Hollywood Hit (29 page)

“Trevor?”

Fear planted hard in Nikki’s heart. A dark, solid, impenetrable mass that uncoiled slick tendrils into her gut and heart.

Nikki followed Trevor’s gaze toward the other room. Nikki’s breath stopped. Her fingers tingled. A cold claimed her limbs and froze her to the floor. The back door slammed shut behind Nikki and a bolt hammered home into the lock.

“Hello there, baby girl.” Calvin’s voice was low and mean. “I’ve killed a helluva lot of people to get to you.”

The last person Christina wanted to sit down with for a late lunch was Bradford Madison, but she didn’t have much of a choice. He’d hammered her with phone calls, text messages, voice mails. He’d even tried sending Christina chocolates, bling, and finally a singing quartet. Christina would give him an A plus for effort, but she would never again give Bradford her heart. After nearly a month of Bradford’s antics, Lydia ordered Christina into her office.

“You have to sit down with Bradford.” Lydia peered over the edge of her reading glasses. “He’s the co-star in the only award film we have this year. We’ve got a long road to the Academy Awards and that road is filled with parties, screenings, charity events, press events. Better to get the mess sorted now so you don’t end up in some screaming match at Jefferey’s Night Before party.”

“I would never scream in public, no matter what bimbo he banged.” Christina crossed her arms over her chest. Irritation swept through her over Lydia’s suggestion that her emotions for Bradford would cause her to lose her composure at an Industry event.

“I don’t mean
you
,” Lydia said. “I have faith in you and your professionalism. I mean Bradford. He’s barely stable. He’s proven his inability to latch on to consistency time and time again.” Lydia’s gaze locked with Christina’s. “I know it’s unpleasant, but you have to reach an understanding with him so he doesn’t lose it over the next few months. The attention from Academy voters and the press will be pressure enough, but if there’s no resolution with you plus all the pressure?” Lydia shook her head. “I don’t think he has the will to keep from relapsing or doing some other insanely stupid thing.”

Christina sighed and closed her eyes. Lydia was one hundred percent correct, and while Christina had no desire to sit down with Bradford and discuss their past and the need for an amicable future, she had to. She had to for
Boundless Bound
. She had to for Bradford. Plus, if she were completely honest, she had to for herself. While her outward composure would never waver, each time she heard Bradford’s name, her heart was crushed. Each time he texted or called or begged for her to give him one more chance, a hard pain sliced through her body. She’d already given Bradford his “one more chance” and there were no more chances left for her to give.

“Hey.” Bradford stood before her. His smile was sheepish and his eyes held uncertainty.

“Hi,” Christina said.

He bent forward and she gave him a quick peck on the cheek. He lingered near her for the tiniest moment and with that intimate motion, her heart crumpled. The scent of him, breath mints, and soap; the tiny burst of energy that pulsed through her when her lips touched his cheek. She guessed her attraction for Bradford would always remain, no matter how old she got or how many times she loved after him.

They both settled into their chairs. “Such a formal place to meet,” Bradford said and shook out his linen napkin.

Christina was trying to keep this professional. She’d chosen the executive commissary at Worldwide for a number of reasons—number one that Bradford, hopefully, wouldn’t make an emotional scene. Too many producers and studio execs inhabited the tables that surrounded them. The last thing he’d want to do with his career on an upward trajectory was solidify any lingering rumors that he was unstable. The second reason for Christina’s choice was that if they met at her town house, she couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t surrender herself into his arms. That pulse of energy that had surged when she pecked Bradford’s cheek was the tiniest drop in the ocean of attraction she felt for Bradford.

“It’s business with us now,” Christina said.

A crease formed between Bradford’s brows. “Is it? Are you trying to tell me that’s all you feel for me?”

“This…” Christina stopped. Her emotions clamped in her chest. “No.” She wouldn’t lie to him; she’d never lied to him. “No, of course not, but professional is all it can be.”

“Because I went out
once
,” Bradford said. His emphasis on the word “once” was too loud. Conversation at the tables to their left and to their right faltered. Bradford slid his eyes to the side and leaned in. “I went out once. Had a drink. Didn’t chase tail, didn’t get high, and came home to you.”

