by Livia Grant
Trevor picked up on it too. "What do you mean, your investigators?" When no one answered, he asked the general room, "Who in here is from the police department?"
When no one identified themselves, he cursed under his breath, but loud enough for those seated close to them to hear.
An eerie calmness came over Khloe, not unlike the one that had come to her rescue when she'd walked in on Dean and Gloria fucking in her bedroom. Remembering that moment had her seeking out Dean who was seated about halfway down the table. He was one of the few people brave enough to look her in the eye.
Edward had picked up where he left off, ignoring Khloe's previous concerns. Her mind raced, thinking through her options instead of paying attention. The thought of going on with her life as if nothing had happened felt impossible. Both invasions into her private space had to have been accomplished by someone with close access to her. She didn't have some random stalker sitting far away in his mother's basement stroking off to her magazine covers. Someone who knew where she lived in NYC and had access to her apartment had also gained access to her locked trailer on the secure studio lot. Based on the photos he'd left in her apartment, she suspected she knew the person. Hell, for all she knew, he could be in the room at that very moment.
Khloe shot to her feet, bringing Edward's speech to a halt while all eyes in the room turned to her. She was grateful when Trevor stood next to her. Even if he couldn't help her with what she had to do next, he could at least catch her if she toppled over from the crushing stress she was under.
"With all due respect, Edward, I'll be making changes to the proposed schedule." She took a deep breath before dropping her bomb. "When any of you become the victim of a stalker who is resourceful and bold enough to break into not one, but two private and locked personal spaces of yours, then you can make the decisions. But since it was my home... my personal trailer... my vote is the only one that counts."
She let that sink in before continuing. "So here is what I am willing to do. I will attend the opening tomorrow night, but I expect at least two more personal bodyguards assigned to me to assist Trevor starting this afternoon and until the perpetrator is caught. I also want to limit the amount of interviews on the red carpet so let's set up press interviews earlier in the day at a hotel suite so I can limit my time in public."
She paused, before dropping her next bomb. "I will be hiring my own private investigators who will be taking over the investigation–at the studio's expense, of course. I understand your reluctance to call the police in. After all, then you'd have to admit that the studio's security had failed to keep me safe, which could turn into a liability problem for all of you. But let me be clear. When my investigators find the culprit, we will be calling the police, and I will be pressing charges. Get any thoughts of trying to sweep this under the rug out of your heads, gentlemen." She then turned to address a smiling Natalie, "And no, we're not turning this into a publicity stunt, either. The interviews tomorrow will be focused on the movie and nothing else. Prep the press accordingly, Natalie."
Turning back to the rest of the room she concluded. "This is my life. Some lunatic broke into my home. He left me a note yesterday describing how he couldn't wait to get me to the secret hideaway he'd created where he could fuck me all day and night for the rest of my life. If that had happened to any of your wives, sisters or God forbid, daughters, you all would be losing your shit. Maybe you should keep that in mind the next time you decide to sweep bodily threats to a woman under the rug. Email me the final press schedule."
She'd used up every ounce of her bravery. Had anyone in the room chosen to rebut her speech, she'd have burst into tears. Thankfully, the room sat in stunned silence as she leaned down to grab her big purse and then loop her arm through Trevor's, allowing him to lead her out of the room. The glass door to the boardroom was at the other end of the room, and she felt all eyes following her until they had left the room.
Her blood was pounding in her ears by the time they exited into the mid-day sunshine. Trevor had texted Michael from the elevator, and he arrived with the SUV as they emerged. She felt eyes on her as she leaned heavily on her guard, finally letting him lift her into the backseat, sliding in behind her and quickly closing the door.
Khloe’s mind raced as they sped away from the office building. How she wished she could drive to the airport and get on a plane going somewhere, anywhere. But then what? She'd worked too hard to get where she was. She wasn't going to give some asshole the power to take it all away.
It was time to go on the offense.
Swishing the tears away impatiently, she dug her phone out of her purse. She didn't have many people in her life she trusted explicitly, but she did have a few, and it was time to ask for their help.
Flipping through her contacts, she found who she was looking for and pressed SEND. When she heard the concerned voice at the other end of the phone say her name, she choked up with emotion and could only gush out "Chase" in reply.
She felt safer already.
Chapter 8
"Good evening, Mr. Helms. Welcome back to Black Light."
Ryder was surprised the employee standing behind the counter in the middle of the locker room at the entry recognized him on sight, particularly since he hadn't been back for a visit since Valentine's Day.
"Good memory. I'm sorry, I don't remember your name."
"It's Danny, sir."
"Danny, I meant to give Spencer a call to let him know I was coming. I'm not sure if you have..."
The young man cut him off. "You're on our pre-approved entry list, sir. I'm afraid I do need to see your identification as a formality. If you'd please put all electronics into the open locker to your left, I can then let you proceed into the club. I'll warn you. It's pretty quiet tonight, even for a Wednesday night. There aren't many single subs here to play with, yet."
Ryder crossed to take his watch off and deposit it along with his cell phone and concealed Glock in the small locker while he answered. "That's okay. I needed to get out of the house and thought I'd check in with your boss."
