Devoted to Pleasure Page 8

  “You ever see her?”

  “No. Last I heard, she lives in Costa Rica. She’s married to some rich coffee farmer now. You see your dad much?”

  “Not since I was ten. After he ran out on us, he went to Alabama, down by the Gulf. He mowed down two college kids with his car while he was drunk and went to prison. He got out a few years back, but . . .” Cutter shrugged the man off.

  “Wow, that’s terrible. I’m sorry. What about your brother? What does he do? Is he married?”

  “Cage?” He laughed. “He’s a cop. He’s also been a hell-raiser from the time he drew his first breath.”

  “And you’re an angel, right?”

  “Of course,” he assured with a grin. “Cage isn’t married. I’m not even sure who would agree to spend their life with him. She’d have to be long on patience and short on brains.”

  Shealyn joined him in a giggle, and he soaked in their connection. When they weren’t arguing about her blackmailer, she was easy to talk to.

  “I’m sure there’s someone out there for him. If my little sister Maggie can find a guy . . .”

  When she trailed off and winced, Cutter frowned. “You excited she’s getting married?”

  “If it happens. With Maggie, you never know.”

  “Oh? Tell me about that.” The pace of the run and the rise of his internal temperature from looking at her had him shucking his shirt and tucking it in his fist.

  Shealyn turned to answer, then her gaze fell on him, sliding over his bare shoulders, chest, and abdomen . . . then lower. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

  He suppressed a smile. The fact that looking at him made one of the sexiest women in Hollywood lose her train of thought definitely stroked his ego, along with something a little farther south. It was endearing, too. For all that Shealyn was a big star, she was also just a small-town girl.

  “Your sister having cold feet?” he prompted.

  She tore her gaze away and focused on the hill before them. Her breathing deepened through the incline as she jogged ahead of him. Cutter watched her ass and shapely legs and wished like hell he had the right to touch her. But despite her dabbling in flirtation, he didn’t. He’d be best served by keeping his distance.

  “Not so much about getting married, just who her groom should be.”

  “Ouch. She’s not sure she wants to marry her fiancé?”

  Shealyn shook her head. “Maggie got engaged to Davis for the wrong reasons, and she certainly doesn’t belong in Connecticut. She’ll miss home like hell if she moves out there with him.”

  “The way you do?” Why else would she live in a mansion styled exactly like a ranch?

  “Yeah. You must like Louisiana if you hung around.”

  He shrugged. “Well, I like it a lot better than my two tours in Afghanistan. Besides, Cage went to Dallas to become a cop. Someone had to stay behind and watch over Mama. I’ve got a good job with EM Security Management, a collection of military operatives. Former SEALs Logan and Hunter Edgington inherited their father’s business, along with their stepbrother, Joaquin Muñoz, who was an NSA agent until recently. Occasionally, we get to save the world or something like that, so . . . yeah. I like it.”

  “Impressive. Y’all sound like a bunch of badasses. And you seem like the sort of guy who would enjoy saving the world.”

  She’d pegged him quickly. “Guilty. According to my brother, I’m always trying to save everyone.”

  “If he’s a cop, is he much different?”

  “Actually, he is. He does it for the adrenaline rush.”

  “And you’re a protector. Got it.”

  “Yeah.” He caught up to her and stared until she met his gaze. “So let me protect you.”

  She groaned. “Not this again.”

  “That refrain will be on constant repeat until you let me.”

  A vibrating noise interrupted their suddenly tense silence. Shealyn withdrew her phone from the Velcro pocket around her armband and pressed a button, only to frown at the screen. “Damn.”

  “Problem?”

  “My blackmailer’s ears must have been burning. He just reminded me that tomorrow is the drop and asks if I have his money. He won’t give me a time and location until I confirm.”

  He held out his hand. “This is too deep for you. Let me deal with the bastard.”

  She shook her head and panted through the next tenth of a mile, shoving her phone back into its secure band. “I’ve got this part under control. Just keep me safe when we drop the money.”

