Too Far Gone

by Debra Webb

  “But...”

  She looked lost. And all wrong as a brunette. He shook off the random thought. “You still have questions about how this should go?”

  She shrugged. “I honestly don’t know, Mr. Stone.”

  He understood. She needed this to be over. She needed to believe that good would prevail over evil. Lauren Marie Woods might not realize it but she was still a little naïve about the way the world worked. “How about you call me Mike. Mr. Stone is my old man.”

  She nodded. “All right. So, what now?”

  “Let’s get settled and then we’ll talk.”

  She released a big breath. “I guess you’re the boss.”

  A fact she was obviously less than pleased about. He reminded himself she was stressed out—with good reason. “I’m here to keep you out of harm’s way, Miss Woods. You might not like my methods, but they work.”

  Her answer was a stiff nod. He checked off another not good. The lady was cooperating for now, but he could already see the fight in her building. At some point, sooner rather than later he suspected, she was going to balk at his orders. No point borrowing trouble. He’d deal with the issue when it arose.

  He unlocked the door and urged her through so he could disarm the security system. Closing the door behind him, he threw the deadbolt and entered another code that would alert him to any attempts to invade the property. Then he set the chimes on the doors, just in case she got fed up with his orders and tried to leave.

  “Kitchen is straight ahead,” he said. “You can check the supplies and let me know what to request to make your stay more tolerable.”

  He dropped the bags. The last time he’d brought a client here, they’d been momentarily distracted from their troubles, in awe of the marble floors, gourmet kitchen, and fully stocked bar. Not to mention the sweeping view of the city. It wasn’t the ocean, but even he approved.

  When she continued to stand there, he headed to the kitchen and she eventually followed. He opened the pantry door. “Take a look here and in the fridge. Anything you need or want I’ll have delivered.”

  “I don’t want food.” She looked around the room, her eyes suspiciously bright. “I want justice and...” She closed her eyes and shook her head.

  “You want your life back,” he said gently. “I’m afraid that’s going to take more than a few hours.” Mike indulged in another long study of the woman. She was beautiful and feisty. “Go choose a bedroom and make yourself at home. I’ll handle the grocery list,” he offered. Anything to get some distance. Petite in stature even with the high heels she’d slipped into at the motel, this spitfire blonde didn’t lack an ounce in curve appeal, grit, or courage. He found the combination more tempting than he should.

  “Is that an order?”

  “If it needs to be.” He’d potentially saved her life back at the motel by talking her out of taking off on her own, but she didn’t seem impressed. “It may feel like we’re sitting around on our hands, but Claudia is gathering information we can use. We aren’t going anywhere until we hear from her.”

  “Fine.”

  When she moved out of sight down the hallway, he took a deep breath, the first in a long while. He didn’t worry about her sneaking out since every possible exit was wired. He’d be on her in seconds if she tried it. Unfortunately, it was all too easy to imagine how her sensual curves would feel under his eager hands. Not that she’d invite a normal guy like him to get that close. He could keep her alive, but he couldn’t do a damn thing to advance her career. In this town that’s what mattered most. Lauren Marie Woods hadn’t reached the level of success she had achieved without making her career rather than her love life her priority.

  He finished the grocery list and was just about to send it to Claudia when a text message from her came through. He read it, enlarged the attached photo, and read the accompanying message twice more. “Damn.”

  Another check went on the not good side of his mental list.

  Lauren tossed her purse and bag on the bed and flopped down between them. The idea that she needed to be out there doing something wouldn’t stop nagging at her. She wanted to shake Mike Stone. All he’d done so far was tell her what to do. She needed someone to help solve the situation, not remind her of the problems. She was well aware of those.

  “He did save your life, Lauren,” she muttered.

  She rested her head in her hands. If it hadn’t been for him, she would have walked right up to her car, clicked the unlock button as she reached for the door and been blown to bits. She groaned. What in the world was she going to do? News of Desmond’s murder was everywhere. The latest newsflash that she was a person of interest had likely gone viral. Her career was in jeopardy.

  Mike might be right about the danger and the odds against her, but he didn’t have to be so cocky about it. More irritating was her strange inability to ignore that ripped body of his and that handsome face. Not to mention the eyes. Those striking blue eyes were a sharp contrast to his sleek black hair. Her bodyguard was definitely leading man material—as long as the part didn’t require him to be friendly.

  She was being childish. She told herself she could put up with his attitude until this was over. She had to. He’d proven the point that she needed him. Shivering, she got up and moved to the window to peer out over the city. She’d dealt with directors, producers, and even writers who’d been worse than Mike, but they’d never seized her phone or subjected her to this kind of isolation when she needed to do something. This time the horrifying script was real life.

  Even more disconcerting, none of the directors, producers and writers with whom she had worked had ever made her wish for things she had no business even thinking about. The way her mind latched onto the details of his handsome face or that incredibly hard body made her want to scream. She understood her mind’s need to escape reality, but this was not the time to indulge her long neglected libido.

