Colt Murphy’s Home

Beverly Hills, California

 

Jason followed Colt around the glass and steel home—a term he used loosely—as Colt described his normal routine.

“Breakfast by the pool, then a twenty-minute workout with my trainer. Then we head to the studio, where we work out another thirty minutes before I have to report to makeup. I usually get back here about midnight. Sometimes I have a few drinks by the pool. Usually I just head up and shower before going to bed.”

“All right. I’ve got my team putting in cameras all around the property. You said you own the land all the way back to the road?”

“Yes, I do.”

Jason nodded, his eyes moving over the white leather furniture in the living room. Why would someone want to furnish their home with something they could hardly live on? White? Just a scuff from a pair of tennis shoes would ruin the damn thing!

The property was huge. The house itself was over three thousand square feet, including two theater rooms, a two-lane bowling alley, and an indoor pool in case the outdoor pool was dirty or otherwise unusable.

Ridiculous.

Jason had grown up in a two-bedroom home set on three-quarters of an acre. It was more than enough for him and his grandmother. What did a single man need with all this space?

Rich people boggled his damn mind! Lesley and Mitch could live in just a quarter of this space and be as happy as clams. And it’d be a hell of a lot better than the teeny apartment they had now.

Sometimes life was just insultingly unfair.

“You can put cameras anywhere you need to. In fact, I want you to put a few in my bedroom. I want to make sure no one can get in there and leave a trap in the closet or something, you know? Those letters…they said it would be an accident. Do you know how many people slip on a bar of soap in their own shower every day?”

“I’m sure it’s quite a few.”

“Two-thirds of all accidents in the home happen in the tub or shower.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. I looked it up.”

Colt led the way into his bedroom, an opulent space that could have fit three of Jason’s apartments inside of it. Hell, it was an apartment all on its own. There was the bed on a pedestal in the center of the room, an entertainment center that could rival any theater in the country, a walk-in closet that was bigger than Jason’s bedroom, and a bathroom that had gold fixtures, a separate shower and tub, and a bidet tucked into one corner. If Lesley and Mitch could just live in this master bedroom…!

“We’d rather not infringe on your privacy, but we will put cameras in the hall leading to these doors and outside the balcony doors,” Jason said. “No one will be able to get in or out of here without our knowledge.”

“And you’ll have two people here at all times?”

“Yes. One operative in the house and one walking the perimeter.”

“At all times?”

“Yes. Twelve hour shifts.”

Colt nodded, the tension that was creating lines across his handsome face relaxing just slightly.

“So, what’s the movie about?” Jason asked, both in an attempt to get the actor to relax, and to assuage his own curiosity a little.

“Oh, well, my character is this guy who’s on his way up in an elevator to pick his girl up for lunch when the elevator suddenly gets stuck. Turns out there’s been an accident in the science lab where his girl works, and the whole building is on lockdown.” Colt turned slightly, his eyes moving around the room like he was expecting someone to suddenly jump out of the shadows. “My character is like this former Navy SEAL or something, and he knows all this stuff about getting into places where he shouldn’t go. So, he decides to go save his girlfriend or die with her, and while he’s trying to get to her, there’s all these flashbacks about their romance.” He glanced at Jason. “It’s kind of cheesy, but my agent says these kinds of movies play well with my target audience.”

Jason nodded. “And Kat Carlisle plays your girlfriend?”

“That singer chick?” Colt scratched his chin almost thoughtfully, as if the man actually had a real thought in his head from time to time. “Yeah. We have all these sex scenes together, but she won’t even bother to come to my trailer and introduce herself. Been on set for nearly two weeks, and I’ve yet to meet her.”

“You could go to her trailer.”

Colt snorted. “Colt Murphy is the star. He doesn’t go to other actors’ trailers, especially a singer who’s never been in a film before.”

Jason was annoyed by Colt’s constant classification of Kat Carlisle as a singer. She was more than just a singer. Seeing her today there at the studio had been the highlight of Jason’s life up to this point. He couldn’t believe he’d be on the same studio lot as she was for the next six weeks. He was almost grateful to Colt Murphy for being such a wimp.

Almost.

“Have you done any scenes together?”

“No. But we’re scheduled for one of the big love scenes next week.”

Jason studied Colt, a part of him wanting to drive a fist into the sniveling idiot’s jaw for brushing off such a privilege as kissing Kat Carlisle. Did he have no idea how many men there were out there who would love to be in his place when he filmed that scene next week? Thousands.

Jason could almost hear Toliver gushing over Kat Carlisle. If he’d lived to see this, to be here for this…the man would be over the moon!

“Jason.”

He turned to find Stevie standing in the doorway to this massive master bedroom. Jason politely excused himself, not that he thought Colt heard him. The man had discovered a mirror and was busy straightening a stray hair.

“How’s it going?”

