Читать книгу Escorted By The Ranger - C.J. Miller - Страница 11
ОглавлениеMarissa slept better knowing Kit and Griffin were in her guest bedroom, but Jack sleeping in her living room felt odd. He had insisted on being in a location between the front and back doors to keep an eye on the house and who came and went even though he would have been more comfortable in her other guest bedroom.
After checking the doors and windows on the main floor, Jack had sat on the couch. His laptop was open in front of him, but it seemed to interest him only slightly. He hadn’t stared at her. He hadn’t looked at her. Marissa simultaneously liked that and found it irritating. Men often paid attention to her and she was curious why Jack seemed uninterested.
Before she had gone to bed, she had offered him a drink. He had declined.
Marissa rolled over, adjusting her pillow to get more comfortable.
It wasn’t just thoughts of Jack keeping her awake. Every time she closed her eyes, she thought of Avery, picturing the last words they had spoken to each other, wishing she could have talked to Avery about what had happened with Rob. Deep sadness and grief cut through her and regret followed close on its heels.
The police would find evidence at the scene and Avery’s attacker would be found. Pictures taken backstage had to have captured something. Marissa flipped her pillow to the cooler side. She tried breathing exercises to slow her heart rate and induce a state of relaxation. Usually, she slept fantastically in her house. She traveled more than half the year and sleeping in her bed was a luxury. Tonight, sleep was elusive.
Her phone buzzed. She looked at the display. It was a message from Ambrose. You awake?
She typed a reply. Yes.
I am sorry about Avery. You were friends for a long time.
She and Avery had been close. Marissa should have worked harder to repair the relationship. Rob wasn’t worth the loss of a friend. When they hadn’t been on speaking terms, she had told herself she was fine. But it had hurt. Though Marissa had been through two heart-wrenching divorces, Avery’s friendship had been the one solid relationship she’d had. How are you?
In shock. Can’t imagine not seeing her again.
Her chest felt tight. This couldn’t be fixed. That acknowledgment devastated her all over again.
Marissa heard a creak outside her door and she tensed. Kit or Griffin might be checking on her. Or was Jack patrolling her town house for security issues? Several seconds of silence passed.
She heard another creak.
I have to go. Talk soon. She sent the message and squeezed her eyes closed. The noises were the house settling. She was safe.
Marissa felt a hand on her arm. She opened her eyes and came face-to-face with a man she didn’t recognize.
Before she could scream, he clamped his hand over her mouth, pushing her back into her pillow, pressing her hard into the mattress. Her heart thundered and she tried not to panic. Pushing at his hand, she couldn’t get his weight off her. He would suffocate her!
The door to her bedroom slammed open, light from the hallway spearing inside, and Jack launched himself at her assailant. The relief of his heaviness being tossed from her consumed her.
Marissa scrambled to move away, her sheets tangling around her. She screamed out to Kit, a warning in the case the assailant wasn’t working alone.
Griffin barreled into the room.
“One assailant. He’s down,” Jack said.
Griffin turned on the lights just as her sister appeared in the doorway.
On the floor at Jack’s feet was her assailant, and he wasn’t moving. Was this the man who had killed Avery? He had close-cropped black hair, a small nose and thin lips. He wore all black from his turtleneck to his sneakers. He didn’t look familiar.
Marissa’s heart was racing and she felt dizzy. “Is he dead?”
“No,” Jack said. “Maybe he can tell us why he’s here and what this has to do with Avery.”
“Breathe slower or you’ll pass out,” Kit said, setting her hand on Marissa’s back.
Marissa had been taking short puffs of air, but she finally inhaled deeply and focused again on the man on the floor in her bedroom. “I don’t know him.”
“An assassin?” Jack asked.
Griffin nodded once swiftly, agreeing with Jack.
Marissa looked between the three of them. “He was sent to kill me? How do you know?”
“Instinct,” Jack said.
Kit’s eyes were narrowed with concern. “It will be okay. I promise. We’ll figure this out.”
Marissa looked at Jack. “Guess you won’t be booking a flight out.”
Jack shook his head. “I’m settling in for the duration.”
* * *
Jack didn’t follow gossip columns, but he had read up on Marissa on the flight to New York. He wouldn’t call watching over Marissa a mission. Though the intruder tonight had established Kit was correct in believing there was a real threat against Marissa, if Avery’s killer was the same man who attacked Marissa in her home, they could wrap this up, get the answers they needed, and Jack could be home by morning.
Jack didn’t know what to make of Marissa. Gorgeous, obviously, but she wasn’t arrogant about it. She was confident. He didn’t know how many women would be comfortable in a thin-strapped tank top and white silk pants while talking to strangers. The police had arrived at her home and had arrested her attacker. It was the second time in twenty-four hours that Marissa was making a statement to the police. The one upside to the assailant attempting to kill her was that she was no longer the prime suspect in Avery’s murder.
Marissa was talking with one of the officers on the scene. She spoke with her hands, her movements and face expressive.
Marissa was every bit as beautiful in person as she was in photos and magazines. Hard not to picture her wearing a swimsuit or lingerie like she did in her ads. Those were hard to ignore. They emphasized her best features: her face, her long hair, her curvy, toned body.
Jack had expected for this project to involve drama, mostly that of her making, but that wasn’t the case. The perpetrator had been arrested and they might be in the clear. A short assignment was fine with him. It had been a good distraction from the problems with Bianca and his last mission.
