“You, on my payroll.”
“No. I already told you I’m not signing on. It’s not happening.”
“Let me tell you the offer first, big guy.”
“Fine, but you’re wasting your time.”
“One movie. One movie so people will stop blacklisting my ass. You do that, I give you the name of the stalker. I gave you one as a freebie, so you know I’m good for it.”
“You’re saying you ratted out Santiago, hoping I’d do a movie with your studio just to get the name of my stalker?”
When it came out that Luis Santiago had planned to come after me, the stalker lost whatever footing she had in reality. Death threats came for all of us, including the dogs. We’ve stopped feeding them anything we haven’t prepared ourselves, doubled the security cameras, and Mills has people driving by at random times. She even broke into Jamie’s garage and defaced the mural he did for Alexis, covering the wall with photos of Ren and I. It took him weeks to clean the mess up.
Everyone thought that would be as far as she went, destroying property and threats. But she took the threats to a new level, breaking into Marta Rodriguez’s home and stabbing her four times. Marta survived, but it confirmed that this girl, whoever she is, still blames Ren for getting in the way and poisoning my mind.
I glance over at the stack of unopened envelopes I’ve gotten from her just this week. I send them to Mills on Fridays, and he spends his weekend going through them and not finding a damn thing. Lawson could give us the break we need, and he’s fucking blackmailing me for it.
“You worthless, dickless piece of shit. You fucking go after my girl, you humiliate her, you force her into fucking hiding and you expect me to come back and do a fucking movie to save your sorry ass? Buddy, I hope your damn studio catches fire and there isn’t a drop of water in the lines when they go to save it.”
“Hey, you and me both on that one. Insurance payout,”he chuckles darkly. There’s a knock at the trailer door and Pongo jumps around like a lunatic.
“Okay, this has been great, but go to hell, asshole.”
“She has pictures of you.”I freeze, not responding.“Boning your bitch, on your knees and begging. She has some extra spicy ones from San Luis Obispo, too. I offered her cash money for them and she turned me down, but the longer you avoid her, the more interested in my money she gets.”
“I don’t give a fuck!”
“She showed me one when I told her I didn’t believe her. Hollywood’s Golden Goose getting fucked up the ass by his whips and chains whore. It’s gonna look phenomenal on the covers of every magazine in the damn world. Put you both back in the public eye.”
Lawson’s telling the truth about knowing the stalker.
“You’re a smart kid. Sign the fuckin’ deal and I’ll tell you who and where she is.”
“Pongo, get down,” I whisper as he jumps at the door. “Lawson, tell me?—”
He’s gone. I mumble under my breath as I head for the door and the second it’s open, Pongo bolts past Megan, almost knocking her over. I catch her and apologize for him acting weird as he disappears around another trailer. It’s gotta be food. Idiot acts like I don’t feed him.
“Sorry to bother you, Chase, but uhm, we’ve had another break-in. I just wanted to make sure you were alright,”
“Break-in? Did you catch her?” My heart races.
“Yeah, we found her snooping around the trailers looking for you. She looks familiar, but she’s probably someone we’ve tossed out before.”
I check in the direction Pongo went, waiting for him to come back. There’s a strange feeling in my stomach. “What, uh, what did you say she looked like?”
“I didn’t, but she’s short, around my height. She has a red bob, and a tattoo?—”
I take off in a full run. I remember the chick that broke in last time, the stalker. Sharron. Suzan. Shauna. Something like that. Whatever she calls herself, she’s much taller than Megan.
My heart hammers, while my brain tries hard to pump the brakes. If it’s the stalker, she could hurt Pongo, but that’s not what my gut tells me. My gut says it’s the woman I’ve waited fucking months for. When I round the corner, there’s a woman squatting down with one of the security guards next to her. Pongo’s on his back as she rubs his belly. She doesn’t have to turn around and doesn’t need to face me when I hear that laugh.
“Sunshine!” I practically tackle her, rolling to keep her from hitting the concrete. It’s a move my stunt guy taught me a few weeks back, and I never dreamed it would have real-life applications like this. I hug her to me, swearing to myself that I’ll never let her go. Never. “Fuck, Sunshine! I can’t believe it’s you! Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”
I don’t even wait for a response, grabbing her face and pulling her mouth down to mine. It’s like a game of tug-of-war, each of us fighting to pull the other’s soul right out of their body. It’s a miracle I keep enough of my brain intact to not strip her naked right there and claim every damn inch of her.
“Chase! Come on, let me go!” she says between gasps of air. “Seriously!”
“No, not until you use the right name. The name I’ve begged every fucking star in the sky to hear again. Let me hear it, please, baby?”
