Chapter 14
Blake wasn’t sure if he was glad to be back in Tampa or not. They’d all had a discussion with Avery about where he’d stay—Tampa or Arrowhead Bay. Blake finally said he wanted to sleep in his own bed. That Gregg Rowley could find him either place and he wanted his creature comforts. Mike Pérez rented a car at the airport and drove Blake and Sam to Blake’s condo before checking in at a hotel five minutes away. One of the benefits, Blake pointed out, of living practically downtown.
The first night back Blake fell into bed, Sam curled up next to him, and passed out more than slept. The stress of the whole situation was killing him and was very draining. Never in the four years he’d known Annemarie Schaefer—and he’d thought they were pretty close—had he ever thought she considered he was stealing her work. And exactly what work was that? Nor had she ever seemed to be emotionally unstable.
Maybe it was this Gregg Rowley guy who was reading things into it because he superimposed his own feelings for Annemarie onto the situation. Certainly someone who was a stalker wasn’t the most emotionally stable person in the world.
He and Henry and the publisher had set up the tour with high hopes, and truly it had accomplished the goals they’d set out. Except for the stalker who also turned out to be a murderer. And factoring out what happened at the last two stops, the publicity had been great. On top of that, he sold nearly all the books at each signing. In fact, Henry had texted him at one point that he needed to come to New York to sign stock because some stores had requested books with his signature.
Only one incident had marred the final stop before Tampa. Halfway through his presentation a man had pushed to the front of the crowd and begun shouting at him. Peppering him with questions. Asking him how it felt to steal someone else’s work and claim it as their own.
Mike and Justin had eased him out of line with only a minimum of fuss. The man was no match for the two strong agents who hustled him to the back of the store. The man had never returned, thanks to the agents. They’d taken him out the back door and into the waiting arms of a local cop Justin had called, without disrupting the rest of the signing. But Blake had finished the event with his stomach tied in knots. When it was over he learned the man was a frustrated author convinced plagiarism was the only key to success. If he could generate enough noise at the signing he’d get some publicity, too. Blake still felt ill when he thought of it.
“People have weird minds,” Blake told the agents.
Mike nodded. “Believe me, you don’t know the half of it.”
Now they were all gathered at the Royal Event Center to make plans. Blake looked at the number of people sitting around the table in the manager’s conference room and for the first time felt a tiny thread of real fear. Gregg Rowley was no longer just some nut job, but a stalker who easily killed, and it was his—Blake’s—life they were all here discussing how to protect. In addition to himself, Sam, Avery, Mike Pérez, and Justin DeLuca, Avery had brought two more Vigilance agents. Four deputies from the sheriff’s office, who would provide even more protection, had joined them and Detective Chuck Fornell, who was handling the Grant Kennelly beating, had driven up, also. They all had diagrams of the building so they knew what areas to cover. Avery was running the show, and everyone knew they’d be taking their orders from her. Blake refilled his coffee mug from a carafe set on a small table and sat quietly next to Henry, who had flown in to protect one of his lucrative commodities.
“Justin and Mike will take point,” she told everyone. “Blake, they’ll pick you and Sam up when it’s time for you to get here. I don’t want the two of you driving here in a car that’s been sitting in the garage for hours. There’s no telling what this guy might have done to it.”
“I’d think he’d want to wait until Blake was here before doing anything,” Henry broke in. “He’s leading up to some big statement. That would fizzle if he harmed them before they even got here.”
Avery nodded. “Agreed, but at this point we’re taking no chances.” She handed out a photo to everyone. “Sam took pictures at every one of the signings and I had my guys run the shots through facial recognition to see if there were any repeaters. But now that we’re pretty sure who this is, we have a clear picture of him. Study it, memorize it, and keep in mind he is a master of disguise. Okay, let’s look at this event from the moment Blake arrives.”
They plotted a path from the parking lot through a back entrance, along a corridor into the event center. Blake had the weirdest out of body feeling as he listened to them discuss how they were going to keep him from being killed.
“Sam will be in charge of Blake,” Avery told them. “Wherever he goes, she goes. It will be up to the rest of you to cover all the rest of the bases. Chase and Reuben”—she looked at the two agents she’d brought with her—“you’ll be here and here.” She pointed to spots on the map of the room. “Refreshments are being served and they’ll be set up along this back wall here. And here”—she pointed again—“is where the table will be for the book signing.”
