Home Bound (5 page)

She stared at me for so long with eyes filled with such fire and hatred that I felt like she was burning my skin off. Abruptly she yanked her arm free. “If you call me a child again, when you’ve done nothing but act like an ornery kid yourself, I promise you won’t like the consequences. You have no idea how much I despise you.”

Part of me was kind of impressed—since most people didn’t put up much of a fight when I was trying to intimidate them—but the other part of me was just annoyed.

“Oh yeah?” I said through clenched teeth. “I don’t fucking care. I guess I’ll have to cancel my fan club membership and rip up my glittery card.”

She was so furious she was shaking with it, but there was also a glint of tears in her eyes.

Shit
.

In a flash she pulled herself together and looked over at Malcolm. “Let’s go,” she said and walked away to pick up her jacket and purse. And then, as regally as any member of the royal family, she stood by the door and waited for her entourage to take their places before leaving the room.

She almost pulled it off except for her last minute twist around to flip me off.

And damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell doing it.

Evangeline

I
was never going to forgive Sebastian for hooking me up with this asshole.

I suppose I might have had a privileged, over-indulged life, but I tried every day to be nice and not take advantage of the people around me. I sometimes spent too much money, and I’d had a few wild times in the past, but I was never one of the tabloid-princess celebrities who are always pouring money away or belittling the people around them.

I don’t think I’d done anything to deserve the way Cole was treating me, and at present there wasn’t anything I could do to change it—except fire Sebastian and his whole company, which I was on the edge of doing all week.

I liked Sebastian, and I trusted him, and I was in a bad situation with this stalker. After I cooled down that first day, I’d determined to give it a week, and then decide if I was going to get rid of the asshole.

Fortunately, Cole seemed to be not quite so offensive after the first day. He was cold and gruff and irrationally grumpy, but I figured that was his normal attitude. If he’d continued to act as horribly as he had the first day, I never would have made it through the week with him.

I was scared of this stalker, but there were other security firms out there—with men who would act like professionals—and it was only my faith in Sebastian that was keeping me from switching to one of them.

Sebastian said Cole was a good guy. So far, I hadn’t seen any evidence of that.

The week was spent reading and blocking for the most part, although they filmed a few exterior scenes I wasn’t a part of near the end of the week. Filming my scenes wouldn’t begin until next week, and on Saturday I was looking forward to some time at home—mostly for some free time from the obnoxiousness of Cole Langham.

It wasn’t really my home, of course. It was a rented, furnished apartment on the top floor of a downtown high rise. It was going to be my home for the next month or so, though, and what mattered was Cole wouldn’t be anywhere around.

So it was a very unpleasant surprise when I came out from my bedroom at about nine o’clock on Saturday morning to find Cole sitting on a stool at the kitchen bar.

I was wearing a camisole and soft pajama shorts. I was barefoot, and my hair was a mess.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded, after a moment of shocked paralysis.

“My job.” He arched one dark, annoying eyebrow at me.

“Who let you into my place?”

“Malcolm.”

“Why are you here?” I did my best to moderate my tone out of general civility, but I wanted to scream and push the asshole out of here. How dare he think he could invade my privacy for no good reason?

“There was a call last night.”

“What?” I’d been about to put a mug under the high-class, one-cup brewer, but I paused and stared at him instead. “What call?”

“You had a call. It was concerning.”

A felt a familiar drop to my stomach and a chill of fear. “What did it say?”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It damn well does matter. Tell me what the call said.”

“It was nasty, and there was a mention of something else happening today, so that’s why I’m here. It’s sure as hell not because I wanted to get cozy with you or anything.”

He didn’t have to sound so offensive all the time. He made it sound like I’d actually thought he was interested in me, but there was no way in the world I could be that stupid.

He clearly disliked me as much as I disliked him.

I wasn’t used to people disliking me. Sure, maybe some of them faked it, since I had money and a certain degree of power—although not nearly as much power as people thought. But I don’t think most people held me in aversion, the way Cole seemed to do from the first moment he met me.

