by Tara Wyatt
“Really?” she asked, pride flowing through her.
“Absolutely. You’re a wonderful speaker, and as we go forward in the grant application process, we’ll need all of the public and political support we can get. You’ll be speaking, lobbying, attending events. To start, there’s the annual Choices fund-raising gala later this week, where you’ll have the opportunity to speak to several influential politicians, and a symposium on women’s health in Miami we’d like you to speak at next week. You’ve been tremendously influential up to this point in garnering support for Choices, and we think you’re the perfect fit for this campaign. You’re smart, well-spoken, and comfortable in the public eye. People like you. We like you,” she added, smiling warmly.
Sierra bit her lip, not quite sure what to say. “Of course, I’ll help in any way I can.” She’d already been planning to attend the fund-raising gala with Rory, but now she was looking forward to it even more. There was so much they could do with fifty million dollars. So many women they could help, lives they could potentially save or change for the better with something as simple as a free Pap smear, or a free IUD.
“I’m glad you’re on board. We need all hands on deck as we apply for this grant. We’re not strangers to negative press.” She paused, drumming her fingers on the table. “There’s another organization also applying for the grant, and they have enough momentum behind them that they could potentially win it if they sway enough support their way. Have you heard of the Pregnancy Support Center?”
Sierra frowned, her mouth twisting slightly. “Don’t they have those billboards? The ‘Pregnant? Scared? We can help’ ones?”
Leslie nodded, barely concealing a sneer. “That’s them. They market themselves as a pro-choice women’s health organization, but at the core, they’re actually anti-abortion, anti–birth control, and anti–premarital sex. They believe women shouldn’t have sex unless it’s with their husband for the express purpose of making a baby. These are likely the same people who believe health insurers shouldn’t have to cover birth control, and that employers shouldn’t have to provide any kind of maternity leave.” She shook her head. “I don’t understand the logic of wanting all women to be mothers—whether they want that for themselves or not—and also refusing to support mothers with maternity leave or access to affordable health care. I shudder to think what an organization like that would do with fifty million dollars.”
“I agree,” said Sierra, shuddering right along with Leslie. She’d heard of organizations like the Pregnancy Support Center, masquerading as pro-choice but with ulterior motives. In some areas of the country, there were far more Pregnancy Support Centers than Choices branches. “Whatever you need, I’m your woman. I’m thrilled and honored to spearhead the public face of this campaign for you. I’ll do my absolute best to make sure we get that grant. I promise,” she added, so proud her ribs suddenly felt too big for her chest, poking at her and expanding outward as she filled up with pride, hope, and determination.
“Do the public appearances concern you at all?” asked Clark Nunes, the senior counsel for Choices.
A twinge of fear slipped between those puffed-up ribs like a tiny little needle, deflating her with the smallest prick. “It shouldn’t be an issue. I’ve hired security, and I’ll go over everything with them. I’m sure it’ll be OK,” she said, completely unsure it would be OK. Sean hadn’t even let her go to the Chateau Marmont for a few drinks with friends. What was he going to think about a fund-raising gala? A speech at a symposium in Miami?
Shit.
“I hope it’s not an issue. We need you,” said Leslie, her long, slender fingers drumming the top of the table. “You’ve already been through enough because of your work for us. I’d hate to expose you to more harassment. Maybe this is asking too much.”
“No. It’ll be fine.” It had to be. Choices needed this money; the organization could do so much good with it. “I want to do it.” Despite the doubts she’d had since the harassment had started, she knew now that she couldn’t back down. She couldn’t let the bastards win, and she had the opportunity to help Choices and potentially make a real difference.
Hopefully, Sean would see it that way too.
After a few more agenda items, the meeting was adjourned, and Sierra rejoined Sean in the hallway. As always, her heart and stomach did their little roller coaster act when she laid eyes on him.
