Killing Kelly

by Heather Graham

  His words had come out far too angry, he knew. But she just stared back at him, those aquamarine eyes a fathomless sea. He thought for a moment that she was going to lash out in anger, say that she was just trying to emulate Jane with some kind of accuracy. But she didn’t. And after a moment, a very small smile curled her lips. “Most men?” she murmured softly.

  “Um.”

  “What about you?”

  “What about me?”

  “Would you…want me?”

  He stared back at her, body and brow whipcord-taut.

  “You bet. I’d be crawling right through that broken glass, into the flames, for you. For one hot night. Day. Hour.”

  “The sex-drive thing, huh?” she whispered.

  “You bet.”

  “But…”

  “That, Miss Trent, is supposedly what separates us from the beasts. We have our wicked, carnal desires.”

  “We do.”

  “But we can control them.”

  He turned away, heading toward the door. “Come on. Let’s lock up the studio.”

  Driving home, Kelly felt like a fool.

  Well, so much for daring to give in to attraction. It wasn’t that she had actually meant to ask him to have sex, but she had felt such a sense of elation, comfort…attraction. Excitement. Well, what exactly had she wanted? Whatever it was, she wasn’t getting it.

  A new flush rose to her cheeks, the heat of embarrassment sweeping over her again. They had been getting on amazingly well. He had seemed pleased with her as a pupil. He had seemed to like her. So she had…She groaned out loud, wondering what had possessed her to behave in a way that was completely contrary to her nature. She was going to have to face him every day!

  She pulled into her driveway and, to her amazement, the discomfort and shame that had been riddling her disappeared as if in a puff of fog. But what settled over her then was worse. Fear. Two words haunted her thoughts. Darkness. Shadows.

  There sat her house, totally benign. Inside, Sam, good old Sam, ever protective, awaited her. She had only to make the walk from her car to the house. She bit her lower lip. She was the one who kept insisting she wasn’t in any danger. Yet, last night…Had there been someone sneaking around the house?

  She let out a sigh, wincing. The world was filled with people who were…ill. Maybe Dana Sumter’s husband hadn’t killed her. Maybe there was a psychopath out there who hated anyone who wrote advice columns, talked on television or practiced any form of therapy, whether they were real or fictional.

  “So, what’s it to be?” she asked herself out loud. “Do I sit in my car all night, staring at my front door?” Why hadn’t she gone out and bought mace that morning?

  “I’m coming, Sam.”

  She hesitated another second, then opened the car door. The distance to her front porch was not great. Her porch light was on, but that only deepened the shadows surrounding the light. She quickened her step. And just as she did so, a shadow very definitely moved.

  Leaving the studio, Doug had waged a silent war with himself. On the one hand, he was proud and feeling strong. No involvements where work is concerned. But on the other hand, he hated himself. He ached, yearned, and a number of his body parts totally despised him.

  What the fuck is the matter with you? Not every sexual encounter is meant to turn into a relationship. He certainly didn’t run around like a cad, but spending the night with a woman didn’t necessarily mean that he’d see her again, either. Both sexes were sometimes just out for a little companionship, for some sheer physical, carnal pleasure. Besides, he had to face this woman on a daily basis.

  Why Kelly? Chemistry, he thought irritably. She had a way of slipping beneath his skin. Holding back, rushing forward. Ice in the sun.

  He was halfway to his hotel when he’d decided to follow her home, despite the fact that he had been right to step away from her—even if certain parts of him remained torn with agony and reproach. They were business associates. She wasn’t just any woman. She wasn’t a stranger he’d met in a bar, just out for the night, looking for what she could find. She was…Kelly.

  Despite all that, he had an uneasy feeling. Liam had agreed that she might be in danger. And last night she had been scared. Really scared. So he’d just see to it that she’d gotten home okay. That Sam was walked, that she was locked in. That was all.

