by Sharon Sala
Billie retired to her little apartment while Sahara and Brendan took the stairs up to their room.
Sahara was as tired as if she’d been on set all day. She felt used up. She’d gone from one end of the emotional scale to the other, but this wasn’t acting. The gun Brendan used wasn’t loaded with blanks. The snake was not a harmless one with its handler nearby waiting to retrieve it. She didn’t have to pretend to panic. She had nearly lost her mind.
She wasn’t pretending Brendan McQueen had saved her life again. And when he walked in behind her and closed the door, the sensation of being safe was overwhelming. He was all that was keeping her alive.
She kicked off her heels and then pulled the length of her hair across one shoulder.
“Lucy zipped me into this. I need a little help getting out.”
She thought she heard a sharp intake of breath and then decided it was just his boots scooting across the floor as he came toward her. One second the zipper was up. The next it was down.
“Thanks,” she said, and headed for the bathroom as he went to the closet.
The minute she closed the door between them, Brendan took off his dress clothes, put on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, and then walked barefoot across the floor to check the windows and the hall. He could hear the television in Lucy’s room, and when he glanced at the security panel in the upstairs hall, he noticed Billie had already armed it.
Perfect.
He took a deep breath and walked back into the room, and this time he didn’t just close the door, he locked it. It took him a few moments to come to terms with the fact that he had just locked himself in with the one person who could bring him to his knees. Then he remembered something his commander used to say just before they’d go out on a mission. They used to rib the captain for using a naval term, but they believed that it brought them good luck.
“Steady as she goes, McQueen. Steady as she goes,” he muttered, and hoped it worked the same for him as it had the captain.
He glanced toward the bathroom door, then picked up the remote and turned on the TV. It didn’t matter what he watched, as long as it gave him something to do besides think about taking Sahara Travis to bed.
As soon as he found a show, he stretched out on the bed, lowered the volume and began to check his phone. He had a half-dozen requests for his services, but they wanted him now. He sent back texts telling them he was unavailable and then set his phone aside. He heard the water shut off and braced himself, and none too soon.
Sahara came out within moments, still damp and with the T-shirt she slept in clinging to her body in intriguing places. Her hair was piled up on top of her head, but it was the tiny tendrils brushing the back of her neck that made him ache to touch her. Instead, he upped the volume.
Between the fear and frustration of this day, Sahara felt helpless. She didn’t like not being in control of her life. It was an ugly reminder of what life had been like living here. She needed to get Katarina’s funeral service over with and get out of here.
And the sight of Brendan stretched out on that bed didn’t help the frustration factor. How could he lie there so calmly when her world was coming apart? Didn’t he care about anything beyond the job? Didn’t he care about her…even a little?
“Brendan?”
“What?” he asked, without taking his eyes from the TV.
She glared at him, then strode across the room until she was standing directly in front of his line of sight.
“I’m talking to you.”
He hit Mute and got out of bed. “Yes, ma’am?”
Her eyes narrowed angrily. “Don’t do that. Don’t placate me. I’m about to lose it and you stand there all calm, like nothing has happened today.”
“I’m sorry, Sahara. I didn’t mean to be insensitive.”
“I’m stressed beyond words,” she muttered.
“What helps you relieve stress?” he asked.
“I like to run, but I can’t because someone would shoot me out of my running shoes.”
“What else?” he asked.
“Sex usually works.”
He froze. “I do a lot of things for money, but that’s not one of them,” he snapped.
Her eyes narrowed angrily. “I didn’t ask you for sex. I answered your damn question. I wouldn’t have sex with you if you were begging for it,” she cried, and then burst into tears.
“Oh hell, don’t cry,” Brendan said.
“I’ll cry if I want to,” she said, then yanked the covers back from her bed, got in and pulled them back up over her head.
He could still hear the quiet little sobs, and he felt like a heel. He sat down on the side of his bed and stared at the lump she formed beneath her covers.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”
She yanked the covers a little farther over her head and rolled up into a tiny ball.
“Whatever,” he muttered, then got back in bed, turned off the TV, then turned out the lights.
Sahara cried herself to sleep, and it took everything Brendan had not to pull her out of that bed and give her a dose of what she’d asked for. It didn’t have to mean anything. Except for him, it would and so that was that.
*
By morning the new attempt on Sahara Travis’s life had become national news. It ran through the Hollywood crowd faster than a scandal, giving them something new to talk about.
Harold Warner was in shock. Another attempt had been made on Sahara’s life, and she hadn’t called to let him know, which reminded him that she’d asked him to get her phone and purse from the penthouse and overnight them to her.
He made a call to The Magnolia.
“Good morning. This is Adam.”
“Adam, Harold Warner here. I have a favor to ask of you. It’s for Sahara.”
“I’ll do anything for Miss Travis. What does she need?” he asked.
“Are they already working on the elevator?”
“Yes.”
“Would you have access to the penthouse yet?”
“Maybe. What does she want?”
“Her phone and purse. She says she dropped them in the hallway between the elevator and the penthouse when the bomb went off. They may have been ruined, but we need to find out because she wants them back.”
