by Freya Barker
Grant shakes his head while he steals another fry off my plate.
We’re in the small office behind the front desk, eating the burgers and fries Grant’s new squeeze dropped off for us. I already gave my hamburger to Grant after one bite, but had been looking forward to the salty fries.
“Don’t touch,” I admonish him, slapping at his hand.
“Delicious, right?” he says, chewing happily on my food. “It’s from that new organic place down Main. Olaf took me there a few nights ago. He knows I love their elk burger.” As far as I’m concerned they can keep their elk—yuck—but apparently it’s a big hit with Grant. From the blissed out look on his face, it’s clear my friend is absolutely smitten—and not just with the burger—which is kind of sweet to see.
I just finished telling him about Mom’s hair appointment today, and the stir she caused when she walked in on the arm of a very surly and intimidating bear of a man. Poor Jake made a big mistake when he gallantly offered his arm to my mother as we left home. She immediately took a shine to him and refused to get out of the car in front of the salon, unless it was on his arm. The resulting commotion inside was enough to put a satisfied smile on Mom’s face and a deeply disgruntled scowl on Jake’s. For the entire hour and a half we were there, I had to keep my hand over my mouth so I wouldn’t bust out laughing.
I’d expected resistance when I got ready for work this afternoon, but other than, “Are you sure you’re up for it?” Jake voiced no objections. That didn’t mean I didn’t feel some apprehension myself, something Jake seemed to pick up on, but he assured me I’d have eyes on me at all times. I’m not sure how I feel about that, exactly—I find myself constantly checking my surroundings for cameras or actual people—but I’ll admit it beats being scared.
“I’d better get going,” I announce, grabbing my now empty paper plate and tossing it in the garbage.
“Be careful, please. We don’t need a repeat of last night,” Grant reminds me. Not that I needed reminding, he doesn’t even know the half of it.
Despite Jake’s assurances, I’m still a bit nervous hitting the elevator button for the second floor. If those doors open and I see anything out of the ordinary, I’m out of there, I don’t care how many eyes are supposed to be on me.
Flinching a little, I take a step back when the elevator stops and the doors slide open. The hallway looks the way it should, with every lamp burning, which is encouraging. I give myself a firm shake, before determinedly pushing my cart toward the locker rooms at the far end of the hall.
“Hey.”
I jump about a foot off the floor, and I may have yelped, in the second it takes me to recognize the voice coming from behind me.
“Jesus, shit!” I curse, bending over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
“Saw you go up the elevator and thought I’d hang around while you do this floor,” Jake says, putting a hand in the middle of my back. “Took the stairs. Sorry I startled you.”
“It’s all good,” I lie, forcing my heart rate to a normal level as I slowly straighten up, not wanting to lose his reassuring touch between my shoulder blades.
“You know you lie for shit, right?” he chuckles, sadly removing his hand and shooting me a wink, before he turns to lead the way to the locker rooms.
It takes a minute for his words to register. Is that true? Am I that transparent? If that’s the case, it would mean he knows I lied about last Sunday as well. Is that what he’s referring to? I couldn’t tell from his expression. Cautiously I follow him to the men’s room, which he quickly checks while I wait outside.
“I’ll wait,” he says, gesturing for me to enter.
He does the same for the ladies’ room and the gym, but when we get to the pool, he doesn’t let me go in alone, he walks in with me and stands guard while I clean. My stomach is cramping and I feel a little queasy, but I’m not sure if it was the elk burger or nerves, being in here again.
Other than my first few nights on the job, I’ve never had anyone watch me while I’m working. It’s a little unnerving. I’m not sure whether I’d feel this acutely aware of myself under anyone’s scrutiny, or if it’s just Jake’s dark gray eyes zoomed in on my every move that make me feel a little unstable.
