by Casey Hagen
Cold, hard fear.
As much as she loved acting, and loved the people she worked with, Hollywood was a fake life. There were appearances to keep up and people to impress at all times. Decisions from what designer to wear to award shows all the way down to which grocery stores to shop at were scrutinized. Everything was to keep up appearances.
Those reservations were real. They were her heart and soul.
They were the one thing she could count on in an unpredictable world. Corporations didn’t care if they were destroyed, as long as green lined their greedy pockets.
New Guy nodded to Neanderthal Three. “What happened to your arm?”
Neanderthal Three shot a dark look at her with narrowed eyes. “A misunderstanding,” he said.
New Guy, his palms propped on the back of the couch he leaned against, glanced between them with an eyebrow raised.
“Something you want to say, New Guy?” There were so many reasons to push his buttons, between the judgment on his face, the sheer frustration of never having any solitude (something she so desperately needed), and the fear she’d lose her home. And then there was the way her blood hummed in her veins at just the sight of him, something she hadn’t experienced since she was a teen.
“Well, I’m just wondering if we’re protecting you or protecting society from you, because I have to tell you, from where I’m standing it’s hard to tell.”
She straightened and raised her chin. “Hey, if you find me so offensive, feel free to walk. You can all walk, for all I care.”
“I’m trying to figure out why you hired protection in the first place if you’re so quick to dismiss it,” New Guy said.
“Ahh, well, hate to break it to you, New Guy, but I didn’t hire the help,” she said, getting satisfaction watching his eyebrows rise in surprise.
He shot a dark look at Neanderthal One. “Dylan, time to start talking, and don’t give me that buttering-up shit this time. What the hell is going on?”
And just like that, after the way he challenged her and his own buddies, a glimmer of respect flared to life for New Guy.
Not that she would go any easier on him.
Chapter 2
Nebraska gazed at him with burning eyes the color of a cougar’s rich, golden coat. She thought Slyder had taken her side, but he hadn’t. He had taken the side of not getting dead. For a SEAL, that was the only side there was.
He headed out the way he came, trusting Dylan to follow. He didn’t know what Dylan had gotten into, but he sure as hell intended to find out.
Coming to a stop on the front porch just outside the door, he scratched the back of his head and dropped his hands to his hips. “What the fuck was that in there? She didn’t hire you guys?”
Dylan propped an arm on the pillar and leaned against it. “That is the real Nebraska NightRaven. Charming, isn’t she?” he said, squinting against the piercing sunlight assaulting his eyes.
Slyder leaned his back against the other pillar and slid his hands into his pockets. “Did she fuck up Cole’s arm?”
He nodded, and frowned. “Yeah, but, like he said, it was a total misunderstanding. She snuck out of the house, and when we found her he approached her from behind. She took a pound of flesh before realizing he was one of the good guys.”
Slyder tried to shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and glanced up at the windows. However, with the bright sun, he was unable to see anything going on inside, or even if anyone stood behind the glass, gazing out. “I’m not sure the woman I just met thinks anyone is the good guy. She sure as hell doesn’t want me in on this, or any of you.”
His friend’s eyes took on the hard edge Slyder recognized from their missions when Dylan dug in with sheer stubbornness. It was that tenacity and drive to never give up, no matter what, that had made them so successful as a unit—but that kind of blind focus was also the reason Dylan had a hard time calling off a mission when variables changed, making it too risky.
He worked on a kind of blind dedication where he thought he could bend everything to his will. It had kept them alive, but it had also put them in dangerously precarious positions they wouldn’t have been in otherwise.
“That’s too bad. It’s paid for, and necessary,” Dylan said.
“Which brings me to the next question: who’s paying for this protection?”
“Her mother.”
“And Nebraska isn’t on board with it at all?”
“No,” Dylan admitted.
Slyder pushed away from the pillar and paced. Something about this whole thing felt off. “Shit, Dylan, what are you doing here then, and pulling me into it? You need to let it go.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I think it’s someone in her family. I’m not talking cousins here. Either her mother, father, or one of her brothers. Someone close. Someone who has been in on every bit of our planning to protect her.”
The stakes had just shot through the roof, now that the four suspects were all members of Nebraska’s immediately family. Situations like these volleyed between extremes. There was no slow build. It was quiet, until one day it wasn’t and all hell broke loose. With four variables and four of them, Slyder began to feel the heat. “You haven’t told her.”
“No.”
“You need to. Jesus. It might just be the bit of information to wake her up, so she stops putting herself at risk. What are you waiting for?”
“I know I need to tell her, and I will, but first I need a few days to work on it. She’s a Hollywood princess, and in her mind there are only four people in this world she trusts without a doubt. I can’t take that away without some sort of proof. I’ll find it. Just give me three for four days.”
He didn’t like it, but Dylan had a point. Besides, it was less than a week. Surely he could keep her out of trouble for that long. He had a little sister who liked to get into trouble at every turn when they were kids; this was no different. He had training for this. Think like his little sister. “So what’s the plan?”