  Was it? he mocked himself. Was he heading over there because he wanted her to say—do—something more? And what about him? When she answered the door did he tell her, “Oh, God, please. Yes, you are the most sensual, sexual experience I’ve ever had, and I haven’t even seen you without clothes on. Please, let me in, give me another chance, let me just kiss the ground where you walk?”

  Get a grip, he warned himself firmly. Just see to it that she’s safe!

  He pulled around her corner, and as he did so, he saw that her car was in her driveway. A breath of relief rushed through him. Then he saw the shadow move. And he heard Kelly scream.

  CHAPTER 12

  Screaming. It was an instinctive gut reaction to shock. Like a shadow moving. Becoming a man.

  “Kelly! Hey, please, it’s me, Lance Morton. Wow, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare the hell out of you!”

  She blinked because he was out of the shadows. Lean body, aesthetic face, shaggy hair. He was decked out in a nicely fitting suit, and there was really nothing menacing about him at all. He might be in decent shape beneath the threads, but he was slender and not in the least intimidating. She would never have screamed at the sight of him if she hadn’t seen him move like that out of the shadows.

  “Lance—” she began.

  But then another scream of shock tore from her throat. A figure tore by her with the speed of lightning. The whir of darkness catapulted against Lance. Lance screamed and went down with the figure on top of him.

  “What the hell are you doing?” a voice growled.

  She knew the voice. “O’Casey!”

  He didn’t hear her gasp. “What did you do to her!” he exploded again.

  Lance Morton, surely about to become one of the hottest voices in rock, was flat on the ground. O’Casey had brought him down like a felled tree, and he was straddled over his prone victim now, hands grasped around the collar of the man’s expensively tailored casual jacket.

  “You!” Lance gasped.

  “O’Casey, it’s all right!” Kelly said, finding life again at last, racing forward and reaching for his shoulders, as if she could drag him off Lance.

  Lance was swearing by then, and his words weren’t going over well with O’Casey. “Shut the hell up!” he said, rising, dragging Lance to his feet. Lance staggered in his attempt to rise. He’d gone down hard.

  “Let me go!” Lance demanded.

  O’Casey shoved him free.

  “Hey!”

  “What the hell did you do to her?” O’Casey demanded in a barely leashed fury.

  “I said hello!” Lance snapped.

  O’Casey, his blond hair disheveled, turned on Kelly. “He said hello?”

  “Something like that,” she murmured.

  He lifted his hands, staring at her. “Why did you scream?”

  “He startled me.”

  “Startled you?”

  “He just startled me, that’s all. I’m sorry, it was ridiculous. I didn’t see him at first. He walked up and I…screamed,” she finished lamely.

  “I came by to say hello because I was in the city!” Lance said.

  O’Casey spun back on him. “What were you doing, stalking her in her yard?”

  Lance let out a wounded sigh. “I was just hanging around, hoping she’d come home so that I’d get a chance to say hello and introduce myself a little further. It is my video,” he said indignantly. He glared at O’Casey. “You might have broken my neck! My back is killing me!”

  “Has anyone ever suggested that you not hang around a woman’s door in the dark?” O’Casey demanded.

  “I don’t know how I’m going to s
ing, to manage this video now myself!” Lance continued, deeply wounded. He pointed a finger at O’Casey. “You’re a madman, an animal, rushing someone like that.”

  She could almost hear O’Casey’s teeth grating.

  “Yeah? Well, you don’t seem too sane yourself. She screamed, you ass. Screamed. That usually means someone needs help.”

  By then, Kelly became aware of Sam, barking his head off inside the door. She winced, angry because she had let everyone spook her so badly that she had screamed blue blazes just because someone had walked toward her. No! She wasn’t that much of an idiot! He had been in the shadows, and he had scared a year’s worth of life out of her!

  Yet, the way that O’Casey had slammed him might have broken every bone in Lance Morton’s body. This could really be a disaster.

  “Let’s go in,” she said.

  Both men turned and stared at her.