Safe but shaken: that about sums up how I feel about Jake. He’s an enigma to me. A different guy from the Jake I had sitting across from me at the diner a few days ago; who kissed me when he dropped me off at my car. And he wasn’t the same guy who was all business just last night, except perhaps when he stayed with me until I fell asleep. Today I’ve seen at least three different versions of Jake, this last one being silently observant, and I honestly don’t know what to make of him.
Except he makes me feel safe.
“Thanks,” I mutter as I pass him back out to the elevators.
“Hang on one sec,” he says, as he grabs me by the arm, taking me by surprise. It’s not like we’ve exchanged more than two words to each other since he caught up with me in the hallway earlier. The ding of the arriving elevator seems to throw him for a second, but the next thing I know I’m hustled inside along with my cart. Once the doors close, and we start moving, he produces a key and fits it in the lock underneath the floor numbers on the panel. With a simple turn, the elevator comes to a stuttering stop.
“What the hell?”
“Just one more sec,” he says, holding his finger up as he pulls a cell phone from his pocket with his other hand and dials a number. “Bree? It’s me in the north elevator. Just checking something out. I’ll have it going in a minute.” Without waiting for an answer, he tucks the phone back into his pocket, slips his hands on either side of my head—his fingers tangling in the loose strands hanging down from my ponytail—and slams his mouth on mine.
I’m shocked and at first frozen, trying to wrap my head around what’s happening, but then my mind quiets and my body comes alive. My mouth opens to his probing tongue and my hands sneak around his waist where my fingers anchor in the fabric of his black T-shirt, pressing into the muscles of his back underneath.
It could be seconds or hours; I lose all sense of time, only aware of the hunger of his mouth, his warm masculine scent, and the electrical charge that seems to spark through my body.
I’m not sure who pulls back first, but we end up foreheads touching, both struggling to catch our breath.
“Holy shit,” he finally mutters, lifting his head to look me in the face. “Kissing you is like touching a live wire.” I would launch an immediate objection to that comparison, but I still can’t get words to form, which gives him a chance to add, “It fucking blows every circuit.”
That’s much better. I can’t stop the smug little smile that joins the deep blush on my face. Jake doesn’t smile, he scowls down on me, right before he turns the key on the panel, and the elevator starts moving.
“I’ll follow you home after your shift,” he orders. “Don’t walk out of the building on your own.”
Before I have a chance to react to that, the doors slide open and he slips by the cart, disappearing down the hall without another word.
No wonder I can’t figure him out, the man can’t seem to make up his own damn mind.
JAKE
“What was that all about?”
I’m half-expecting Bree’s question when I walk into the surveillance room.
“Nothing,” I answer curtly, before radically changing the subject. “If you can keep an eye on her, I’m gonna grab a couple of hours. Do we have a bed free?”
“Probably. Yanis was in here earlier when you called, he’s gotta pick up Drexler from the airport early tomorrow morning. I think he’s in 316, so that means 314 is empty.”
With a lift of my chin, but lead in my boots, I hightail it out of there before she pins me down with more questions. I do hear her throaty chuckle as the door shuts behind me.
This is how I know I fucked up. I should never have gone there again, but those loose tendrils dancing around her face and that l
ittle pink tongue sticking out between her lips as she was working eventually got to me. And fuck me if she didn’t feel and taste like a dream.
I’m done with that now, though. Too distracting, and not just for me. When you find yourself breaking rules and lying to colleagues just to steal a taste of a sweet mouth, you know you’re in trouble. Hoping my indiscretion escaped Yanis, when Bree and Dimi already seem to have my number, is a waste of time. That’s the problem with a team, its strength is defined by the weakest link—and right now—I’m the fucking weak link.
Just a few hours ago, I sat across from my boss in an impromptu meeting with both Mazur brothers, going over what little Dimas had been able to find on the second floor. Other than half a print on a can of black spray paint, in a trashcan by door to the outside patio, and a partial palm on the doorknob, there wasn’t much else. Not a lot for us to work with, and PASS doesn’t have the resources for a proper investigation the police department has. Protection and security is more our gig.
