Chapter Seventeen
Kate rose through layers of sleep, something rousing her. When she was on site, there was always something gnawing at her conscious, keeping her sleep light and her mind busy with mental checklists and problem solving. Her cellphone and notepad stayed next to her 24-7.
Now, something was nudging her and forcing her to remember.
She reached for the light, so she could write it down as soon as she thought of it.
Adrian’s big hand curled around the back of hers, bringing her fingers in upon her palm, then her arm back toward her chest, away from the light switch. “Sleep,” he whispered. “It’s only eight a.m. You need at least three or four hours more.”
He had done something with the night blinds on her trailer windows so that almost no light seeped in around the edges. It was very nearly pitch black in the room. When she did sleep during the day, it was heavenly to have the perfect black of night to escape to.
It was sometimes disorienting, like now, when she was struggling to think properly. “No, there’s something…”
His lips touched her temple. “Everything is under control,” he told her.
She grew aware of his body lying along the back of hers, mirroring her length. His other arm lay in a big circle around her head. It felt like she was protected and it was wonderful…and she would never admit that aloud in a million years.
She bit her lip, struggling to grasp what had woken her. She lay, reaching for it. Then she heard it again in her mind. “Rifle shot,” she murmured. “I heard a rifle shot during filming last night.” She tried to turn over to face Adrian, but he defeated her attempt by staying still, like a rock in her path.
His lips pressed against her jaw. “Don’t worry about it.”
“Don’t worry about it?”
“It’s been taken care of.”
She moved out away from him, to give herself room to turn over so she could see him. It didn’t help. The dark hid most of his features. “Wait…you’re telling me it really was a rifle shot? Someone was shooting at us?”
“Not at you.” Adrian curled his arm over her waist and pulled her up against him. His leg curled over hers, which pushed her thigh against his crotch. His cock was semi-hard, which caused her mind to leap to all sorts of possibilities….
She grasped for the subject at hand. “If not at me, then who?” Then she realized. “Wait, wait. Are you saying that the Gunther guy was right? There’s some sort of conspiracy mystery going on around my movie and I don’t know about it?”
“No conspiracy, no.” His mouth touched hers.
“Adrian, is my movie in jeopardy?”
“No.” His voice was flat with sincerity and she relaxed. A bit.
“Then what the fuck is going on?”
“While your movie is not in danger, why don’t you concentrate on getting it in the can and I’ll concentrate on making sure it stays that way?” Adrian suggested, his lips nibbling along the edges of hers. His cock was stiffening, lengthening and she shifted her thigh, rubbing restlessly against it.
His breath hitched.
“You won’t tell me what’s going on?” she asked.
“Do you really want to know?” His fingertips circled around the base of her breasts, making the skin tingle and the nipple tighten. Then they slid up the slope to the nipples themselves and tweaked.
It was her breath that hitched, this time.
“Do you trust me?” Adrian asked, his knee pushing her thigh aside. He gripped her knee, bringing it up high against his hip.
There were so many answers to that question, but the ultimate answer was his: He had stepped in front of what could have been a bullet for her.
“Yes,” she told him truthfully.
His cock pressed inside her and the angle and position made it a tight, highly sensual fit. She caught her breath, feeling every fractional inch of him push inside as her pussy pulsed around him.
He let out a hard breath as he came to rest with his full length inside her. He kissed her, just as hard. “Let me deal with it,” he told her. “You make your movie. I’m much better at the other stuff.”
He picked up her hips and turned her so she was on her stomach, sliding her leg beneath his so he was settled between her thighs, his cock still inside her. He wedged a pillow beneath her hips.
“Let’s clear your head, hmm?”
Her clit throbbed at the low sensual promise in his tone.
* * * * *
No one is who they say they are.
Garrett leaned forward, his head between his hands. “God and all his saints preserve us.”
“I Éirinn bheannaithe, déanfaidh sé amhlaidh.” Sebastian replied calmly, putting his laptop aside. “But not in your heathen highlands, I’m sure. What’s up?”
Winter got to her feet, picking up her cellphone, her thumb hovering over the speed dial buttons.
Garrett scrubbed at his face. “I don’t know why I didn’t see it before. He practically spelled it out…” He got to his feet. “Jesus!”
Sebastian sat back in his chair, a polite enquiring look on his face.
Garrett pushed the sleeves of his shirt up his arms and his hair back. “Sebastian, how good are your hacking skills?”
Sebastian glanced at Winter before answering. “I’m no slouch.”
“He’s being modest, of course,” Winter replied.
