Page 1

CHAPTER 1

D isbelief shrouded Sephie’s mind. Her pulse throbbed against her veins as she pillaged the article with her gaze over and over.

Pippa was dead.

Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. She curled deeper into her couch. The Oregon sun was low on the horizon. The warm evening breeze blowing through the open patio doors stirred the drapes, making them dance.

Suicide .

The simple word painted a gruesome image. Sephie choked out a sob and dropped her phone to the couch cushion, covering her mouth.

Pippa, no.

It’d been weeks since she spoke with her best friend and former co-star. Sephie had been eighteen when she left the show and walked away from the entertainment industry. Pippa, however, had gone on to star in lead roles left and right. They’d stayed close over the years, but the last time she’d seen Pippa, her good friend had seemed to be deeper within herself, no longer the happy-go-lucky kid she’d been ten years ago when Sephie left the hit teen sitcom.

Pippa’s bright brown eyes and freckled face flashed in her brain, causing her gut to curdle again. Sephie got to her feet and paced her living room. Kevin lifted his head from the floor by the balcony, his cute little French bulldog ears quirking with interest.

Having grown up on the sets of TV shows and movies, Sephie was no stranger to the dark side of show business. Her skin crawled as the main reason—among many—she’d left that world came crashing back.

She’d gone to therapy. She’d tried to forget. She hadn’t wanted to focus any more of her attention on an industry that would never change but would always haunt her.

Now, a beautiful young woman was dead. What had been going on in Pippa’s life? Why had she inflicted such harm on herself?

Sephie pressed her knuckles to her lips and sat on the couch again. She closed her eyes to fend off the tremors of guilt.

You know exactly what was going on.

She and Pippa had been in many uncomfortable situations. Situations a child should never experience. They’d spoken about their encounters only a handful of times over the years, both of them too terrified to give life to the horror.

She should have done something sooner. Never should have tried to sweep things under the rug. She’d escaped, but Pippa hadn’t. The tears burning her eyes lit a fire in her core. She hadn’t spoken up then. But she could speak up now.

She grabbed her cell phone from the couch and stalked to the second bedroom of her apartment. It served as an office space. She needed to do this now and quickly, before people told lies and made assumptions about Pippa.

Rolling out her desk chair, she sat and switched on her computer. As soon as the desktop screen powered to life, notifications came through. Her relationship with Pippa was well-known, and it seemed everyone expected a reaction from her.

Well, they’d sure as hell get one.

She opened her public social media account and sucked in a deep breath. Her 1.2 million followers were about to get the story of their lives. She wiped tears from her cheeks but didn’t bother to check her makeup. Didn’t give a damn about her appearance. She had to regain composure, though, if she wanted to get through this without falling apart.

Dragging in one more long, slow breath of oxygenated courage, she hit the LIVE button. A red circle popped up, confirming the broadcast.

“Hello, everyone. I’m coming to you this evening with my deepest regret after hearing the news regarding Pippa Surf’s—” Her voice broke. She swallowed the lump pressing on her vocal cords. “Passing.”

She paused, sniffing. Her gaze fell to the number of views. Over three hundred thousand and the shares climbing by the second.

“I don’t know what’s true or not. All I know is Pippa was a beautiful person. Her spirit could light the darkest room. Our days together on Sera and Me were some of the best of my childhood.” She lowered her focus as her eyes filled with tears again. “But that’s not all I want to share with you tonight. As many of you know, I left the show when I turned eighteen. I’ve never spoken about this publicly, but here I am.”

She turned down the volume of her computer. The dinging of notifications interfered with her concentration. The part of her she’d silenced for so long wanted to break free and scream. But the rational part of her mind, the part that held the lock and key, wanted to shut her up.

A picture of Pippa and her sat on her desk. They’d just wrapped up season five of the show and were laughing at the camera. She had to do this for Pippa. She had to squash any rumors, had to shine the light on the evil that had permeated her childhood and Pippa’s. Because she suspected it had contributed to Pippa’s downward spiral.

Those involved needed to be held accountable.

Forty minutes later, she finished her story. Exhaustion made her drag herself to bed even though the clock read only 7:58 p.m. She just wanted to lie down with her puppy and remember Pippa. She crawled beneath the covers and clicked off the light. Kevin hopped onto the comforter and found his favorite spot at the foot of her bed.

