Hollywood Hit (26 page)

“Just want to make a film,” Rush said. He let a smile simmer on his lips, a smile that he hoped would knock JP off his guard. A nonthreatening, I-am-your-best-buddy smile. A lie of a smile. Because Rush Nelson didn’t give a good goddamn about JP or JP’s ego. All Rush cared about was watching Nikki and Celeste Solange and making certain no more dead bodies piled up anywhere near either of them.

“When does it shoot?” Bradford turned his fork in his eggs while he stared into space. His eyes flicked from the near distance to Christina. “How many days?” His lips pursed out as he considered the news his agent was conveying.

Christina looked away from him and back to the screenplay on her iPad. Bradford settled his phone beside the plate of half-eaten eggs.

“Did you know about this?”

Christina glanced up through her lashes toward Bradford. His face was placid, without much emotion except for a crease between his brows.

Christina shook her head from side to side. “Know about what?”

Bradford bit his bottom lip and settled back in the chair. He’d been at Christina’s nearly every night for a month. With each passing day his color grew better, his smile was quicker, his wit faster. Aside from his twelve-step meetings and her work, they spent nearly all their time together.

“I got offered a role.”

“That’s great,” Christina said. She’d wondered when he might start working again. News of his stint in rehab had filtered through the Industry. He still got offers for parts—not the caliber of roles he’d once inhabited, but there was still work for him.

He ran his palm over his jaw. “It’s for
Boundless Bound
.”

Christina’s heart fluttered. Lydia hadn’t told her about wanting to offer one of the remaining roles to Bradford.

“Lydia made the offer this morning,” Bradford said.

Christina knew which male part was still available, and she wasn’t certain the role would be attractive to Bradford.

“I’m being typecast,” he said and crossed his arms over his chest. “If I take it, I guess I can knock it out of the park.”

“She offered you Jackson Nichols’s son?”

Bradford nodded. “The addict.”

The role was actor-candy. They’d received multiple inquiries from hungry agents who represented brilliant actors. The opportunity to play opposite Jackson and Celeste could make an actor’s career. Lydia had been holding out, not issuing any offers, waiting for something or someone that Christina hadn’t been privy to. Now Christina understood why.

“I’ve got the shortcut into the headspace for that character,” Bradford said. The muscle in his jaw flinched and his gaze darted from his plate to the ceiling. “But I’m not sure I want to inhabit that place for the next sixty days.” His gaze locked on Christina.

The place Bradford would have to inhabit was a place he’d just exited. The role of Michael was the story of a down-on-his-luck, strung-out addict on the cusp of dying or getting clean.

A shiver raced up Christina’s spine. The character was so close to real life for Bradford, and she wasn’t certain that his new grasp on his sobriety was strong enough to go back and forth between an addict and his new reality each day for two months.

“I’d probably get nominated,” Bradford said with a whoosh of air.

He probably would. Bradford was Hollywood royalty from a multigenerational family of actors the Industry loved. If he inhabited the role like he could and incorporated all he knew about being an addict, with reality so close to the part? With a solid performance, Academy voters would eat that story up when it came time to cast their votes.

“Lydia knows that too,” Christina said. Actors were marketing tools, and Lydia was offering Bradford a role that would put him back on top, and in return, her film would get a ton of press and goodwill, but the price might be too high for Bradford to pay.

“I’m doing it,” Bradford said. His lips were in a tight line. He would be stepping back into the shoes of a character who still fought the demons Bradford had spent months trying to cage. He reached his hand across the table and took Christina’s fingers, his gaze piercing through her.

“I can do this, Christina,” Bradford said. “I can do this, if you’ll do it with me.”

*

Rush wasn’t waiting for another dead body. He was going on the offensive. Nikki was safe on set with a slew of security that Ted had peppered throughout the crew. She was better protected than most heads of state. Ted said he had security guys looking, searching, trying to find the guy who was after Nikki, but those guys weren’t working fast enough. Rush could work faster. He was smarter. He was stealthier. But he needed intel, he needed to know what he was looking for, and there was one guy who might know.

“Hey, Jay, how you feeling?” Rush said. The wounds on Jay’s face had healed, but tiny red marks across his skin gave testament to the beating he’d received.