  “Look,” she said, “there’s been a mistake, a major misunderstanding here. Lance, you scared me. You shouldn’t have been in the bushes. I should have recognized you, and I shouldn’t have screamed like that. And Doug…”

  “I should have let the guy strangle you if he had been a deranged killer?” he demanded, hands on hips.

  “I’m not a deranged killer!” Lance announced indignantly. “Jesus Christ, who the hell do you think you are, the CIA?”

  O’Casey cast him a look that was chilling.

  “You know, your ass can be fired, just like that.” Lance snapped his fingers.

  “Fire me,” O’Casey said.

  “Now, stop it!” Kelly insisted.

  “He’s out,” Lance said. “In fact, I think I’ll call the police and file assault charges!”

  “You file assault charges and I’ll file for trespassing,” Kelly said, stepping in far more smoothly than she might have imagined for the situation.

  “What!” Lance said, blinking.

  “You heard her.”

  “You’re fired.”

  “If he’s out, I’m out,” Kelly said softly.

  “What?” Lance said again. “He’s a two-bit teacher.”

  “I don’t think you should insult him right now,” Kelly murmured.

  “He can’t insult me. He doesn’t know anything. From him, words are meaningless.”

  “Hey!”

  Sam was going crazy inside. Kelly shook her head impatiently. “Okay, you two can just stay out here and hurl insults at each other. It was a bad situation. I’m sorry. But now I’m taking my dog for a walk.” She started for the door. Both men were silent behind her as she slid her key in the door. Then, to her horror, Sam pushed past her and bounded, barking in a frenzy. She spun around, stunned. Sam was protective, yes, but he’d never been an attack dog. And he was making a beeline for Lance Morton.

  “Sam!”

  The dog ignored her. There really would be an assault charge if her dog bit the man! she thought with dismay.

  “Sam!” O’Casey’s voice rose high. He took a step forward, placing himself between the dog and Lance Morton. Sam slid to a stop, barking furiously.

  “Sam! It’s all right. Here, boy, here!” Kelly said desperately.

  Sam remained where he was, whining then rather than barking. His silver-gray body trembled.

  “Sam, it’s okay.” O’Casey stepped forward, a hand out, patting Sam’s head. The dog’s little stub of a silver tail wagged.

  “I think I’m going to hurl!” Lance said.

  “You’re going to be all right. Come in,” Kelly told him.

  “I have a headache, big time,” Lance said.

  “I’ll make you a drink. Or get you some aspirin.”

  “I’ll take a drink,” Lance said. He stepped by O’Casey, staring at him. Sam growled.

  “Hey!” Lance said.

  “He’s quite a judge of character,” O’Casey said blandly.

  “Was that another dig?” Lance demanded. He walked toward the door, obviously still irate. “Next thing you know, he’ll be saying the music sucks.”

  “The music is good,” O’Casey muttered, implying that other things might not be.

  But Lance didn’t hear the intonation. He dropped his anger like a fallen coat. “Yeah?” he said to O’Casey. There was a lot of hope in his voice, a lot of uncertainty.

  “Yes, the music is good,” O’Casey repeated.

  “Wow. Thanks.”

  “Both of you, please come in. Let’s all chill out a bit, huh?” Kelly said.

  They both stared at her. Lance shrugged. “Hey, you’re the one who screamed.”

  She looked at him as if he had really gone mad for a minute, then she shook her head. “Yes, I screamed. I’ve apologized. Shall we make it go all around?”

  He stared back at her. “You wouldn’t really leave the video, would you?”

  “I wouldn’t want to.”

  “I, uh—” He paused a second, looking at the dog warily and then at O’Casey with the same care. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

  O’Casey shrugged. “I’m sorry if I broke any of your bones.”

  Lance Morton smiled then. “Hey, cool. No, I don’t think that any of my bones are broken. You really like my music?”

  “Yes,” O’Casey said. “I like it a lot. I don’t think you guys are going to be a flash that comes and goes. You’re real musicians, you’ve got talent and flair. And now you have money behind you.”