“Evan is going to South Dakota. He’s got a buddy there who’s keeping an eye on the father and one brother still living on the rez. The father just got a job with the Bureau of Indian Affairs, so it’s tricky. He’s clean, though, so far. No significant debt, excellent credit rating, and he’s well respected. I’m not clear what kind of position he just took with the BIA, but it’s management of some sort.”
Yeah, but he probably didn’t appreciate having such a vocal daughter protesting at Standing Rock. She had become the Hollywood face of the fight, with her fame and having a vested interest in the outcome. That might complicate his career. Not that he didn’t also have a vested interest in tribal land matters such as these, but it didn’t mean that he went in guns blazing to fight it. “And her brother on the rez?”
Dylan tapped a few keys on his beeping phone. “Well, we haven’t managed to lock down much. He’s a drinker, has debt and, from the looks of the company he keeps, a gambling problem. We’re keeping a close eye on him.”
“Is this all tangled up with her being at Standing Rock?”
Dylan slid his phone back into his pocket and smiled at Slyder. “So, you do know who she is.”
“You’d have to be living under a rock to not know who she is. Did you see her in Exotic Fury? Jesus.”
Dylan’s smile slipped, replaced by a scowl. “Yeah, well, after spending some time with her, the exotic wears off. And the fury? A little goes a long way. You didn’t see Cole’s arm. I can’t be sure, even two days later and after multiple showers, that she still doesn’t have his skin under her nails.”
Slyder laughed. “So you’re saying I need full gear, and maybe a rabies vaccination for this gig?”
Dylan tilted his head in curiosity. “Does this mean you’re in?”
“Yeah, and you damn well know it by that look on your face. Now, stop grinning at me like a lovesick, sixteen-year-old girl staring at her dream date and tell me about her mother and other
brother.”
Dylan scratched his jaw. “Well, this is where it gets weird. The other brother wasn’t raised with her. Nebraska’s dad grew up on the rez, and at some point met Nebraska’s mother, Monique Claire.”
Slyder had a hard time picturing the pair. They must have been all over tabloids and such when Slyder was a kid, but he’d never really paid attention to that kind of thing. Monique built her respectable reputation as a top-tier actress with her work in drama and thriller movies, mostly blockbusters. She’d been a household name, her image splashed on movie posters in theaters across the U.S.
“They got married, had the three kids over the course of their eight-year marriage, and then split. He stayed on the rez, and Monique returned to Hollywood. The one brother chose to go with his mother, while the other brother and Nebraska stayed with their dad,” Dylan continued.
“It’s strange. They had all the glamour of Hollywood. Their mother could afford them every opportunity. I would think it would be like choosing between going to a small-town carnival or Disney World. Any particular reason why the two kids chose to stay with dad?”
Dylan kicked his boot along the paver bricks. “It only specifies that the kids were given the choice and the parents honored it. Maybe since Jacy and Nebraska were the youngest, it held more appeal for them. Maybe Aaron was just old enough, being in second grade, to know what he was missing if he stayed with his dad. I don’t know.”
“How old were they?” Slyder asked.
“Aaron was seven, Jacy six, and Nebraska four.”
“She chose a parent at four?”
“Yeah. Apparently, she loved the reservation. Monique took them all on a two-week trip to California to give them a taste of what they could have, and all Nebraska could talk about the whole time in California was getting back to the reservation.”
“How do you know that?”
“Occasionally Nebraska lifts that chip off her shoulder to adjust it, and details slip out,” Dylan said on a laugh.
“Sounds like you like her,” Slyder said. He didn’t know why the idea of Dylan and Nebraska grated. Maybe it was the idea of one of their own catching commitment like the common cold. It was only a matter of time before those germs got around and they all caught it.
Well, except Slyder—he’d be back to work.
“Nah, at least not like that. I recognized my limitations, and she’s it. If I go down that road, I need a low-maintenance lady who understands my dedication to my job.”
“So, you’re looking for a unicorn. Got it.”
“I’m not looking for anything. I’m wearing repellent. Hopefully it’s long-lasting,” Dylan said.
Slyder let out a laugh and clapped him on the back. “You and me both, man…you and me both. We should go in and see if there’s anything left of Evan and Cole.”
“Good plan. Look, you sure you’ve got this? I mean, she needs to be watched closely. We still let her use the bathroom alone, for now.”
Slyder laughed, sure that he was joking.
Right?
***
Slyder followed Dylan inside, taking cues from him since this was his gig. They found Nebraska draped across the couch, flipping through a magazine.
Evan and Cole watched her from across the room, matching scowls on their faces.
“Did we miss something?” Dylan asked.
Cole shook his head and glanced away from Nebraska. “Nothing worth discussing. So, are we all set?” Cole asked.
“Ready to roll. Slyder can take it from here,” Dylan said.
Nebraska shot a look at Slyder, her eyebrow arched, a smirk on that mouth of hers.
“Good luck, dude,” Cole said, shaking Slyder’s hand.
“Yeah, it was nice knowing ya,” Evan added with a laugh as he headed for the door.
“I’ll be in touch. Call me if you need anything,” Dylan said, giving Slyder’s hand a shake and following the team out.
Slyder watched their retreating backs. Why the sensation of being locked in a room with a viper sprang to mind he didn’t know, but there it was.
