Chapter 2
Rhett
Stepping into the art gallery where Bailey’s book release party is taking place feels like jumping into a cold lake and feeling completely out of place with the fish.
“Beluga caviar on Parmesan toast?” a waitress asks, as she dips an enormous silver tray close enough to send a whiff of it up to my nose.
It’s not even remotely appetizing.
This party has my sister written all over it. Hollis has always been over the top.
But Bailey?
I might only be ten feet in, but I don’t see any trace of her here. Other than that huge cut-out of her latest book cover in the corner, which is taller than me and feels too aggressive for Bailey’s more subtle taste, she seems to be MIA.
I remember Bailey being more of a peanut butter and jelly kind of girl. So, if she’s serving caviar on big trays now, she might have changed following her success more than I thought.
“No, thanks,” I tell the waitress, forgetting to add a polite smile until after she’s already turned away.
She offers it to the group of women walking in behind me. They promptly attack it while I try not to get sucked into watching.
Turning my back on the feeding frenzy, I’m free to resume the real reason I’m here. One that has nothing to do with snacking on beluga whatever-that-was.
I take a few steps, scanning the perimeter, then sweep my eyes down the center.
Examining the room.
Checking the availability of each exit.
Studying the face of every possible weirdo that could be a threat to Bailey, while taking in the whole scene unfolding inside this huge art gallery-turned-book-launch-venue.
This place is full of typical Hollis bullshit.
Guests randomly yelp out excitedly when they see a friend come in, or passionately begin swooning over Parmesan toast. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this isn’t it. I figured the event would be quiet and bookish, not overflowing with noisy guests, champagne flutes in every hand.
I wave off another appetizer tray as it circles by, this time it’s smoked salmon on some type of purple boat, then begin to slowly move through the crowd. Attempting to stay as unnoticed as possible.
Jesus, Hollis.
Solid marble Winged Victory replica? Check
Tables piled nearly three feet high with Bailey’s new book, each with what appears to be a very angst-filled couple on the cover? Check.
Women squealing as they race by me to get their hands on the highly broody book covers? Also, check.
When Hollis called roughly forty-eight hours ago, asking me to come tonight, my first thought was, Nope.
My second thought? Nope. But, also, fucking hell, Holl.
And my third, after she explained how everything was, What time do I need to be there?
Being surrounded by romance-loving readers for an entire evening had nothing to do with my hesitation to come.
And neither did seeing Bailey for the first time since that Christmas party my parents threw, in which I acted like a complete ass.
No, my hesitation stemmed entirely from my preference to keep things as simple as possible now.
Straightforward, always, in everything I do.
Which would mean not lying about why I’m here, per Hollis’ blatant request to keep the truth about tonight between us.
It’s easier for me to keep people safe when everyone knows the risks involved. But keeping the one person I’m here to protect completely in the dark about what’s happening to her? That’s not ideal. In any way.
“These are just the last three emails,” Hollis had admitted over the phone when she’d called, asking me to come. “I’m sending them over to you now.”
My phone had vibrated with the incoming screenshots she’d sent of three short emails that had been sent to Bailey.
“Got them,” I told her, glancing down.
“My team manages Bailey’s public-facing email account for her author inbox.
These three came in this past week.” I started to scan each one.
“Before this, the emails from this person were pretty tame and full of typical fan stuff. We figured they were sent from some superfan who got a little overzealous, which does happen, oddly. But then, these last three crossed the line into being a little too creepy for my comfort levels. And you know I have a high tolerance for creepy. I’m worried they’re going to show up Friday at Bailey’s event and I want you there. ”
“Why?” I asked.
“To keep an eye on her,” Hollis had groaned, like I should have already gotten to the punchline of the call.
“What does any of this mean?” I ignored her tone while re-reading the lines of each email. They were each fairly short but packed a punch.
“They’re all lines taken from Bailey’s books,” Hollis explained. “Not that you’ve read any of them to know, but taken out of context, each one is worse than the last. It’s like they’re using Bailey’s own words as a message back to her.”
“This is definitely beyond the scope of just some overzealous fan,” I confirmed.
“I have a weird feeling and I don’t want to ignore it going into such a big event on Friday.”
