Chicago, Illinois

The Set of Stranger’s Retreat

The atmosphere in the house changed instantly after the nominations for elimination were made. Michelle no longer wanted to hang out and do Zola’s hair. Kirk no longer looked at her with the same admiration in his eyes. Instead, he watched her with suspicion and a weariness that came from a place of fear. The same with Jessica and Josh. Neither of them wanted to hang out with the other members of the household to the point where they wouldn’t even sit down to a meal with anyone but each other and Michelle and Kirk.

Zola sat by the pool in a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt, the cool Chicago winter having decided to make one more pass before spring finally took hold. Her feet were dipping in and out of the water, ice cold, but refreshing in a freezing sort of way.

“The comp this afternoon is really important,” Brian said from where he was perched on the side of the diving board. “You have to work hard to win this one.”

“Why? We’re not up for elimination.”

“But we could be next week, and the viewers have a long memory.”

Zola brushed her hair over her shoulder. “Are you worried?”

“I’m always worried.”

She nodded, her eyes dropping again to the surface of the water.

“We have a real chance of winning this whole thing,” Brian said, coming to sit beside her. “Don’t you think?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s hard to read an anonymous judge we have absolutely no contact with.”

“They like you. That much was obvious at the last live show.”

“Not necessarily. They were just curious about the girl the producers dropped into the house midseason.”

“They like you. And that’s got to work in our favor.”

He took her hand and pulled it onto his lap. Zola let him, as she’d been letting him since Voting Day because she knew she had to play this game to stay in long enough to find the saboteur. And that meant playing nice with her partner.

The thing was, though, she couldn’t stop thinking about Gunner. Her instincts told her that he wasn’t the saboteur and, therefore, she didn’t need to continue to worm her way into his small circle of sociability. But there was that kiss and the taste of him that lingered on her lips for so long afterward. And the way he looked at her when he thought no one, not even she, would notice. It made her ache all over, that look. And she hated that he had such control over her.

Brian leaned close to her and brushed his lips against her jaw. She jerked back.

“What are you doing?”

He jerked her arm, pulling her hard against his side so that he could whisper in her ear.

“They want romance, Zola. They want to believe the winning couple will get married and make a dozen babies when they leave the house. We have to give them some hope of that!”

She shook her head, trying to pull away from him. He held on to her, one hand still intertwined with her fingers, the other holding her wrist hard enough that she could feel her bones rubbing together.

“Let me go!” she hissed.

“I won’t lose this competition because of you!”

She jerked again, holding back the instinct to shove a couple of fingers into his eyes or twist around to land a knee in his crotch. He let go as suddenly as he’d grabbed her. She crawled away, jumping to her feet and walking into the house, rubbing her wrist with her other hand. She could already see the bruises beginning to form, wondering what the viewers would think of that little detail.

“You okay?”

Gunner was in the kitchen when she walked in, smearing peanut butter on yet another slice of bread. The man ate more peanut butter than anyone she’d ever met.

“Fine.”

She brushed past him and went to the fridge, snagging a cold, water bottle. Instead of drinking it, she pressed it against the sorest part of her bruised wrist, hoping the cold would stop the worst of the injury. Gunner saw what she was doing and came over, lifting her arm with determination, but gentleness.

“What happened?”

She shook her head, her eyes jerking toward the cameras. Gunner didn’t take the hint.

“What happened?” he demanded again.

“Brian.”

He let her go and spun on his heel, storming out of the house. Zola chased after him, aware that any confrontation between the two of them would not end well. Brian was still sitting at the pool’s edge, his back to the house. Gunner rushed across the lawn toward him; his strides were long and full of purpose.

“What the fuck, man?”

Brian turned and, when he saw the look on Gunner’s face and Zola rushing out after him, stood and began moving around the pool, trying to put some distance between them.

“You can’t keep your fucking hands to yourself?” Gunner asked.