Actually, he seemed to hate me
before
he’d even met me, and I had no idea why.

He wouldn’t even say my name, which was petty and immature, as far as I was concerned. It wasn’t my real name—my real name was Eve, but my mother had decided it wasn’t distinct enough to work for an up-and-coming actress, so I’d adopted the stage name that everyone used when talking to me now. But Cole wouldn’t even use that.

I rolled my eyes as I waited for the coffee to brew, telling myself that on Monday I could make the decision about whether to go in a different direction with security. I could handle Cole for the weekend, and I could get rid of him Monday, if I wanted.

Then something occurred to me. I whirled around. “Are you intercepting my phone calls?” I demanded.

He arched his eyebrow at me again. “I said I’m doing my job.”

“But what right do you have to intercept my calls without even clearing it with me first?”

“My job is to protect you and to find out who this stalker is.” His voice was rough and edgy in a familiar way. He always sounded that way when he was angry with me. “I do anything I need to do to make sure that happens. No one forced you to hire us, so don’t give me that poor-little-rich-girl-victim routine.”

I turned back around, mostly so I didn’t slap that arrogant look off his face, and I breathed deeply to control my anger.

Only until Monday. I just had to put up with him until Monday.

When I felt mostly under control, I turned back around, sipping my coffee. “So you’re just going to hang around here all day?”

“I’m going to stay close to you. What are you plans?”

“I was just going to take it easy. I’ve got some work I can do here, and then I might visit a day spa this afternoon.”

I should have expected the faint sneer that showed up on his face at the words. Naturally, he would think I was some sort of spoiled princess for visiting a day spa, even though my appearance was vitally important for my work and, without semi-regular massages, tension would make my neck unbearably painful.

No use trying to explain any of that to Cole, though.

Without another word, I took my coffee out onto the large terrace. It was beautifully furnished with outdoor seating and a table and some potted trees. There probably would have been more plants, but February wasn’t an ideal time of the year for making things grow in Baltimore.

I might have hoped for something different, but I wasn’t surprised when Cole followed me out onto the terrace.

“It’s freezing out here,” he muttered. “Get back inside.”

It was chilly—probably in the forties—and I was just wearing the little pajamas I’d slept in. I would have gone back inside immediately, but some sort of contrariness sprung up inside me at his bossiness. “I’ll go back inside in a minute.”

“What the hell, princess?” He reached out to take my arm. “You’ll freeze your tight little ass off. Get inside.”

I jerked my arm out of his grip. “I’ll go inside when I want. I might have to suffer having you around all the time, but you don’t get to control my every step. If you’re too much of a wuss to stay outside when it’s nippy, you can go inside and curl up under a blanket.”

He made a throaty sound but didn’t articulate any words. He just stood right next to me, glaring at me.

I did my best to ignore him as I walked close to the railing, still drinking my coffee. What the hell had I been thinking coming out here without any shoes? And now I was stuck for at least a few minutes, or I’d have to admit that Cole was right.

“It’s just Baltimore,” Cole said, still sounding bad-tempered. “Not much of anything to stand and gawk at.”

“I’ve never been to Baltimore before,” I told him. “I grew up around D.C., but I never had any reason to come out this way.”

“Not much reason to come here at all.”

I heard something different in his tone and glanced over to check his face. “You’ve been here before?”

“I grew up here.”

“Oh.” This was new information and vaguely interesting. I tried to keep my teeth from chattering from the cold as I asked, “What part of the city?”

“Not a good part. Definitely on the wrong side of the tracks. Pretty much exactly the opposite from where you were raised.”

I could kind of see that. He had a lot of really hard edges, as if he’d had to push through a lot of crap to get where he was. Maybe that was why he hated me so much—because he thought my upbringing had all been velvet and roses, compared to his.

It helped me understand him better. Not like him any better, though.

“Do you resent everyone who didn’t grow up the way you did?”