After the police left, Jack, Kit, Griffin and Marissa assembled in the kitchen. Kit had prepared tea. Marissa had a huge kitchen with white cabinets and black shiny countertops. Her dining room was expansive with vaulted ceilings, three of the sides lined with windows and the fourth open to the kitchen. Jack circled the room, closing the roman shades. No point in giving a marksman a clear shot of Marissa. She watched him but didn’t question what he was doing.
Marissa sat at the head of the ten-person table. She had put on a short purple robe and wore light purple slippers on her feet. Her hands were shaking and Jack fought the urge to put his arm around her. If she knew him better, she would know she was safe. He had a sixth sense about his clients. When trouble lurked, he sensed it and reacted quickly.
“The police said they’ll run his prints and try to get an ID. He wasn’t talking,” Kit said. “Reaffirms our suspicion that he was hired.”
Marissa took a sip of the tea her sister had set in front of her. “I don’t know why anyone would hire a man to kill me.”
“We need to find the connection to Avery,” Griffin said.
Jack agreed. He didn’t know enough about either woman to guess the motive.
“Avery and I were friends,” Marissa said. “But we hadn’t talked much recently.”
“Why’s that?” Jack asked, sensing she was holding back information.
Marissa was tapping her heel against the floor. “Avery and my boyfriend slept together. Rob cheated on me. We fought about it. The friendship was over. I let the tabloids speculate and didn’t talk to many people about it.”
Love triangles and jealousy were fuel for anger. “Could this be career jealousy from someone in your field?” Jack asked.
Marissa shrugged. “Maybe. There’s always someone who misses out on a product campaign or doesn’t get a spot they want in a show.”
“Or a stranger who became fixated on you and Avery,” Jack said.
Marissa shivered. “Could be.”
After tossing around a few more theories, Kit hugged her sister. “We have to pack for our flight. Unless you want me to reschedule?”
“Is it that late already? Or should I say that early? Don’t reschedule. I’ll be fine. I’ll call you.”
The sisters hugged and then Griffin and Kit left the room. Jack was alone with Marissa. She swirled the tea in her cup. Her eyes were dark with exhaustion.
“I should try and go back to sleep,” Marissa said. She rose slowly, bracing her hands on the table as she stood.
“Let me check your bedroom and bathroom. Then I’ll sweep the house again,” Jack said. He followed Marissa up the stairs, looking away from her perfectly round rear end and her robe swishing around her legs as she climbed.
Her bedroom smelled faintly of spices. Jack couldn’t have named which ones. With the exception of the unmade bed, the room was tidy and on the gray walls were black-and-white prints of famous architectural landmarks: the Taj Mahal in Agra, the Palace of Versailles and St. Peter’s Basilica in Rome. Jack checked the windows, moving aside the semisheer curtains to ensure they were latched and locked.
“How did you know someone was in my room?” Marissa asked, sitting on her bed, legs over the side of the mattress.
“I heard the creaking of floorboards and suspected you were either awake or someone had gotten inside,” Jack said. He had wanted to check on her in either case.
The police had traced the location of the breach to a balcony on the second floor. The perpetrator had climbed to it and slipped inside a guest bedroom by forcing the nails from the outdated lock and opening the sliding glass door.
“You saved my life. Thank you,” Marissa said. When she spoke her gratitude, it sounded almost sensual.
The back of his neck heated. “Glad I could be of service,” Jack said. She must get tired of men staring at her, fantasizing about her, but it was easy to do. Her voice was gentle yet strong and her eyes were expressive.
Marissa rubbed her temples. “I can’t believe this happened. I take precautions. I’m a private person.” She laughed, the soft sound of bells. “I know that sounds crazy, because my picture is everywhere, but I feel like there’s a public me and a private me. The tabloids dig around into my life and my relationships, but few people know me, the real me.”
She didn’t need to justify anything to him. He could understand the need to keep secrets, whether it was because the safety of the country required it or knowing it could harm someone. “Are you telling me there’s something about the real you and Avery that could be bringing this on? Or something in your public life?”
Marissa stood from the bed and walked to her dresser. She fiddled with the photo frames on top of it. “I don’t know. Hard to say.”
“Tell me what the problem could be.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Who have Avery and I angered enough that they’d want to kill me? I have two ex-husbands. I have money, but if I’m dead my brother and sister inherit it all, and I know they didn’t do this. I’ve told the police I don’t know who would want to hurt Avery.”
Jack listened, making a mental note to check on the brother. He would have been investigated before Kit was given her security clearance and closing the loop on him would be straightforward. The ex-husbands could be involved.
“Beyond that, I don’t know. I’ve had a few stalkers, people who send me creepy letters and make threats. Some who are borderline unnerving, like asking me to their prom or out on a date with some aggressive wording, but hard to consider that a real threat.”
“I’ll need to see those letters,” Jack said. Leave no stone unturned.
Marissa sighed. “I’ll ask my PR manager to send them to you. I don’t read them. I quit that form of self-cruelty years ago.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Jack said.
“I’ve never been more glad to be leaving the city,” Marissa said.
Jack hadn’t been given the details of this assignment yet and her travel schedule was news to him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m flying to Seabrook tomorrow morning for a jewelry shoot. Or rather, later this morning. It’s a small coastal town in New Hampshire. I’ve been there before. It’s a charming place,” Marissa said.