“What’s up, Rush?” Jay reached out his hands, which still had bandages around his palms. Rush gently grasped them and Jay flinched with the touch.

“When you gettin’ out of this place?” Rush asked.

“They say two more days.” Jay wore street clothes. He settled back against the headboard of his bed. “Can’t wait.”

Rush nodded. He’d been injured, he’d done his physical therapy, and he understood the stir-craziness that inhabited you once you were nearly well.

“You look good.”

“Damn good for somebody who wasn’t supposed to be here,” Jay said.

Rush didn’t have an answer for that comment. Yes, Jay had barely made it, barely survived.

“That’s why I’m here,” Rush said.

Jay nodded. He’d known why Rush was here the moment he entered the door. “They still haven’t caught the bastard yet,” Jay said. “You know I didn’t get the best look, but the guy was big. He was alone, and he was fast.”

“Anything else?”

“He barely spoke, jumped me from behind, came out of nowhere.” Jay shook his head. “How he got to me without me seeing him coming, I will never understand.”

“It happens.”

“Yeah, but hopefully not twice. You got ideas on identity?” Jay asked.

Rush nodded. “Yeah, I got a few, but nothing solid. Wanted to check with you, see if there was anything that popped into your mind, you know, since it happened.”

Jay slowly shook his head. He closed his eyes as though he was flashing through the memory of that night. His cheeks sucked in. To relive a beating wasn’t pleasant for any man. Jay’s eyes popped open. “You know, I think the bastard had a mark on his right arm. Like a tattoo, but I couldn’t describe it for you. It was dark, but I remember seeing something as that fist slammed into my face.” 

Rush swallowed. A fist in the face. He’d like to find this nutjob and give him an exponential number of those. “Thanks, man. If it comes to you, or anything else, you know how to find me.”

Jay nodded. “Seems you’ve managed to get yourself quite a job. Bodies piling up on this one.”

“Yeah, and I don’t want any more.”

Rush exited the room and headed down the hall. He hated hospitals. The elevator doors opened and Rush locked eyes with Lydia.

Her face didn’t flinch. A hard dislike for him and what he’d done to Nikki settled in Lydia’s eyes, but also some sort of surrender to the necessity of his usefulness.

“How’s Jay,” Lydia asked. She didn’t move to exit the elevator.

“Looks good,” Rush said and walked into the metal box. Lydia pushed the G button, the doors closed, and the elevator jolted toward the lobby. In two seconds, Lydia slammed the Stop button with her hand. Lydia Albright was the real deal. She’d been threatened, stalked, and still managed to remain the biggest producer in town. She stepped forward and invaded Rush’s space. Her eyes held hard steel.

“You need to find this fucker,” Lydia said. “He’s circling the people I love.”

Rush could appreciate this woman with her clarity and her iron will. “I’m working on it.”

“Work faster,” Lydia said. “Start with Bikram Shasta’s assistant. He’s a weird cat, but he seems to have the lowdown.” She slammed her hand onto the Start button and turned her body toward the front of the elevator, away from Rush.

With a psycho out there killing, Rush couldn’t work fast enough.

The opal on Nikki’s right hand was the only item of value Nikki’s mother never sold. Lacey had hidden the ring and on her deathbed gave it to Nikki. There weren’t many fond memories from her childhood, but Nikki had little memories surrounding this ring. She stood outside her aunt’s trailer and worried the ring with her finger while the cast and crew for
Boundless Bound
lined up in front of the catering truck for lunch. Their location today would feel sordid if not for the hired security and police presence.

“Halfway there,” Christina said.

“And nearly ready to wrap the whole thing,” Nikki said. She stopped twisting her ring. Production was nearly complete and without incident. Nikki gazed across the crowd toward the long line in front of catering.

“Bradford is doing awesome,” Nikki said.

“He knows the character,” Christina said.

“And you two seem kind of”—Nikki turned her gaze away from the crowd and toward Christina—“serious.”

Christina settled her hands on her hips. “It’s Hollywood. We’re hot and heavy now, but it could all end tomorrow.”

“It could,” Nikki said. “But it doesn’t seem like it will.” 

Christina raised her eyebrows in an I’m-not-so-sure sort of look. “Have you forgotten I’ve been down this torturous road once before with Mr. Madison? I know how he rolls.”