“If I can find them, where should I send them?” Adam asked.
“Do you have pen and paper?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then write down this address. That’s where she is for the time being,” Harold said, and then gave him the street address.
“Okay, got it,” Adam said, then added, “I just heard on the news this morning that there was another attempt on her life. Is this true? Is she okay?”
“I heard the same thing. I haven’t heard from her yet, but I’m sure it’s true,” Harold said.
“This is awful. I hope you have a good bodyguard on her.”
“Brendan McQueen.”
Adam whistled softly. “Isn’t he the bodyguard who was in the mountains on a ski trip with that Swedish movie star and her husband when someone tried to kidnap their kids?”
“Yes, that’s him. He comes highly recommended,” Harold said.
“He should,” Adam said. “He took out the trio of kidnappers before they could get out of the house with the kids.”
“I know. So, about the phone and purse,” Harold prompted.
“Oh. Yes, sir. I’ll get right on that. I’ll let you know if I can find them.”
“Thank you. Much appreciated,” Harold said, and hung up, but he couldn’t quit worrying about the latest news.
Did this mean the killer followed her to New Orleans, or did the killer originally come from New Orleans to Hollywood? But if Sahara’s mother had been killed on the same day that someone had tried to take out Sahara, then… Like McQueen, he did the math and realized there had to be more than one person involved to have done all that damage in one morning in two states hundreds of miles apart.
*
&
nbsp; Detective Shaw of the LAPD learned about the latest attempt on Sahara Travis’s life while getting ready for work. He had the television on in his bedroom while he was shaving when the news flash aired. He came out of the bathroom wiping shaving cream off his face to watch. She was back in her hometown of New Orleans to bury a parent who’d been murdered, but was still dealing with a killer who had made another attempt on her life. This fit in with what he already believed. There had to be more than one guy behind this, or else he was hiring out the hits.
This kind of desperate attack could only be motivated by one of two things: greed or revenge. Who stood to inherit from the Travis family if they were all gone? Or who hated the family enough that they wanted all of them dead? The answer to one of these questions would lead him to the killer.
He needed to contact the New Orleans PD. Maybe if they pooled what they knew, they could figure out who was doing this and why.
He picked up his cell phone and saw he’d missed a text from Miss Travis’s manager, Harold Warner, while he was shaving. Harold wanted him to email security footage from the airport to Sahara’s bodyguard so Sahara could see if she recognized the bomber. Shaw kicked himself—he should have thought of this earlier. It was a good idea, and as soon as he got to the precinct, he would send over what they had.
*
Sahara was dreaming that she was running through the mansion, trying to get away from the killers, but there was a different killer in every room. She kept screaming for help, but she’d done exactly what Brendan had told her not to do. She had gone somewhere without telling him, and now he couldn’t find her. She was caught in a hallway with nowhere to run when she suddenly woke up.
“Oh my God,” she muttered, rubbing her eyes and trying to shake the awful feeling the dream had left her with. She looked to Brendan’s bed for comfort but saw that it was empty.
She got up and heard the water running in the bathroom. Well, that would give her a moment to collect herself. There was something that she had to do before she could begin this day. She needed to apologize for last night. Damn it.
She sat down on the bed and waited, practicing what she should say. Maybe something about having had too much wine at dinner? No, that wasn’t sincere. She could claim it was the bad vibes in this house, but that felt like a poor excuse, too. She sighed. Something would come to her. It always did.
The bathroom door opened abruptly and Brendan came striding out, bare-chested with tiny beads of water sparkling on his skin. He was barefoot and wearing blue jeans.
Sweet bird of youth!
She grabbed the covers to give her hands something to do besides feel him up.
“I’m sorry about last night. Very sorry. It won’t happen again,” she said.
He took in the distraught expression on her face and tried not to grin.
“If I, in any way, added to your unhappiness, I am sincerely sorry, too,” he said.
“Well, then, we are a sorry lot,” she said.
And once again, her good humor surprised him.
“I won’t be long,” she said, as she got up.
She had to pass him to get to the bathroom, and just the scent of shampoo and soap from his body gave her a buzz.
As for Brendan, when she came toward him, he was forced to look away. He didn’t want to see that sexy backside this early in the morning. Instead, he turned on the television as he finished dressing, then sat listening to the news while he waited, and like everyone else, he quickly discovered Sahara Travis was big news all over the world.
*
Lucy was used to busy days with Sahara, and this inactivity at the family home was making her nuts. She got up early and saw she had a text from Wiley telling her to call no matter what time.
It sounded like he was in trouble, and her heart was pounding as she made the call.
“Please don’t let anything be wrong,” she said to herself, as the phone began to ring.
Wiley answered almost instantly. “I miss you so much,” he said, completely skipping a hello.
“Wiley! Honey! Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, it’s fine. I was just wondering when you’re coming home.”
“I don’t know. You heard about the snake, right?”