  He would. They’d been over that. He knew how to do his job. But he didn’t know how to sit on the sidelines and let this scumbag take advantage of Shealyn. Regardless of what she thought, she was vulnerable and a little naive.

  What the hell was she hiding? He already knew Tower’s deep, dark secret, so that wasn’t it. She had to have one of her own.

  “Whatever it is you don’t want to tell me, I won’t judge. Were you doing something in that video you’d rather not have anyone know about?”

  Shealyn grabbed for the earbuds around her neck and began to insert them into her delicate ears. “For a man who lives by facts and his gun, you certainly have a vivid imagination.”

  Then after a press of a button on the wires leading up to her ears, Cutter heard the faint strains of music escaping the little buds. She pressed another button, turning up the sound—and completely tuning him out.

  He took that as a yes.

  If she thought ignoring him would make him give up, she didn’t know him at all. But he still had at least twenty-four hours before they had to meet her blackmailer and turn over a load of cash. Cutter intended to do everything possible to make sure she didn’t become this dirtbag’s victim, even if he had to save her from herself.

  Maybe then she’d understand exactly who she’d hired.

  * * *

  —

  Wednesday rolled around. After a busy evening on set Tuesday, Shealyn had insisted on driving her truck home. As a side bonus, it had been a relief to avoid a tense ride home with Cutter. He hadn’t let up from his prying questions for a single moment.

  When they arrived at her house, the housekeeper had left a lean pork roast, some asparagus with a sprinkle of parmesan, and a huge leafy salad for two. She’d agreed to sit and eat with Cutter if he promised not to ask questions. His stomach must have won out because he’d grumbled . . . but given in.

  As soon as dinner ended, he offered to do what few dishes they had— nice of him—so she slipped into her room, opting for a hot shower, a rereading of her lines before bed, and an early turn-in. Not surprisingly, he’d again met her at the door for her four A.M. run, but she’d been prepared with her earbuds and some Florida Georgia Line.

  After cleaning up, Cutter had insisted on driving her to the studio. Maybe she should have objected . . . but being alone today scared her. They reached the studio on time, and she managed to fend off his attempts to question her during the ride by saying she had to study her lines.

  Once they arrived, another hectic day of filming ensued. By noon, tension about the money drop was eating at her. When would this blackmailing bastard send her instructions? Certainly he wouldn’t just release her video to the world without giving her a chance to pay him for his silence. Right?

  As evening fell, Cutter led her to his SUV. Anxiety nipped at her composure, gnawed at her gut. Whoever wanted to extort money from her didn’t wish her well, and Cutter’s point that he might be dangerous had crept into her head and wrapped around her fears, squeezing too tight.

  They’d just pulled out of the studio lot to head home when she felt her purse vibrate.

  Cutter zipped a stare in her direction. “Is it him?”

  She dug her phone out. Seeing the words PRIVATE NUMBER on her screen made her breath freeze in her chest and her heart gallop. “Y
es. He wants me to leave the money before eleven tonight. He sent an address and said the location will be empty.” She blew out a shaky breath, more afraid than she wanted to be. “He demands I come alone.”

  “I’m not going to leave you vulnerable. I promise.”

  His words rang like a vow. In bumper-to-bumper traffic, he slowed enough to stare across the darkened cab of the SUV. She didn’t doubt he meant every word he said. He seemed like a man of honor and valor. Shealyn believed he would do everything he could to protect her tonight.

  “Thanks. What now? I have the money ready, but . . .”

  “Do you know anything about that address?”

  She shook her head. “It’s not familiar. I don’t even know what part of town that is. I’ve never heard of Duquesne Avenue.”

  “I need to see the text he sent.”

  That wasn’t going to happen. The previous message with the attached video still sat in the same string. “You’re driving.”

  He paused, gave her a suspicious raise of his brow. “All right. When we get back to your house, then.”

  “I’m not arguing about this. My phone, my paycheck, my rules. So my communications stay private.”