  She rubbed her hands on her hips and started to pace. Detective Treadwell would think she was guilty when she didn’t return his calls. Her friends would be worried about her. Was taking her phone really necessary or overkill? The image of her car exploding loomed in her mind. Those men who killed Desmond had known him, personally as well as professionally. The one had called her by name almost immediately after spotting her and somehow they had followed her to the motel. If she’d led them to a friend or to her hometown, the disaster would’ve multiplied.

  No matter what she thought she should be doing, the fact was she should be grateful to Mike Stone—no matter how pushy he was. Whatever business Desmond had been conducting, in addition to his talent agency, it wasn’t legal and it had almost gotten her killed. She had no experience in dealing with that sort of trouble.

  Lauren flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling, pondering her options. Whenever she closed her eyes she saw that poor woman’s face. Even now, in the quiet, secure bedroom of a safe house, her screams echoed through Lauren’s head. She trembled against the awful memory. Was she still alive? Was she the witness? If so, why didn’t she just tell the truth? Lauren certainly wouldn’t be a person of interest if she had.

  Restless, she sat up and went through every detail, every sensation about last night once more. She couldn’t remember seeing anyone else in the building. On the street, crowded with emergency vehicles and flashing lights, she had no idea who might have been watching. Where had the police found a witness if not the woman who’d been on Desmond’s couch? Lauren wanted to go to the station and clear up the outrageous accusations. They couldn’t pin a homicide on her when she hadn’t even been in the room.

  She kicked off her shoes and stretched her toes and calves. It might be smart to find a lawyer. She didn’t want to contact either of the lawyers with Desmond’s agency since they weren’t criminal specialists. They probably couldn’t represent her anyway. She could reach out to a friend or two for a recommendation. The only good news was that her show was finished shooting until after the holidays. If
Mike helped her clear this up right away, the producers wouldn’t have cause to fire her.

  The idea that Christmas was swiftly approaching broadsided her. What a hell of a way to spend the days leading up to one of her favorite holidays. She’d been looking forward to spending some of her time off with her friends. That wouldn’t happen now. She’d be lucky to still be alive at Christmas.

  “No use feeling sorry for yourself.” She hopped off the bed and decided to explore the house.

  When she opened the door, Mike was there. “Join me in the office.”

  “Has something else happened?”

  “I have pictures ready for you in the office.”

  She braced for more bad news. “I assume your assistant found something?”

  “Sooner than I expected, yes.” He stepped back and guided her away from the bedroom.

  Lauren had to avert her gaze as they strolled down the hallway. Maybe it was the tension, but she couldn’t keep her eyes off his backside. The way he filled out those jeans was inspiring. Did he snap orders in bed? The errant thought startled her and she felt the heat creeping into her cheeks as he opened a door opposite the formal dining room. She really was not herself.

  “Have a seat,” he said, turning the desk chair for her.

  She complied, leaning to the side as he reached around her and moved the mouse, bringing up a blue screen on the monitor. He was close enough that she caught the scent of soap on his skin and the lingering odor of the explosion in his hair.

  Good grief! What was wrong with her? She had a normal sex drive, even if it had been parked for a long time, but this was the worst possible time for it to kick into high gear. She hadn’t felt a physical attraction to Desmond in years. On the occasions when she allowed herself to envision her future, when she thought of the ideal man she’d invite into her life someday, she’d pictured someone far less authoritarian than Desmond. She wanted a man who listened and understood her, who saw through the public persona to the real woman underneath.

  Something must be wrong, maybe even warped to have her feeling such a sudden attraction to another I-know-what’s-best-for-you man. In preparing for her role as Dr. Loveless, she’d consulted some top psychologists. When this mess was over she’d put in some couch time as a patient. She didn’t want to repeat the mistakes she’d made with Desmond. She wanted a decent guy who didn’t feel compelled to press opinions, expectations, and orders on her at every turn.

  “Claudia pulled the crime scene photos,” Mike warned, aiming the cursor at a folder on the screen. “Are you squeamish?”

  “I saw it firsthand last night.” The pictures couldn’t possibly be any worse than being there. Nothing could be as bad as her memories of the murder as she’d tried and failed to sleep last night.

  Mike straightened away from her. “Take it at your own pace then.”

  She opened the file and examined each picture, not bothering to ask how Claudia had acquired the evidence report so quickly. It took her a few minutes of clicking back and forth between angles to pinpoint the inconsistencies. Like Treadwell said, the woman’s body wasn’t in the room and there was no pool or splattering of blood anywhere except around Desmond.

  She leaned forward, looking for anything the police might interpret in a way that made her look guilty. Paperwork had fallen from the desk, which didn’t make sense to her as Desmond had a habit of keeping his desk clear.

  “Wait.” She used the mouse to enlarge one photo. Her blood turned cold when she recognized those papers as the script she’d been carrying. “I wasn’t in that room.” She swiveled in the chair, her knees nearly knocking into Mike’s legs.

  “Are you referring to the script with the note on it?”

  She nodded. “I dropped it in the hallway. The sound is what gave my presence away.”

  “You can see it’s spattered with the victim’s blood.”