“I saw it on TV last night. A poisonous snake? Damn, that’s reaching for rainbows. How would he know who the snake would bite, or if it would even be found? A lot of assumption going on.”
Lucy sighed. “ It was too random. It made no sense.”
“So you don’t have any idea when it might be?” he asked.
“Not really, but hopefully all of this will soon come to an end,” she said.
“Well…at least dream of me and don’t forget that I love you madly?”
“I love you, too,” she said.
Lucy hung up and went to get dressed. If Billie was up, maybe she could help her in some way. Anything was better than standing around.
When she got to the kitchen, Billie was carrying out pots and vases of flowers onto the patio.
“Good morning, Billie. Need some help?”
“Good morning to you, too, Miss Lucy. I would love some help. I need to get all this out of my kitchen. I can’t stand the mess another day.”
“Where do we put them?” Lucy asked.
“I’m setting the potted plants out in the flower beds so that the next time Sutton Davidson and his crew come over they can replant them. And I’m putting the cut flower arrangements outside on the flagstones against the house.”
As soon as the last of the flowers were carried out, Billie took a broom to the floors to sweep up the loose leaves and petals. Her kitchen was back in order.
“Thank you for helping me,” Billie said.
“Sure thing,” Lucy said.
“Now to breakfast. I wonder if Sahara and Brendan are up,” Billie said.
Lucy glanced at the clock. “It’s almost eight thirty. I’d say yes. Brendan doesn’t appear to sleep in.”
“Then I’d better hustle,” Billie said. “Coffee is already made. Turn on the TV if you want, and sit and rest yourself.”
Lucy poured herself some coffee and opted to skip TV. Instead, she pulled out her phone and began reading the news.
*
Sahara came out of the bathroom in a robe and headed for the closet to finish dressing.
Brendan glanced up and then back to his phone. His gut was telling him whoever was behind the attacks was getting desperate. The attempts were getting closer together, and the snake incident was so random it felt like panic.
He’d just sent an email to his brother Carson asking him to do some research for him. Carson was as good on a computer as Brendan was with a gun, and if there was anything wonky going on with the Travis family, he would find it. He couldn’t prove it, but instinct told him these attacks were all about money. Leopold and Katarina Travis were well-heeled, and the mansion was a showpiece. And then there was Sahara—worth millions.
When she came out of the closet, dressed now all but for the shoes she was carrying, he lost his train of thought.
“How’s your foot?” he asked.
She glanced down. “Not bad. That new skin is tender, but it’s healing and these shoes won’t aggravate it.”
“Good. Can I ask you something?”
She looked up. “Yes.”
“Do you have a will?”
She sat down, the shoes still in her hands as her heart began to pound.
“No.”
“And you’re sure you and your parents don’t have any extended family set to inherit if you were…?”
“None that I know of,” she said. “Why? What are you thinking?”
He took a slow breath, considering how to reply.
“I think I remember you saying something to the effect that your father was a womanizer? Is that right?”
She nodded. “I overheard plenty of stuff I wasn’t supposed to hear when I was a kid. I’ll never forget when I heard Katarina crying one night, b
egging him to stop what he’d been doing…telling him he’d promised he wouldn’t do this again and that he was breaking her heart.”
“What did he say to that?” Brendan asked.
“He apologized profusely, begged her not to cry, bought her another expensive piece of jewelry and then did it all over again the next time the opportunity presented itself.”
“So he got Billie pregnant. But…what if she wasn’t the only one?”
Sahara’s lips parted. “Oh my God. I don’t know why I’d never considered that… I mean, it makes sense. But if there are others, where are they?”
“You said Katarina wanted to pass you off as hers, but I’d say she wasn’t in the mood to adopt a litter. She may have just ignored the idea of any other children. Or maybe she just never knew.”
“How can we find out?” she asked.
“I’m already on that,” he said. “Sometimes Carson researches stuff for me. I have him checking into personal info on Leopold.”
“Leopold used to have an office here in the mansion that was off-limits to everyone. If it’s still there, I’ll show you after breakfast if you’re interested.”
“Yes, I’m interested,” he said. “I’m also hungry and I smell coffee.”
Sahara slipped on her sandals. “So, let’s get this day started,” she said.
Brendan got up to open the door, then paused with his hand on the knob.
“You are a beautiful woman, Sahara, but you’re also a survivor. Don’t ever forget your strength lies in your wits, not your looks.”
Sahara hadn’t seen that coming. “Uh…thank you.”
The door swung inward as he stepped back for her to lead the way.
They could smell bacon cooking as they were coming down the stairs, and then all of a sudden Sahara stopped, staring down into the vast foyer below as a memory from the past began to unfold.
Brendan grabbed her, thinking she was going to fall.
“What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
She wiped a shaky hand across her face.
“Coming down these stairs, I suddenly remembered something…something from when I was young. Katarina had sent for me to come upstairs to fix my hair a certain way because she was taking me to some event with her that day. I was coming back down when I heard crying and loud voices. I paused on the stairs and then hunkered down, wishing I could hide, because I knew something was wrong and it scared me.”