“Who else knows your travel plans?” Jack asked. Worry pricked at him.
Two attacks had occurred in a short time frame. Jack knew too well how persistent and devious some people could be. More attacks could be coming.
“My agent. My bodyguards. The people who booked the gig. My stylist. My makeup artist. A few friends,” Marissa said.
“Change the location and tell only the people who need to know,” Jack said.
“Change the location? I can’t do that. Seabrook is the hometown of the jeweler and the inspiration for his designs. A team is on location for the shoot already. A hundred-million dollars in jewelry is being delivered and guarded by a private security firm. The details have been in the works for months.”
Marissa hadn’t had time to fully process what had happened to her. An attempt on her life required extra precautions. “Call your agent. Have him or her get someone else to do the shoot,” Jack said.
Marissa balled her fists and narrowed her eyes. “That’s not possible. My professional reputation is at stake. If I don’t show up to jobs, I won’t be hired for future gigs. The modeling industry is small and everyone knows everyone. Rumors will spread. The designer who wants me to model his jewelry asked for me personally. I won’t let him down.”
“You’re Marissa,” Jack said.
Her hands moved to her hips. “What does that mean?”
Her fame, beauty and success came with benefits. “People will make exceptions for you.”
“I work hard and honor my commitments. I’ve gotten where I am because I’m reliable and responsible.” Hostility dripped from her voice.
He sensed pushing her more would send her over the edge. “I didn’t mean to offend you. We’ll change your flight and hotel. Maybe that will be enough to throw anyone following you off your trail,” Jack said. Most of his previous clients were more calloused. His boss had mentioned that he could use some softening around the edges. This was his opportunity to show he could handle all types of clients.
“I’ll agree to those changes,” Marissa said. She sat again on the bed and looked at her alarm clock. “No point in going back to sleep now.”
Being in her private space, he was aware of a boundary shifting. He shouldn’t linger in her bedroom. It was making him think irrational thoughts, like of how it would feel to touch her or kiss her. “Rest while you can. I’ll make the arrangements.” He left her room, closing the door behind him before he did something he’d regret.
* * *
Marissa tilted her head back and turned it, arching her back. The sun’s rays were beating down on her and the heavy sparkling diamond necklace she was wearing. Despite the brightness, in the crisp New Hampshire air, she was cold. A burnt orange bikini provided little protection from the wind. Outdoor heaters blew to keep goose bumps off her skin. The sounds of the waves rolling onto the beach were melodic and soothing. The beige of the sand swept into snow-dusted dunes and gray-and-tan marbled rocks.
The hardest task was keeping the sadness out of her eyes. Avery was dead and Marissa wouldn’t have the opportunity to make amends with her. She’d heard people on the set whispering about the murder and her stomach twisted with grief. Clarice was working this event as well and she had much to say on the matter, eager to discuss it and vent some of her sadness. Rumors swirled despite not having any official information on the case.
Marissa’s home intruder had admitted he was hired by someone he didn’t know. He had been sent to kill her. Marissa tried not to let that sink too deeply in to her psyche. Except for the incident with Rob and Avery, Marissa didn’t start trouble with friends or colleagues. Her divorces had been over long ago and any animosity had faded with time.
The wind blew across the water, sending a chill down her spine. Marissa thought of heated things. Soup. Hot chocolate. And Jack, who was standing about four yards away. He was wearing a dark coat that didn’t hide his muscular shape. Strong shoulders and trim hips, his stride was powerful and every movement deliberate. Every few minutes, he changed his position, circling the area. She didn’t believe that trouble had followed her. Jack believed it had. He had negotiated for the shoot to take place a quarter of a mile from the previously planned location. With the additional traffic the crew brought, it wouldn’t be hard to find her.
Marissa felt safer with Jack. Serious, rarely smiling, he moved quickly and thought ahead. He didn’t look at her much, but she found herself looking at him quite a bit. Marissa tried not to be arrogant about her appearance or assume that everyone found her attractive. Her job revolved around her looks and she had lucked out in that department. Most of the men on the set were staring at her. Jack was looking at everything else.
She had traveled from New York to New Hampshire with Jack and he had kept his questions and comments about her, Avery, the incident in her apartment and the changes to her travel plans.
She sensed she rubbed him the wrong way and wasn’t his type. He would go for a rough-and-tumble woman, salt of the earth, low maintenance. Marissa was the definition of high maintenance. She liked sleep and her beauty products and her fitness regimen. When she was stressed, she liked time at a spa.
Jack wasn’t paying attention to her and it bothered her. Not able to put her finger on why since he wasn’t her type either. He hadn’t shaved this morning, he didn’t go out of his way to be charismatic or charming and he was not interested in her outside of their professional involvement. Dressed appropriately, his clothes lacked a fashion sense, but he wore them well. Dark gray pants and a black T-shirt; a black windbreaker that concealed his gun.
“Marissa, eyes,” the photographer said.
Marissa had been squinting. Jack glanced in her direction. She refocused on showing the jewelry in the best light.
The photographer dropped his camera to his side and sighed. “This is boring. We need a different set. I want to do something daring. Not look like we’re schlepping shopping-mall jewelry.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed. Marissa stood. Three assistants started moving around the boxes and light reflectors.
Clarice jogged over with a plush robe. “Want this?”