He turned his head toward me. “What?”

“You seem to resent me, and it seems to be because you think I had an easier time in life than you did.”

“I bet you everything in your fat wallet that you did.”

I brushed off the snide comment. “Whether it’s true or not, you resent me for it. That’s a hard way to go through life, only respecting people you think have suffered as much as you have. Do you resent Sebastian too?”

Something flickered on his face, and I could see that he had resented Sebastian—at least, at one point, even if he didn’t still now. “Sebastian is a friend.”

“So that means you’ve realized there’s more to him than the easy life you think he’s had. Is it possible that might be true of me?”

Cole met my eyes, and for a moment he seemed to really see me. See
me
—in a way he hadn’t in the entire last week. Before he could say anything, though, the buzzer from the doorman sounded.

Both of us jumped, and I ran back into the living area of the apartment, relieved to be back inside.

“Are you expecting anyone?” Cole asked, as I reached to pick up the phone to talk to the doorman.

I shook my head and said “Hello,” into the phone.

“There’s a courier down here with a delivery,” the doorman said.

At Cole’s look, I whispered, “A delivery. By courier.”

“Who from?” Cole asked.

“Who from?” I asked into the phone.

After a moment, the doorman said, “From Jimmy.”

I was relieved and repeated this information. Cole nodded, so I told the doorman to accept the package.

Cole went down to get it, and he came up with a box of gourmet muffins.

I smiled at the sight. “Jimmy has sent these to me before. He does it to be nice. I’m sure it’s fine.” I reached out to take the box from Cole.

Cole was still frowning, but after inspecting the box from all angles, he handed it to me.

I brought it over to the counter, realizing I was a little hungry, since all I’d had so far today was half a cup of coffee.

When I lifted the top, there were the familiar rows of mini-muffins in a variety of flavors. I grabbed one and started to take a bite.

Then I noticed something. In one of the slots for the muffins, there wasn’t a muffin.

There was a dead mouse.

I squealed in shock and disgust, dropped the lid, and took several steps away from the box, shuddering in disgust and spitting out the bite I’d just taken.

Cole sprang into action immediately, jumping over to examine the box and then coming over to me.

I was still spitting and half-sobbing, trying to get the sight of that mouse out of my head, right where the muffins I’d been so excited about were lined up. For some reason, it was more horrifying than it should have been. I definitely didn’t like mice, but when it was placed like that, amid food objects that were supposed to be a gift, it took on a kind of nightmare, surreal quality.

“Evangeline,” Cole was saying, sounding urgent, strong, strangely reassuring. “Evangeline, are you okay? It’s okay. It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay. I ran over to the sink to fill a glass of water and swish it in my mouth, spitting it out again into the sink. There was no reason to think anything was wrong with the muffin I’d taken a bite from, but it had been in the box with the dead mouse, and I didn’t want any crumb of it remaining.

“It’s just to scare you,” Cole said, evidently assuring himself I hadn’t been poisoned and going back over to the box. He put the lid on it and moved it out of the kitchen, over to a table near the door. “It’s just supposed to scare you.”

“It did scare me,” I said, rubbing my mouth with the back of my hand. “It was horrible.”

“I know. It was ugly. I’m sorry I didn’t check the box before I let you open it.”

I shook my head, since it was obviously not his fault. “Jimmy sends me those muffins. He’s done it a lot. The note sounded like him.”

Cole nodded, looking sober. “It’s someone who knows a lot of information about you and those around you.”

That was even more terrifying. I gave a little whimper, shivering from the aftermath of the horror on top of the chill from being outside in my pajamas. I hugged myself, barely able to stand still.

I must have looked particularly pitiful because Cole’s expression broke with what looked like empathy. “Damn it,” he said, reaching out and pulling me against him, wrapping me in one of his arms. “It’s over now.”

It didn’t feel like it was over. It felt like there was a stranger in my home, constantly threatening me, making me helpless, vulnerable.