  “Cool. Way cool!” Lance said, walking up the steps. “You got any good whiskey?” he asked Kelly.

  “I imagine I can find some,” she said dryly. She looked at O’Casey. “I think that Sam…”

  Her voice faded as Sam came to life, running, trotting over to one of the bushes that lined the front of the house, lifting his leg.

  “Sam…?” O’Casey said, arching a brow.

  “Doesn’t really need a walk anymore,” she said. She walked into the house, followed by Lance, O’Casey and then Sam. The dog didn’t seem to want to go for a long walk. He was far more interested in being in the house with her…guests.

  She walked into the kitchen. Thankfully, she kept a decent whiskey in the house. She heard the men following her, and the tap of Sam’s nails as he followed as well.

  “Great place,” Lance said.

  “How did you know where it was?” O’Casey asked.

  He caught Lance off guard. The singer wiggled his shoulders, as if he were in pain from the assault. “Man, that hurt!” he murmured.

  “How did you know where Kelly lived?” O’Casey persisted.

  “Easy,” Lance said. “I got the address from Logan, who got it from Mel—your agent.”

  “Really?” Kelly said, taking down glasses. “Mel doesn’t usually give out my address.”

  Lance shrugged. “Well, Logan had it somehow. Maybe for payments or something.”

  “I’m paid through Mel,” she said.

  “The IRS?” Lance suggested. “Hell, I don’t know.”

  Kelly handed him the glass of whiskey.

  “Thanks!” Lance said. He looked at a grass stain on his jacket. “Ruined, I think.”

  “I know a good cleaner,” she told him. She glanced at O’Casey, indicating the glasses. He shook his head. She opted for a plain Coke herself.

  “Man, but my back is killing me!” Lance said.

  “I know a good masseuse, too,” she told him.

  He walked into her back room, looking around, then sinking into the couch. “You’d give me the name of your masseuse?” he said, grinning.

  She shrugged. “Why not?”

  “Radical,” he said, pleased.

  “I’m still a little confused,” O’Casey said. “You just came by, and you were hanging out in Kelly’s yard, waiting for her to come home? What the hell are you doing in California, anyway?”

  “Recording.”

  “You couldn’t record in Miami? I thought some of the best studios were there.”

  “Oh, sure, there are great studios in Miami. But we were scheduled to work out
here. Hey, I don’t know why. I’m not financing this thing. We’re laying a few more tracks. They want them ready to go when we start the video.”

  “But hanging out in someone’s yard, waiting?” O’Casey persisted.

  “Hey! I didn’t know that you two were an item,” Lance said impatiently, shaking his head.

  Kelly’s protest froze on her lips. She waited for O’Casey to say something. He didn’t. Lance was still looking around the room with interest. “Really cool place,” he said.

  “Glad you like it,” Kelly murmured.

  Lance nodded absently, then stared at her. “Hey, how come you didn’t know I was here? They said you’d be doing some backup singing for the final track.”

  “Actually, yes, that was in the contract. But no one gave me a schedule for when to be in a studio,” Kelly said.

  Lance shrugged. “Well, maybe they’re not ready for that, but I would think they’d have you doing some practices with us. Usually we wouldn’t just let anyone come in that way, but…hey, Kelly. It’s you.”

  “Thanks.”

  He’d finished his drink. He looked at the empty glass.

  “Would you like another?” she offered.

  “Sure.”

  She took his glass, ready to get him another drink. O’Casey was still watching him as if he were a bomb that might explode. “Where’s your car?” he asked.

  “Car?” Lance repeated.

  “Your car. Auto. Vehicle. How did you get here?” O’Casey asked.

  “Taxi, man. I took a taxi.”

  “You don’t have a car here?”

  “Sure, I’ve got a rental. I’m just not that good with the streets, the canyons, the up and down. Man, I couldn’t live out here! I was in the back seat of a limo yesterday and I could have sworn I was going to vomit the whole ride. It’s a great place, but not for me.”