“How modest?” Garrett asked impatiently.
“The truth could get him jailed,” Winter said flatly. There was an expression in her eyes that told Garrett he had reached the boundaries of any information they would provide.
“Good,” he said, mimicking her flat expression. He looked at Sebastian. “I want you to do a background check on Kate.”
“We did that already,” Winter pointed out.
“No, I’m talking about deep checking everything with the most minute of microscopes. Doubt every credential and double check it.”
Sebastian frowned. “You want me to crack open Kate Lindenstream’s life?”
“Last night, very late, just before we came back to the camp, Roman told me something. He said that no one is who they say they are, not in our world, not in Hollywood.”
“And you were talking about Kate?” Sebastian asked.
“Who else would Roman and Garrett be talking about, Bastian?” Winter asked, her tone gently chiding.
Garrett shook his head. “He was being very cryptic and non-specific, but we had been talking about Kate just before and he spoke about her immediately afterwards…he had to have been thinking of her when he said it.”
Winter held out her hand, like she was pleading with him, or cautioning him. “Garrett, you realize what you’re implying by asking for this search, don’t you?”
Garrett took a deep breath. “That Kate isn’t who we think she is? Yes.”
“Why does that make you happy?” Sebastian asked.
“It doesn’t.”
“You do seem…glad about it,” Winter said cautiously.
Sebastian leaned forward. “No, he’s pleased because if Kate is masquerading, then she’s no longer quite so perfect. A flawed human is easier to reject than the perfect lover.”
Coldness jelled in the region of his stomach and spread outwards. Garrett sat back down. “Just do the search, huh? Put me out of my misery.”
Sebastian stood. “On it, boss.”
“Where are you going?”
Sebastian shrugged. “I’m not going to use my laptop. I need an untraceable IP address and for that I need the server I just spent the night putting back together.”
“How long is this going to take?” Garrett asked.
“How long is a piece of string?” Sebastian headed for the door. “Picasso didn’t paint to deadline.”
“You’re not an artist!” Garrett called after him as the trailer door slammed shut.
Winter grimaced. “For what you’ve asked him to do, and for what he needs to do to pull it off, he really is a kind of artist. There are maybe a dozen people in the world that can do it and get away with it, including Sebastian.”
Garrett threw himself back against the chair, which obligingly reclined. “So it could take days?”
“Possibly longer. Don’t jog his elbow. He’ll get what you’re looking for, especially if he spots anything hinky at all.” Winter smiled. “One hint that there’s something to find and he won’t give up until he’s got it.”
Garrett looked at his watch and sighed.
“They’re not due to start shooting until eight tonight. Do you want to go through the paperwork I’ve been stockpiling?” Winter suggested.
All the issues back in his Boston office seemed even less than trivial. “God, no,” Garrett told her. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I’m adjusting my biorhythms. When you’re on the set, I cat-nap.”
“And you’re…okay, now? After last night?”
She smiled. “I’m fine. Want to see?”
He started to shake his head as the trailer door opened again. They both looked. Garrett expected Sebastian to step up into the trailer, perhaps returning to collect his laptop, which he had left sitting on the table next to the sofa. Or to ask more questions about Kate.
But it was Nial who moved awkwardly into the middle of the room, his arm held by a stranger.
Garrett found himself on his feet. Winter was already on hers.
The man had soft brown hair of medium length, brown eyes and he was of medium height. He wore plain black trousers and a striped casual shirt that could be bought in any chain store across the country. Black runners and no watch. His face was unlined and it was impossible to tell how old he was except that he wasn’t very young or very old.
He would have been utterly unremarkable and instantly forgettable in a crowd, except that he appeared to have Nial under his control, using no more than his hand.
“Nial, what the hell?” Garrett asked.
“He cannot speak,” the man said. “I stopped him from calling out or communicating his predicament to anyone when I made him bring me here.” His voice was anything but unremarkable. It was melodious and fell pleasantly upon the ear. It would have been lovely to listen to had the circumstances been just a little less bizarre. Garrett had a hard time tearing his attention away from the man and forcing himself to focus upon the situation itself. It was almost like being hypnotized.
Winter shook her head, blinking. She was clearly vulnerable to the effects, too.
“Who are you?” she demanded.
“What are you?” Garrett amended.
“Who I am does not matter. Names are something only you creatures obsess about.” He smiled. “And humans.” The smile faded. “What I am……well, that is the crux of the matter, is it not? I am of the Curandero.” He swivelled his head to look at Winter. “Just as you are.”