By Degrees
Authors: Elle Casey
By Degrees
Elle Casey
COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2013 Elle Casey, all rights reserved, worldwide.
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OTHER BOOKS BY ELLE CASEY
*=
Coming Soon
(New Adult Romance)
(YA Paranormal Romance)
Duality, Volume I (Melancholia)
(YA Urban Fantasy)
War of the Fae: Book One, The Changelings -
FREE!
War of the Fae: Book Two, Call to Arms
War of the Fae: Book Three, Darkness & Light
War of the Fae: Book Four, New World Order
Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 1, After the Fall
Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 2, Between the Realms
Clash of the Otherworlds: Book 3, Portal Guardians
Aces High (co-written with Jason Brant)
(YA Post-Apocalyptic)
Apocalypsis: Book 1, Kahayatle
(YA Action-Adventure)
DEDICATION
For my husband, my forever guy.
Chapter One
SPINNING PARTWAY AROUND ON MY back while still holding onto her ankle, I use my feet to defend myself.
My ribs are aching too much to throw a punch, so I kick the ever-loving shit out of her thighs and crotch and don’t stop, even when a voice finally comes over my cell phone.
“Nine-one-one … what is your emergency?”
I don’t know exactly where my phone is, but it’s near my head somewhere, so I just start yelling.
“Intruder in the house! Tarin Kilgour’s residence! The musician from the band
By Degrees
!
Beverly Hills!”
I can’t for the life of me remember his address.
I hope I’ve given her enough information to find me.
“I need your name and a description of the intruder, ma’am.”
“Fuck you!” yells my attacker.
“Give me that goddamn phone, dammit!” She struggles to sit up and reach for my cell, but I give her a running shoe to the face, making her fall back again.
I keep kicking, but her foot slips out of my sweaty grip. She’s crawled out of my way, but I can tell by the way she’s eyeing my pinwheeling legs, she doesn’t want to eat any more of my sneakers than she already has.
All those hours on the stationary bike are paying off.
I yell again, hoping the operator can hear me. “My name is Scarlett Barnes and I work with Tarin Kilgour!
The intruder’s name is …”
I’m cut off by her struggle for my phone.
When I kick her away, I continue.
“She’s an unwelcome fan of Tarin’s!
She broke into the house while he was out and she’s in the process of taking some of his things!”
“I was not taking anything!” she screeches as she stands somewhat unsteadily on her feet.
She sways there, out of her mind with anger.
“And I’m not an intruder!
Tarin loves me and I love him!”
“Get over it, freak!” I yell at her.
I’ve officially lost my cool and I don’t care about her delicate psyche anymore or the fact that all of this will be on the operator’s recording. “You’re just another bimbot deluded fan!
He doesn’t give a shit about you!”
She freezes in place, hunched over, her make-up starting to smear a little and her hair a crazy mess.
Backing up, she points a shaking finger at me.
“You don’t know anything about Tarin and me.”
Her voice is quavering.
The operator speaks again and I can barely hear her.
I look over and see my phone turned upside down, the speaker facing the carpet.
I pick it up in time to hear her say, “We’re sending someone to the house now. My advice is to not engage with this intruder and just leave the premises until she can be apprehended.”
“Yeah, sounds like a good idea,” I say, attempting to stand.
My ribs are killing me, and as I get more upright, I shift to the side a little.
A sharp, stabbing pain sears into my guts and makes my breath catch in my throat.
“Fuck,” I grunt out, bending towards the pain, trying to make it stop.
“You fucking broke my ribs, you freak.”
I look up in time to see her nostrils flare.
“You broke your own ribs, coming after me like that.”
“Coming after you?
After
you?
Are you fucking kidding me?
How deluded can a person possibly be?”
“Ms. Barnes, I suggest you leave the premises,” says the voice over the phone.
“Yeah, well it’s not that easy, actually.”
“I’m not deluded,” says the freak, lifting her chin, “I’m in love.