“What if it was Steele?” I suggested, giving voice to an idea that had been bouncing around my mind. “She rejected him the night before—he was pissed off—maybe he decided to teach her a lesson.”
Dimas admitted the thought had entered his mind, but Yanis seemed a bit more skeptical. He ended up busting my balls about handing off the Steele detail to his brother today, and then questioned the level of my interest in Rosie, which I told him was nothing more than professional. I lied.
Already being suspicious, I’m sure he has a pretty clear picture of what went down in that elevator just now. Not like he was my best friend before, so I really screwed the pooch on this one.
I try to be quiet when I get to the room, closing the door carefully, not even bothering to turn on the light or take off my boots when I lie down on the bed. Even so, my head barely hits the pillow when the connecting door between the two rooms opens and Yanis pokes his head through.
“I’m fucking exhausted so it’s probably not a smart idea to get into this, but it’s high fucking time you and me talk, one-on-one, tomorrow after my sit down with Drexler. Make sure you stay close.” Without waiting for a response, he slams the door shut with a bang.
So much for a few hours of shut-eye.
“READY?”
Rosie has her back to me, talking to Peabody, who’s standing behind the desk, but both heads turn in my direction when I walk up. She simply nods; avoiding eye contact, but her friend has no such problem. He meets my eyes straight on, and is not afraid to show he is pissed off. I can take a good guess what they were discussing just now.
“You know, I was all for this before,” Grant says, waving a finger from me to Rosie and back. “But that’s when I thought you were going to be a straight-up guy and not a fucking tease.”
“Grant...” she pleads, clearly flustered.
Rather than getting into a discussion when all he’s doing is telling the truth, I put my hand in the small of her back and steer her toward the exit.
“Later, Peabody,” I throw over my shoulder right before we walk outside, a very quiet Rosie beside me.
When we get to her place, she pulls into the driveway and I park at the end. I watch as she gets out and starts walking to the trailer, making a split-second decision.
“Do you have a minute?” I call out. She stops and looks at me. “Please?” I walk around the truck, open the passenger door for her, and then get back in behind the wheel.
“Jesus, that was embarrassing,” she mumbles under her breath once she’s seated in my truck, before looking at me. “I’m sorry, I—”
“Don’t,” I stop her. “You’re friend has a point, which is why we need to talk.” I know I’m taking a risk, one Yanis would not be pleased with, but Rosie deserves to know.
“No need,” she quickly interjects her hands raised defensively. “Clearly, I have no idea—”
“Do you think it might have been Steele?” I interrupt her and hear the sharp intake of breath at my question, telling me the idea is not new to her.
“Why would you say that?”
“For one, because only twenty-four hours before, in that same pool, the guy propositioned you and you turned him down. And you and I both know he could have more reason than that.”
As if I’d hit her, at those last words Rosie snaps her head away from me, pulls her shoulders up to her ears, and wraps her arms around herself protectively.
“Rosie, look at me.” I reach out and with my hand cupping her face; I slowly turn her toward me. I fucking hate seeing the fear in her eyes when she does as I ask. “I know you saw him that morning, and although he claims not to remember anything, we can’t be sure he didn’t see you too.”
“Get away from me,” she hisses, slapping my hand away from her face and scrambling for the door handle.
“It’s a complicated situation, but I’m doing my best to look after you.”
“Complicated?” she echoes, a hysterical pitch to her voice. “Looks pretty simple to me. Money talks, right? Famous actor gets himself in a pickle, and he pays you to protect his interests. Looking after me, my ass. You’re here to make sure I keep quiet.”
She finally finds the handle and scrambles out of the truck, but I’m not far behind. I catch her in the driveway and back her up against her car, bracing my arms on either side of her, and bending my head down to hers. To anyone looking, it might appear we’re in the middle of a lovers’ spat, when in reality I’m using my body to restrict her movement.