Christina shut her eyes. Her inability to have a relationship with Bradford wasn’t just about him, wasn’t just about what he did or didn’t do. Her inability to have a relationship with Bradford was also about her. “Some women would be okay with that… but I’m not that woman.” Her childhood had been shredded with a father like Bradford who would disappear with buddies for days, roam hither and yon to film sets, be gone for months on end with beautiful starlets, all while Christina had remained home with a resentful mother. Christina harbored bits of her mother’s personality. She grew suspicious and easily hurt. Her parents hadn’t been a good match. They weren’t compatible. Neither were she and Bradford.

“I’ll give it up.”

Christina wrinkled her brow. What did he have left to quit?

“I won’t act anymore. At least not any films where I have to leave California to shoot. Unless you go with me. I won’t do it.”

“Right.” Christina rolled her gaze up to the commissary ceiling. “You’ll give up a fifteen-million-dollar offer for me.”

“I have and I’ll do it again.”

“What?”

“
Contained Damage
, the film Striker wanted me to do? I said no today.”

“Bradford!” Panic accelerated through Christina’s voice. “You can’t pass up a role like that! That script is solid, the role is good, the payday—oh my God—the payday.”

“I. Don’t. Care,” Bradford said, over-articulating each word. “The money didn’t make me happy before, the roles didn’t make me happy, the bimbos, the locations—none of it. The only time I was happy was with you.”

Christina’s heart melted in her chest. Her face softened. “I… I just can’t.”

“Fine. Then I’ll have to spend a lifetime proving to you that you absolutely can.” His eyes were hard and determination whirled around him. He upended his water and took a long swallow. Christina’s phone beeped in her purse she shot Bradford an I’m-sorry look and reached for her bag. Rush Nelson flashed across her screen.

“Hi, Rush,” Christina said into the phone. So odd she’d never gotten a call from Rush. She listened and with his words her heart picked up an extra beat. The blood drained from her face.

“I… I… no… I think she was at the final-cut screening this morning.” Christina looked across the table for confirmation from Bradford.

“She was,” Bradford said. “She sat in back with Celeste.”

Christina nodded. “Yes. Yes, Bradford says she was there.” Christina nodded again. Panic clutched her. “Of course, when I hear from her I’ll call you.” Christina slowly pushed the Off button on her phone and slid it into her purse. The corners of her lips pulled downward. She looked at Bradford. His face held a frown tinged with fear.

“Nobody knows where she is.” Christina shook her head. “No one at all.”

*

Rush pounded his fist into his steering wheel and pressed his foot farther down against the accelerator. Gone was his calm, cool, collected exterior. His professional detachment had been extinguished, annihilated, sent packing when he let himself fall for Nikki. This was the reason that he shouldn’t have let himself get close. He reread for the thirtieth time the text Nikki had sent immediately after that morning’s screening of
Boundless Bound
.

Saw Cici. All is well w/them 4 us. Have 2 errands. Meet u @ 1.

He’d allowed that text message to go unanswered and there was only one explanation for his oversight—he fucking loved her. He loved Nikki Solange. If Rush was in his right mind he would have immediately texted back: “what 2 errands,” “where,” or better yet, “wait, I must go with you.”

But he hadn’t sent any of those texts. Why? Because he was fucking blinded by his emotions. Because he was so fucking in love he thought he was untouchable. Because he trusted that the two errands involved nothing more than running by Lydia’s bungalow or the Tower of Power on the Worldwide lot. But Nikki’s errands hadn’t involved either, nor had the errands involved Celeste, Christina, or any other person Nikki knew.

He’d scoured the lot. He’d called Briggs Montgomery. Now he needed to tell Ted and Celeste. His car climbed the drive and he pulled to a stark stop in front of Ted and Celeste’s manse.

One pair of eyes that met him at the front door was haunted with fear and pain, and the other was filled with anger.

“We’ve called everyone she knows,” Celeste said. She backed from the door and her eyelashes fluttered like a butterfly in a windstorm. “No one… no one has seen her.” She shook her head. “No one knows where she is.” She turned her body toward Ted, and he pulled her against his chest.

“I’ve called in favors. We’re circling the leads, but time… time isn’t on our side. If the person who has her wanted something, we would have heard by now. So far nothing.”

