Yeah, I know how to start the weekend with a bang.
“No, no. I think we got a great start. There’s a lot to do, though, and Bijan is breathing down my neck. I was thinking I could meet you at your office tomorrow? Might be more efficient. Assuming that doesn’t mess up your weekend.”
“No, no, not at all.” Damn, damn, damn. I do plan to work tomorrow, but I’d intended to do it from home. Still, client relationships are important, and he’s right that we’re running tight on time. “How about we meet at two? I have to take care of some things in the morning.”
“Perfect,” he says. “And I appreciate it. I’m still new, and this is my first project to shepherd through from start to finish. I want to impress the boss, you know?”
I laugh. “Yeah. I know.” I feel the same way about my boss—correction, partner. Nikki Fairchild Stark is brilliant at tech and coding and relentless in getting a job done right. She’s also great with clients, drop dead pretty, and married to billionaire Damien Stark. I should be intimidated as hell, and I was in the early days. Now she’s become a truly close friend.
“Important?” Lilah asks when I come back on the line.
“He’s nervous about the deadline. I don’t blame him. There was that one guy,” I continue, shifting back to the creepy guy topic. “He kept telling me I was pretty and then wanted to chat about retro computer games. I mean, he was nice enough, just kinda awkward, but maybe…”
“Maybe it is him, and it’s not nefarious at all. Maybe he’s trying to work up the courage to talk to you.”
“Maybe…” It doesn’t feel right, though, and I tell her so.
“Travis?”
“No way,” I say. “It got weird between us, but he wouldn’t—”
“Just tossing out ideas. And you know what I think about his aura.”
I frown. A former co-worker who quit about a month ago, Travis and I went out a couple of times. I’d thought he wanted to date. He thought we just wanted to fool around. It was rough for a while, but we worked it out. “We’re still friends,” I say. “And his aura is fine. Besides, he’s in Orange County. If he was obsessed with me, he’d have hung around.”
“Maybe,” she concedes. “But that leaves us back at the app. It’s probably some guy who figured out who you were from your profile picture and is bummed because you didn’t pick him from the masses. Or another one of the guys you went out for drinks with. We can rule out retro game boy, but did any of the others seem the stalky type?”
I consider that. “Not really.”
“Hmm. Well, maybe you should reach out to them anyway. See if any of them acts all shifty-eyed.”
I make a face. The last thing I want to do is to reach out to guys I didn’t hit it off with as friends or romantic partners. “I’m thinking about opting for the ignore it and it will go away plan.”
To her credit, she laughs. “Well, that’s one way. And honestly, I wouldn’t worry too much. It’s just some asshole. How dangerous can a mouth breather be?”
Since I’m a huge horror movie fan, I don’t answer. But the sound of Michael Myers breathing immediately starts to play in my head. Great.
“Let’s continue this at home tonight. Cocktails on the porch?”
“Definitely,” I say, and we end the call.
Since my laptop is already in my tote, I don’t have to head back inside. Instead, I go straight to my car, which is parked on the street. Usually I park in the garage, but I’d popped out in the afternoon and there was a spot right there, so I grabbed it. Now I’m coming up on the rear of the cute little blue Fiat I bought when Nikki made me a partner.
I veer to the left toward the driver’s side, then slow, because something isn’t right. It takes a second for my mind to catch up with reality, but once I’ve reached the driver’s side door, there’s no escaping the truth.
My knees go weak, and I reach out, grabbing the side of the car to keep from falling. Because the hood of my car is covered in something viscous and red, and I’m pretty damn sure that it’s blood.
Chapter Two
Renly Cooper leaned back against the desk that he’d been assigned when he joined Stark Security a few weeks ago. Honestly, it seemed longer. For the first time in a long time, he felt as if he’d found a home. A purpose.
And God knew a guy like him needed purpose in his work, because he sure as hell wasn’t mining it from his personal life.
From across the room, Linda Starr waved at him, then motioned for him to come join. He grinned, then nodded as he pushed off the desk. He’d only recently met Linda and her husband—or rather her ex-husband-soon-to-be-husband again—but he’d taken an instant liking to both of them. Hell, to everyone on the team.
He only hoped he could live up to their expectations of him. He’d been honest with Damien Stark and Ryan Hunter about the injury that had caused him to leave the SEALs, but he’d been a little vague on the details. The truth was, they wanted someone with Hollywood connections, and he’d wanted a job with a bit more gravitas. Now he was looking forward to escaping the Hollywood spotlight and taking some of the international assignments that he knew were becoming more and more frequent for the growing agency.
“You’re looking happy,” Linda said. “I hope that means I’m going to enjoy it here, too. Us newbies need to stick together.”
“I’m pretty sure this is the kind of job I was born for,” he said honestly. “Solid tactical and investigative operations on a global scale. It’ll be a nice change from working on movie sets.”
“A big change from your SEAL work for sure, but it must have been interesting.”
“It was,” he admitted. “But I want to be in the field. Not helping choreograph a fictional version of the field.”
She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing as if he was a puzzle she couldn’t figure out. “So why’d you do it in the first place?”
He grimaced. “Long story,” he said, which was technically true. “I’ll lay it out for you one day. I didn’t hate it—not by a long shot. And I met lots of interesting people.”
She trilled a laugh. “Yeah, the whole town’s seen pictures of you and those interesting people.”
“Yeah, well—”
She waved his words away. “I’m just giving you grief. Sorry. Bottom line is you liked it, but it wasn’t what you were made to do.”
“Exactly.”
“Then it’s good you’re here. Nice to have another freshman in the class. And your Hollywood connections are handy, right? I mean, you got me and Winston into that party.”
He chuckled. “Yes, I did.” He’d dated superstar Francesca Muratti longer than he should have, and her guilty pleasure was to go to those kinds of clubs and show just enough skin as she exited the limo that the inevitable tabloid reporters couldn’t resist publishing the pictures. She’d leave the really kinky stuff to the private rooms, but she knew how to get press, even if it wasn’t the kind of press Renly liked.
“I’m glad that worked out for you,” he added. She and Winston had gone into the sex party together as part of an operation, but he knew damn well they’d had issues of their own to work on, too.