Chapter Seven
Chloe barked a quick laugh, her tension and fear momentarily draining away as she flopped down on her couch. She was so glad she’d called him. She’d needed this. “Definitely. It’s going to be badass too.”
“Oh, yeah?”
She could hear the smile in his voice, and deciding to play with him, she joked, “I’m thinking a giant rattlesnake, riding a motorcycle made of human bones.”
“With flames shooting out of the exhaust?”
She couldn’t hold back her laughter. “How’d you know?”
Erik chuckled, and the sound made her toes curl.
“So what are we thinking? Full back piece?”
She couldn’t seem to stop smiling. “Absolutely.”
“And of course you’ll want it in color to really bring out those flames.”
Chloe rolled over onto her stomach, propping herself up on her elbows and kicking her feet. “Do you have any tattoos?” She’d seen him in a short-sleeved T-shirt, and he didn’t have any on his arms, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have them somewhere else on his body.
“A few.”
“Tell me about them.”
Erik let out a huff of laughter. “Nothing as badass as a giant rattlesnake riding a motorcycle.”
“A motorcycle made of human bones,” Chloe corrected with a giggle.
This was nice. She felt lighter. So much lighter than she’d felt in a long time, and Erik…
She had to admit, there was something about him that drew her.
He was like a closed book that only gave you a brief, tantalizing flash of his pages, and she wanted to read it all.
Two months ago, she’d approached Lattie at the opera house because she’d decided she wasn’t going to let fear rule her anymore.
A year and a half ago, she’d run away; hidden instead of facing her fears head-on.
At the time, it seemed like the only course of action available to her.
But it had cost her so much. Her career, her confidence, her self-esteem.
What kind of life would she have if she kept hiding?
Lonely. Unfulfilled. That’s what her future had looked like.
She was done letting fear – letting him – win.
Performing again was her first step out of the dark. Now, she wanted to take the next step.
Nervousness tightened her stomach, but before she could chicken out, she blurted, “Would you like to go out for coffee with me sometime?”
The prolonged silence on the other end of the phone had her heart pounding as she braced for rejection.
“Like a date?”
His voice sounded rough, but she didn’t know if that was a good thing or bad.
“Yes.” She wanted to leave it at that. Be confident. But her nerves got the better of her, and she quickly added, “Only if you want it to be.”
Biting her lower lip, she waited for his answer, her whole body practically vibrating with the suspense.
“I’d like that. When?”
Chloe quietly expelled the breath she’d been holding, and a smile of relief bloomed on her face. “Sunday?” With the show coming up, the rehearsal schedule was tight. They all worked long hours in preparation, but Sunday was the one day they had off.
“I’ll pick you up?”
She was just about to agree when her phone beeped, letting her know she had another call. Looking at the screen, she saw it was her dad – the one person she couldn’t ignore, or he’d immediately worry and call in reinforcements to check on her.
“I have another call coming through that I have to take. I’ll text you my address.”
“Okay.”
“And Erik? Thank you.”
He sounded perplexed when he asked, “For what?”
Her phone beeped again, and she knew she had to wrap this up, even if she didn’t want to. “For talking to me. You have no idea how much that helped.”
Before he could say anything, she said in a rush, “Talk to you later,” and answered her father’s call.
“Hey, Dad.”
“Were you rehearsing?”
“No. I was on another call. Rehearsal was cut short for the day.”
When he asked why, she told him about the accident with the stage light, but kept silent about someone being in her dressing room.
After what happened with Jackson, he’d become overprotective.
At first, he’d insisted on her moving west to be closer to him so he could look out for her.
When Chloe had nixed that idea, he’d called up an old military buddy of his to help her relocate.
If her dad got wind of the lotion incident, he’d likely blow it all out of proportion and call General Davies again.
The man ran a base somewhere around here.
His plate was full enough. He didn’t need to be babysitting her.
“An accident, you say?”
Her father let out one of his gruff sounds, so she quickly added, “Lattie has a full inspection underway.”
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay. How’s everything going otherwise? Any problems?”
“No problems.” And because he was still on her mind, she may have gushed a little bit when she said, “The opera house hired a new painter. Dad, you should see his work. It’s incredible! I’ll send you the link to the website so you can see for yourself.”
Another one of his sounds, this one of the, I-don’t-care-but-I’m-going-to-humor-you variety, so to pique his interest, she added, “He’s a former soldier.”
“What branch?”
“Er…” Good question. “You know, I’m not sure. I’ll have to ask him the next time I see him.” She’d be sure to add that to her ever-expanding list. There was so much about Erik she didn’t know, and she wanted to know everything.
She chatted a bit longer with her dad until he got called away and had to cut their conversation short.
For a few minutes, she sat there on her couch, staring absently at the black screen of her TV.
She hadn’t missed the doubt in her father’s tone when he’d questioned the incident at the opera house.
Had the light falling been an accident? On the same day that someone had been in her dressing room?
“What? Is everyone stalking you?”
Forcefully pushing down the memory of that voice, she stood in a sudden rush. She needed air. Art supplies. She could go get art supplies. Erik had said he’d teach her a bit, and she’d need stuff to work with. Grabbing her bag and her keys, she locked up her apartment and headed out.
Outside, a woman was jogging alongside a beautiful husky on a leash.
Chloe smiled and waved. She would love to get a dog, and her landlord allowed them, provided she paid an extra pet deposit.
Her rehearsal schedule was busy right now, but as soon as things slowed down, she’d make a point of visiting the local shelters.