“How’d it go?” he asked, falling in a half step behind her, his hand at the small of her back. She wanted to ease back and melt into that simple, protective touch.
“They want me to head up a new campaign. They’re applying for a grant, a huge one, and they’ve asked me to be the public face of it.” Disbelief still tangled with pride. Sometimes she had a hard time believing that they really took her seriously. Knowing that they saw her as more than just an empty-headed actress meant a lot to her.
“Of course they did. They’d be crazy not to,” said Sean, pressing the call button for the elevator with his thumb. As they stepped inside, she filled him in on the details, her excitement growing as she spoke. She paused before telling him about the necessary public appearances, hoping she wouldn’t have to fight him on it, but prepared to if needed.
He sighed, his broad chest rising and falling as he pushed a hand through his hair. “It’s not ideal, but I guess we have to make it work, don’t we?”
“Yeah?” She looked up at him, and her breath stuck to her ribs. He smiled crookedly at her and she felt suddenly giddy with relief. And maybe something else too. Something she wasn’t supposed to be feeling.
“Yeah. We’ll figure it out. If this is what you want to do, I support you.”
“Really?”
“One hundred percent. This is important.”
The elevator doors slid open, and they walked out toward the lobby.
“Sierra?” She recognized Jack’s voice instantly and turned around, spying him several feet away by a different bank of elevators. He looked much improved since she’d last seen him in person. His complexion was healthy, his black hair thick and shiny, and his piercing blue eyes clear, not bloodshot. Those eyes raked over her, and she was happy to find she felt nothing but a mild curiosity as to what he was doing here.
Those eyes had once seemed so appealing to her. But then she’d learned how they saw her, and everything had changed. He’d hurt her once, but the wound had healed, leaving scar tissue but no real pain. She’d loved him, and he’d never felt the same about her. He’d made her believe he had, though. And she’d fallen for it. She’d given him her heart, her trust, when all he’d wanted was her name and her body.
He approached, and Sean intercepted him, a hand extended. Jack flashed a megawatt smile and shook it.
“Sean Owens, Virtus Security,” said Sean as Jack’s eyes widened and he winced under Sean’s grip. Now that he was standing with Sean, it seemed almost laughable how she’d once thought Jack so tall, so strong. He looked like a scrawny teenager compared to Sean.
“Jack Nikolaidis,” said Jack, tugging his hand back, trying as subtly as possible to shake it out. He turned his attention back to Sierra and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving her a gentle squeeze.
“It’s good to see you. You look great. Really great.” He stood back and surveyed her again, smiling brightly. “What are you doing here?” he asked, slipping his hands into his pockets, his charm-o-meter cranked all the way up to eleven. He rocked back on his heels, watching her with genuine interest—an interest that was entirely one-sided. They’d broken up nearly six months ago now, and she hadn’t forgotten his drinking and how bad it’d gotten. The nasty things he’d said. The way he’d tried to control her, bully her even. Yes, he was handsome, well educated, and ambitious, but he’d only ever been interested in her Hollywood connections and how good she’d looked on his arm at events.
And like hell she would ever settle for that. She’d rather be alone than with a man who wasn’t all in.
“I had a meeting with the Choices
board.”
His eyebrows rose and he frowned slightly. “I heard about the attacks on the news.” He shook his head, clicking his tongue in sympathy. “I had a feeling getting involved with them was a bad idea.”
The urge to roll her eyes was so strong that she almost pulled a muscle restraining herself.
“You wouldn’t know anything about those attacks, would you, Jack?” asked Sean, and she craned her neck to look up at him, wondering where he’d gotten that idea. His hand came to rest possessively on her lower back, and she relaxed into him, releasing tension she hadn’t realized was there. Jack’s gaze slid from Sierra to where Sean’s hand rested and then up to Sean’s face.
Jack’s thick black brows drew together, his head tipping forward. “What?”
