in check. He couldn’t give in to temptation.
* * *
Reporters were standing outside the photo shoot with cameras and lights. For days, Marissa had been waiting for the hammer to drop and for them to pursue the story of Avery’s death more aggressively with her. They shouted questions at her, asking about Rob, Avery and for her to speculate about the affair and Avery’s death, as if the two were linked.
Jack’s arm slid around her shoulders and she held her sunglasses over her eyes. They hurried to Marissa’s car, Jack slipping in behind the wheel. When she was inside and he pulled away from the warehouse, she relaxed.
She hadn’t sorted her feelings about Rob and Avery’s affair. She felt bad about it. Bad that they had started it, bad they had continued it and bad about how it had affected her friendship with Avery. She and Rob had only dated for six months, but they’d had fun. It had been serious enough for Marissa to factor him into her short-term plans, but not serious enough for her contemplate a distant future.
“You okay?” Jack asked from the driver’s seat.
“I expected it. I need them to lose interest. Usually, it takes another Hollywood scandal and I’m forgotten about,” Marissa said.
Jack’s phone beeped through in the car communication system and the number appeared on the dashboard. Pressing a button on the steering wheel, he answered the call.
“Bad time?” the voice asked.
“I’m in the car with Marissa,” Jack said.
“Hi, Marissa. I’m Abby. I work with Jack and Kit. I’m following up on an item about your case. Your business agent forwarded us threatening mail addressed to you. We haven’t confirmed the sender.”
“What kind of threats?” Marissa asked. She’d received threatening mail before. On the heels of the break-in to her house, those letters took on a different meaning.
“The threats have to do with you being responsible for and paying for hurting Avery. One of the threats mentions your jealousy over Avery and Rob’s relationship and making you pay for seeking revenge. I want you to understand the seriousness, but also know that Jack won’t let anything happen to you.”
A chill went down her spine. She and Avery had been friends who’d had a falling out. Who would be obsessing about Avery, especially now that she was gone? “Was there anything else?” She felt sick to her stomach, but she needed to know.
“The letter most concerning to us says that Avery got what she deserved and you’re next.”
Dizziness made her head spin.
“Abby, let’s talk about this in more detail later,” Jack said.
Marissa’s mouth went dry. She reached into the pocket in the back of the seat for a bottle of water. She twisted off the top and took a long swallow. “I was planning to retire at the end of the year. Maybe I should retire now. Move out of the public eye. Hide somewhere no one can find me.”
Jack appeared surprised. “Staying out of the limelight until this is resolved is a good idea, but you can’t let some nutjob force you into permanent retirement early. What happened to Avery was terrible, but I’m here to keep you safe.”
The warmth in his voice touched her and her nerves calmed down a notch. “This business is brutal,” Marissa said. She had worked hard for years and wanted time for leisure travel and painting and relaxing. Explore the world at her own pace, keep no schedule and follow where her interests led.
“You’ve climbed your way to the top of it. Remember how strong that makes you.”
Marissa wasn’t sure what to say to that. During her career, she’d had some great experiences. Working with creative designers like Ambrose, inspired photographers and talented models. She’d traveled the world and had attended movie premiers and celebrity weddings. Five years ago, she had taken a painting class in Paris and had fallen in love with the medium. From that point forward, painting had been in her plans. “I could publish my memoirs. A behind the scenes look at the modeling industry,” Marissa said.
“You want to add bestseller to your résumé?” he asked.
She was too self-conscious about her painting to mention it to Jack. Which may have been silly, but so often she was dismissed as just a pretty face. “It has a certain appeal. Although if I write with too much honesty, I’ll be blacklisted and destroy friendships. I’ll have to move to a small town and hide out. Now that I’m saying it, it doesn’t sound that bad.”
“We’ll call that plan B. Plan A is to find Avery’s killer and stop him before he can strike again.”
Chapter 4
After a hard workout in her home gym and a massaging and hot shower, Marissa went to bed. She kept her phone on her night table. When it buzzed against the wood, she considered ignoring it. Few people had her private cell number and most didn’t call her after nine in the evening.