Marissa shook her head. It was harder to get warm and then peel off the robe and be freezing again. Anyway, it would smudge her makeup and ruffle her hair. “Thanks, but I’m okay.” The heaters were helping, but her toes were cold and she wiggled them.
“Probably only thirty more minutes with the sun’s rays in the right position,” Clarice said.
They had been on the set for hours. “I hope we have some good shots.”
“Weird on the set today,” Clarice said. “I can’t stop thinking about Avery. She’s on everyone’s mind. It’s hard to focus on other things. Business as usual feels strange.”
“I know what you mean,” Marissa said. It was simultaneously quieter, but with more behind-the-hand whispers.
“Have you heard anything else?” Clarice asked.
Marissa shook her head. “Avery’s mother sent me a message about the memorial service.” The woman didn’t know she and Avery hadn’t been speaking and she had asked Marissa to say a few words about Avery at the service.
“I’ve been asking around, but no one seems to know what happened.” Clarice stared at her hard as if expecting her to reveal an important detail.
“The police will figure it out,” Marissa said. She hoped they would soon. The man who had been inside her town house was denying any involvement in Avery’s murder.
“What about the bodyguard?” Clarice asked.
“Jewelry guards, you mean?” Marissa said. The jewelry had been escorted to the site by two burly looking, highly intimidating men.
“Not them. What about your new bodyguard? What’s his story?” Clarice asked.
“His story?” Marissa asked. She didn’t know much about Jack.
“Is he married or does he have a girlfriend? No wedding ring,” Clarice said.
Marissa hadn’t asked. “He was a referral.” She was curious about him, too. Not her business, but he hadn’t taken personal phone calls on the trip to Seabrook. A wife or girlfriend would call now and then.
“He doesn’t talk to anyone. He looks around and watches,” Clarice said.
“He’s making sure everything and everyone is safe,” Marissa said.
Clarice smiled. “After what happened to Avery, I’m glad for the extra eyes on us. But maybe when he’s off the clock, he would be willing to talk more. When does his shift end?”
Possessiveness and a hint of jealousy nipped at her. Marissa tried to squash it. Clarice was being friendly. It was in her nature. “Not shift work. He’s been hired to stay with me.”
A puzzled expression crossed Clarice’s face. “All right. I’ll try to get his number and call him. I assume he’ll have time off.”
The photographer clapped his hands and Marissa hurried to the restaged set. Jack could be interested in Clarice. She was sweet and fun. Marissa looked at Jack again.
This time, he wasn’t observing. He was running at her, screaming, “Get down, get down!”
Marissa heard sharp cracks exploding, like fireworks in the sky.
Jack caught her around the waist, throwing her to the ground and covering her with his body.
The cold sand pressed in to her back. Jack had his gun in his hand and was aiming it away from her and the water. Astride her while protecting her with his body, he reached to his other side and pulled out his phone, tapping the screen with his thumb.
“What is the meaning of this?” the photographer asked, marching forward. His hair was standing on end, as if he had run his hand through it too many times.
The squeal of tires from the parking lot.
Marissa struggled to sit. Jack hadn’t moved. The heat of his body burned through her. She wiggled, trying to push him off her.
“He’s gone,” Jack said, rolling to his feet. He slid his phone away and slipped his gun into its holster. He reached for her hand to help her up.
“Who?” the photographer asked. “What is going on?”
The guards for the jewelry and her other two bodyguards had moved. They seemed unsure what to do, waiting for Jack to direct them. He had that type of presence. Confusion was clear on the faces around her. Jack had created a scene. Did he believe there had been a threat? Or had he overreacted to something?
Jack pointed to the crates draped in fabric behind him. Marissa followed his extended hand. Were those bullet holes in the pink-and-purple cloth? Three holes peppered the front.
“What happened?” Marissa asked.
“Two men approached from up the beach. Is anyone hurt?” Jack asked.
A murmur around them of “no” and “we’re fine.”
The photographer’s mouth was hanging open. “Someone shot at me? Does this have to do with Avery?”
Jack cleared his throat. “Two men parked in the lot behind that sand dune. They were waved away by security to move farther down the beach. They circled back on foot. I’m sending a description of the attackers and their car to the police.” He met Marissa’s gaze. “We need to move to a safer location.”
“We need to finish the photo shoot,” the photographer said.
“You’ll have to use one of the pictures you took. You have plenty,” Jack said. He stared, waiting for the photographer to argue.
The photographer sighed. “A worse photographer would be dead in the water, but I’m sure I have something I can use.”
Standing close to her, Jack escorted Marissa to the tent where the security guards for the jewelry helped her remove the million-dollar pieces and place them into protective containers. As they inventoried and inspected each item, Clarice brought her a pair of yoga pants and a zip-up hoodie.
Marissa put them on, along with her sunglasses. “Where to?” she asked Jack.
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Jack said.
He slung an arm over her shoulder and she winced.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I think I have sand burn on my shoulder from when you tackled me,” Marissa said.
Jack faced her, and unzipped her hoodie. Though he had seen her wearing next to nothing a few minutes before, the action struck her as intimate. Her skin prickled and lust sent a warm shiver over her. Jack lifted the fabric off her shoulder and visually examined the scraped skin. “Hope this doesn’t mean you’ll have trouble at other jobs.” He set his hand on her arm and the contact set off a shower of sparks.
The connection and the attraction were strong. His gaze lingered on her face and the heat in his eyes felt like a physical touch.
