by Delta James
Sage whipped her head around. First, Felix had appeared in the flesh and disappeared out of her manuscript, and now, Gail didn’t seem to know who he was.
“Felix Spenser, the Savoy Head Concierge. He’s been really helpful.”
“He’s not helpful if he’s making you fat!” Gail snarled.
“Ms. Matthews, don’t listen to her. You have a beautiful figure. Men, at least the ones I know, appreciate a woman with curves. For one thing, they tend to be nicer,” Gabe said, shutting down Gail’s tirade with a single stare.
Gail harrumphed and turned her back on Gabe.
“Can you teach me to do that?” she asked him, smiling.
“No, ma’am. You are far too nice. Don’t let her bully you.”
“I won’t, and thanks again.”
She entered the room and threw the night latch.
“Honestly, Gail, I wish you hadn’t been so snooty with Gabe. He, Felix, and the rest of the staff have gone out of their way to take care of me.”
“His making you fat isn’t helpful. If you aren’t careful, you’ll have to buy a whole new wardrobe.”
“It’s my money,” Sage said with a bit of finality.
Gail continued to harangue her about her eating habits, her wardrobe, her interactions with readers, and meeting, even unofficially, with Scotland Yard.
“If you’re going to take the time and be bothered with all of this, we should at least get press coverage,” Gail carped.
“I don’t want to give whoever it is the publicity. Everything I’ve read says part of what spurs these people on is seeing their name in the news. I plan to meet with Gabe’s friend in the morning, then head over to the event. I’ll be on time.”
“You weren’t this morning.”
“I didn’t plan on having a treat delivered with my breakfast,” Sage said, trying to control her rising temper.
“Maybe just one interview…”
“No, Gail, and that’s the end of it. And if you leak the story to the press like you did when I arrived, you and I are going to have a major issue.”
“Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to? You are where you are today because of me…”
“I think my novels had a little to do with it,” Sage said sarcastically.
“Not much. I could have taken any two-bit erotic writer and made her into a success. I was trolling an author event when I found you. I could just as easily find another. You were good, raw material. You had the tragic back story of losing your fiancé and your job. Then I added getting you a decent haircut and color, new clothes, and crafted your persona so you appealed to all those love-starved women who find some dominant asshole appealing and voilà—there you are.”
“I never knew you felt that way.” Sage’s anger was threatening to take over. “If you’re so sure of that, perhaps you should troll this event and find a replacement.”
“Don’t think I can’t… or I won’t!”
Sage stood up, walked to the door, and opened it.
“Please do.”
Gail tossed down her napkin, pushed back her chair and stood.
“Don’t think I won’t.”
“I wish you and your new protégé all the success in the world. Don’t worry about me at the event. I can handle it. You’re welcome to use the return flight ticket, but please ask them to move you so we aren’t sitting next to each other. I’ll have a letter of dismissal of your services and revocation of our agreement delivered to you in the morning. I’ll inform the Four Seasons I will be responsible for your hotel room only as originally agreed, but any extras or anything past the last night of the event is on you.”
“Why, you ungrateful little sow! Who the fuck do you think you are?” Gail screeched, her face turning an ugly shade of red.
Enough, she thought. I’m just done. It no longer mattered that they had worked together for so many years. Gail had traded on Sage’s sense of loyalty and gratitude for far too long. All the nasty behavior she had tolerated or excused for so long came to mind, and for once, she didn’t feel out of control or powerless. Gail didn’t know it, but her mini reign of terror was over. Sage was done making excuses for how Gail treated her; she was about to show Gail that she had some teeth of her own to bare.
Sage drew herself up. “I think I am USA Today, New York Times, and International Best Selling Author Sage Matthews, and if you don’t get your skinny, sorry ass out of my room, I will call Gabe and have you escorted from the Savoy.”
Gail snatched up her purse and stomped out.
Sage closed the door behind her and sagged against it, waiting to feel as though she had done something wrong or she was somehow not up to the task she had just set for herself. Surprisingly, it never came. She returned to her meal and finished it, then called down to arrange for breakfast to be delivered to her and was told that Felix had already taken care of it… of course he had.
Perhaps she should see if Felix would like to become her personal assistant. He seemed awfully good at taking care of her. Then it struck her—how the hell had Felix Spenser suddenly appeared in real life? One minute he was a character she had created, and the next, he was here in the flesh and missing from her books… from all of them. She’d checked all of her saved manuscripts, and each had contained a head concierge, but none of them named Felix. What did Gabe have to do with it, if anything? He seemed to think Felix had been here all along.
The next morning, she was dressed and just finishing her breakfast when there was a knock on the door. She cracked it open to confirm who was on the other side and smiling, opened it wide.
“Good morning, Gabe,” Sage said.
“Good morning, Sage. Your cheerful mood this morning appears to be as foul as Ms. Vincent’s was last night. Might it be for the same reason?” Gabe asked with a smile.
“Would I be a horrible person for saying yes?”