“You’re well connected, and I was wondering if you’d heard anything. Rumors, maybe? Anything that could give us a more substantial lead.” Sean studied him intently. What was he getting at? Sierra felt as though she’d missed something and was struggling to keep up with the conversation.
After a second, Jack shook his head. “No. I wish I could help you. You know, for a second there, I thought you were accusing me of being involved in the attacks.”
Sean stared at him for several beats before speaking. “No, of course not. But if you could keep your ears open, use any connections you have to find out who’s behind this, it’d be a huge help.”
Jack nodded gravely, stepping a little bit closer and turning his attention back to Sierra. “Absolutely. If there’s anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask. Seriously. I care about your well-being.”
“Yes, well. I am one of your constituents. And you know I vote.”
He laughed, pointing a finger at her. “I always liked your sense of humor.” He glanced at Sean again before smiling at her. “It really is good to see you, Sierra.” He checked his watch. “I have to run. I’ve got a meeting, and then I’ve got to get back to Sacramento. Listen, I’m glad we ran into each other, and I’m glad you’re OK. If I can help, call me. Please. And I promise to do the same if I hear anything.”
“Thanks, Jack. I appreciate that.” With a friendly nod and smile, he headed back toward the elevators. She appreciated his concern and his offer to help, but she knew she wouldn’t be taking him up on it. Jack was firmly in her past, and she liked it that way.
“He seemed…” Sean frowned, his nostrils flaring slightly as a puzzled look crossed his face. “Nice, actually.”
“You sound surprised.”
“That’s because I am.”
They started toward the front doors of the lobby, and she debated how much to tell him. She’d never told anyone the whole truth about why her relationship with Jack had imploded. But with Sean…she knew she could trust him. She was surprised to find how much she wanted to tell him. “He is nice. Most of the time. When things are going his way and he hasn’t been drinking.”
Sean wrapped a hand around her upper arm and turned her to face him, bringing their steps to a halt. “He’s a mean drunk?”
She nodded, fidgeting with the strap of her purse. “Oh yeah.”
Sean’s features tightened, and something burned in his deep-brown eyes. He dropped his voice to a near whisper. “Did he ever hurt you? Hit you?” His free hand curled into a fist, the skin tight over his knuckles.
“No. He never got physical. It was only ever verbal.” She asked the question that had been pressing on her. “Why did you ask him about the attacks? That kinda came out of left field.”
“I wanted to see how he’d react.”
“Why? You don’t think he’s involved, do you?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not impossible.”
“Have you been talking to Taylor?”
“No, why?”
Sierra rolled her eyes. “She thinks Jack might have something to do with the attacks too.”
“And you don’t?”
“No. I think it’s Sacrosanct.” It was the most logical explanation, and putting an identity on her attackers gave her an ounce of comfort. At least that way she knew where to direct her anger. She knew who to blame. Without a target, she had nowhere to go with that anger, and it would sit inside her, burning a hole through her chest.
“Jack threatened you when you broke up with him.”
She looked up at him and blinked slowly. “How did you know about that?”
He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and glanced up at the ceiling. “I overheard your conversation the other night when your friends were over.”
She couldn’t help the flash of anger that rushed through her. “You were eavesdropping on me?” It was hard enough having him around 24/7, having to constantly wade through the quicksand of her attraction to him, being physically close to him and trying to keep some kind of emotional distance.
“Not on purpose.” He reached out and wrapped his other hand around her arm, now holding her firmly in place with both hands. Funny how hard it was to feel annoyed with him when he was touching her with those hands. “Sierra, I want to find out who’s doing this to you, and that means exploring every angle. If you want to be mad at me, go ahead, but I’m not sorry I listened in.”
She blew out a breath and forced herself to relax, not wanting to pick a fight. “I’m not mad. Sorry I snapped at you. I think I’m just feeling a little…” She made her hands into claws, holding them up in front of her, trying to show him how she felt. “Caged. Which isn’t your fault. I think all of this is getting to me a bit more than I realized.”