Marissa looked at her shoulder. The skin was red, but it would heal quickly with some ointment. “They can airbrush it out if it shows in pictures.”
“You should call your sister in the car and let her know what happened,” Jack said.
The idea of worrying Kit didn’t thrill her. “Maybe we shouldn’t bother her with this. She’ll worry more.”
“She’ll read about it in my report,” Jack said.
“You’re sending my sister a report?”
“Daily reports under these circumstances are standard.”
“Reports to whom?” Marissa asked. She was increasingly curious about Kit’s work. Jack may give something away.
“Your sister is copied on the reports,” Jack repeated.
“You work for the same company. What company is that?” Marissa asked.
“A car company,” Jack said.
Marissa rolled her eyes. He was giving her the party line, but she had time to work on him. “I’ll call her. Is there someone you need to call?”
They had spent time together and she knew little about him. Usually, she built better rapport with the people in her life.
“No one,” Jack said.
“Wife? Girlfriend?” Marissa asked, thinking of Clarice’s questions.
“No one,” Jack repeated. “I’ll have someone pick up your belongings at the hotel.”
Where would they spend the night? He was being evasive. “I need to be in New York tomorrow. It’s Avery’s memorial service.” She couldn’t miss it, although she was dreading it. She’d need to say goodbye and she wasn’t ready to do that. Part of her was harboring denial.
“I’ll get you there,” Jack said.
Marissa bumped him with her hip. It was like moving against iron. “When you want to be amenable, you’re a good guy.”
Jack glanced at her, meeting her gaze. “You don’t know anything about me.”
His stare was intense and she felt it all the way through her. Her stomach tightened and warmth curled through her. “Are you saying you are not a good guy? ’Cause I’m pretty sure my sister wouldn’t let a psychopath watch my back.”
The jewelry guards were closing and locking the pieces of jewelry into containers, snap, click and lock. The waves beat against the sand and the hum of the heaters was low. Marissa was in her own space with Jack.
“I know how to do my job. That’s all you need to be concerned about.”
His tone was brusque. Marissa liked him, which fit a pattern with her. Her ex-husbands had been difficult people. The challenges of complex people intrigued her. Michael had been a musician and his volatile emotions brought intensity to their relationship. She had needed someone more calm and stable. Elliott had been sweet, but he had been possessive. Though his absolute attention and focus on her had made her feel cherished, he’d hated sharing her with the world and given her job, privacy had been in short supply. Marissa wished she could fall for a simple, even-tempered man.
Though Jack seemed in control of his emotions, she sensed a fire in him. Marissa went for broke. “Have I done something to offend you?” If they were going to be spending time together, better to clear the air.
“No.”
It was hard to continue the discussion from a single word. “Then why are you being so abrupt?”
“I don’t follow,” Jack said. “You hired me to do a job. I’ve done that job. Twice.”
He had performed well at his job. Most of the people she worked with, Marissa became close to over time. Jack wasn’t having it. “Do I irritate you?” Marissa asked.
“You’re a client,” Jack said.
“That’s not an answer,” Marissa said.
“It is. I don’t have feelings of any type for clients.”
Marissa’s heart fell and her emotional response told her she had developed a crush on him. Losing her head to someone she had known briefly under difficult circumstances was her specialty. Unlike her past relationships, Jack was bent on freezing her out.
* * *
Jack had protected dozens of people over the course of his career and Marissa was one of the most kind and considerate. She didn’t keep distance between herself and who she worked with. She made millions of dollars having her picture taken. Under the traumatic circumstances, she had handled the shoot in New Hampshire well. No complaining about the weather or that she was wearing next to nothing or that she had almost been killed the night before.
That little bikini she’d worn would haunt him for the rest of his life. He hadn’t seen a woman wear a few scraps of fabric so well. Jewelry held little interest for him, but the way she wore it made it entirely too appealing.
Marissa was nothing like Lacy. It had been seven years since Lacy had broken his heart and taken off for Los Angeles, hoping to score a job as an actress. The last he had heard, she was working as an assistant in a recording studio. Jack resented that she had thrown away their relationship for a chance to be an actress. She hadn’t studied acting. Hadn’t been in a play. Hadn’t tried out for anything. Moving to Los Angeles and being the lead in a successful television series was the dream. Beautiful, and a head-turner in Springfield, couldn’t compete with the thousands of beautiful, talented women already looking for those roles.
“You seem upset. Are you upset?” Marissa asked.
Jack kept boundaries with clients and she pressed them by asking too many questions.
“Someone attacked you. I’m concerned about who else might figure out where your next job is and try again,” Jack said.
“Have you worked with other models?” Marissa asked.
She was digging around about his life and he wished she was more narcissistic. Droning on about herself would be easier. Didn’t most people busy themselves playing games on their phones or texting friends or checking social media updates? Marissa rarely touched her phone. “You are the first model.”
“How’s that been so far?” Marissa asked.
“All that matters is that you’re alive and unharmed,” Jack said.
“Thank you, that is so nice,” Marissa said with a genuine smile.
He wasn’t aiming to be nice, only honest.
Marissa played with the hem of her shirt. “There will be a lot of people at Avery’s service. What if one of them is her killer?”
“It’s possible. But you’ll be safe. You have me.”
“Have you? I didn’t realize you were mine.” She winked at him and laughed.
Flirtation must come easily to her. Men probably fell at her feet. “I’m only yours until this is over.”