“Really, New Guy…your parents named you Slyder?” She never even bothered giving him a glance. She just kept scanning her magazine, casual as can be, but he wouldn’t let that deceive him. He had her number; she was just waiting for him to slip up and say something that she could poke fun at him about.
He wasn’t about to give it to her. If she wanted to act like a shit, she was going to have to work for her material.
“Yes, Nebraska,” he replied. Seriously, she was named after a state. Not a common state name or the actual state she was from.
“So, why Slyder? I mean, wasn’t he a secondary character in Top Gun?” She bent her magazine toward her chest and squinted off in the distance, as if trying to concentrate. “I can’t remember what he looked like,” she said, shrugging, “because, as I said, secondary.” She swung her legs down to the floor and tossed her magazine onto the marble table.
He leaned against the wall, slid his hands into his pockets, and crossed his legs. If she was going to give him a hard time, he might as well settle in for it. “Pushing my buttons won’t work, so you might as well not waste your energy.”
“I guess if they had high hopes for you they might have named you Maverick, like the lead. Even Goose ranked higher than Slyder.”
He snorted. “Charming.”
“I’m not trying to be,” she said with a flip of her hair.
“Believe me, that’s abundantly clear. So let’s get down to business. The rules…”
She shot up to her feet and gave him a laugh devoid of humor. “Oh, you’re funny. You think you can give me rules. Look, New Guy, I work, I pay my own bills, I don’t follow other people’s rules. I’m a grown woman, for God’s sake.”
He pushed away from the wall and curled his fingers over the back of the couch as he leaned toward her. At least the furniture was there to keep distance between them, keeping him from wrapping his fingers around her pretty throat. “Really? Then don’t you think it’s about time you started acting like it?”
She dropped a hand to her cocked hip and pointed a finger at him, fire flaring in her eyes. “Look, you—”
“I’m not trained to run daycares, so you’re going to have to grow up,” he said. He shouldn’t push her buttons, but there was something about the way her body flared to life that amused him. Especially when she squared up as though she was six-three and two-twenty, ready to take him on.
The idea of going toe to toe with her held so much more appeal than any enemy he might encounter in the SEALs.
“You have no right to talk to me like that. You’re employed by me—”
He shook his head. “No. I’m not. I’m employed by Dylan. As a matter of fact, we didn’t discuss pay. This is a favor to him. And you didn’t hire Dylan. Your mommy did. So, no, none of us answer to you. Nice try, though,” he said.
“You son of a bitch.”
“And you’re just a bitch. I’m reasonably confident it’s not a permanent condition.” He dropped his hands to his hips and kept his eyes on hers as her face turned an impressively dark shade of red he hadn’t ever seen on a person before. Like a pomegranate. “Are you done lashing out now, so we can get to work?”
“There’s no work in this for me. It’s your job to watch me, so watch me.” She sashayed away, and his eyes, despite the years of discipline, drifted down to her heart-shaped ass. Faded blue jeans hugged her cheeks and strong, curvy thighs, finally ending at a rolled cuff above her ankles. A silver ring wrapped around the middle toe of her delicate left foot winked from where the light caught the design on the top.
She yanked open the freezer and pulled out a bottle of Grey Goose. “A drink?” she asked as she unscrewed the cap.
“I don’t drink on the job, and we have those rules to discuss.”
She poured two glasses anyway. “So, you want to negotiate? Because I don’t trust guys who won’t drink.”
“This isn’t a
democracy, it’s a dictatorship. What does your week look like?” he asked.
She set the glass down in front of him with a loud thud. “Busy.”
He walked it over and dumped it down the sink. “Can you be more specific?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really busy?”
“You don’t take any of this seriously at all, do you? Makes me wonder if you’re smart enough to be afraid, or maybe you know there’s no real threat,” he said, keeping a close eye on her for any sign that he might be right. Dylan hadn’t suggested it, but she didn’t seem like a woman living in fear, so Slyder had to wonder.
“What the hell are you trying to say?” she asked.
“I have to wonder if maybe you’ve manufactured this threat all on your own. Maybe you needed a boost to your career. Feeling a little neglected by the media? Looking for some attention? There are better ways to get it.”
Her wounded eyes met his, giving him a glimpse past that tough-girl exterior to the woman inside. Behind that façade, fear and uncertainty crept in.
He leaned on the granite island and regarded her. “So there’s an ounce of common sense and self-preservation there inside you, after all,” he said.
“I’m not faking this. I’m not an attention-whore.”
“You’re an actress. There has to be some part of you that wants to be seen.”
“I don’t do it for attention. Despite what you think of me, my career is not a hollow house of cards based on my level of shallowness.” She slammed the bottle back into the freezer.
“If not for the attention, why do you do it?”
She froze with her hand on the freezer door handle. She pulled her shoulders back, her spine stiff. “To make people feel.”
A twinge of guilt crept up on him. He choked it back down. “Okay, I concede that it’s not completely selfish to want to make people feel something.”
She spun around and locked eyes with his and, if anything, those golden orbs burned brighter. “I do it to make them feel everything.”