“Not at all,” he assured her. “Might I introduce you to my friend and former brother-in-arms, DSI Michael—” He stopped as the blood left her face and her knees threatened to buckle. “Sage, are you all right?”
“Holmes?” she asked.
First Felix and now Holmes. What the hell was happening? Was she under so much stress that she was becoming unhinged? Why was she the only one who seemed to notice there were characters from her books showing up in the real world?
“Yes, ma’am. Have we met before?”
Sage shook her head. Standing before her was the exact embodiment of the character of DSI Michael Holmes from the Roark Samuels novels. That would put him close to forty, a bit over six feet with cropped salt-and-pepper hair, with more graying at his temples. She knew he would have a well-muscled body under his conservative suit, a bit brawnier than Felix actually was in real life and a lot more than the way she had described him in the books. If Roark was the character women lusted after and fantasized about, Holmes was the one they all thought they could actually fall for.
She shook her head. “No, just one of those déjà vu moments. It’s nice to meet you. I appreciate you taking the time to come.”
“It’s not a problem. Gabe gave me the envelope and its contents you received yesterday. I’m having a friend in the lab run it through some tests, but I’m not overly hopeful we’ll find anything. Might I ask you some questions?”
“Sure? Won’t you have a seat? Can I get either of you coffee or tea?”
“Coffee black would be good for both of us,” the DSI said.
Of course it would. That’s how Holmes took it in the novels. She’d have to remember to check if he had been replaced as well.
“Do you have any enemies?” Holmes asked.
“I don’t know I’d say enemies. My ex-fiancé and soon-to-be ex-publisher aren’t overly fond of me, and there are a number of authors who feel I’ve come too far too fast and haven’t paid sufficient dues, but I can’t see any of them doing anything like this,” she said in all candor.
“I took the liberty of speaking with the Sheriff’
s Department back where you live, and they are convinced someone is trying to spook you and perhaps has some serious intent. When they heard about the latest incident, they were quite concerned, as am I.”
“That’s what Gabe thought… if someone was willing to follow me across an ocean, they weren’t just doing this for a laugh.”
Holmes nodded. “The problem is officially, even if I knew who it was, there’s little I could do.” Holmes paused and looked at Gabe, who shook his head. “Gabe says I’m wrong and talking to you, I think he’s probably right, but I feel I have to ask; this isn’t a publicity stunt, is it?”
Sage sat back, shocked and angry, then slowly stood.
“No, DSI Holmes, it isn’t a stunt…”
“Calm down, Sage. Michael had to ask,” Gabe said.
“No.” Sage shook her head. “I’m not going to calm down. Some wacko is sending me weird and upsetting mail, and I get accused of doing this for fun? Thanks for your help, DSI Holmes. You’ve fulfilled your obligation to your friend, but you can leave now. I won’t trouble you again.”
“Sage…” Gabe started.
“Do you think I’m doing this?” Sage asked him.
“No, and neither does Michael, do you?”
“No, I don’t, and unless you’re an excellent actress, your response to the question settled any doubts I might have had. Please sit down and understand any questions I ask you are ones I’ll need to answer for my superiors at the Yard. I think you have a stalker who is escalating. The way the laws are written, there isn’t a lot we can do about it… officially, but I can do some nosing around unofficially. I don’t think it would be a bad idea for you to hire a security detail.”
“I can step up security for you here at the hotel, and I don’t mind driving you back and forth to the Four Seasons and speaking to their security people, but I don’t know that it’s safe for you to wander around London on your own.”
“I won’t be made a prisoner or recluse by this jerk. I understand what you’re saying because it’s basically the same thing I was told in the States. There’s little anyone can do without this asshole physically harming me, but he doesn’t get to make me his victim. I’d appreciate any help either of you can give me, but I’m not going to hole up in my room in fear,” Sage said with some finality. “Now, I need to get to the event.”
Damn, she was stubborn. Holmes and Felix had managed to escape. They’d better find a way to help her and keep her safe. All Hallows Eve was just a few days away. The veil between the two planes of existence would be at its thinnest. If he was going to find a way to break free, it had to be then.
Sage approached the laptop and flipped through two different manuscripts. Smart girl. The DSI in her books was no longer named Holmes and bore little resemblance to her description of him. The expression on her face registered as grim resolution. It was easy to see she knew there was something weird going on. She didn’t know what it was yet, but she was determined to find out what it was.
She escorted Holmes and the hotel’s head of security to the door—or at least that’s what it sounded like. He couldn’t see the whole room, but he could hear everything that went on.
He focused on gathering strength. If he was going to pierce the veil once and for all, it needed to be tomorrow night—with someone stalking Sage, it had become imperative.
“He’s only trying to help,” Gabe said to her once they were in the SUV.
“Really? Hot news flash… accusing me of making this up is not helpful.”
“Sage, look at it from his point of view. He doesn’t know you. You’re an author, and a story like this could bring you a lot of publicity, which would boost your sales.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” she hissed.
“I believe you, but you have to admit, it’s been done before. Unofficially, Michael can do some things, but if he really starts to get into it, his superiors are going to want to know he considered all the angles and asked you.”