“Hey, man, whatever she told you, it’s just her side of the story.”

“She didn’t have to tell me anything. I can see the bruises on her arm! What kind of animal does that to a woman? You think because you’re bigger and stronger than her that you can act like a fucking caveman?”

“Gunner!”

He didn’t seem to hear the warning in Zola’s voice. And, by now, he’d attracted not only every camera on the outside of the house, but all the houseguests, as well. Everyone was pouring out the back door, along with three or four production members who were always lurking just out of sight. Zola could see one of them whispering into a headset, probably alerting the staff in the control room and the director who loved this sort of thing. It made for good television.

“We were just talking,” Brian said lamely.

“That’s not just talking! She’s got bruises in the shape of fingertips all over her wrist!”

“I was just trying to play the game.”

“Bullshit!” Gunner approached Brian, getting up into his face even though he towered over him by a good three or four inches. “You ever touch her like that again, you’ll have to deal with me. Got that?”

“Yeah,” Brian said softly.

“You don’t treat a woman like that.”

“Okay.”

“Stay the fuck away from her!”

“Okay.”

Brian was clearly frightened, cowering back against the fence that defined the end of the property. His eyes were a little wild as he stared up at Gunner. And when Gunner backed off, Brian’s eyes jumped from the contestants at the back of the house, the cameras in every nook and cranny, to the production staff.

“This is bullshit, man!”

But no one was paying attention to him now. They were watching Gunner make his way back across the lawn. He paused as he passed Zola, his eyes dropping to her bruised wrist that she held cradled against her chest. He reached out to her, touched her cheek lightly. And then he continued into the house, snatching up his sandwich and then disappearing into the room he shared with Lesley.

“What the fuck was that?” Lesley muttered as Zola moved to return to the house, too.

“Smart play is what that was,” Michelle told her. “We’ve all been outmatched, friends.”

There was admiration in her eyes as she watched Zola brush past them all to return to the house.

* * *

The housemates were called to the shuttle after dinner for the next comp. Zola rode in the backseat by herself, ignoring everyone the same way they were ignoring her. They all seemed to think the little episode with Brian had been planned even though it wasn’t. No one trusted anyone anymore.

They were deposited on another section of the studio lot behind a studio where a family sitcom was filmed during the day. The area used to film happy family barbecue scenes had been transformed into a large grassy field where tall walls had been erected and what looked like the frame of four puzzles hung from them. It took time for the production team to prep for these comps. Everyone kind of milled around, some talking, some taking a seat and psyching themselves up, some joining members of the crew for some good gossip from the world they’d been cut off from throughout the duration of the show.

Zola was pleased to see Durango was among the production cast. She wandered over, trying to look casual.

“How you holding up?” he asked.

She shrugged. “As well as expected.”

He looked around to make sure no one was watching them, then lifted her wrist, his thumb pushing up the sleeve of her light jacket to reveal the bruises.

“They’re not that bad.”

“They’re bad enough,” he said, running a finger around one particularly large bruise. “Gunner’s reaction was interesting.”

“I think he’s just playing the game.”

“Do you? Or was it more to do with that kiss?”

Zola blushed, a little mortified that he’d seen that. “I don’t know. It’s probably just the game.”

“Keep a close eye on him, Zola. You don’t know what’s going on behind that charm.”

“I know.”

He squeezed her arm lightly, then moved on, joining a group of camera men checking the angles of their shots. Zola turned and found Gunner watching her, his eyes dark and unreadable. She walked toward him, but he moved over to the small group that consisted of Josh and Jessica, completely dismissing her.

“Well,” she muttered under her breath.

“Houseguests!” Susan’s voice filled the small space as the contestants moved to stand within the scope of the main cameras. Team members stood together; they looked like a human rainbow in the brightly colored shorts and t-shirts they’d been given to wear. “Behind you, there are four puzzles. Your job is to work with your partner to finish your team’s puzzle in the quickest time possible. However, you cannot speak to your partner, and you cannot rearrange the puzzle pieces in order to make it easier for your partner. You will place four pieces and then move out of the way for your partner to take their turn until you have finished. Good luck, teams!”