Rush would have preferred that whoever had Nikki had made a request. A request for millions of dollars. A request for ransom they could work with. A request would be a clue. A request would give them a motive and contact with whoever had stolen Nikki. Without a request and with dead bodies piled up, there might be only one thing the sicko who grabbed Nikki wanted. He might only want her dead.

Rush couldn’t simply stand here and wait. Waiting allowed time to slip through their fingers. “Text messages? Voice mail?”

Ted shook his head. “Dead end. Recovered. Nothing unusual. Every call is from a friend or someone she knows.”

“I want to see them.”

Rush followed Ted to his office. Impatient activity buzzed behind the giant doors. Briggs Montgomery worked a phone. Three other security guys from the studio each rode a laptop. Ted grabbed two pages from his desk and handed them to Rush.

“It’s not much. We’ve been reviewing her texts and calls pretty regularly ever since we discovered Geckler called her.”

Rush scanned the list of numbers and names. All were familiar; Worldwide, Christina, him… no randoms.

“We’re looking for Geckler—he’s our best lead—but the phones he uses are disposable, untraceable. The most we know is he bought the last phone in Bakersfield.”

A chill cracked through Rush’s spine. Bakersfield was too close. Way to close. There had to be a random number, an unknown person on this list of numbers. He needed an outlier, something strange, different. Something. He had to find something.

Rush squinted. “What about the text from this Trevor Simms?” He looked over at Briggs and then to Ted. “Wasn’t he the drummer for Sick Puppy?”

Ted shook his head no. His lips thinned. “Checked with him. Nikki was supposed to meet him. She never showed up.”

Blood thundered through Rush. His heartbeat punched harder behind his ribs. Nikki hadn’t mentioned meeting anyone from Sick Puppy to him.

“Where? Where was she supposed to meet him?”

Ted moved toward a pad of paper on his desk. “At Kings Cafe in Studio City.”

“What time?”

“Around one,” Ted said.

Adrenaline charged through Rush. His fingertips tingled. “Bullshit.” Briggs and his three security guys looked over at him. Their eyes widened. “Go get him.”

“Since you’ve gotten yourself all fancy in the film world, I figured we’d make a movie.”

A woozy feeling clasped Nikki.  Her stomach rolled. Her left cheekbone throbbed. Her eyes fluttered open. She fought the oily, sick feeling quivering in her stomach. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth. Calvin peered into the back of the digital camera he’d attached to the top of a tripod.

How long had she been unconscious? A haze clouded her brain. She took a long, deep breath and tried to grasp for a clearness that slipped beyond her fogged brain. She pulled at her right hand. A clanging noise assaulted her eardrums. The harsh sound focused her mind. She lifted her chin and peered toward the far end of the room. She lay bound hand and foot, spread-eagle on a dirty mattress.

“Hey now, little girl. Ain’t no way you’re getting out of here.” Calvin said.

A chill rushed up Nikki's spine and a sick oily feeling settled into her gut. The room was dark and smelled like dry rot and dust. Heavy blackout drapes sealed the windows in the room. She didn’t know what time or which day it was. Calvin finished adjusting the camera. His hand reached toward a metal rod. Nikki heard a snap and light flooded the room. The sharp light bit into her eyes.

“What… what do you want?” Nikki whispered into the brightness. She was unable to make out Calvin or where he was. She could no longer see the man who trapped her.

He stepped forward. Backlit by the production lamp, Nikki saw only his outline. His fingertips pressed onto her shin. Bile rose in Nikki’s throat. His touch sickened her.

“I want what I wanted the day I met you.”

Calvin’s fingers roamed up over Nikki’s knee and lingered on her thigh at the edge of her skirt. “But now, after all you’ve done, and all those years in jail…” He walked along the bed and his fingers traced her hip and over her shirt. His voice was low and rasped out at her. “Now all I want to do is cause this body of yours a whole lot of pain.”

Fear trembled through Nikki. She was alone. No one knew where she was, not even Rush. Calvin leaned down beside Nikki’s ear. His hand stroked her neck, a light yet sickening touch. She smelled beer on his breath. The grip of his fingers grew tighter. She stared up into Calvin’s fury-filled eyes. Hate and rage wafted from him. His hand clasped her neck harder—enough to hurt, enough to scare, enough to make it uncomfortable to breathe.