“I suppose so,” Sage sighed. “This trip has turned into a bit of a fiasco. Gail and I parted ways, and she’s been nasty. I’ll call him and apologize.”
“Good girl,” he said with a smile.
“I should tell you not to be a patronizing ass…”
He chuckled. “But good girls don’t say that to people trying to help them.”
Sage laughed and enjoyed the warm feeling that spread through her body. Gabriel Waverly was good company… and he was right. After he escorted her into the hotel, she dialed the DSI’s number and left an apology on his voicemail before focusing on not just getting through, but enjoying the last day. There was a meet the authors’ panel discussion this morning, a buffet lunch, then a book signing session.
“What inspired you to become an author?” asked the first person, receiving several answers.
“I was working on an offering to put before the SEC…” answered Sage. “I was a paralegal in a big, conservative D.C. law firm. I was exhausted and not getting a lot of support from my fiancé. Suddenly, I had this voice inside my head, urging me on and encouraging me to write… thus Roark Samuels was born… and the rest, as they say, is history.”
“Sage, do you think you’ll ever write anything but Roark Samuels’ stories… not that I don’t love him, but just kind of wondered.”
“Funny you should ask that. I have an idea about a group of wolf-shifters who have the ability to shift at will and don’t go through some grotesque metamorphosis. One minute the person is human, the next a wolf.”
“Are your stories based upon real-life experiences?” asked an audience member.
“Yes… not all of them mine…” There was general laughter “I think writers write best when they write about things they know, sharing with readers what something feels like, not only in the physical sense, but in the emotional one as well.”
“As a follow-up, what about what I’ve often heard said about Jane Austen not writing about a private conversation between two men because she wasn’t a man and had, therefore, never had one.”
“I think that’s true to some extent, and things were different in Jane Austen’s time. But, unlike Jane, I’ve known a lot of men… some better than others and not all in the biblical sense. I’ve talked to them, overheard conversations, and asked questions. While I can’t speak for others, I can tell you I often run things by those I know who have experienced them before putting them into a book.”
“Roark has been known to burn off energy in a kink club. Have you ever been to one, and are you planning to visit any while you’re in London?” called a person from the back of the room.
“I have been known to visit kink clubs. For me, they are a safe way to deal with stress and get my needs met without worrying about who I might be meeting and why they might want to meet me. I only frequent clubs with an excellent reputation.”
The panel discussion broke up, and one of the people in the audience hung back.
“Sage?”
Sage turned. “Hi! Did you want to ask me something?”
“I wondered if you’d ever had any trouble with stalkers. I work here in the hotel, and there’s a rumor going around someone’s after you. Aren’t you afraid?”
Sage sat down on the stage and slid off, closing the distance between them.
“Someone has decided he or she doesn’t like my books or me and has made some veiled threats, but I am not about to let any boogeyman—real or imagined—keep me from doing what I love.”
“Good for you,” she said.
“Are you joining us for lunch?” asked Sage.
“No, it’s my day off, and I kind of snuck in here. I just love your books but couldn’t afford a ticket. I hoped maybe I’d see you alone and could get you to sign one of them? I have the first one.”
Sage linked her arm in the young woman’s. “What do you say you join me at my table, then attend the signing? I have an additional ticket and will fix it with the event planner.”
“I couldn’t…”
<
br /> Sage grinned. “Sure, you could. Come on.”
The smile that broke out across her reader’s face reminded Sage why she loved her job. They walked into the dining room, and Sage ensured she had space at her table. She enjoyed those at her table, and there was an animated discussion about authors writing about things they’d never experienced.
“Sage,” asked one of those at her table, “who is that blonde who’s glaring at you?”
Sage looked to where she indicated and smiled. “That’s Gail. She used to be my publisher and handled my marketing and a lot of other things.”
“Used to be?” another asked.
“Yes, we had a rather nasty falling out, and I terminated our professional relationship.” Sage measured her words.
“Was she mean to you?”
“No, not really. She just didn’t want me to write anything other than Roark Samuels novels. I still plan to write them, but I also have a couple of ideas about a paranormal series.”
Sage enjoyed a lively and enlightening discussion with her readers, which left her feeling as though she was making the right choice. Later, during the signing, several publishers and agents approached her, slipping their business cards to her and asking for a meeting before she left London or after she returned to the States.
She shook her head. Maybe she should call Gail… try to take back what she had said. They’d done so well together. Sage felt as if she owed Gail something, loyalty perhaps. It had been Gail who had first believed in her; Gail who held her hand through the breakup with Derek and the early years of establishing herself as an author. Perhaps if Gail could see her point of view and agree to give Sage more artistic freedom, they could find their way back to a more equitable and better kind of business relationship. The entire London trip hadn’t been a fiasco. All the readers she’d spoken to had been supportive of her ideas for a paranormal series, and Sage had enjoyed not having Gail nag her about what she was eating or drinking.
Sage had finished the signing and was packing up her things when she spied Gail and approached her.
“Gail?”
“The great author speaks. Should I be flattered?”