Zola turned to look at the puzzle, already suspecting that Brian was not good with such things and that the largest portion of the burden would fall on her. And that could mean trouble.

They’d been told earlier in the day that the prize for this comp was the opportunity to remove one of the couples from the block and replace them with another. Everyone in the house wanted Jessica and Josh out because they were the only ones left in the house with a truly romantic relationship. But if they won this comp, they could take themselves off and put either Brian and Zola up—which was most likely—or Gunner and Lesley. Either way, it would be a disaster if they won.

She cursed under her breath a little as she stared up at the wall.

The safety team came around and placed a harness on all the contestants because they would have to climb high up on the wall and maneuver around without the danger of falling. Zola was familiar with this type of harness and watched as they placed hers around her hips, checking the buckles and straps herself. She glanced over at Gunner and saw him doing the same thing. That could be both good and bad.

This was the most dangerous comp they’d done since Zola entered the game. She found herself wishing she’d paid more attention during the prep. If someone had messed with one of these harnesses, it could mean more than a broken ankle for one of the contestants.

Girls first. Zola lined up in front of her team’s puzzle, glancing down the line at Michelle, Jessica, and Lesley.

The bell rang, and the comp began. Zola placed her first four pieces quickly and tagged Brian, watching as he took too long searching for pieces, and then placed three of his four in the wrong places. She raced up the wall and moved those three, placing a fourth before sliding down the rope to tag him again. They worked back and forth like that for a good twenty minutes, him fucking up and her taking most of her turn to fix what he did. As he worked, she continued to watch down the line, realizing she had nothing to worry about from Jessica and Josh. Neither of them seemed very good at this sort of thing. Michelle and Kirk were doing well, but none were working as furiously as Gunner.

He was moving quickly, concentrating hard. She watched as he pushed back to get a better look at the overall picture. He put a strain on the harness and its straps by doing that, but it should have held easily. The only problem was, someone had weakened the center strap that took most of his weight. Just a small cut would have done it. The strap snapped as he leaned back and he began to drop.

Zola cried out, on her feet and rushing toward him before he was even halfway down the wall. Gunner was clearly an experienced climber. He knew what he was doing. He didn’t flail his limbs like anyone else might have done. He twisted, grabbed for the ropes and slowed his fall. He still fell, but it was more of a controlled fall than it would have otherwise been, and, by grabbing the ropes, he’d pulled himself upright. Rather than fall on his back, he landed on his feet before crumpling to his ass.

“Gunner!” Zola cried, dropping to her knees beside him.

There was pain in his eyes. He sat up and grabbed an ankle, cursing under his breath. Half the production crew rushed over; someone pushed Zola to the side. A call went up to contact the medics. Minutes later, paramedics walked in with a backboard and their medical bags. Zola could only stand with the other contestants and watch as they assessed his condition.

“He’ll be okay,” Michelle said, slipping her hand through Zola’s.

She nodded, but she couldn’t stop imagining the worst. It was her fault. If she’d been paying closer attention instead of talking to Durango, she could have seen who’d done it. She might even have been able to stop it. But she didn’t pay attention.

“We’re taking everyone back to the house,” the stunt coordinator said, moving his arms like he was herding a group of cows or something.

“What? Why?” Zola demanded.

“They want to take him to the medical center and have him assessed. We can’t continue the comp until he comes back, or . . . whatever.”

“Whatever?” She stepped up into the man’s personal space. “He’s going to be okay. You can’t tell these people whatever and not expect them to imagine the worst!”

“I’m not here to babysit you, sweetheart. Get back on the shuttle!”

Michelle pulled Zola’s hand. “Come on. Let’s do what he said.”