  She saw it, but couldn’t believe it. “I did not go into his office. I ran.” She shook her head. “This doesn’t make sense.” She wanted to swear and yell and pound something or someone. “They set me up. I didn’t go in. I swear. I never went in.”

  “I believe you, but the police can only work with what they find.”

  “They’ve found lies!” She pushed back from the desk and stood but her knees had turned to jelly and she fell right back into the chair.

  “Take it easy, Lauren. We’ll figure this out.”

  She minimized the file, unable to bear the sight of the accusing pictures. “How could they have known I would be there to play the part of their scapegoat?”

  “They probably didn’t plan to pin it on anyone. They expected to get away with it, but you interrupted. They still might get away with it if they can make you a believable patsy.”

  “And kill me before the truth comes out.” She let his words roll through her mind, twisting and turning as she tried to make sense of this terrible mess. “The woman. We have to find her. She knows the truth.”

  Mike leaned his hip against the desk. “Whether she’ll tell the truth is another matter.”

  Lauren turned her face up to his. “What do you mean?”

  “Worst case scenario, the fact that she survived suggests to me that she was in on it with the two men you saw.”

  A chill skated over Lauren’s skin. It wouldn’t be the first time Desmond had been fooled by a gorgeous face. She closed her eyes, trying to remember where she’d seen that face before. “What’s the best case scenario?”

  “Unfortunately, I can’t see one yet.”

  “We have to find her and talk to her.” Lauren searched her memory banks again. Where had she seen that woman? The image of a bar... then the woman’s face. “Wait.” She replayed the images again. “She works in a bar, I think. Maybe she’s a bartender or a waitress.” Her thoughts immediately turned to the long list of Desmond’s favorite clubs.

  “I’ll put Claudia on the search for LA bartenders and waitresses, but you need to keep your expectations real. The task will be like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  “How real?”

  “The criminals think you’re a threat. The police think you’re a potential suspect. The woman is only a wildcard. You don’t know what Desmond was involved in.” He ticked each point off on his fingertips. “You need to stay here, out of sight, until we figure this out. It could take some time.”

  “There has to be another way.” She shook her head and forced herself to stand. This time, she managed to do so without swaying. “I have professional obligations.”

  “Your show isn’t shooting right now.”

  “An acting career isn’t that simple.” She’d never been a passive person. A small voice in her head reminded her she’d been way too passive about Desmond. She shut it down and moved away from the desk. “There’s a community event I’m supposed to attend tomorrow. An interview next week. I can’t just skip those. Someone has to plan Desmond’s funeral. He has no other... family.”

  “First, Trinity’s body won’t be released for a while so no rush on a funeral. Second, a public appearance is out of the question. Besides, no one expects you to carry on as usual right now. Your longtime lover has been murdered. You’re grieving.”

  She wanted to argue with him, but he was right. Instead, she started to pace the room as another approach popped like a light bulb in her mind. “A public appearance might be exactly what we need. I can draw the bad guys out. It’s a classic strategy.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “I know Desmond’s passwords. If we go by the office maybe we can figure out what he was doing for those men.”

  “Not today.” He shook his head, his eyes tracking her movements like some kind of predatory cat. “Your car just blew up. You’re a person of interest in a murder case. People will see you in every petite blonde in the city. And let’s not forget the Trinity office is a crime scene. His computer has probably already been seized as evidence. The police likely have the office as well as the house under survei
llance.”

  “If we wait, the woman could disappear... or end up dead.”

  “It’s possible,” he said. “But the cops as well as the bad guys are looking for you. The risk is too great.”

  She rubbed her hands up and down her chilled arms. If he needed a plan or direction, she’d find something plausible he couldn’t argue with. “If the woman wasn’t with Desmond by chance, maybe she was the distraction that allowed them to catch Desmond at an inopportune time.”

  “Maybe.”

  “You’re not going to go with any of my suggestions. Got it.” Enough. Lauren stalked out of the office. Faced with the kitchen and bar, the marvelous view, or sulking in the bedroom, she opted for the bar. It was far too early, but she poured vodka into a glass and added enough cranberry juice to give it some color. The first sip burned away the frayed edges of her nerves and shushed the little voice in her head threatening to erupt into panic.

  What in the hell was Desmond into that someone would kill him? Why that woman? Angry all over again, Lauren went to the kitchen and dumped the remainder of her drink down the drain. The last thing she needed was to have her brain fuzzy. Her stomach rumbled, reminding her she hadn’t eaten since late yesterday. If they weren’t going anywhere, she could make herself useful and prepare lunch. Doing anything was better than doing nothing.

  How could she have known Desmond Trinity so intimately for all those years and not have recognized he was far more than a top-notch agent and so much worse than a perpetual cheater? How long had he been involved with those men? She had never seen either of them at any of the parties they hosted or attended. She’d never heard the names Nikoli or Andreas before. Although Hollywood seemed like a big city, the television and film community was actually fairly small. Almost everyone knew everyone else.

  Had she been so successful in building that wall between her and Desmond that she ignored the trouble he had gotten himself into?

  The thought made her sad.