“I can handle that part of it,” Henry broke in. “I’ll make sure no one messes with the books after they’re brought in or tries to rearrange anything.” He looked around the table. “Should I have a gun?”
Blake burst out laughing. “Henry, they don’t expect you to be the Lone Ranger. They’ll be watching out for your ass, too.”
Henry shrugged. “Just asking.”
Avery went on to mark where the others would be stationed, including one of the officers and Justin, who would mingle with the crowd looking for anything out of the ordinary.
“We’ll be setting up the metal detector like you asked,” one of the deputies told her. “We’ve got a good portable one we use for events around the county that we can process people through very quickly.”
“Will it detect anything but metal?” Avery asked.
“No, but we’ve all done this enough that we can smell out trouble. We may ruffle a few feathers if we pull some people aside for further checking, though.”
“Better ruffled than dead,” she told him.
Blake was stunned when she pointed to Mike as a trained sharpshooter.
“Do you think we’ll need one?” he asked.
“You never know, and I don’t want to be caught with my pants down because we weren’t prepared.”
“We’ll have media here,” Henry told her. “I can’t very well refuse them and we need all the favorable press we can get.”
Blake stared at his agent. “You think I’m a pariah, Henry?”
“Oh, no. No, no, no. But the media is going to rehash that email and we need them to see what an honest, upright, intelligent, talented, resourceful author you are.”
Blake actually burst out laughing. “Could I get a T-shirt with that on it?”
“Not funny,” Henry said. “This is your life here, personal and professional.”
“We’ll handle it, Henry,” Avery promised. “Just make sure they all have proper identification and have been vetted.”
“No problem.”
“Okay, back to the diagram.”
By the time Avery was finished, everyone had his or her assignments and Blake was pretty sure Gregg Rowley would have a hard time getting to him.
Blake shook hands with the deputies and with Chase and Reuben. Avery passed out timetables and also a list with everyone’s cell phone numbers listed. Then she turned to Blake and Sam.
“Chase and Reuben will be here in the morning when the staff begins their setup. They’ll check the catering staff and keep an eye on everything they do. Never can tell what someone might smuggle in.”
“Jesus!” Blake raked his fingers through his hair. “This really is like something from a book. Or a movie. Maybe we should just cancel the whole thing.”
“Absolutely not,” Henry snapped. “This is your big night, Blake. We’re not going to let some nut job shut it down.” He turned to Avery. “That’s what we have Vigilance for, right?”
She nodded. “It is. Blake, if you cancel tomorrow night you are just going to make him angrier because you’ve taken away his stage. He’ll just create another opportunity where many people could be hurt.”
He felt sick to his stomach. He was damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.
“Fine. But let’s make triple sure all bases are covered.”
Avery nodded. “Of course. Alright, everyone. Let’s do a walk-through so everyone knows their places.” She lifted the duffel she’d carried in with her and placed by her chair. “I have comms for everyone and I want to test them out.”
If they can’t protect me, no one can.
The thought flashed through Blake’s mind as he watched the team walk through their setup, test their comm gear, and go through their list of what ifs. At least he was confidant Rowley couldn’t smuggle a gun in, pull it out, and shoot him. Of course, that didn’t mean he couldn’t try something else.
Sam will make sure that doesn’t happen.
And he knew she would, whatever she had to do. This morning, standing in his shower, he’d thought about fate bringing them together after all these years. So many unrelated events that combined to make this happen. Okay, they’d scratched an itch that had been there all this time and it was good. Great. The sex was actually beyond great. And they got along well. So many days together in a tense situation and they’d never had even a hint of a blowup.
Maybe they were due one. He knew no relationship moved forward without some kind of conflict. If there wasn’t any, it meant there was no real deep emotion to the relationship. And he believed in his heart of hearts that he and Sam had something special, but did she? What about her career, where she could be gone on dangerous jobs for days at a time? Or his, when he locked himself away writing, or was busy out on tour?
By the time he’d finished giving himself a headache, he’d decided that right now he just needed to concentrate on his final appearance and getting out of it alive. After that they could see where things went between them. If they both wanted it, that was.
“Looks like some pretty deep thoughts there.” Sam nudged him with her elbow.
“What? Oh, just thinking about tomorrow night. And today’s media events.”
Henry had previously scheduled a television spot for him as well as an interview with a reporter from The Tampa Times. But with the rumors circulating since that email, he’d decided that a small press conference was in order, hoping to kill the rumors once and for all. Or at least put them in perspective.