It was a quiet ride back to the house. Lesley blubbered against Jessica’s shoulder, acting as if she gave a shit about Gunner. Once they were back, most of them went to their rooms and buried themselves under the covers, whispering about what this might mean for the game. If Gunner didn’t come back, maybe it would mean the producers would elect just to send Zola home, leaving only their three teams. That was the best scenario for the six of them.

They had no idea.

Zola stayed in the sitting room, a cup of tea growing cold on the coffee table in front of her. She wanted to read, wanted to distract herself somehow, but she couldn’t concentrate. Michelle came out for a little while to sit with her, but grew bored and returned to her room. It wasn’t until hours later that the front doors finally swung open.

Zola got up and went to the living room and watched as Durango and a couple of other producers stumbled in. Behind them was Gunner on a set of crutches.

“You’re back!”

Gunner looked up and grinned, his pupils a little dilated despite the bright lights of the house. He’d clearly been given pain medication.

“He’s got a significant sprain to his ankle, but the doctor said he should be okay in a couple of weeks,” Durango informed her.

“They’re letting him come back to the game?”

“Yeah. No reason not to. Besides, he insisted.”

Zola nodded. The other men who’d come in with him were scattering around the room, checking cameras and whatever. Gunner sank down on one of the couches, sighing as he stretched his leg out in front of him.

“Gunner!”

Lesley came running out from somewhere—the bedrooms, probably—and rushed up to Gunner, falling on her knees beside him as she threw her arms around his waist. Zola glanced up at the cameras and shook her head.

“The cameras aren’t even on. Haven’t you noticed?”

She shot Zola a dirty look, but she saw Lesley look at the cameras herself. A moment later, she got up and wandered off, as though she’d just realized she didn’t care all that much.

“Who did this?” Zola asked Durango, sliding up a little closer to him.

“Don’t know. We’ve checked the cameras more than once and can’t see anything obvious. All the contestants wandered over to where the harnesses were. And they weren’t marked.”

“But you’re thinking Brian?”

“That’s what Felicity and Cillian think.”

She nodded. “It makes sense. Only, I was watching the contestants when they put on their harnesses. Only Gunner and I knew what was happening, and knew what to check. The rest were clueless. How would someone who was that clueless know what to cut?”

“You think it’s someone on the safety crew.”

“It almost has to be.”

Durango nodded. “I’ll check it out. You keep your eyes open in here.”

“Of course.”

Durango touched her cheek, then went off to join the rest of the production crew. Zola went to Gunner, kneeling in front of him the same way Lesley had done.

“How are you?”

He smiled brightly. “I feel pretty good right now.”

She shook her head. “I bet you do.” She pulled herself to her feet, holding out her hands to him. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Sounds good to me.”

He struggled up, his hand wandering down her back before she snatched up the crutches and pressed one under his arm. He took the other willingly and began a slow hop and skip like movement toward the hall. They could hear voices coming from his room, so she redirected him to hers.

“You can sleep in my bed. I don’t think anyone will care.”

“I’ve been trying to get in there since you came into the house.”

“Is that right?”

“I think we all have. Even Michelle.”

He laughed then, the sound a little high pitched and clearly fueled by pain medication. She shook her head, sighing as she pushed open the door to her room.

“You better go lie down before you fall.”

“Coming with me?” He paused in front of her, reaching around the crutches to slip his hands over her shoulders. “I’ll make it worth your while.”

“Go on.”

Zola gave his hip a little push, following close behind in case he tripped over Brian’s clothes scattered all around the floor. It annoyed her, to be quite honest, how inconsiderate Brian could be. Most of his clothes were on the floor in front of her bed, like he wanted her to walk all over them on her way in and out of the room.

Asshole!

She helped Gunner into the bed and grabbed a pillow from Brian’s bed to prop up his foot. She could see the swelling under the bandage, and it made her guilt rise a few notches. She rested her hand against his calf for a long moment before pulling a blanket up over his bright orange shorts.