“But that was before,” Nikki said. “He seems so solid now. So different than all the stories you’ve told me about him.”

“Again, he’s an actor and this is Hollywood, and it is desperately hard to find anything real, especially off-screen.”

Nikki wouldn’t argue with Christina’s assessment. Her eyes darted toward the far end of the trailer where Rush, her ever-present shadow for the last ten weeks, paced with his phone pressed to his ear. She wondered if he was pretending to produce or actually doing his job and protecting her.

Christina’s eyes followed Nikki’s. “Still hate him?” she asked.

“Wouldn’t you?”

“So hard to hate a man who looks that good.” Christina sighed.

It was impossibly hard to hate a man who looked that good and was as charming as Rush. Even if all his feelings for her had been a lie, they had been a sweet lie that she’d enjoyed. She couldn’t seem to actually work her intense feelings up to hate. She was angry and hurt and frightened by how easily duped she’d been. She felt manipulated and wildly angry, but as hard as she’d tried, she didn’t hate Rush. Unfortunately for her, she still found him wildly attractive.

“Is he as good as he looks?” Christina asked.

“Better.” Nikki nibbled her bottom lip. “So good it almost makes it worth it.”

A smile curled around Christina’s lips. “Now that you know what you’re getting into with him”—she nodded her head toward Rush—“why not get into it?”

A tiny grin formed on Nikki’s face. Maybe. Why not indeed? “I don’t think that’s what he wants.”

“Obviously you’re not aware of how Mr. Nelson looks at you.”

“He’s paid to follow me with his eyes.”

“He’s not paid well enough for the looks he gives you,” Christina said. “It’s not just security, Nikki. I’ve had security off and on my entire life. Rush looks at you in an entirely different way. He watches you the way a man watches a woman he wants… that he might be able to let himself need.”

“I don’t even know his real name.”

“Doesn’t change the chemistry between you two.” Christina turned her gaze from Rush and back toward Bradford, who was in full strung-out-addict attire for the shoot. “Sometimes we can’t help who we want.”

“I need you,” Rush said. He now stood beside Nikki, his sunglasses shading his eyes. The muscle in his jaw flinched. A hard-edged energy pulsed off him. “In there.”

He turned toward Celeste’s trailer. Once Celeste had finished her scenes that morning, she’d exited the set with Ted. Rush pulled open the trailer door and waited for Nikki. Nikki glanced to Christina, who gave her a “what’s up” sort of a look. A look for which Nikki had no response.

Nikki climbed the three steps to the trailer door. Whatever Rush needed to discuss, he didn’t seem pleased. In fact, he seemed nearly pissed. Nikki entered her aunt’s private trailer—specially manufactured and decorated for Cici by Ted. A start-date gift he’d given her on the first day of their first film together.

“Sit,” Rush said. He paced the width of the trailer with his hands on his hips. He’d pulled off his sunglasses and put them in his jacket pocket.

Nikki held her head high and flipped her amber locks over her shoulder. He might get to protect her but he didn’t get to command her like a dog. She put one hand on her hip. “I’ll stand, thanks.”

Rush moved in fast and Nikki jerked backward, surprised at the sudden speed with which he moved. The breath whooshed from her lungs, and for a second she thought he might kiss her—she hoped he might kiss her—but instead he pulled up short, a millimeter from her lips.

“You’ve been getting phone calls,” Rush growled.

“I get lots of phone calls,” Nikki said. “I’m a producer.”

“Not those kind of phone calls.” His eyes bored into her, hot piercing eyes that seemed to reach into her mind. “Phone calls from an unrecognizable number. Phone calls you’ve answered. Phone calls that have lasted minutes. Phone calls that I’ve recently heard. Phone calls from Calvin Geckler.”

With each word, Nikki’s heartbeat accelerated. He backed her toward the couch in the center of the trailer. The luxurious couch upon which her aunt lounged between scenes. With the final words, he placed both hands on her arms and grasped her biceps.

“How can I protect you if you won’t tell me the truth?”

His grip was hard. His fingertips seared her skin. A flash of heat pulsed between her thighs.

“I don’t remember you ever asking if Geckler was calling me,” Nikki spit out.