Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88057 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 440(@200wpm)___ 352(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
“It’s not on me.” My voice shook as hard as my knees. “It’s—”
“Liar.” A hulking man scoffed, he and the other shadowy person blocking my escape. They were between mid-teens and late twenties. Their sloppy clothes and pulled-down hats made it hard to judge.
“No, I don’t have it.” I tried to position myself to block the passenger seat. Hercules. They could have anything else but not him. I had to be strong. Think. Think. What should I do? How was I going to get out of this?
I needed a plan, but the two men in front of me were huge, and the one behind me didn’t feel tiny either. I should scream. I should—
“Aaargh.” A fist connected with my side. Pain exploded in my gut, and there was no more thinking, no more strategy, only pain, swift and all-consuming, as I crumpled to the ground. Somebody save me. The plea flickered through my head as someone—maybe me—screamed again, and the world went dark.
Chapter Two
Harley
Mr. Sterling went rogue on me. I wasn’t going to clock out and leave the filming location until the last of the trailers and staff left, but I’d been specifically waiting for Sterling to finish talking to various production staff. He hadn’t let me move his car to the rear lot, and that beamer of his was like a giant neon sign advertising his status as a rich, slightly clueless Hollywood exec.
We were only around an hour and a half from Hollywood glitter, but this town might as well be another planet. This dry patch of California desert was an older blue-collar suburb with the sort of crumbling downtown the show apparently required for this particular episode, but rather than small town and quaint, the vibe was more run-down and tough, the sort of place where locals grew up fast, trying to eke out a life in an unforgiving environment. Reminded me a little of my hometown, but with a hard edge that the Northern California town lacked. This place had cracked sidewalks, unkempt streets with trash in the gutters, giant potholes, and too many kids with not enough to do. In addition to the protesters, we’d had curious teens and others loitering around the shoot all day, the oddity of a TV show filming drawing plenty of notice.
And that attention made me wary. The protesters had been easy enough to dispatch, but the local element was more unpredictable, and I didn’t care for Sterling or anyone else to be wandering around this late alone. His sister left some time ago, and I’d intended to walk Sterling to wherever he’d parked.
But when I made my rounds, the tent where I’d last seen him was being dissembled by two crew members and the production staff was gone. Hell. I could simply let my concern go and assume he'd made it back fine, but I'd built my entire reputation on never assuming a damn thing.
Trust but verify. That had been my old man’s motto, and it had served me well thus far, so I strode toward the rear lot on the off chance someone else had moved his car. Nope. No shiny brand-new beamers here. I knew Sterling's beamer because I was something of a car guy. All the new electric vehicles coming out had my interest. Nothing to do with how I kept noticing all sorts of random tidbits about Ambrose Sterling. He’d created one of my all-time favorite characters and was beloved on set, likely because of his friendliness and the way he remembered people’s names and details despite his position of power. But none of that explained why I kept finding myself…noticing him.
I mulled that over as I used the alley to walk from the rear lot to the parking area for the next-door business. Sterling was rich with a Hollywood pedigree, dressed all fussy, carried that ridiculous rooster of a dog everywhere, and had a twitchy edge to him whenever I was near. I made plenty of folks nervous, so I didn't take it personally. It wasn't like I was hurting for friends. Or admirers.
I'll ogle him if I want to. I would have laughed if anyone else had said that, but Mr. Sterling boldly telling his sister off had been downright inspiring. The two were sibling goals, but she usually seemed to come out on top with the teasing. I'd wanted to cheer for Sterling’s gumption, awkward as that would have been. Masculine beauty. As if. But I was still flattered. Let the guy quietly look if he wanted. Didn't hurt anyone.
And his little speech made me weirdly protective of him, which was why I kept walking after the adjacent lot didn’t yield his car. He was undoubtedly well on his way home, but I couldn’t shake the weird tingle at the base of my spine. I needed to make sure.