Marissa frowned. “Won’t be the first time a man walks away from me.”
That gave him pause. “I would think you’d have no trouble finding relationships.”
She smirked. “Finding them isn’t the problem. Making them work is hard. I have terrible luck picking men.”
He had read she’d been married before. It had gone through his mind that she must be flighty. Unless her ex-husbands had something to do with Avery’s murder, it wasn’t his concern what had happened. “Your sister picked me to help you, so maybe this will work out okay.”
* * *
Avery’s memorial service loomed and weighed on Marissa. For now, sleeping soundly wasn’t possible. Her agent had offered to contact her doctor for a prescription for sleeping pills. Not wanting for her thoughts to be cloudy, she’d declined. After showering, she dressed in a black high-neck sheath dress that fell below her knees.
She slicked her hair into a low bun, twisting her hair and pining it into place. Her makeup was simple and light. The musical jewelry box on her dresser pinged and Marissa’s chest felt tight. Avery had given her the box for Christmas the year before. Marissa hadn’t put jewelry in it and she had considered tossing it after Avery’s betrayal. But it played one of Marissa’s favorite songs and she had felt sentimental about the gift.
Marissa finished getting dressed, selected her handbag, shoes, a pashmina and a simple necklace. After checking her appearance, she decided she was ready.
She sucked in her breath at the sight of Jack waiting by the front door. He was wearing a black suit, white shirt and appropriately demure tie. He had shaved and his hair was combed and fell to the tops of his ears.
“The rest of your security team went ahead. The funeral home has been swept and security is tight. We’ll stay vigilant,” Jack said.
He offered his arm and she took it, slipping her hand around his elbow and exiting the house with him. The warmth of holding on to him and the security of knowing he was protecting her were a comfort. He smelled of sandalwood, the light fragrance of his aftershave.
Leaning her head closer, she inhaled. “You smell good.”
“Thank you. Same goes.”
He opened her car door, helped her inside and circled to the driver’s seat. It was a basic sedan with dark tinted windows and comfortable leather seats. She had purchased the car for transportation around the city when she wanted to go unnoticed and so there was nothing remarkable about the outside of the car and the inside was comfortable enough to sit for hours when she was stuck in traffic or when driving it to photo shoots closer than a plane ride away.
“Do you have any suspicions about who might have hurt Avery? I’m not looking for evidence and proof. I want to know who you think might have been involved. I can better protect you if I have an accurate picture of the situation,” Jack said.
An accurate picture of her life included many volatile characters. Models, photographers, musicians and the occasional brush with professional athletes and actors. Some had built their reputation on being difficult and others liked to make headlines. “I don’t know who will show up today. Less successful models were jealous of Avery. She was the face of famous brands and she worked the good gigs.”
“Like you,” Jack said.
“Like me, but also different. Avery dealt with problems more directly. When I’m working with someone who doesn’t like me, I ignore it. Avery liked to engage and confront a problem. She would get into screaming matches and a few times, she refused to pose with certain models. Since Avery is more in demand than most others, she was responsible for lost jobs.” Marissa didn’t like to spread gossip, but Avery had worked with younger, less experienced models who had walked off the set in tears and had lost the booking and a six-figure payday.
“If you see anyone at the memorial who you know had a score to settle with Avery, give me a heads-up. Although it’s unlikely an enemy will show up looking to offer their sincere condolences.”
But on the off chance he or she did, Jack would be close by. Marissa was used to standing on her own. Even when she had been married, travel and work schedules meant she hadn’t often been in the company of her now ex-husbands. That might have been part of their problem, no real intimacy or sustained closeness.
Marissa was determined to have loyalty, trust, intimacy and love in her next relationship. She’d move past lust and desire into real, amazing love. Her skin tingled at the thought of Jack as the object of her affection. To pursue Jack was a mistake. She had selected the wrong man time and again and when she next fell for someone, she would make sure it was real and lasting and not a fling.
* * *
Marissa hadn’t known Avery to attend religious services of any type, but her memorial service was being held at Saint John’s, a megachurch in downtown New York. The building was constructed of brown and beige bricks in a gothic style that was imposing and dark. Entering the church, Marissa felt she was transported to another place. As historic and unwelcoming as the exterior was, the inside was modern and fresh, the walls painted pale gray and covered in posters and prints about salvation and new life. Coffee and beverages were being served from carts. The memorial service was being held in the main auditorium, which seated three thousand. Chairs had been cleared from the center to allow mourners to mingle.
On the left stage, a band was setting up. On the center stage were life-size prints detailing the progression of Avery’s career, from age fourteen to the present. Each photograph was angled under the best lighting, as if Avery herself was doing a photo shoot. It was unsettling how lifelike the photographs were.
The room was adorned in gold trim, the reflection from the metallic accents bouncing light around the room, the shine second only to the scent of flowers. Huge arrangements lined the stage, hung on easels, sat on posts and covered the floor space around the pictures.
Marissa cringed when she noticed the band’s name. Her ex-husband Michael’s band was performing. Avery’s mother hadn’t mentioned it. Though they had changed names and members over the last fifteen years, Michael was the lead singer and guitarist and proficient on the piano. He was iconic in the music industry. Though she and Michael had been married for about five minutes, it had been dramatic and heartbreaking. Their entire relationship had played out in the tabloids. Marissa had been young and naïve, and had given interviews about her relationship and said far too much. Two months into their relationship, she was claiming to love him and calling him her soul mate. Her words had come back to haunt her during their breakup and subsequent divorce.
