17

Mara was already up and talking to the police before he left to meet with his team in the parking garage. Christie, Derrick’s mate had gone up to sit with her and now he had to get to business.

“We have another problem,” Jackson announced.

"What is it now?” Derrick asked, tightening his tactical vest and handing one over to Jackson. As werewolves tracking a rogue they didn’t necessarily need them, but they looked more appropriate to the public. It was far more normal for a security detail to look like this than to be running around in sneakers sniffing with their noses. And they always tried to have at least one of them shifted. Which meant that in order to appease the humans, the wolf would have to wear a leash.

“Whatever it is, it can’t be worse than a rogue stalking your mate," Derrick whispered fiercely, aware that even though they were in the empty parking garage, cameras and microphones could be anywhere.

"Debatable. Look at these." Jackson thrust the packet of images at him, with the two of him shifting on top. "The rogue slid these under the door… I managed to tuck them into my jeans before the police arrived but… I don’t know if she saw them or not."

Derrick looked down at the blurry pictures. "Moon goddess," he exclaimed, eyes bulging. "Where the fuck did he get these from? And how did he know where our backgrounds are?"

"I have no fucking clue. Even if he knew where we’re stationed, how'd a rogue get on pack lands? How'd he get photos of ME? Close enough to take photos while I was shifted?” Jackson turned and began pacing. “And why Mara? Why any of this? It's too much of a coincidence. Something else is going on. If Mara was the real target, why break in and leave the photos? The door was battered in so all that separated him was a thin bathroom door. He could have easily abducted her. But he didn’t. Why? Nothing is adding up, here, D."

"What are you thinking?"

Jackson gave his Beta a strained glance.

“No, you don’t think… I mean that’s a rumor. There’s some suspicion but no concrete evidence. We don’t know for sure it’s real,” Derrick said.

"It's too early to assume, but I know The Underbelly is real. I’m just saying this seems too calculated to be a random instance. And… now that I’m involved, it feels like they’ve been waiting for this opportunity. What else would it be?”

Derrick ran his hands through his honey blond hair. “I just can’t wrap my head around a supernatural organization full of criminals. You know how ridiculous that sounds?”

Jackson shrugged on his vest. “No more ridiculous than a supernatural security firm and we already know of several of those. I’m saying The Underbelly is involved here but it wouldn’t surprise me. Let's just stay vigilant with our pack members... Double security and surveillance. If it comes to a supernatural issue, we need to be sure our members are solid. I don’t want this fucker anywhere near our pack again."

Derrick nodded and tucked the photos into his vest pocket. "I'll torch these for ya. Let’s get on the road in five. Christie good upstairs?"

Jackson nodded. It was times like these, where Derrick showed exactly why he was the pack Beta. He was good at his job and he could easily handle stress, even if his carefree attitude said the opposite.

Without another word, the trackers headed towards the street with Jackson and Derrick right behind them.

"Alright, guys, get to work. We don't have all day," Derrick insisted. Kemper, the smallest wolf of the lot, and also the youngest, had shifted and was now leashed to his father, Evan. It helped ease some of the tension associated with being chained. He was young, freshly eighteen and he’d been trained to follow in his father’s footsteps for years. He was capable, and he was also the only one who could possibly pass for a half-bred dog. It was a flimsy cover but there was nothing else to do for it, because even the smallest among them was large enough to be half a man’s height.

"Make the sweep for a scent first," Jackson ordered.

***

The first thing Mara noticed, was how little the police could do. They’d done a preliminary sweep, interviewed both her and Jackson, and then fingerprinted. After that, she noticed, they’d mostly stood around and talked. It irritated her to no end that something traumatic had happened to her and the police were just catching up as if it were a social setting. And of course, one miserable man tried to ask for an autograph which prompted her to revoke their right to her space.

She had watched them file out, one by one, with disgruntled looks on their faces. It made her want to scream. Of course a moment after she locked the door, another beep brought Jackson and a woman Mara didn’t know back into the room.

Her face was kind but Mara wasn’t in the mood. She studied the newcomer whose face was clear and her clothes were neat and stylish.

“This is Christie,” Jackson said. “Christie, this is Miss Mara Luxe. Mara, Christie is one of my trusted employees and she’ll be staying with you until I return, alright?”

“Where are you going?” Mara said, hating the way her voice trembled. Even Jackson seemed shaken up by the warble but he nodded once as if making up his mind.

“I have to check the perimeter with my detail. We need to ensure you’re safe here, Mara.”

Mara wanted to protest but what was the point? She wouldn’t feel safe anywhere. So she shrugged and headed into her room. Just beyond the doorway, she listened in.

"What do you want me to do?" Christie asked. She sounded nervous.

"Just keep her company and keep her calm... we'll be back as fast as we can. Aside from the police, don’t let anyone else in. Under any circumstances. Not her team, not her agent. No one. Do you understand?”

Mara assumed Christie nodded. "Okay, sure thing, I'll just go talk to the movie star...and pretend like she's not a movie star..." She laughed in a strained way that somehow eased Mara’s irritation. It sounded like Christie took several deep breaths. Then the suite door opened and closed.