That much was the truth, although if he was honest with himself, he was here to pump Spencer for information on Khloe. He hadn't been able to bring himself to call in favors over at the FBI to try to track down a private phone number for her. As a celebrity, it wasn't like her contact info was readily available to the public, but he was sure his buddies in the intel community could track her down.
Even if he got her number, he probably wouldn't call.
But he would be more subtle. She was friends with the owners. If Davidson had heard from her, Ryder wouldn't mind listening to an update on how she was doing.
The music was more subdued on this visit than in the past. As Danny had warned him, only a smattering of couples were already there playing throughout the expansive club. The lights seemed brighter too, allowing him a good view of the submissive currently getting her body lit up by her Dom and his flogger on one of the raised platforms. He couldn't see where it was coming from, but the distinctive sounds of bodies slapping together in heated sex added to the ambiance of the club as he wove his way through the sex equipment and nearly empty seating areas towards the bar.
He recognized the bartender on duty. She'd been one of the fifteen submissives to play roulette back in February, and if he wasn't mistaken, she was the one Spencer had lost his shit over. He took a seat at one of the open stools as she came to take his order.
"Mr. Helms, it's good to see you back at Black Light."
Why the hell does everyone remember me? I have no clue what the fuck her name is.
Apparently, his face registered his thoughts because she introduced herself. "I'm Klara, the bar manager. What can I get you tonight?"
"Bourbon on the rocks. Make it a double and I want top shelf shit."
The beauty grinned, "Is there any other kind?" Her bright red lipstick made her pale skin almost translucent in the club's neon lighting, and as she turned to grab the bottle of booze, h
e admired her lean legs peeking out from her short skirt.
His friend was a lucky guy.
Only after she'd served his drink did he finally ask, "Spencer around tonight?" He hoped he sounded more nonchalant than he felt. He wasn't sure why, but he felt embarrassed to come scrounging for gossip on a woman. It all felt so... high schoolish.
"Yeah, he's back in his office. He tells everyone he's busy, but I know he's really playing Candy Crush. He's addicted." She smiled mischievously.
Ryder chuckled. "I haven't fallen prey to that trap yet. Go tell the old man it's time to put away his toys. He has company."
"I'd love to."
Ryder sipped the liquor, welcoming the burn as he swallowed. She was gone long enough for him to empty the rock glass and get a nice buzz on.
When the bartender reappeared behind the bar with Spencer following, Ryder knew immediately they'd made him wait while they got it on in the back office. Klara's red lipstick was smudged and she was walking a bit bow-legged as if she either had a plug up her ass or cum dripping down her thighs. Her inability to look Ryder in the eye combined with the shit-eating grin on his old friend's face sealed his conclusion.
"Nice of you to join me," he quipped. "You have lipstick on your collar."
Spencer slapped Klara's ass, and she squealed before giving him a deadly look and moving to the other end of the bar to check on her other customers. The Master Dom stopped in front of Ryder, leaning over and placing his forearms on the wide bar before stating, "My collar's not the only place I have her lipstick."
"Get a room," Ryder deadpanned.
"This is my room."
Ryder couldn't really argue with that.
"So to what do I owe this honor? I thought you were overseas. I didn't expect you back for a while."
His friend had served with Ryder at one point so Spencer had a pretty good idea how things worked when on a deep undercover assignment. Ryder made eye contact with his friend before answering with a simple, "I got burned."
The Dom's eyes widened. "Fuck, that sucks. At least you lived to talk about it. Who the hell burned you?"
Ryder made a motion to Klara to bring him a refill before answering honestly. "I burned myself."
Spencer held out his own empty rock glass for his girl to fill when she returned with the bottle of bourbon. Once she left, he held up his glass as a salute. "To living to talk about it."
The men clinked glasses, both downing more of the amber liquid before the next question arrived from his friend. "So now what?"
"Who the fuck knows. I'm on leave for a while, trying to figure it out. At least I have options."
"Does this mean you'll be coming around more often?"
Ryder doubted it. Being at the club reminded him of his time here with Khloe. He already thought about her more than he wanted to. The last thing he needed to do was have memories of her thrown in his face.
"Naw, probably not. I'm here for the booze and privacy more than anything."
His friend eyed him up suspiciously. The men knew each other well and were both trained in interrogation methods. Keeping subtle secrets was hard.
Spencer's focus shifted to someone coming up behind Ryder just before he felt the slap on his back between his shoulder blades. Ryder turned in time to see Jaxson Davidson sliding into the stool next to him.
He'd come here hoping to talk to the owner of the club, only now seeing him here Ryder suddenly regretted drinking so much. He could see the intensity in Jaxson's eyes he'd forgotten about. This was the kind of man he needed to keep his wits about himself when interacting with, not get sloppy drunk.
"Helms. Your timing is impeccable."
He didn't know what the newcomer meant by that cryptic message.
"Davidson." Ryder raised his glass as if to salute him.
"How much have you had to drink?"
"Don't worry. I'm not playing tonight."
Jaxson reached out and pulled the glass out of Ryder's hand as it was almost touching his lips. "I don't give a shit about that. We need to talk. I was happy when Danny let me know you'd checked in." The owner looked at Spencer and added, "Give us a minute, will you, Spencer?"