“Hear me out. I know this is fucked up, believe me. If it were up to me, I’d take you to the police station myself, so you could report what you saw. But this is not just about me, or you for that matter.” I notice she’s stopped struggling, and hope that means she’s listening, I forge on. “It’s about the hundreds of people, both crew and support staff, employees of local businesses, including your hotel, whose livelihoods would be impacted.”
“How?” I just barely hear her question, but it gives me hope.
“Steele is not just the headliner of this movie, he’s also a co-producer—he goes down, it’s likely he’ll take the entire project down with him. His name is what drew in the funds for this movie. He falls, it’ll all come down, like dominoes.”
I lift my head carefully and look down at her. Tears have gathered in her eyes, but she blinks them away.
“A man is dead. It’s not fair.” Her voice wavers. “This is a lot.”
“I know.”
“You played me.”
“At first, but—”
The ringing of my phone interrupts me, and when I reach to answer it, Rosie frees herself from my hold. I watch her open the door to the trailer and slip inside.
“Yep.”
“Where the fuck are you?” Yanis barks without introducing himself.
“I’ll be there in ten.”
I hang up and spend my drive back to the hotel trying to come up with a way out of this mess—without success.
CHAPTER 8
JAKE
“Drexler is in a meeting with the director as we speak. He wants to switch up the schedule.”
By the time I got back to the Spring Ridge, it was just coming up on six this morning, and Yanis already had everyone assembled in room 314.
“Switching up, how?” Bree, who looks a little rough after working through the night, asks.
“By moving the outdoor shoots scheduled for the end of the month at McInnis Conservation Area up to Monday, and leaving all remaining indoor scenes for last,” Yanis fills her in.
“Maybe the more important question is why?”
Every eye in the room turns to me.
“Take a wild guess,” Yanis offers, his face a stoic mask.
“He wants to get away from the heat.”
“More accurately, he wants Steele away from the heat—especially after I filled him in on this last incident—but yes, the objective is to get away and let things cool down,” he acknowledges.
“Right, so here’s
the way it’ll go down,” Dimas jumps in, taking over for his brother as he outlines everyone’s assignments for the trip back to McInnis.
I’m surprised to find I’m no longer assigned to Steele, probably a good idea. In fact, I’m not scheduled to head back to McInnis with the rest of them at all. Am I being fired?
Dimas picks up on my confusion and walks over to me, while everyone files out of the room.
“Talk to my brother,” he says, and walks out as well, leaving me to face Yanis.
“I fucked up,” I admit grudgingly. I’m fully expecting to get my walking papers, so I may as well toss the cards on the table.
“Yes, you did.”
“This situation is fucked up.”
“Yes, it is,” he agrees. “And more so because, for some goddamn reason, you pick this fucking time to get distracted, and let this fucking broad turn your head. What the fuck, Hutch? You’re always so fucking disciplined and unmoving—always the reliable one—I’ve never seen you like this.”
Confused, I do what I do best, I attack.
“What are you talking about? Reliable? You’ve been on my case since Dimi brought me on. Just waiting for a reason to send me packing.”
“You’re an idiot,” he spits out. “Do you honestly think you’d be working for me, in the first place, if I didn’t trust you? If I didn’t think you were an asset?” He paces the floor, shaking his head, before he stops in front of me and pokes a finger in my chest. “You’ve carried that chip on your shoulder, and that guilt in your heart, like a goddamn badge of honor long enough. I asked Dimi to drag your ass out of whatever hole you were digging for yourself, and bring you home. You were out of control after he got his leg blown off, letting that guilt eat you alive. It was bad enough to have one brother come home on a stretcher, I wasn’t about to sit by and wait for another to be brought back in a goddamn bag.”
Stunned and slack-mouthed, I watch as Yanis swings around and plows a fist through the wall. In the silence that follows, all I hear is his heavy breathing as he keeps his back turned.
