Unless I stop him first.
"How long do I have to pack?" she asks.
"Twenty minutes. One bag. Only the essentials."
"That's not very long."
"Ms. Wilde, in twenty minutes, you're going to disappear off the face of the earth. Your stalker, the media, everyone who thinks they know where you are. They're all going to lose you completely." I lean forward, making sure she understands how serious this is. "Twenty minutes is more than most people get."
She nods and stands, moving toward the stairs with the kind of grace that comes from years of being watched, being photographed, being judged on every movement.
"Mr. McKenna?" She pauses at the bottom of the staircase, looking back at me.
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For coming. For taking this job. I know celebrity clients aren't your usual thing."
"How do you know what my usual thing is?"
She smiles, and for the first time since I walked in here, it reaches her eyes. "Let's just say I've done my research."
Then she's gone, disappearing upstairs to pack for a journey that's going to take her further from her glittering world than she's ever been.
And I'm left standing in her living room, staring out at the city below, trying to ignore the voice in my head that's telling me this job is different.
That Nova Wilde is different.
That once I get her to Montana, once I have her under my protection on my mountain, I'm never going to want to let her go.
I takethe opportunity to check the perimeter while she packs. This place is a security nightmare. Too many windows, too many access points, not enough cover. The walls and cameras might keep out casual intruders, but someone with determination and patience? They'd find a way in.
Someone already has.
I check my watch. Ten minutes left. I need to get her out of here before the morning staff arrives, before anyone can reporther movements. The fewer people who know she's gone, the better chance we have of disappearing completely.
My burner phone vibrates in my pocket. A text from Frank.
Arrangements complete. Plane is fueled and waiting. Safe house prepped. Do NOT talk to the local security team. Compromised.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Compromised. Someone on her security detail is feeding information to the stalker. That explains how he's been getting inside, how he's known her movements, how he's stayed one step ahead.
I head back inside, taking the stairs two at a time. I need to get her out. Now.
I find her in a bedroom that's larger than most apartments, sitting on the edge of a massive bed, staring at a small framed photo in her hands. A black duffel bag sits packed and ready at her feet.
"We need to leave." My voice is harder than I intended, but the urgency is real. "Your security team is compromised."
Her head snaps up, eyes wide. "What? How do you know?"
"Frank just confirmed it. Someone's been feeding information to your stalker. That's how he's been getting inside, how he's known your schedule."
She pales, and I watch the realization wash over her. "Someone I trust has been helping him."
"Yes."
She sets the photo down on the bedside table with deliberate care. It's a picture of her with an older woman. Mother, maybe.
"Can I at least say goodbye?" Her voice is small, and it does something to me I can't explain. Something protective and fierce that has nothing to do with the job.