What if Mara told her to leave? She felt her stomach turn to a rock. Her anxiety wasn’t built for this kind of stress and she didn’t feel like a stranger witnessing it. Setting her shoulders, Mara convinced herself to wear one of her personas. She would allow herself a minute to feel later… when… never mind, it didn’t matter.

Christie nearly jumped out of her skin when Mara suddenly re-entered the main room.

They both exchanged a tense look.

"Sorry, Ms. Luxe. I know this probably isn't the best time to meet new people but my name is Christie. I promise not to be an imposition."

Mara nodded. "Nice to meet you, Christine." A loud knock rang out, startling them both.

"Sorry! Let me do that," Christie said as she headed for the door. “I have very specific orders from Mr. Croft not to let in anyone but the police."

"It's probably just my agent," Mara insisted, watching as Richard burst past Christine with all the flare of a drama queen, two stylists trailing in tow. Mara cocked her brow.

"No! You can’t—” she tried to say but Richard started talking over her. For a security guard, Christine surely didn’t seem equipped to deal with confrontation. “But—" Christie tried again, but no one stopped.

"Oh, my poor Mara!" Richard exclaimed, snapping his fingers at the stylists and motioning to the room for them to set up quickly. "You must have been terrified...are you okay?" He twisted her body back and forth as if inspecting for damage. "I told you we needed to take this seriously doll! You have no idea how quickly this story is spreading!"

He tsked and grabbed for the remote to click on the TV. Sure enough, the news blared across the screen, "Breaking news: actress nearly assaulted in a hotel room!"

Mara felt her stomach drop. Nearly assaulted. Her whole body seemed to shiver and tighten at once. How did it get out so fast? She'd only called Richard an hour ago to tell him. And yet he already had two stylists here with a slew of cameras prepared downstairs for her exit to the airport. Althea had thankfully arranged an emergency private flight on standby for whenever she was ready. Richard hadn’t prepared to soothe Mara, he had prepared for this to be a hot topic. A social sensation.

The knowledge dropped like a lead weight to the pit of her stomach.

“Where the hell is the bodyguard? Nadia said he has to be in the photos for the hype. Apparently, he is being tracked as people’s favorite love interest right now… who knew they would love a working man?”

He was still talking but Mara couldn’t hear anything. Love interest. They were actually taking polls on who she should end up with… one of those options being her psychotic stalker? She felt ill. Like her body was going to revolt. She desperately wanted to walk out of the hotel and never come back.

To leave this entire life behind.

The police hadn't even been gone for a half hour yet, but somehow Richard had put an entire production together. He didn’t even seem genuinely upset over her attack. It was like this was all one big show for him. It felt off. It sent alarms ringing in her head but she was exhausted. All she really wanted was the familiar. She didn't have much control over how comfortable she felt around Richard. And even though all she wanted was to be held by her mother, she'd have to settle for Richard and Althea until she could get back home.

A blond haired stylist pulled her into a chair and silently began to work on her face while the other tackled her hair. Mara felt twisted and tugged in every direction, her mind still reeling over what the stalker had said. Not just tonight but at the gala as well. He was here for her. He wanted her. He would take her. Fear shuddered through her. What would she do if he ever really got a hold of her? Was she going to die or be a slave to his desires? She felt like throwing up. Did she really feel as though Jackson could keep her safe?

He seemed like he could. But there have been other cases of celebrities who were killed by their stalkers. And it happened to everyday people regularly. Was she going to become another statistic?

Her mind momentarily went back to the way Jackson held her as she cried. Her whole body tingled and heated at his touch. She could feel his toned muscles twitching under her weight. And he smelled familiar. It was a scent she couldn't quite put her finger on but it was calming and totally unlike anything she'd ever smelled. He didn't really seem the type to buy a custom fragrance. Maybe a deodorant. Why the hell was she obsessing over his smell?

Someone cleared her throat beside Mara, "Here, I'm sure if I was in your shoes, I'd need this," Christine handed her a mug of hot tea with a smile, "Are you sure you're feeling alright? You look pale?"

"She does? Oh Jenny, c'mon now! Get some color back on her skin!" Richard exclaimed, taking a phone call and stepping out of the common area. The stylist grunted and glared at Christie before continuing her assault on Mara's face, spending extra time on her red eyes and puffy lids.

"Thank you," she whispered as she took a sip and found it spiked with whiskey. Christie floated back into the background of the chaos. It was a small gesture but it was important. Just like Jackson cradling her and tucking her into bed. And suddenly, Mara realized... he hadn't come back to the room. When was the last time she'd seen him?

"Christine, when is Jackson coming back? It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Uhhhh...I don't know... let me give him a quick call..."

She stepped away to the kitchen area and pulled out her phone. It rang once, twice, and an angry-sounding Jackson picked up.

“Uh yes, sir, A-al–I mean, Mr. Croft... so here’s the thing. Um… she let her agent in, and now they’re doing her hair and makeup. Apparently, there’s a private jet waiting, and she’s supposed to go downstairs in front of the cameras soon... Could you maybe… uh... Come back? Well… I wouldn’t say that. She asked for you, and—yes, sir. I think she would rather be home, sir. Okay, sure, yes, I’ll tell her.”

Mara looked at Christine as Richard clapped his hands. “Lovely! She looks perfect. Alright, love, we’ve got press waiting downstairs. Time to go.”