"Sure thing. I'll go back and finish up the payroll."
Only after Spencer had disappeared did Jaxson grab the departed man's deserted glass and down the last swig of bourbon before turning on the stool to talk with Ryder. "He's so full of shit. I know he's going back there to play fucking Candy Crush." Jaxson's friendly grin disarmed him.
Only after the men shared a chuckle at their mutual buddy's expense did Jaxson get serious again. "I'm pretty good at reading people, Helms. I hope I haven't read you wrong."
Ryder jabbed the taller man. "Do you use tarot cards or crystals for your readings?"
"I'd love to spar, but I don't have time to dick around. We're leaving for the airport in less than an hour and I have other calls to make before we go."
"Heading out on vacation?" He heard the slight slur in his speech.
"No." He waited to answer more until Ryder looked up into his eyes. "I'm flying to California to try to help protect Khloe."
Fuck. That got his attention. He'd come hoping for news of her. Now he wasn't so sure he wanted to hear more. What the fuck was he going to do with information anyway?
Jaxson pressed him. "Did you hear me? Have you been watching the news? Some asshole is terrorizing her."
Hearing that she really was in trouble got his adrenaline flowing. His brain was clearing. He needed to think clearly. "Terrorizing her how?"
"Stalking her. It started a few weeks ago with threatening letters and emails. Now it's escalated to him gaining access to both her New York apartment and on-set private trailer. He left candid photos he'd taken as he stalked her with messages saying she was only his. His last note talked about how he had a secret hideaway ready to take her to and how he planned to fuck her every day for the rest of her life once he got her there."
An angry growl escaped as Jaxson finished filling him in.
I need to find this asshole and make him wish he'd never been born.
He forced himself to approach the problem like the professional he was. "Do the police have any leads?"
"No, and her production company and publicist are giving her the run around about working with the police."
"What the fuck? So who's protecting her now?"
"Her normal detail. They added another personal bodyguard, but she's freaking out. She called Chase this afternoon because the studio is making her go through with the scheduled red-carpet opening of her newest movie release tomorrow night. She begged Chase to come be with her for the event. All three of us are going instead."
Ryder remembered bits and pieces from the report on TV the day before and replied bitterly, "Why isn't her precious boyfriend, that Reynolds asshat, taking care of her?"
Jaxson grinned, clearly hearing the unguarded jealousy in Ryder's voice. "That's a sham. They broke up before Valentine's Day. He's the reason she'd come to visit Chase in the first place that weekend. She'd come home early and caught Dean with his dick stuck in one of their mutual friends."
Ryder hated himself a little for feeling relieved. "So why keep up the charade?"
"They're starring together in the movie that's opening. The studio demanded they keep up public pretenses that they're still together until after the movie is out for a few weeks."
The men sat in silence until Jaxson finally stood, looking at his watch before adding. "She called. She needs help. She asked for Chase and me, but it's you who she needs."
"Bullshit. She doesn't want to ever see me again."
"Don't bullshit me. I was there. I saw the chemistry between you two."
"It died when I walked out of the club."
Davidson changed tactics. "So why are you even here? And why aren't you playing with someone else?"
"I'm not in the mood for one thing, but more importantly, you don't have any available singles here to play tonight."
>
"Sure we do." Davidson waved over a scantily clad server girl who'd been flirting with other patrons. "This is Ling. She's available."
Jaxson was calling his bluff and he knew it. "Fuck off. Stop trying to stick your nose in where it doesn't belong."
Jaxson waved off Ling before answering. "Fine, Chase and I will take care of her while you stay here and get shitfaced like a loser." Before the taller man left, he pulled a business card from his wallet and threw it down on the bar in front of Ryder. "If you get your head out of your ass, give me a call. You're trained in what needs to be done to keep her safe. You can deny it all you want, but I know you have feelings for her. I just hope you call before it's too late."
Ryder didn't answer him. He didn't have anything to say. Instead, his mind raced with the possibilities of her being in danger. Jaxson left him to wallow in his self-doubt on if Khloe'd even want his help or not and then getting angry with himself for even considering what she wanted. He was the fucking Dominant. She was the sub.
Only he knew it wasn't that simple. Not with Khloe Monroe.
He waited long enough to make sure he wouldn't run into Davidson on his way out before pushing to his feet, not bothering to say goodbye to Spencer.
He made it back to his depressing apartment despite having a blood alcohol level that could have thrown him in jail if he'd been pulled over on the drive. Weary, he plopped in front of the TV again, flipping through news programs looking for new reports on Khloe. Instead, he found an update on the miraculous return of the Marshall family to the United States. Chip Marshall's grateful speech about the unnamed agent who'd gone undercover to extract his family filled him with pride.
He was about to nod off when one of the leadoff stories on E! was about the growing rumors of Khloe Monroe's problems. They reported they had no confirmation, but inside sources had disclosed she had a stalker. Ryder watched footage from earlier that day of Khloe leaving a downtown high-rise, the same bodyguard from earlier reports snuggled close to her as he hustled her to a waiting SUV.