The one detail that had never made it to the public eye was that after their quickie Vegas wedding, the following week, he had tattooed her name on his left posterior. Laser surgery would have removed it by now. Marissa and Michael hadn’t spoken in years and that awkwardness arced between them.
Marissa bumped into Jack and straightened.
“Sorry,” she said.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I see an old friend. Not an old friend. Ex-husband. The second one,” Marissa said. She took a deep breath. Standing in a room with Michael shouldn’t be hard. If he was sober, he would respect the space and remain reverent. If he was high, she expected rudeness, possibly some yelling.
“Could he have anything to do with this?” Jack asked.
Her exes didn’t care enough to lash out at her. They gained nothing from killing Avery and then targeting her. Their divorces were final. Based on what she had seen, they had moved on with their lives.
“My ex-husband didn’t kill Avery.”
“Did he know Avery?” Jack asked.
She and Avery had been friends for decades. “Yes, but they got along with her.”
“Tell me about your ex-husbands,” he said.
She gestured around. “Here?” She didn’t want to talk about them. It made her feel silly at her age to be married and divorced—twice. The first time, she had been young, naïve and looking for something stable and real and Elliott had been grounded and calm. The second time, she had been caught up in a wild affair. Michael had swept her off her feet.
“Or elsewhere and later. Your call.”
She wanted to put off the inevitable, indefinitely, but Kit may have already told him some of the more sordid details. For that matter, an internet search would fill in the blanks. “The first is a bar owner in Chicago. Elliott and I were married for three years. He hated my travel and after a while, it bothered him that I was too recognizable and that meant we rarely had privacy. The second is Michael, who is over there. He and I traveled too much to see each other enough to make it work. Opposite schedules.” To list her marriages in those simplified terms, she felt like they were part of some past life. Each had affected her and every time, she had believed in love and forever.
A piano played a familiar tune and Marissa tried not to stare. Michael was seated at the piano bench, warming up for what Marissa expected would be a big performance. Michael didn’t do small.
“We don’t need to stress about this. Say goodbye to Avery now and give yourself this time to focus on her,” Jack said. “Do you want me to keep him away from you?”
That wasn’t necessary though having Jack at her side gave her a bump in feeling safe. “I can handle Michael.” Marissa had enjoyed the distraction of the conversation. The situation was overwhelming. As she walked through the room, she sensed Jack at her back.
“Marissa!” Ambrose’s voice. She spun on her heel and he wrapped her in a tight hug. Ambrose was slender and tall, with curly dark hair he kept cut short. It was graying around the temples. His eyes were blue and narrow and he rarely smiled.
“Ambrose, hi,” Marissa said. “How are you doing with all this?”
Ambrose squeezed her hands in his. “Worried about you. It’s a huge shock. I’ve been lying low and trying to process it. Do you know I’ve spoken with the police three times?”
“I’ve spoken to them, too,” Marissa said.
“I see you’ve acquired a sexy new bodyguard. Tell me you’re having an affair with him,” Ambrose said, looking over Marissa’s shoulder and lifting his eyebrows in interest.
Jack folded his arms across his chest. Though it was not likely his intention, his pumped biceps and forearms flexed beneath his suit jacket. The position was enticing and made her think irrational thoughts, like about running her hand along his arm.
“Of course I’m not,” Marissa said.
“Disappointing,” Ambrose said.
Conversation became impossible as Michael’s band—the current formation calling themselves Silver Sundays—began a song. The lyrics, while not specifically using Avery’s name, were about a beautiful woman whose life was cut short, but who lived forever in roses. They could have played a traditional song or a religious song. Marissa had a hard time keeping her composure through the poignant lyrics. She took a deep breath.
Jack took a step closer. Marissa didn’t lean on him, but they were standing close enough that the fabric of her dress brushed his pants leg. Reaching for his hand wouldn’t be appropriate. Instead, she clasped her hands together in front of her.
When the song ended, Avery’s mother joined Silver Sundays on the stage and spoke about her daughter. Her voice broke several times as she delivered a loving tribute. “And now, I have asked Avery’s friend Father Franklin to pray with us.”
Father Franklin, the rector at an Episcopalian church in midtown, walked onto the stage. It had been years since Marissa had spoken to him. He hadn’t changed much, though he was carrying a few extra pounds around the middle and his hair was grayer than it had been. His skin was dark from the sun and his deep set eyes warm and welcoming. People felt at ease around Father Franklin, making his church one of the most popular in his neighborhood.
Marissa had introduced Avery and Father Franklin years before when Avery had needed someone to speak to whom she could trust. Marissa hadn’t realized that Avery had kept the relationship going. Avery had been better at keeping people in her life, at least, everyone except Marissa. It was Marissa who had trouble holding on to relationships.
After his heartfelt prayers, Father Franklin stepped away and Avery’s mother again addressed the crowd.
“Avery has a few friends who wanted to speak about her. Marissa? Are you here?”
Heads turned in her direction. She didn’t know how many people knew about her falling out with Avery. It had run through the rumor mill. Marissa was angry with herself for not patching things up with Avery sooner.