“You’ll do great,” she assured him. “You always do.”
He gave her a lopsided grin. “From your lips.”
“Let’s hope.”
By four that afternoon everyone had memorized the layout of the event center, where each of them was supposed to be, and who had what responsibilities. The small media conference had been held in a private room at the hotel where Henry was staying, with reporters from the various weeklies and even a couple of television stations in addition to the one where he did his interview.
Blake had been tense through everything, especially when the inevitable subject of the email came up, but Henry had helped out there and he’d gotten through it. By the time he fell into bed that night, all he wanted was for everything to be over. And wasn’t it just too damn bad that with his third book in a row to hit the best-seller lists he didn’t know if he’d even enjoy the final event which was supposed to be the best one yet.
The following day dawned sunny and warm, something Sam said was a good omen.
“I’ll take anything,” he told her.
They’d slept curled into each other last night, sex the furthest thing from either of their minds. The one thing swirling in Blake’s mind, however, as he drifted off, was how well they fit together and how natural it was for them to sleep like this. Something he did not want to let go of. When tonight was over, he and Sam were going to have a talk, one where he laid his heart on the table for her. Told her how important she was to him. How he didn’t want her to walk away when this was over. He’d do whatever it took for her to believe every word he said. Believe him.
She hadn’t said much but he could tell by the way she behaved, and by the level of their intimacy, that her walls were coming down brick by brick. He’d find out whatever was keeping her from being all in, slay her dragons, and move ahead with their future.
This morning they had breakfast in the little coffee shop down the street from his town house. Henry insisted on taking them to lunch the day of the event, although Blake could hardly swallow a bite.
Things were scheduled to start at seven thirty.
“The caterers will be there at six to set up and the bookstore at six forty-five,” Henry told them. “They won’t need all that time but people will arrive early and I want everything ready when they walk in. The deputies brought their portable scanner and got it set up so they can start processing people through it when the first person arrives.”
Blake barked a sort of laugh. “Never thought I’d be signing books where people had to go through a metal detector and be searched for weapons.”
“You can put it in your next book,” Henry joked.
“I’ll take you directly to the bride’s room when we get there,” Sam told him.
He lifted an eyebrow. “Bride’s room? Is someone getting married?”
She laughed. “Frequently. It’s the room where the bride and her attendants go to get ready. We figured there might be some good mojo to help out.”
And then the evening arrived. At seven o’clock, Justin and Mike arrived to drive them to the event center. Mike told them he and the other Vigilance agents had met with the four deputies working with them at six o’clock to do a walk-through of everything and supervise the setting up.
“We’ve got it covered,” Mike assured him.
Blake just wanted to get this over with. He’d be “on” for his readers, despite the bad case of nerves he was battling.
“I haven’t felt this edgy since I did my first signing,” he told Henry, who arrived shortly after Sam and Blake.
“You’ll be fine,” the agent assured him. “We’ve got this taken care of.”
* * * *
Gregg Rowley popped two aspirin in his mouth and washed them down with the last of his water. Putting everything together for tonight had taken some work, especially considering the materials he was using. But one thing about being a techno-nut, you could find anything on the Internet, no matter what it was, and arrange how to receive it.
Lucky stroke for him that refreshments were being served tonight. Well, pastries and coffee. Hacking into the event center’s computer he’d learned the name of the caterer and when setup was scheduled. And lucky for him, when he checked out who the caterer had scheduled to work and searched for pictures, he found someone who looked enough like him that Gregg could easily pass for him.
Getting into the man’s home had been child’s play. Knocking him out and tying him up so he could steal the man’s clothing and badge was just as easy. If he kept his head down no one would look too closely or ask him the wrong questions.
And that was just the way it worked out. He’d called the caterer and said he’d have to meet the van at the event center. Small family problem. When he got there, the other three workers had already set up the tables inside the hall and were carrying things inside.
“You missed all the heavy work, you slacker,” one of the girls said.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “Family problem.”
He picked up two large boxes of pastry and moved quickly to carry them inside before she could ask him any questions.
The most nerve wracking was the security check by one of the Vigilance agents. Those guys were tough to fool and had eyes everywhere. He managed to work it so he was alone when they came to check him out, releasing a pent-up breath when they cleared him. Then a quick trip to his car parked next to the van, an adjustment to his clothing, and he was all set.