“Listen to your gut.” I read each line for a third time. “This first one? What the fuck? We didn’t need to be together to know that our love crossed every boundary and law known to man.”
“Yeah,” Hollis’ voice lowered. “I hate picturing some weirdo on the other side of a keyboard typing these out to her, imagining her face when she gets it. Gross.”
The second one was no better.
“I waited patiently in the dark for her to wake up. Watching her smile as she dreamed, wondering if it was all about me, though she had no way of knowing that I was there,” I read aloud.
My blood was already pounding in my ears so hard by the time I finished saying that one out loud that I didn’t notice how hard my fist was clenched until I felt my knuckles crack.
“This better be some type of sick joke, Holl.”
“I wish it was.” Her voice was bleak. “And that last one? Our story would make headlines. Even change how people and history thought about something once as meaningful and civilized as love.”
“Christ. Can you tell who sent them?” I was already picturing what I wanted to do to whoever was sending them.
“They were all from an untraceable source, but of course these messages weren’t clear enough for the police to be interested in trying to trace them any further than that.
It has to get worse before they’ll help.
And look, I know they’re just emails, but I handle over-the-top fans for a lot of my clients, and for some reason these make me uneasy. ”
“What about a private investigator?”
“We’re working on what we can with what we have. Trust me, nothing has been done in a way that can trace the source back to an exact person. But,” she paused, “unfortunately, there’s more. Each one had a photo attached.”
Another round of screenshots showed a collection of photographs with Bailey at public events. Except that the people surrounding her were all scribbled out. In every photo, Bailey was beaming, having no clue that some deranged asshole might pair these images with her own words to scare her one day.
By that point, I was seeing red.
“Why didn’t you call me after the first one came in?” I asked. My voice must have sounded mad enough to make two women pause their conversation on the sidewalk near me to glance in my direction. “What does Bailey think about it? Does she have any guesses about who might be sending these?”
“I . . . don’t . . . know.”
“Hollis.” I’d stopped pacing just outside of my apartment in Boston. “You’re not serious.”
“I will tell her. I promise. Just not yet.”
“Why the hell haven’t you told her? You’re going to let her go to this release party without knowing anything about what’s happening?”
“I have a plan for that,” Hollis answered.
“Christ, Holl. This isn’t the type of thing you can control with a plan.”
“Just listen. After the book launch party is over on Friday, I’ll tell her. Okay? You don’t even have to stick around for that part. I’ll take the heat.”
“There’s no reason to take heat on anything. Why not tell her before the event?”
“Because knowing there’s some weird superfan on the fritz will completely mess with Bailey’s head, and it isn’t going to change whatever this guy — or girl — is doing.”
“My money is on it being a guy, but don’t rule anyone out. And shouldn’t you think about canceling the party before they have a chance to show up?”
“It’s just a few silly emails.”
“Hollis, you exhaust me to talk to sometimes. They’re either silly or they’re dangerous and giving you a bad feeling. Which is it?”
“At this point, they’re both. Silly but could be dangerous. And yes, she absolutely deserves to know, which is why I’m telling her the morning after the party.”
“What if I tell her first?” I was already planning to call Bailey with the news. Keeping things black and white with no mysterious gray zone is the best policy for something like this. Always.
“You won’t because you’re going to trust me. Just like Bailey trusts me. Besides, when you’re there Friday night, no one is going to get past you, whether it’s a guy or a girl.”
“What does Axel think about it?” I was surprised Bailey’s older brother wasn’t already on the next flight out. They’re close. They always have been. Plus, he’s just as lethally trained as I am, but in a different way. I’d gone to the SEALs while Axel went to the Air Force.
“I’m sure you’ve seen the news. He couldn’t get out of there,” Hollis said. “The whole West Coast seems to be on fire. Plus, you’re way more experienced in face-to-face, private security now. Axel’s more versed in protecting trees and shit, not people these days.”
After leaving the Air Force, Axel joined a wildfire crew flying smokejumpers. He’s stationed mostly out west, where he keeps that side of the country from burning itself down every year. The news has been calling this a record-breaking fire season already, even though it’s only late spring.