Then she was standing on the stage. She hadn’t been aware she had walked up the three steps, the maroon carpet soft under her shoes. A few hundred eyes on her, including Jack’s. He was standing to her left off stage, glancing at her and looking around the room. If he wasn’t there, she might have fallen apart.
Michael was behind her and he moved closer, standing to her right, his guitar slung around his shoulder and resting on his hip. He was watching and waiting. Though they had two feet of space between them, she felt his support. This was their first face-to-face meeting in years and she was surprised he was being friendly.
Putting aside thoughts of Michael and of Jack, she focused on the reason she was here, to honor her friend. Marissa spoke about Avery. She spoke of her love of fashion, her creativity and her contributions to the community. Avery had guest lectured at a few of Ambrose’s college courses over the last two years, giving his fashion students her perspective on the topic. Marissa’s throat was tight, but she finished her tribute.
She walked away from the microphone and a few others spoke about Avery. Then Avery’s mother invited everyone to enjoy the celebration of Avery’s life. With that, Silver Sundays began playing.
Marissa looked again at the photos of Avery. Jack was behind her, and she turned, took a couple of steps back and slid her arm around his. “I’m glad I’m not here alone.” A shudder piped over her having him close.
She scanned the room for Father Franklin, eager to introduce Jack to him. Father Franklin had filled a father figure role in her youth and having him meet Jack seemed important. In the crowd, she didn’t see him and disappointment tumbled over her. This wasn’t his church. He could have left already.
“I’m glad I could be here for you,” Jack said.
She was especially glad a few minutes later when her most recent ex, Rob, approached. The man who might have been responsible for Avery’s death and partially responsible for their fallout. His suit was impeccable and his brown hair slicked back. Dark circles rimmed his eyes. He was clean-shaven and had a strong jawline and aristocratic nose. In his younger years, he had modeled for clothing catalogs, but now he worked for his father’s real estate company. Confident to the point of arrogant, Rob was sweet when he wanted to be and viperous when he didn’t get his way.
“Can we talk?” he asked, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. His stance was casual, but Marissa read the intensity in his eyes.
She had zero interest in talking to him. He had pointed the police in her direction, as if she could have killed Avery. Having a brawl now, in this space, was in poor taste. “This isn’t a good time. I just want to say goodbye to my friend,” Marissa said. Blowing him off was the high road. Tearing into him, the low one.
“Will there be another time?” Rob asked.
“I’m not sure what we have to say to each other. You told the police that I could be involved.”
Rob appeared flummoxed. “I was out of my mind with grief. I said a lot of stuff I shouldn’t have. I knew you were pissed at her and I was listing people who held a grudge against Avery. When my lawyer arrived, he shut me up.”
Marissa considered walking away, but she was curious what Rob had to say.
Rob rocked back on his heels. “I’ve been thinking about what could have happened and who could have done this. Avery was secretive. She was hiding something.”
Marissa hadn’t known Avery to hold back. Bluntness and honesty were two of the traits she had liked most about her friend. It was why it had been so hard when Avery had lied to her about Rob and hidden their relationship. “What do you think she was hiding?”
“I don’t know. Avery didn’t answer her phone. She didn’t return messages. When I asked what was bothering her, she was evasive.”
Had Avery been dating someone else? “Which makes you believe what about Avery?” Marissa asked. If he had a suspicion, he needed to be direct. Avery was busy and in demand. None of his observations sounded strange.
“I don’t know exactly. But it’s a sense I had,” Rob said.
“Did you mention this to the police?” Jack asked.
Rob shook his head. “I didn’t have anything concrete to tell them. I didn’t know what she could be hiding. But you knew her. Did you get the sense she was lying to you, at least, lying by omission?”
“You mean, when she was sleeping with you?” Why dance around the truth? Avery hadn’t acted any differently around Rob or Marissa. The affair had been well hidden.
“That wasn’t going on for that long. It was a slow build. When we started, it just happened. You were in Barcelona—”
Marissa held up her hand. “I don’t need the details. Just think before you talk, Rob.”
“I’m doing my best. I’m barely holding it together,” Rob said.
If he wanted sympathy, he was barking up the wrong tree.
“I want to know what happened to Avery, too. She was my friend,” Marissa said. A simplification, but she cared deeply. “This is not the time or place to discuss this.”
Rob looked around her. “Another time, then.” Without waiting for her answer, he walked away.
“You handled that well,” Jack said. “And he backed down faster than I would have expected.”
“Rob wouldn’t hurt me,” Marissa said.
“I wasn’t concerned about Rob hurting you. I was worried about him. You don’t carry much bulk, but you’ve got an iron core,” Jack said. “I expected more drama. Screaming. A slap across the face at least.”
“Not at Avery’s memorial service,” Marissa said. In the context of Avery’s service, her anger at Rob was small and unimportant.
Marissa questioned her relationships in a larger sense. She’d let Rob go easily enough. Her marriages were part of the past. Losing touch with Father Franklin was another aspect of her life she regretted. She rarely spoke with her family and while traveling she missed birthdays and holidays. Those hadn’t bothered her.
Until now. Now, she felt like she had given up too many personal aspects of her life for success in her career. Starting with her retirement, she could make changes. “It’s never too late to start over.”
“Excuse me?” Jack said.
She hadn’t realized she’d spoken aloud. “I was thinking about Avery. And wasting time. I want more in my life than work.”
“I understand that sentiment.”
Marissa heard something in his tone and for the first time since meeting him, she wondered if they were on the same path.