He’d seen the men walking around with their secret agent microphones and earbuds. Their jackets that concealed whatever weapons they carried. And Morgan’s bitch bodyguard glued to his side. No matter. He’d be outsmarting them all.
This is for you, Annemarie. My only love. Tonight they’ll all know who the real star is.
He looked at his watch. Seven fifteen. Show time!
* * * *
By seven twenty the hall in the center they were using was packed. The reporters had shown up, which surprised Blake since he’d already given his interviews. But Henry had told him to expect it.
“If there’s anything going on with your stalker, they don’t want to miss it.”
“Swell.” He grimaced. “I’m glad I could provide news fodder for them.”
Sam took his hand in hers and squeezed it. “You’ll be fine. You’ve been a trooper through all of this. Whatever happens, we’ve got it covered and tonight it will all be over.”
Ignoring the fact that Henry was in the room with them, he cupped her jaw, tilted her face up to his, and gave her a warm, thorough kiss.
“For luck,” he said.
“Okay.” She grinned. “For luck.”
As Sam walked him into the event room, he noticed the pastries and coffee and the larger than usual setup of books were all in place. Reporters hung out along the back wall. And every single chair was filled.”
“They had to pull out more from wherever they keep them,” Sam whispered. “Is this the biggest crowd you’ve ever had?”
He nodded. “By far.”
“Evan, our sharpshooter, is at the back wall.” She nodded her head in his direction. “Everyone else is in their place. I’ll be on stage with you, in the wings, on one side. Mike will be on the other. You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
The manager of the bookstore that was hosting tonight came forward and introduced herself.
“We’re just delighted you chose to end your tour here,” she gushed. “Everyone’s so excited about it, and about the big crowd. Thank you so much.”
He swallowed a laugh, wondering if he should point out to her he remembered when they didn’t even want to carry his books.
She mounted the steps to the stage ahead of him and headed for the podium. She’d be the one introducing him. Two taps of the microphone to make sure it was working and they were set.
“Good evening, everyone. I want to thank you all for coming out for this very special book signing. We’re thrilled to host Blake Morgan, who lives here in Tampa, and thank him for choosing to make this his last stop on his current tour. He’s going to tell you a bit about his writing career and then about his latest release, the third in a row to hit the top of the best-seller lists. Please help me welcome him.” She turned toward him, smiling.
Blake walked out to the center of the stage, carrying the folder with his notes. He shook hands again with the woman, thanked her, then thanked everyone for coming tonight. His throat, as usual, was dry as dust and he reached to the shelf beneath for the water he’d requested. Nothing there. He bent down and looked, but the shelf was empty.
He looked over at Sam, who was frowning.
“Sorry, everyone.” He smiled at the audience. “I still get stage fright and my throat closes up.” A soft laugh ran through the crowd. “If someone can get me some water we’ll be good to go.”
A man in the uniform of the caterer hurried up to the stairs carrying a bottle.
“Sorry. It was my job and I goofed.”
“No problem. Thanks.”
The man handed the water to Blake but as soon as he did he yanked off the waiter’s vest to reveal another vest beneath it. The crowd gasped as one.
* * * *
Suicide vest!
The minute she saw it, Sam knew exactly what it was. It was smaller than the ones she’d seen, made to fit beneath the uniform vest he wore, but no less deadly. It was apparent Rowley had no plans to take out everyone, just Blake.
No! She couldn’t let it happen. She loved him, and could not lose him.
The word itself terrified her, but she’d worry about that later. Right now she had business to take care of.
With one hand, Rowley tore off the wig and fake moustache he was wearing. He lifted the other hand and Sam saw the suicide switch he had his thumb on. The switch was depressed. The moment he released his thumb, the vest would blow. That’s why it was called a dead man’s switch. The goal was to get a cop to shoot him, and when he fell the thumb relaxed and the explosives blew sky high.
Which was why no one was rushing the stage. She just hoped her key man was ready for the signal.
Shit!
“Situation, situation,” she murmured into her lip mic. “How copy.”
“Five by five,” came the answer from everyone.
“I have to figure out how to get that switch away from him without blowing up him, Blake, and me. Wait for my signals. Evan, you know the code word.”
“Copy that.”
Everyone acknowledged and she slowly inched her way out to the stage.