Love can make you do crazy things, but that doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”
“Yes, actually, it does.
What you’re doing is wrong.
You need therapy and medication.” I resort to begging.
The pain is bad. I can’t move enough to escape.
“Please just get out of here.”
She’s crying now.
“Tarin loves me.”
I shake my head, backing up until I’m leaning against the wall.
“No, he doesn’t.
He doesn’t love anyone but himself.”
“No!”
I nod.
“Yes.”
She moves around the side of his bed, never taking her eyes off me.
“You don’t know anything about love.
You’re empty inside.
I can see it.”
“Wrong.”
I slide down the wall a little, my legs apparently deciding that injured ribs are too heavy.
She stops when she’s in front of Tarin’s nightstand.
“You want Tarin for yourself, don’t you?”
I shake my head.
“God, somebody shoot me.”
Her words combined with the pain make me nauseated.
I’m afraid I’m going to barf right here on Tarin’s silk carpeting.
With my luck I’ll probably fall in it too, making the thought of it doubly awful.
Her eyes flash anger, and her color goes up again.
“Oh my god!
That’s it!
You want Tarin for yourself.
That’s what this is all about!
This isn’t about him not loving me or me having problems … this is about you and your sick little infatuation with Tarin!”
My butt hits the ground, and I drop my face into my hand, using my other to prop myself up.
I half whisper, half moan, “Jesus Christ save me from delusional nutbags.” I swallow over and over to keep my stomach contents where they belong.
I hear a drawer open and lift my eyes in time to see her pulling a handgun from the nightstand.
My heart stops beating for what seems like forever.
My salivary glands go into overdrive.
The vomiting is near.
The gun comes up and she stares at it, almost mystified.
And then a big grin comes over her face as she looks at me.
“Tarin keeps a gun in our bedroom to protect us from people like you.”
“Jesus, Mary, and Jerome.” I lift the phone to my ear with monumental effort. It jitters against my head, I’m shaking so bad. My heart starts beating again, only now it’s going a mile a minute.
“She’s got a gun,” I say to the operator.
My voice is all over the place. “I’m pretty sure she’s going to shoot me.”
Chapter Two
TWO WEEKS EARLIER…
I’M SITTING in the office reception area of Hollywood super-agent, Mel Warner, waiting for him to finish a meeting with one of his clients.
The secretary pays me no mind, busy clicking away on her computer.
I take the time before our appointment to look around the office.
Lots of framed awards and pictures of Mel with three generations of famous people adorn the walls.
Healthy plants and colorful orchids make the place seem less sterile.
The furniture isn’t too modern, which is a nice change from what I’m used to seeing in places like this.
When Mel’s previous appointment comes out of his inner sanctum, I recognize her as an actress who has starred in at least six feature films.
She commands a high salary with generous terms, but she’s not why I’m here.
I’m here for a superstar who needs my particular brand of help, and this actress is too on-track with her career to worry about that kind of business.
I wait for them to exchange air kisses and promises to see each other again before I stand.
“Scarlett Barnes, I presume,” Mel says once she’s gone, looking me up and down as I walk over to him.
I hold out my hand.
“In the flesh.”
He’s short and round with a really daring comb-over, but he has a firm grip.
He holds on longer than necessary, but I don’t fret over it because I know he’s not coming-on to me; he’s taking my measure, wondering if I can do what they say I can … if I can pull off a miracle in a month or less.
I’m taller than he is, but only because he’s barely above five feet himself.
I have dark gray eyes and blonde hair that’s lighter with help from my hairstylist.
Looking older than my twenty-five years is a definite asset in my little niche of the entertainment business. I dress professionally until I’m actually knee-deep in the work; then I dress as casually as possible, so I can be ready for anything.
Today I’m in my favorite gray pantsuit.
It’s cut in a casual business style that strikes the perfect balance between professional and trendy, its light fabric perfect for this scorchingly hot Los Angeles day.
