Lauriedidn't speak to Nicole that day.He got through his brooding scenesas quickly as he could and didn't talk to anyone.A dull fear wasgrowing inside him, spreading each time Sasha failed to pick up hisphone.When Brett called a halt, he got changed and jumped into histruck before Bailey could even think about ambushing him, droveround a corner or two and pulled up.
Thesecurity company answered his call straight away.Yes, Mr Petricawas fine as far as outside surveillance could tell; there had beenno alerts.A pause while the central office patched through to theoperative in San Marco.Mr Petrica had gone for a walk today.Theoperative had followed him, but he'd seemed nervous and hadreturned to the house.Was it possible that he knew about thearrangements?He'd seemed to know where to look.
Laurie swore softly, holding the phone away from his mouth.“You're meant to be his guards, not hissurveillance,”he said bitterly.Anything akin to being hunted would trigger all Sasha's instincts.“If he's got your guys scoped out, make them move away, or usedifferent cars.”He hung up.He hated the sound of his own voice,harsh with irritation and fear.He hadn't said goodbye, orthank you for your work so far, or any of the small civilities he'd been taught matteredeven in the least of his transactions.He hadn't taken the time toshower, and he hated the traces of foundation around his mouth andeyes, hated the lingering feel of Brett's hands on him, pushing andtugging to present his best angle to the lens.
Sashawould cure all these ills.Laurie hadn't been aware of his lover'sgift for cleansing his soul until he'd been out and got dirty.Allhe had to do was go home.
A palmbanged on the window of the truck, making him jump.A woman wasoutside.She didn't look like a teen fan or a lunatic, so helowered the window, ready to redeem himself if he could.“Are youokay?Can I help?”
“Oh.Oh, my God.Sign this, please.”
Out of nowhere she produced a dog-eared copy of the book thathad been cobbled together out of the firstBlood Moonfilm.“All right,” he saidgood-naturedly, avoiding the thrust of the pen she shoved at him.“I'm not in this one, though.It's Wesley or Nicole youwant.”
“No.It's only you I want.”
Laurieblinked at her.She looked middle-aged, ordinary, which made herflat statement all the more alarming.Her breasts were crushed upagainst the glass, and her face was blank.Well, there was alwaysone, wasn't there?Laurie had been warned not to hang about in thestreets around the lot.At least she hadn't pulled a gun on him.Quickly he signed the book and handed it back.“There.Hot outhere, isn't it?Do you need some water, or—”
“Devlin.Sign it as Devlin.”
Lauriesighed.He'd noticed that Wes, Nicole and Bailey had developedautograph scrawls that could mean anything: he'd have to learn todo the same.“I've got to go, I'm afraid.Could you just shift yourarm so I can...”
“Devlin!”
Herecoiled.She'd turned the word into a bloodcurdling shriek, herarm still wedged and flapping like a fin inside his car.To hisrelief he saw that she wasn't yelling at him—was trying to attractthe attention of another woman further down the street.She too wasclutching a paperback.She turned, mouth dropping open, and thenLaurie saw in the parking bay behind her an enormous Greyhoundcoach, in the act of disgorging what looked like three dozen morejust like her.
Laurietook hold of his lady's fist.It was clammy with unfathomable needsand desires.“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.“I'm not what you want.I'm just an actor, and I've got to go home.”
Shewasn't hearing him.She didn't want his words or his reality.Laurie was now fairly sure that she wanted to hold him in placelike a coveted doll until her entire coach party could descend uponher prize.He shoved her hand out of the window, none too gently.He took the barest second to make sure that none of her clotheswere caught on his wing mirror, that none of her friends wereblocking the road, and then he floored the gas.
***
“Sash!Thank God.Why the hell have you not been answering yourphone?”
There itwas again—that frustrated rasp.The edge of a snarl.InstantlyLaurie wished himself back out on the drive again so he could startover.In his whole life, only one person he'd known had ever spokenlike that, and the bastard was long dead, his presence in Laurie'sgenetic makeup only a technicality.Sasha was sitting in the shadyhall, halfway up the beautiful tiled stairs.He had his laptop withhim, and was surrounded by print-offs, as if he'd been workingfrantically.
“I had something on.I'll tell you in a minute, but I want totalk to you first.”Sasha set the laptop aside.He loped down thestairs and planted himself in front of Laurie, his gaze direct,ready to hear any explanation provided it was the truth.“I triedto go out for a walk earlier.I think there are guards outside thehouse.I think they followed me.Why?”
Laurieran a hand into his hair.His head was spinning, and he had alunchtime-tequila hangover.He could still hear his fan—no,Devlin's fan, which he was coming to understand was something quitedifferent—shrieking in his ear.“Guards?What are you talkingabout?”
“The silver Toyota Camry and the black Altima.One or the otherof them is always there.I think they watch our frontdoor.”
IfLaurie said yes, what would happen?Sasha would want to know hisreasons.He'd listen, too, do his sweet best to believe.Given somuch willingness, Laurie could probably persuade him the guardswere part and parcel with the gated estate, the walls, Laurie'sparanoid sensitivity at having a new role in a strangeland.
Therewas an easier choice.Laurie shook himself, renouncing subtlety.Hehadn't checked on his way in, but the message had had time to gothrough.“That's nonsense.Are they there now?”
“They have been every day for the last week, one or other ofthem, so...”
“Show me.”
Sashaand Laurie stood out on the kerb.A beautiful Hollywood sunset waspainting the western sky gold and violet, a drift of fine cloudturning to molten fire over the Pacific.There was no Altima parkedacross the street.No silver Camry either.Laurie couldn't pick outtheir replacements.Maybe the pale blue sedan over there, thesunset blaze in its windows concealing its driver...“I don't seeanything.What are you worrying about?”
Sashalowered his head.His arms were folded over his chest.Every lineof his posture told Laurie he wasn't convinced—not even partway.Then he took Laurie’s shoulders, held him and looked straight intohis face.“Sweetheart,” he said.“Something's dreadfullywrong.”
“What do you mean?”
Sasha shook him gently.“You're not yourself.You...Christ,you evensmelldifferent.Tell me.Right now.”
Tequila,metabolised hours ago, its tang maybe still lingering.Laurie triedto recoil.But Sasha's grip on him was a loving cage, and he wasgetting tired.He was too astonished to resist when Sasha pulledhim down into a kiss.