  “Why pay me to help you if you’re only going to fight me at every turn? I have to see what we’re dealing with—”

  “No. And the housekeeper didn’t come today. I don’t feel like cooking tonight. There’s a Chipotle on San Vicente. Get off the freeway at Wilshire. I’ll direct you the rest of the way.”

  Grinding his jaw, he fell silent and drove where she directed him, obviously hating every minute he wasn’t in control.

  Shealyn tried not to feel guilty. Letting him have his way put her and Tower at tabloid risk. The information could ruin their careers, end Hot Southern Nights. She didn’t like this wall she’d put between her and Cutter, but she didn’t see another way.

  When they pulled into the parking lot, she whipped out two twenties and asked him to order for her. He looked at the crowded parking lot, then at the long line inside.

  “To do that, I’d have to leave your side for something like fifteen minutes. It’s not a good idea.”

  She pulled a scarf and a pair of sunglasses out of her purse and donned them. “We’re in your rental, and no one can recognize me all bundled up.”

  He stared at her as if she’d gone crazy. “You think you can hide that profile, that delicate face magazines rave about? Your lips? I’d know them at a single glance through a car window.” His stare dipped lower. “And your breasts? There isn’t a straight, red-blooded man who won’t notice them—and you—then quickly figure out who you are.”

  His words should probably make her bristle or feel ogled or . . . something besides flushed and hot. Cutter had definitely noticed her as more than a job; he’d paid attention to her as a woman. Sure, she was used to guys gawking at and hitting on her. Cutter hadn’t. On Monday night, she thought she’d seen him study her with more than passing interest. Maybe. But this was blatant. He was speaking about her desirability—telling her what he saw—out loud.

  She swallowed. “I’ll cover up everything possible and I won’t look up from my phone. I won’t make eye contact with anyone. No one will expect me in a Chipotle parking lot. I’ll be safe.”

  Cutter cursed something angry under his breath. Since he had been, until now, a true southern gentleman with his language and manners, Shealyn knew he was deeply frustrated.

  Thankfully, he retrieved dinner without incident. Though one guy stared through the window, Shealyn simply slinked down into her seat. Cutter came running to her rescue, food in hand. The creeper left.

  They rode home in silence. Tension gripped her. In truth, she wasn’t certain she’d be able to eat. Her stomach was a knot of nerves about the money drop. And annoying Cutter with her secrecy only upset her more for reasons she didn’t fully comprehend.

  Shealyn would be so damn glad when tonight was over—and hopefully her blackmailer counted his cash and never looked back. She couldn’t think about the alternative now or she’d throw up.

  After picking at her dinner in front of the TV she wasn’t actually watching, Cutter took her mostly full bowl away, then disappeared into his bedroom. When he returned, he carried his laptop, which he set on the coffee table. Curled up on the sofa, Shealyn watched as he crouched in front of her. To her surprise, he took her hands in his. For once, his touch didn’t simply jolt her with sexual heat but it warmed her with protective comfort. Whatever happened, he would give his all to take care of her. She hated asking so much of him while she could give him so little in return.

  “We need to plan,” he said solemnly. “We can’t walk into this blind.”

  “Of course.” That hadn’t occurred to her, but what he said made sense. “How can I help?”

  Cutter released her and opened the lid of the laptop. “Give me the address he sent you.”

  She rattled it off, and he clicked on his keyboard. She watched his face as he waited.

  When he scowled, her heart skipped a beat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

  “That address belongs to a Little League diamond in Culver City. Ever been there?”

  Shealyn let the news sink in. She’d pictured a drop point like she’d seen in movies—an abandoned building, a parking garage, a bus station. “No. Why would he suggest a place where kids play baseball?”

  “If it’s not relevant to any personal history you share, my guess is he chose that location because there are few cameras, if any. It won’t be busy that time of night, but having cars in the parking lot won’t seem odd since it’s apparently adjacent to a scenic overlook point. The lighting around the field looks almost nonexistent. There should be plenty of places to hide the money. He can come and go in relative darkness. Whoever’s extorting you isn’t stupid. Where are you supposed to leave the money once you get there?”

