Chapter 3
Trevor sat on an uncomfortable wicker sofa in Olivia’s dressing room, watching her step around the glass shards as she packed. He’d suggested they leave the studio for the night, and she’d agreed, insisting they wait with Anthony until he was taken away in an ambulance.
They’d come back here so she could shower and wash the blood off, throwing her clothes in the garbage can and insisting the costume department would just have to deal with it because she was never wearing that particular dress again.
Hawk’s eyes settled on Olivia’s purse, which still sat in the corner, remembering how its location had concerned him. “Why did you leave your purse and cell phone in your dressing room?”
“Lockheed doesn’t like phones on the set, and there’s nowhere safe to leave my purse.” She blew out air. “Not that my dressing room is safe either, considering the notes I’ve gotten here, but I have to leave it someplace.”
That made sense. He was used to her taking those things with her in real life, but a movie set was completely different. “And the broken mirror?”
“What about it?”
“How did it happen?”
“I threw it.”
He had a hard time picturing such an angry outburst coming from Olivia. “Why?”
She stopped walking and faced him. “Why do you think?”
“Did I do something to make you angry?”
“No.” She went back to packing. “It had nothing to do with you.”
“You don’t usually throw mirrors.”
“I don’t usually get threatening letters on my pillow, either.”
His spine could have been made of steel. “You didn’t tell me about the pillow.”
“What difference does it make? I told you about the rest.”
“I would have been here sooner.”
“Well, maybe that’s why I didn’t tell you.”
He stood, trying to keep up with her changing mood. “You don’t want me here?”
She sighed heavily, throwing a lacy nightgown into her case and failing to meet his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”
“No, but you implied it. What’s going on, Olivia?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s going on except someone sneaking into my dressing room, wanting to see me naked in the shower, and quite possibly killing me. Nothing you need to be concerned about.”
He closed the distance between them and grabbed her elbow. “Hey, that’s not fair. You weren’t giving me all the information.”
“Really? You didn’t know someone was in my dressing room? You didn’t know I was getting threatening letters?” She pulled her arm away. “You didn’t know I was scared and I needed you here with me?”
He swallowed against the tightness in his throat. “I knew, Livy. I knew and I should have been here.”
“Well, forgive me if I got a little upset and threw a mirror.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“I should have been here the first time you called. I should have hopped on a plane and refused to leave your side.”
She pushed past him and into the bathroom, the sound of toiletries dropping into a bag fast and furious. It was just one night, but she was packing to avoid him and he knew it. He moved to the bathroom door. “I never should have let you out of my sight.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“But you shouldn’t have to.”
The medicine cabinet was empty but she continued to face it, not looking at him. “I didn’t want to need you. To take you away from HERO Force. I wanted to be strong.”
He moved to her, placing a hand on her back. “You’re more important than HERO Force.”
“Am I?”
He thought of the ring box in his pants pocket. “Absolutely.”
Her shoulders dropped.
“Can I hold you?” he asked.
Did he imagine the slight hesitation before she walked into his embrace? If it was real, her discomfort seemed to vanish almost instantly. This was Olivia in his arms, fitted against him just as she had been hundreds of times before. This was the woman he loved.
She needed comfort, and he begrudgingly admitted they needed to be reacquainted. The time they’d been apart had put distance between them and he needed to erase it before they could again be one.
“I missed you,” she whispered against his ear.
“I missed you, too.”
She pulled back. “I just need a few more things.”
“It’s only one night.”
“I want to stay gone forever, Trevor.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You don’t want to finish the movie?”
“I’ll finish the movie, but I don’t want to stay here anymore. I hate this place. Everywhere I look I think about my stalker coming in here, going through my things, being in my space.” She shook her head. “No more.”
“Whatever you want.”
“I want to leave.”
“Done.”
“Thank you,” she said.
While she finished packing, Hawk turned back to the table and the letters she’d gathered for him.
There were four notes in all, each in the same black-inked script.
The lettering was heavily slanted and appeared to have been written in haste.
In the first letter the writer admired Olivia’s beauty, her small waist and long legs in particular.
Anger curled into a tight fist in Trevor’s abdomen.
The second letter spoke of touching her hair, wondering if it was as soft as it looked. One day you’ll wash your hair for me, naked in the shower, water dripping off your glorious breasts.
This time it was self-reproach that clawed at Trevor’s insides. She’d sent him a photo of each letter—nothing on this table came as a surprise—but sitting in her dressing room with his fiancée’s fear thick in the air, he couldn’t forgive himself for staying away.
You’re more important than HERO Force.
Am I?
He’d said yes, but the question still echoed in his brain.
He did good things as a member of the team.
Took care of a lot of people. He’d personally freed hostages, protected heads of state, and returned kidnapped children to their desperate parents.
Giving up HERO Force wasn’t a simple choice between taking care of Olivia and not taking care of her. It was far more complicated than that.
It meant giving up on doing good, giving up on himself as a warrior against evil. Was letting it go truly the right thing to do? Or should he try to find some kind of compromise where he could be there for Olivia at a moment’s notice and still persevere with HERO Force?
One thing was certain. Olivia was stronger than he’d known. To receive these letters and remain here, working in a foreign country with only meager security, showed a side of her she hadn’t shared with him before.
He pulled the third letter closer to him, focusing on the violent words. The stalker was getting angry now, frustrated. Should I cut you and make you bleed? Maybe if you were afraid of me you’d give me the attention I deserve.
Trevor squeezed his eyes shut. He needed to take his feelings and turn them into action. Catch Olivia’s stalker and make him pay.
He pushed the letter away and pulled the most recent addition closer, the script now demonstrating the stalker’s escalation.
I hear you screaming in my dreams, desperate for the pain to stop and for me to love you.
I will break you down until you beg for me.
Hurt you until you tell me you’ll be mine forever.
They were looking for a man just like him, someone who thought of Olivia before he fell asleep and first thing in the morning. The muscles of his arms tightened. He was ready to fight. “I need a list of everyone working on the film. Who can get that for me?”
“The director, Evan Lockheed.”
“I need to speak with him before we leave.”
His phone vibrated and he pulled it out, the text message short and sweet.
813 Rue de Chêne. Anytime, Hawk.
He’d texted his old commanding officer while he was waiting for his flight out of Atlanta. Mac O’Brady was one of the good guys, an expat who’d been living in France for years, but Hawk had heard he wasn’t doing so well these days. He’d make time to see him. Another SEAL could only come in handy.