“Completely understandable. Having 24/7 security can feel oppressive. But it’s the only way I can make sure you’re safe.”
“I know.” She laid a hand on his chest, and his heart thumped against her palm, steady and sure.
* * *
Sean, Ian, and Sierra stared at the brown box sitting on Sierra’s front porch. Sean studied the package, which had just been delivered by a private courier, looking for any signs it was dangerous. Sean and Ian had agreed that the package couldn’t come inside, and Ian had already texted Clay, Virtus’s investigator, to see if he could trace its origins. The box itself was about two feet tall and a foot wide and was unmarked except for Sierra’s name and address. She reached out a hand toward it, and Sean grabbed her wrist.
“Don’t touch it,” he said, and the words came out gruffer than he’d intended. Not because he was annoyed with her but because each time his skin came in contact with hers he wanted to grab her and kiss her, and so, so much more.
“Clay says that the package was shipped anonymously, and whoever sent it paid cash,” said Ian, his eyes on his phone, and Sierra’s head whipped in his direction. “He’s going to see if he can get security cam footage from the courier service so we can see who dropped it off.”
“You’re Scottish?” she asked.
“Aye.”
“I don’t think I’ve heard you speak before.”
Ian shrugged in response.
Sierra crossed her arms in front of her, frowning as she studied the box. “How on earth did your investigator find that out so quickly?”
“Clay has a lot of connections, and he’s very good at his job,” said Sean. “If this package was sent without sender information and the courier was paid cash, we have to treat this as a threat. The house is secure?”
Ian nodded. “Aye.”
Sean tore his eyes from the box and swiveled his gaze back to Sierra. “I’m going to check it out. I need you to go in the house.”
Her eyes widened, and she bit her lip. “If it’s that dangerous, I don’t want you touching it either.”
He stroked a hand down her arm, trying to reassure her. “I’ll be fine. I know what I’m doing.” After completing the necessary training to be a licensed bodyguard, he’d continued taking courses. He knew how to deal with just about any kind of threat, whether it was from a person, from an object, or technological.
She rubbed a hand over her forehead. “Let’s just call the
police. Let them deal with it.”
“We will. But if there’s something really dangerous in here, I need to do something about it right now. And to do that, I need you to go in the house. Now.”
She hesitated before finally nodding reluctantly, and he relaxed slightly, knowing she’d be safe from whatever the package contained. Surprising him, she reached up and laid her palm on his cheek. “Be careful.” Something bright and intense shone in her green eyes, and his entire body tightened.
He nodded, and her fingers curled into him, her fingertips rasping against his beard. “Don’t worry about me.”
“I can’t help it.”
Despite everything, he came within inches of saying, “Fuck it” and grabbing her and kissing her. He struggled and failed to find something to say. He didn’t have words for the conflicting jumble of emotions crashing over him, all blurring together. So instead he tipped his head toward the front door. “Go.”
With big, worried eyes, she watched him as she unlocked the front door and let herself in the house, Ian following her. She appeared seconds later in the living room window to the right.
Sean quickly retreated to the SUV and retrieved a pair of black nitrile gloves from the box he kept in the trunk. After pulling them on, he crouched down in front of the package, studying it intently. There were no stains or leaks, no suspicious marks on the outside. The box itself was pristine, “Miss Blake” written in simple block lettering across the top in black marker. It was sealed with ordinary packing tape across the top, her address in plain type on a white label.
Leaning forward, he inhaled deeply, trying to catch the scent of anything unusual. Gunpowder, acid, the scent of almonds, which would indicate the presence of cyanide, or anything else out of the ordinary. But besides the papery scent of the cardboard, he couldn’t detect anything. He cocked his head, listening for any sounds, like ticking, grinding, or beeping, but again, there was nothing. The leaves of the sycamore rustled softly, and a car horn blared several streets over, but nothing came from the box.
