Chapter 6
Rhett
Hollis had mentioned that her own staff would be briefed on the potential for this creep to show up tonight, so they’d be primed to handle the crowd if need be.
After Bailey and I burst into the kitchen, we freeze. A dozen or more catering staffers stop what they’re doing and stare back.
“Any non-workers back here?” I call out, glancing at the guy who looks to be in charge.
He shakes his head and asks if everything’s okay.
“We need to clear the room,” I tell him. “Now. Everyone out. Sorry.”
He begins ushering the kitchen and wait staff out the door.
“You better tell me what’s happening right now,” Bailey’s voice cuts through the murmuring of the staff while they empty the room.
I start checking every spot that looks big enough for a grown man to hide. There are at least two pantries, three utility closets, and a huge walk-in freezer to get through. At first glance, everything appears to be empty.
“Hollis called me Wednesday to ask if I’d be willing to come tonight beca—”
“Hollis?” she interrupts with a clenched jaw. “Your sister asked you to come here tonight? She’s the reason you’re here?”
I point at the card still in her hand. “No, that’s the reason I’m here.”
She startles, then looks down at the note with the balloon on the front, as if I’ve just reminded her that it’s there.
“Read it,” I tell her.
She opens it and begins reading out loud.
“I don’t do love triangles, honey. The only games I play are the games I can win.” She frowns, pausing to look up at me. “Wait, I wrote that. It’s from one of my books.”
“Keep reading,” I tell her, shoving the last pantry door open to take a deeper look, ready to take this guy down if he’s back here.
But I think we’re alone. For how long, I don’t know. And while Bailey’s probably thinking that this is all a bit overkill for one little card, it’s not.
I’ve seen enough danger to know that humans can cause the worst kind of it.
I zero in on the main kitchen door we just came in.
Now that everyone’s out, I need to lock it.
Bailey looks at the card again. Even from here, I can tell her hands are shaking, and I wish I could stop securing the room long enough to steady her, but she keeps on reading.
“Open your email so we can play one of mine now.”
“Fucking asshole,” I mutter, twisting the deadbolt on the door until it clicks into place.
No one is getting in here.
“I didn’t write that last part,” she says. Her eyes find mine, and I’m instantly infuriated by what I see. Fear rising faster than mercury on a hot day. It makes me want to tear this guy apart. “Who wrote this? What are they talking about?”
“You’ve been getting emails,” I tell her. “At least three of them, so far, sent to your author account.”
“The one that Hollis’ team manages?” she asks. I can see it all clicking into place.
I nod.
“And how do you—” she starts, looking confused, then her face begins to melt. “Jesus Christ. You’ve been in my emails? Okay, what did they say?”
I walk to the other side of the room and lock that door too. It’s an exit that’ll lead to the sidewalk behind the building.
“I’ll show you the rest of the emails once we’re on our way out of here.”
“To where? Everyone’s waiting for me to finish the event. I can’t just leave.”
“They’ve already been told that you’re going to reschedule. That was the plan if—”
“The plan if what? What do you all know that I don’t?” she demands, backing away from both doors, even though they’re already locked. “You’re scaring me.”
My fists tighten, hard as a rock. This is exactly what I was afraid of happening.
“I’ll explain on the way. This guy knows that you’re here tonight, so we need to get you out of the building. Now. Did you drive?”
She gives me a look like I’d be crazy to think she drove here.
“This is New York. Of course I didn’t—”
“Okay then,” I tell her, pulling out my phone to text the driving service I contacted earlier to be on call, in case we ended up needing them.
“If it’s that big of a deal, shouldn’t we call the police?” she asks, looking like she might refuse to go anywhere with me. “Whatever those other emails say, you’re acting like this person might kill me.”
She laughs, like I’m being ridiculous, so I stop hitting the buttons on my phone and look up, facing her full-on.
“You think this is somehow funny?” I ask.
“Rhett, I know you’re trying to help, but I feel like you might be overreacting. I’m in the public eye. People act weird all the time. This note, while definitely off, is really no different than any other.”
“Fans might act weird, but Hollis has never before called me to come protect you from one of them.”
Bailey recoils, then her brows draw tight. She begins spitting each word out as if they might bite back. “Hollis asked you to come protect me?” I nod. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Her eyes darken more than I’ve ever seen. “And you went along with it without telling me?”
“What was I supposed to do? Not come?” I ask.
“Why break that tradition now?” she shoots back.
“Bailey,” I start to argue, but she won’t let me finish.
“No, you didn’t think I needed to know that someone was creeping Hollis and you out enough to have you packing a bag for New York?
You seriously felt like it would be better to make me think you actually gave a shit about being here when really this is just a job Hollis hired you to do? Without me knowing?”