“You all came to see the big novelist Blake Morgan tonight, right?” Rowley shouted. “Well, I’m here to tell you he’s a big fraud. He stole every word he wrote from the love of my life, Annemarie Schaefer.” When he didn’t get the reaction he apparently wanted from the audience frozen in its seat, he raised his voice. “Did you hear me? She worked for him for four years, slaved away as his assistant, did his research, and then wrote his books for him. I have the proof.”
Sam spared a look for Blake, who might have been ready to wet his pants but outwardly was very calm.
“Is that what she told you?” he asked in a mild voice.
“Damn straight. She had all those folders on her laptop with all the work she did for you. She told me about them. About how you couldn’t put it all together so she had to do it for you. About how she gave you the plots when you couldn’t create one.”
Blake nodded. “She was a very big help to me, Gregg. You’re right.”
“Oh. You know my name? Did she tell you?”
“Yes. She spoke very well of you.”
Keep lying, Blake. You’re doing great.
Sam slid forward a few more inches.
“I wrote to your publisher. Mailed the letter today. Told him they needed to recall all those books and put her name on them.” He was sobbing now. “She died trying to get away from you. Running to me. It’s your fault she’s dead, so you need to die, too, but not before everyone knows exactly what you did.”
Sam noticed that Blake had turned so he was facing her more, which meant Rowley now had his back to her.
Keep him focused, Blake. Just a little further. A little further.
And then she was there. She leapt forward and grabbed the hand with the switch, pressing her thumb over his.
“Umbrella!” she yelled into the mic.
Evan’s shot split the air barely a second later, hitting Rowley in the forehead, and he fell, with Sam on top of him and her thumb still on the switch.
Then everyone moved. Justin hurried onto the stage to grab Blake, who protested he wasn’t going anywhere until Sam was safe. Someone got up to the microphone and urged everyone to be calm, and to help themselves to refreshments until they could get the program started again.
Sam had to stifle the hysterical urge to giggle. Yes, coffee and pastries while she was lying here on a dead body hoping she didn’t get blown to kingdom come.
“We called the bomb squad the minute we saw his vest, Sam.” Avery’s voice came through her ear bud. “They’ll be here any second.”
“Thanks.”
Someone pulled the curtain on the stage to hide the gruesome sight.
“I thought this was supposed to be my show.”
She turned her head to see Blake crouching beside her, a worried look on his face but his lips forced into a grin.
“I decided I wanted to see what all the fuss was about being a star.”
He took her free hand and wrapped one of his around it, holding tightly.
“I think my heart stopped beating twice. Was this your way of upstaging me?”
“Yeah.” Again she swallowed a hysterical giggle. Lying on a dead body wasn’t her idea of a pleasant way to pass the time. “I figured there was no way you could top this.”
Finally the bomb squad was there, moving Blake aside while they did their thing. Sam felt as if a year had passed before the leader told her she was good to go and someone lifted her from Rowley’s body. Blake, waiting right next to her, hauled her into his arms, crushing her to him as if he’d never let her go. And for a moment she thought how great it would be if that happened.
But just for a moment.
“Let’s move over here,” he urged, tugging her away from the body.
“You okay, Sam?” Avery’s voice sounded in her ear bud.
“I’m good.” Good? She was alive. That was good enough.
“We’ve got the crowd corralled and we’re feeding them pastries and coffee. The bookstore manager gets a lot of credit for not losing her shit and for making all that happen. Henry, too.” She paused. “Blake okay?”
Sam looked up at him. “He seems to be. He’ll probably fall apart when we get back to his condo but right now he’s a real trooper.”
“I can help down there,” Blake told her.
She frowned. “How? You planning to be a waiter?”
“Always the smart-mouth. No, I figured if I started the book signing now, it would take people’s minds away from what happened. Besides, they can bombard me with questions and get their picture taken with the author who almost got blown up.”
Her eyes widened. “You know, that’s a damn good idea. You up for it?”
“I’ll make it work. Let’s tell Henry to set it up.”
In the end that’s what they did. The media, of course, salivated over the story they had to report and begged a few minutes to question Blake before he sat down at the signing table. She gave Henry points for pulling it all together and Blake for managing to appear relaxed and focused only on his readers. He answered questions, chatted with people. Signed books until she was sure his hand would fall off.
That meant hardly anyone paid attention when the wagon came to cart Rowley’s body away. The deputies stayed on to help the Vigilance agents with crowd control, but all things considered, Sam thought, the rest of the evening went off okay.
For herself she’d never been so damn glad to see an evening end.