She reached for the phone and looked at the message. It was from Rob.
You awake? Call me when you get this.
Marissa wasn’t in the mood to talk to him. She ignored the message and deleted it.
She was tossing and turning forty minutes later when she heard a tap on her door. Rest was elusive as she tried to sort her thoughts.
“Marissa?” Jack’s voice. “Your mother is here. She needs to speak with you.”
Her mother elbowed Jack to the side and came barreling into the room. Lenore was wearing a wrap around print shirt and a pair of navy trousers. Faux fur lined boots were pulled up to her calves. Her hair was cut short and dyed a deep auburn color. “What is going on with you? You haven’t been answering my emails.”
Marissa shoved a hand through her hair. She’d been busy and sorting emails often fell to her assistant to take care of. “Thanks, Jack.” Letting him know he didn’t need to listen to this conversation.
“She said it was an emergency,” he said, appearing apologetic.
Marissa didn’t blame Jack. Her mother had a key to her house and Jack wasn’t her screening service. Everything with her mother was an emergency. “I haven’t had time to reply to emails.”
Lenore huffed. “You didn’t have time to call me about what happened with Avery? I was in Paris and I had to read about it in the newspaper.”
“I knew you were traveling and I didn’t want to interrupt your trip.”
“When someone is killed, you interrupt me no matter what.”
“I’m sorry. It’s been tough on me,” Marissa said.
Her mother sat on the bed and put her arm around her shoulders. “I was worried. The news is saying the killer is targeting models. That’s why I had to see you.”
“I know, Mom. But I’m okay. Kit and Griffin referred Jack to me and he’s doing a good job.”
Her mother sighed and leaned against the headboard. “Your brother is in trouble.”
“What has Luke done now?” Marissa asked. Her brother had been a financier for a large investment firm. Marissa was sketchy on the details, but Luke had lost his job when the company he’d worked for had downsized. Unable to find work, he had moved in with a friend, was sleeping on the friend’s couch and he was floundering professionally.
“His girlfriend is pregnant,” Lenore said.
Marissa hadn’t been aware her brother had a girlfriend. Luke had been dating since he was fourteen, a never-ending line of women, all vaguely similar. “I don’t think I should get involved.” She had given her brother ten thousand dollars the year
before. He hadn’t paid her back and as far as she could see, he hadn’t been prudent with the money.
“We have to get involved. This will be a huge scandal,” her mother said.
Marissa disagreed. Maybe thirty years ago people cared about the length of a relationship and marriage before having a baby. She was a shining example of how marriage vows now were meaningless to the public. “No one will care. They’ll wish him and his girlfriend well. Is she someone we know?”
“I met her. Once,” her mother said. “She’s loud. And brash. She hugged me. Her name is ridiculous. Zoe Ann. Two words.”
Marissa liked the name. “I hate to be rude, but how do Luke and Zoe Ann’s issues pertain to me?”
Her mother straightened. “I thought you would want to know. I’m upset about this, Marissa. I don’t have anyone else to talk to about it. I can imagine what your sister will say. She’ll think it’s nice.”
“It will be nice. A baby in the family.”
“If we’re allowed to see the baby. You know how your brother is. He’ll do something stupid, torpedo the relationship, and I’ll lose my only grandbaby.”
“We need to get to know Zoe Ann. Be her friend. Don’t insult her. Then if Luke does something stupid, we’ll be in her and the baby’s lives,” Marissa said. It had worked that way with several of her former sisters-in-law and mothers-in-law. She’d had better relationships with them than her ex-husbands.
“I want them to stay with you,” her mother said.
Marissa cringed at the idea. “Excuse me?”
“Luke is still sleeping wherever he can find a spot. And his girlfriend is on the outs with her parents over this. Luke asked to stay with me, but I have a two-bedroom condo and I need the extra bedroom for my office.”
“Mom, this isn’t a good time. With what happened to Avery, it’s not safe here.”
“You have five bodyguards,” her mother said.
