“My pleasure,” I say.
Then he focuses his attention squarely on Haven. “I was just talking to Vega, as you know, about some of her future projects,” he says. “And I told her I’d love it if she could keep me in mind for the TV show she might be doing with you.”
Haven’s smile is slow and surprised. “Of course. I’d love to work with you again.”
“It would be an honor. Truly.” He shifts again toward me. “Permission to hug?”
“Absolutely,” I say. As he brings me in for a hug, a twig snaps beneath his foot, breaking the silence of the otherwise still night.
He asks the same of Haven, they exchange a hug, and then Chris takes off. As we head deeper into the maze toward our favorite picnic spot, I whisper, “Did he just ask to be on a project with you?”—even though, of course, that’s what he did.
“Yes,” she says, then holds out her arm, the hair on it standing on end. “Pinch me.”
“How the tables have turned,” I say.
A twig snaps again.
That’s when it hits me. That first twig wasn’t under Chris’s foot. It was a few rows of lavender hedge away.
A feeling of unease creeps up my spine. “Haven, we should go,” I say.
I reach into my pocket for mace but come up empty. Right. I’m at home, on the farm, where I’m safe.
Except, I don’t feel safe.
Time to turn around. But when I do, I walk right into a slab of a man instead. He’s holding a camera. His hair is blond and slicked back, and he looks terribly familiar.
He’s the guy who hit on me the night I met Banks. And in a heartbeat, he grabs me and yanks me into a chokehold.
51
MY NEW PARTNER
BANKS
A few minutes ago…
I check the text as Hudson lifts his snout, his ears pricking.
Tyler: Hey. Good thing you checked. There’s some new hotshot photographer who’s working for News Site Ink and anyone he can sell to. His name is Ian Joseph. Used to be a news photographer but lost his job when a lot of pubs went under. He’s upside-down in credit card debt. Now he’s making a living as a studio photographer, but evidently, he supplements his income from time to time with celeb shots. What do you need to know?
That’s a damn good question. With my project nearly finished, I head to the door. I’m honestly not sure I need to know anything more right this second. Because the hair on the backof my neck stands on end, and my gut is telling me something right now.
But so is Hudson.
Out of nowhere, he’s up and racing to the door, barking at it. “What’s going on, Hudson?” I ask as I swiftly join him, while googling Ian Joseph.
The second his picture pops up, I nearly crush my phone in my hand.
Are you fucking kidding me? That’s the sleazeball who hit on my woman the night I met her. He must have been the one who took the picture of us the other night, not her ex. That smug smile from her ex was just a smug smile. I burn, lava flowing through my veins. As I throw open the door, Hudson tilts his head, his ears pointing up. I track him and spot a shadow slipping into the maze on the far side.
Not on my watch.
Adrenaline rushes through me, bulldozing any remnants of fear right out of the way. I run like hell across the front of the lawn, past the shop, to the fairy lights illuminating the lavender maze. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot Daveed hanging back by my car, then straightening up when I pass like a shot. But I’ve got no time to assess whether he moves or not.
Haven took Ripley into the maze for a midnight picnic to keep her busy. To get her safely out of the way so I could be in the cottage. And some scum sneaked in on the other side. The shoot’s over, so we no longer have round-the-clock guards. Even if we did, the property is huge, and a picket fence is nothing to penetrate despite the floodlights.
When I reach the mouth of the maze, I hurtle in with Hudson, powered only by the need to get to the women right this second. And I nearly run into Chris Carlisle. “What’s going on?” he asks, alarmed.