She shifts her weight back and takes a breath when I grab the note out of her hands.
“I told Hollis that you needed to know about this before tonight,” I tell her, fuming on the inside.
“And what about you?” she asks. “You had time to tell me yourself. How about when you were changing your RSVP two days ago?”
“She insisted it would mess with your head tonight, so she planned to tell you first thing tomorrow once this launch was done. But you can tell me how pissed you are after we get you out of here, okay?”
She watches me cross the room to set the note on the counter near the door we came in.
“I’m leaving this for the cops to take prints,” I tell her, knowing Simon has already called them as part of the plan Hollis made for her team. If her plan had included telling the catering staff what was going on, maybe we wouldn’t be stuck in a kitchen trying to get out of here right now.
“Fingerprints?” she asks, looking like this is all too much to take in. “Christ, I can’t overreact every time some guy acts inappropriately toward me.”
“Overreact?” I repeat, clenching my jaw, giving her time to explain.
“You have to ignore this type of thing most of the time,” she tells me, sounding way too seasoned at dealing with assholes. “Even when Hollis’ gut or yours, or whosever feels like something is off. It’s all part of being in the public eye.”
Just hearing that pisses me off.
“Nothing is overreacting when it comes to keeping yourself safe,” I tell her. “What’s your gut telling you about this? Right now?”
“What, being locked in a kitchen with you while we hope some weirdo isn’t waiting for me outside? Obviously, not great. But if ran every time some idiot made me feel uncomfortable, I’d never stop running.”
“So you learned to ignore it?” I ask.
“Unfortunately,” she says.
I cross the room until I’m close enough to touch her, then lower my voice so she knows that I’m serious. And because I only want to say this once, but have her remember it forever.
“Your gut reactions,” I grab her hand to push it flat against her stomach, “the ones you feel so deeply, right here?” I press harder, feeling when she sucks in a breath.
“Those are what keep you alive. Do you understand? It’s what keeps us all alive, Bailey.
But you’ve probably experienced so much shitty behavior all the fucking time from assholes just like this that you’ve taught yourself to ignore the voice that lives right here. And why?”
She keeps her eyes wide, just inches from mine.
“Because,” I tell her, “I’m guessing you’ve been taught to be polite your whole fucking life instead of being taught to protect yourself.
So you smile or laugh when this voice,” I press again, “is screaming at you that something’s off.
” She swallows and blinks a few times, like I’ve just hit the nail on the head.
“But this is where your intuition is. And you don’t want to get in the habit of ignoring it. ”
She nods, and I release her hand.
“Let’s get one thing straight. When I’m here, and especially when I’m not, there is no overreacting to anything that makes you uncomfortable. Alright?”
She nods again. “Okay.”
“Let’s just call it reacting. And when you’re with me? Fuck politeness. And fuck him.”
“Okay,” she whispers for a second time, like no one’s ever told her that before.
“Now, let’s get out of here.”
She looks at the locked door that’ll lead us outside.
“But what if he’s already out there?”
“If that’s the case, he’s going to wish that he wasn’t,” I tell her. “Plus, he’d have to know we’re going out the back of the catering kitchen right now, which is unlikely, so it’s our best shot.”
I set my foot in front of the door and twist the lock open.
Bailey looks at the door handle, then at me.
“If completely freaking me out was the goal, you’ve just reached it,” she says, looking more scared than she had when we first got in here.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” I tell her, feeling like an ass while I wait for the fear in those clear, green pools to soften. “But that was the whole point of not telling you yet. This guy could be all bark and no bite, but if I didn’t assume the worst, then I wouldn’t be doing this right.”
“This?” she asks.
“Keeping you safe,” I tell her, gently.
Her eyes go soft, threatening to pull me right back in if I don’t keep us moving.
I grab on to the door handle, then I nod toward the pavement outside.
“Do you trust me?” I ask, not sure if I deserve an honest answer.
She has no reason to.
I left.
Then never came back after that final summer we said goodbye.
I couldn’t even keep my buddy from getting killed right next to me when we were supposed to be protecting each other, and she knows it. Everyone knows it.
And now, out of nowhere, I’ve shown up tonight harboring a secret that’s cracking wide open with me in the center of it, when she thought I was just here to support her as a friend.
There’s no reason why Bailey should trust me anymore.
She shakes her head, like she doesn’t want to, but her eyes say the opposite.
Then she opens her mouth. “I’ll always trust you,” she says, too quietly to sound absolutely sure.
But it’s enough for me.
It’s a start. And that’s all I need right now.
I grab one of her hands — it’s shaking like a leaf — before pulling the door open.
“Alright then,” I say, more than ready to face whatever’s out there. “Let’s get you home.”