  She shook her head. “The message didn’t say.”

  Cutter gnashed his teeth. Shealyn bet he was biting his tongue, too. No doubt he wanted to read her messages, see if she’d missed a critical detail. But she’d scanned every word at least a dozen times. She hadn’t overlooked anything.

  “Has he promised to leave the original video for you in return?”

  “No. I thought of insisting on that as a term of our deal, but I’m not in any position to make demands. Besides, how would I know he hasn’t duplicated it and isn’t prepared to send it to every tabloid rag at a moment’s notice?”

  He sighed. “You don’t. Just another disadvantage I don’t like in this situation. I would rather have come into this from a position of power, knowing his identity or at least having narrowed the field of suspects down to a few. But we don’t have time now. You need to change into clothing that’s dark, comfortable, and lightweight. Wear athletic shoes. I want to get there early. This bastard waited until after dark to give us instructions, so it will be harder to get the lay of the land. Google Maps will give us some rough ideas about hiding places and escape points. But the sooner we get out there, the sooner we can plan a strategy.”

  By keeping the truth from Cutter and not letting him investigate, had she squandered her only chance to end this torment?

  She didn’t want to think about that now, so she just nodded, calmed by his mere presence. Without him, she would have shown up with her envelope of money in hand and wandered to the drop point like a lamb to slaughter. Maybe Cutter was right and she was in totally over her head.

  “I understand,” she murmured. “I can be ready in fifteen minutes.”

  He glanced at his phone. “It’s almost eight. How long will it take to get out there?”

  “Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty if the traffic is bad on the 405.”

  Cutter nodded. “Then let’s get moving as soon as you’ve changed. I want to be there no later than nine.”

  “All right.” W
hen he stood and scooped up his laptop, Shealyn reached out, tentatively touching his arm. “I’m scared.”

  “I know. We’ll do this together, and you’ll be safe.”

  She wanted to ask what happened tomorrow if $250,000 wasn’t enough to make this creep go away. But he’d been saying it wouldn’t from the beginning, and now that the payoff was mere hours away she realized she couldn’t keep burying her head in the sand and hoping for the best. She had to start crafting plan B. She either had to liquidate more cash—not her first choice—or figure out who wanted this kind of money from her without caring one whit if he damaged her career.

  As far as Shealyn could tell, that could be anyone. Someone who’d worked security at the clothing boutique? A bystander she’d overlooked in another dressing room, someone who had somehow figured out Shealyn’s identity or what she’d been doing in her “private” stall? An opportunist who’d been stalking her and waiting for just such a vulnerable moment? Or none of those people . . . She’d tried to consider every scenario and always came back with nothing.

  Reluctantly, she released Cutter. He wanted to help her, and she hadn’t let him—yet. Maybe she could trust him. Maybe he wouldn’t sell her out. Maybe he wouldn’t judge, as he claimed. But she was afraid once she revealed the truth, she’d find out the hard way that he’d lied.

  “Thanks. I appreciate everything you’re doing. I’m sorry if I’ve been difficult. I have so little privacy in my life anymore that I can’t stand the thought of giving up what smidgen I do have.”

  His hard face softened. “I know. But I’m not the enemy. I can help you far more if I know what’s happening.”

  “I appreciate that.” But she said nothing else.

  He backed away with a regretful nod. He wouldn’t press or demand or twist her arm now. He’d already done all of that in the last few days.

  “Once you’re ready, we’ll take separate cars. I’ll get into position early, watch for anyone suspicious coming or going. As soon as he sends the exact location of the money drop, we’ll cover the angles.”

  With that, Cutter was gone. She disappeared into her bedroom and changed with shaking hands, wishing this was over so she could get on with her life. No, wishing none of this had ever happened so she wouldn’t have to face the loss of her career and this unrelenting dread.