Stevie Wayne was a question mark. Andres Maldonado trusted her. He insisted she be put with the daytime detail watching the house, telling Jason that she was more than capable of the task. But Jason worried that she wouldn’t be able to hear the obvious sounds of someone breaking into the house and would miss something. There was a reason that the cameras they were installing were equipped with sound. Sometimes the vision missed something that the ears didn’t.

In his mind, she had a lot to prove.

“We’ve got all the cameras up and running,” she said, holding up a tablet so that he could see the cycling through the various views.

“Good. Text Zeke and see how things are going with the cameras at the studio.”

“Yes, sir.”

That was another thing that bothered Jason about Stevie. They normally used coms to communicate between operatives, the action as simple as pressing a button on a headset and speaking normally. But because Stevie couldn’t hear the coms, they had to use cell phones and texting. That required a few extra moves, adding seconds to an urgent message. Not only that, but it required all the operatives to pay close attention to a piece of equipment that could represent a distraction at a time when it was important for them to be aware of their surroundings.

It just felt like a bad deal. But this was the job, and Andres had been clear that Stevie was to be included.

“She’s hot.”

Jason turned around and found Colt finally pulled away from the mirror long enough to watch Stevie head back down the hall.

“She’s the operative in charge of the security of your home during the day.”

“Still hot.”

“She’s a professional. You should try to remember that, Mr. Murphy.”

Colt’s eyebrows rose. “She your woman?”

Jason wanted to punch him. “No, sir. She’s a member of my team. As such, she deserves respect.”

“Then I won’t ask her out in front of you. How’s that?”

Jason tuned away. “I’ll pick you up at seven tomorrow morning.”

Colt called after him, but he kept walking, no longer interested in indulging the man’s childish behavior.

Jason drove across town, using his new credentials to get back on the studio grounds. He wanted to verify that the cameras had all been placed properly. Zeke Maxwell was a capable operative who had more experience at this sort of thing than Jason. But he wasn’t the operative in charge, and he wasn’t the one who had something to prove to Durango Masters and his father.

Jason let himself into the studio itself, walking carefully over cables and electrical lines, finding himself drawn to the realistic laboratory set where he now knew Kat Carlisle would be spending quite a bit of time over the next six weeks. He ran his hand over the counters, the beakers, the Bunsen burners that reminded him of the wasted year he’d spent in Mrs. Johnson’s chemistry class back in high school. Kat Carlisle would be touching these things tomorrow. She might have already touched them.

He wondered what she would think if he told her how she’d saved his life?

It was such a small world. He couldn’t believe that she was working on this film. What were the chances that they would both be brought to this place at the same time? If he had known she’d be here…would he have taken the job? Maybe not. It would have been overwhelming, the idea of getting to breathe the same air as the woman he so idolized.

He shook himself, reminding himself that he was there to do a job. He walked off the set and looked around the rafters, catching sight of the well-hidden cameras that were focused everywhere but on the set itself. There were rules about the cameras that could film in this building. Jackson Chamberlain was making as many concessions as he could for them, but this was one rule he couldn’t break. They couldn’t record the set itself no matter what they promised to do with the footage.

In Jason’s mind, it wasn’t really that big of a deal. They could record everyone’s comings and goings. If something happened on set, they’d have images of everyone who entered the building, and the film crew would have footage of the actual crime. Simple.

He left the building, turning a corner to check the cameras on the actors’ trailers. As he did, a golf cart came flying around the same corner, headed right into the path where a woman and her two companions were walking. Jason reacted without thought, rushing forward to snatch the woman around the waist and pull her clear of the cart’s front fender. The rush of his momentum forced them into the side of Colt’s trailer.

The air was forced from the woman’s lungs. She leaned into him, her body pressed against the length of his as he held them both up with his shoulder pushed against the cold metal of the travel trailer. Her hands came up, her fingers wrapping themselves in the rough material of his starched shirt. He touched the side of her face, waiting for her to take a few deep breaths before he spoke.

“You okay?”

She looked up, and he suddenly realized that the woman in his arms was none other than Kat Carlisle. She stared at him, her clear amber eyes filled with surprise and shock.

“You!” she said softly, almost as if she knew him.

“Kat! Kat, are you okay?”

A man ran up behind them, grabbing Jason’s shoulder and wrenching him away from her. Jason recognized him as the bass player in her band. Ricky Clarkson.

She hesitated, but then she nodded. “I’m okay. Just…startled.” She reached up to brush her hair out of her face, her fingers shaking.

“That idiot!” Ricky said, glancing in the direction of where the cart had disappeared. “Aren’t there rules against those people driving that recklessly?”

Kat shook her head, turning in Jason’s direction. But he was no longer there. He had walked away the moment he saw that she was okay.

He’d had Kat Carlisle in his arms, her pretty face pressed against his chest. That was a moment he’d take with him for a long time. But it was a moment that wasn’t meant to last.

He was just a soldier. She was…well, she was Kat Carlisle.