With her mind on that as she approached her car, for a moment her brain had trouble processing what she was seeing on her windshield as she stumbled to a halt.
A single red rose, the long stem held in place by the wiper.
Her mouth went dry, and her heart raced.
It had started with a single red rose with an unsigned note attached to it.
Keeping her distance – she didn’t even want to touch the thing – Chloe looked, but didn’t see a note, and honestly, she couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.
Someone came out of the building, and Chloe jerked, her eyes shooting to them in a panic, but it was only Jayla.
The woman had just recently moved in and had introduced herself to Chloe when they’d run into each other at the mailboxes.
She seemed a friendly, outgoing type, and was even now smiling until her eyes fell on the rose. “Boyfriend?”
Chloe could have said yes, played it off, but at the moment, she couldn’t find it in her to dissemble. “No.”
“Get back in the building. Now.”
The order, so brusquely stated, surprised her. Even more so when Jayla grabbed her arm, keeping close enough to cover her as she hurried her back inside, while the entire time, the woman scanned their surroundings with an unmistakable professionalism that spoke volumes.
Suddenly, Chloe knew. “He’s here, isn’t he?”
Jayla looked her over. Her mouth, which had smiled so easily when they first met, was now pressed into a determined hyphen. “Yes.”
“Did my father hire you?” He must have known; he must have been keeping tabs on Jackson this whole time. It would also explain why he’d been calling so frequently lately when they used to only chat on her day off.
“Not exactly.”
“Who then?”
“Not here.” Jayla hustled her up the stairs to her apartment with one hand on Chloe’s upper arm while she pulled out her phone with the other hand and gave the voice command, “Call the general.”
The general?
A moment later, Chloe heard the familiar gruff voice of General Marshall Davies, one of her father’s military buddies, the man who’d helped relocate her here, and still occasionally dropped in for a visit to check on her.
Erik was at the opera house, checking Chloe’s dressing room, when he got the call from Jayla.
A rose had been left on Chloe’s car. A message, or a threat, from Savoy.
His protective instincts riled, he’d wanted to rush over there, but Jayla assured him she had it well in hand.
She’d also confessed she’d had to break cover.
Honestly, that was a relief. They could be upfront with Chloe now, which was what she deserved, and would also help them protect her better.
Because in his gut, he knew Jackson Savoy was more dangerous than they’d been led to believe.
General Davies had given them an account of what had transpired between Savoy and Chloe, but that account had come from Chloe’s dad, and Erik was now positive the man’s daughter must have downplayed the extent of Savoy’s obsession with her.
They’d seen on the surveillance feed that Savoy had only been in the dressing room for thirteen minutes, yet, to Erik’s heightened senses, the space reeked of him.
As a cop, Savoy may have been careful not to leave fingerprints, might have even worn gloves, but he’d touched things, leaving his scent everywhere.
Erik growled low in his throat. When they’d genetically engineered him in that lab, they’d spliced his DNA primarily with timber wolf, and that part of him itched to overwrite that scent, mark this territory as his to warn off anyone who thought to encroach.
He'd need to warn Lattimer; come clean as to the real reason he was here. Jackson Savoy had already proved that he had no problem with collateral damage in obtaining what he was after. Everyone at the opera house was now at risk.
If the older man was disturbed by Erik showing up at his house, or even wondered how Erik had known where he lived, he didn’t comment on it. Erik knew everything about him. He’d run a full background check before he applied for the job.
Upon opening the door, there’d only been the barest hesitation before Lattimer said, “Erik! Has something happened?”
Lattimer looked stressed. His usually immaculate snow-white hair was mussed as if he’d run his hands through it several times, and his clothes were slightly wrinkled, the ascot at his neck loose and wilted. He’d had a rough day, and now Erik was going to add to the burden.
“May I come in?”
“Of course, of course.” Lattimer stepped back, pulling the door wide as he ushered Erik inside. “We’ll sit in the living room. Can I get you something to drink?”
Erik declined the offer and looked around. It was a nice place and was tastefully decorated, but with just enough dramatic flair to perfectly complement its owner.
“Have a seat, my boy, and tell me what brings you to my doorstep.”
He filled Lattimer in on why he took the job at the opera house, that he was part of a protection detail for Chloe Powell, and the man nodded thoughtfully in acceptance before saying, “She told me a little bit about what she’d gone through in New York.
That’s why I agreed not to release her name to the press, even though having such a famous headliner would have done wonders for ticket sales. ”
“What happened with the light today was not an accident.”
Lattimer closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose. “The thought had occurred to me.” Looking once more at Erik, he added, “I know my people. They’re careful, conscientious. They wouldn’t have missed the sort of wear and tear necessary for that light to fall.”
Erik pulled out a thumb drive and handed it to Lattimer.
“What’s this?”
“Surveillance footage. Proof that the light was tampered with. Use it if the opera house is accused of negligence.”
Lattimer clenched the drive in his fist and nodded. “Thank you.”
“The dancers who were injured?”
Lattimer’s mouth tightened, and he blinked rapidly a few times, as if trying to fight back tears.
“Michelle’s arm will be in a cast for at least six weeks, but Thadeus…
” He swallowed audibly. “He had to have emergency surgery. His brain… They don’t know…
” He cleared his throat gruffly. “His family is with him.”
Erik nodded. “Jackson Savoy is dangerous.”
The older man looked him dead in the eye. “Do we need to shut down production?”