“The least they could have done was allowed you to change your clothes.”

“Should have seen the way the medical staff at the hospital looked at me. They weren’t sure if they should be impressed, or laugh all the way out of the room.”

“I’ll bet.”

She moved around him to gather some things: her favorite pillow, a toothbrush, and her little alarm clock. Gunner grabbed her wrist to stop her movements.

“Where are you going?”

“You need to get some sleep. I’ll go out to the couch.”

“Stay here with me.” He pushed out his bottom lip in a seductive pout. “Please?”

How could she resist that?

“What about the teams?”

“Fuck the game tonight. I’m damn tired. I hurt my ankle, and I just want to relax for a little while. Is that too much to ask?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

Zola set her stuff down and crawled onto the bed beside him, moving into the crook of his arm as he held it out for her. She laid her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment, trying to remember the last time she’d lain like this with someone. When she remembered, it made her stiffen a little.

Mitchell.

That was a chapter in her life she’d love to forget.

“What are you thinking about?” Gunner turned his head toward her, his lips brushing the top of her head. “Is it that guy out there? The production guy?”

“No.”

“Who is he, anyway? You seem to spend a lot of time with him.”

“He’s just a nice guy who’s helped me out a little.”

“Helped, how?”

She had to think quick. “He’s just given me a few tips, filled me in on a little background information that the producers have declared okay for me to know.”

“I wondered if anyone had done that for you. The rest of us have a kind of history, even if it’s only a few weeks old.”

“That’s what his job is. To give me that information.”

“That’s good.”

He ran his hand almost absently up and down the small of her back. She shifted a little closer to him, liking the feel of his hard body against her softer one. Her mother had once told her that human beings were never meant to be solitary creatures. That we were all supposed to find that one person we were meant to spend the rest of our lives with and, failing that, the one who would keep our bed warm at night. It was her excuse for the parade of men coming and going from the revolving door that was her bedroom door. Zola knew that a lot of that was her depression acting out, but she found herself wondering if maybe she hadn’t been on to something, if from a slightly screwed up angle.

It was certainly nice to feel his arms around her. To not be alone for the first time since she walked into this house.

“I was a little annoyed, to be honest. It looked like he was really into you.”

“You think everyone looks like they’re into me.”

He chuckled softly. “Of course I do. Because they are. You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

She pushed herself up a little and kissed him gently. He sighed, lifting his head to return the kiss. After a second, he had her pressed down against the mattress, his kiss warm and dry, the slight sour hospital taste wearing off as he moved closer to her, his hand slipping up over her hip to rest on the center of her belly. She held his arm there, wanting to feel this thing, to feel his lips on hers, his tongue exploring places that hadn’t been explored in what felt like a lifetime, to feel the heat of his body against hers.

She could fall for this guy, and she knew it. And that scared her as much as it exhilarated her.

Their kisses lingered, their touch gentle and pleasant. She knew there was no heat behind it and she liked that. Slow and steady. She slid her hand up his arm and under the sleeve of his shirt, loving the feel of his skin against hers. She could imagine what it would feel like if they ever had a chance to do more than share a few chaste kisses and that warmed her, brushing away some of the ice that had formed around her heart after what Mitchell had done.

Maybe you could come back from a nightmare. But, again, this was a game . . .

“Those pills are knocking me flat,” he said, his eyes drooping.

“I know. Go to sleep.”

“Will you stay?”

“Of course.”

She snuggled into him and waited until his breathing was deep and regular. It didn’t take long. And still, she waited, a part of her not wanting to move, not wanting to slip out of the warmth of that place, that moment. When she finally did, aware that it would be best for the dynamics of the house if they weren’t found together that way, she slipped off the bed and happened to see a bright, red light flashing from a corner of the room. The cameras were back on.

She wondered if he’d known that before he kissed her.