She put her phone on silent mode so she wouldn’t hear any calls or notifications. If she could’ve dug herself into a hole, she would’ve. She slipped into sleep, memories of Pippa filling her dreams.

Two hours later, Sephie slowly opened her eyes. The darkness of her bedroom made her blink. A shaft of moonlight spilled in from the window. Her face ached with puffiness from crying herself to sleep.

Memories of her live broadcast assaulted her brain, but she shoved them away. If she started to think about all that she’d never get back to sleep. She closed her eyes again. But something was off.

The room was eerily quiet beneath the gentle whomp , whomp , whomp of her ceiling fan.

Kevin.

He wasn’t snoring. His low, rumbling growl made her hackles rise. She snapped open her eyes and glanced toward the end of the bed. Kevin lay on his belly facing her closed bedroom door. Her dog’s name burned the tip of her tongue but she didn’t dare speak.

The room crackled with foreign energy. The air shifted. Kevin’s growl deepened. Her stomach lurched and a cold sheen coated her skin.

Someone’s in my room.

She tightened her hand into a fist. Every instinct told her to get up, to run, to scream, to do anything but lie there. Panic kept her stitched to the bed. Maybe she was dreaming or paranoid after what had happened to Pippa. Could she be imagining this? That was it. Trauma.

Her still weight sunk deeper into the mattress. She kept her eyelids lowered as she watched a dark, shadowlike figure sweep closer to her bed. Her breath wheezed in and out through her nose and she struggled to make every inhale and exhale sound normal.

He crossed into the moonlight and she caught sight of his hands. Bright white latex covered his skin and something small and sharp glistened in his hold.

A penlight clicked on. The faint glow seared her heightened senses. This wasn’t a dream. Not an illusion produced by paranoia. This was real. Really fucking real.

Kevin jumped up and barked.

Sephie bolted up and catapulted herself away from the intruder. She landed on the floor on the other side of the mattress. He jumped across the comforter, and a rough, rubbery hand wrapped around her wrist.

“No!” she screamed, jabbing her other fist into his face. Cloth met her knuckles. He grunted. Sephie grabbed a vase from her bedside table and whacked it against his skull.

He choked out a curse but didn’t go down.

Adrenaline filled her muscles, and she tore out of the room. “Kevin, come!” she shrieked.

Oh god. Oh god. Please don’t kill my dog .

She heard Kevin’s nails raking across the hardwood floor in her wake, but her attacker’s footsteps weren’t far behind. She skidded into the living room. The front door lay beyond the kitchen and a short foyer.

A heavy body slammed into her, sending her flying. She landed on her back next to the coffee table. Her brain whirred with the force of the impact. The man straddled her, his body large and strong. He seized one of her arms.

“Let me go!” she bellowed.

Rough fingers shoved up her sleeve and then stretched her arm straight to expose her forearm. Kevin’s barks turned frantic, and he jumped and snapped at the man on top of her.

“Get away, mutt!” The asshole elbowed her dog, sending him back a few feet.

With her free hand, Sephie punched his groin. He coughed and sputtered, and something landed on the floor with a tinkling sound. The steel end of a needle glistened in the moonlight. All the blood rushed from her head to her limbs.

He lunged for the needle but she flicked it away with the back of her hand sending it beneath the dining room chair.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hand around her throat, squeezing the life from her. His evil, masked face loomed above her, his small, vicious pupils glittering with loathing.

Her chest ached and the tendons in her neck threatened to snap. Consciousness flickered, and her face burned with the need for blood.

She grabbed at his hands, scratching, but nothing made him loosen his grip. If she didn’t do something within seconds she’d pass out.

Ruff! Kevin’s mighty little growl sounded in her ears, and then an angry snarl split the air.

“Ahh!” The man yanked his hand off her throat. Kevin had bitten him.

Air rushed into her lungs.

The man let out a fierce curse and backhanded Kevin. Her dog let out a pitiful wail as he landed hard against the side of the couch.

No!

Sephie kicked her legs free from beneath her attacker then crunched her heel into his abdomen. He doubled over and she leapt to her knees. She grabbed the back of his head and used all her strength to drive his face into the coffee table.

His forehead cracked against the glass. His body went slack and he slumped to the ground. Sephie’s chest heaved as she stared at his unconscious form .

Kevin whimpered, snapping her to attention. She picked up her dog, cradling him to her chest. Then she darted to her bedroom and snatched her phone from the nightstand, not bothering to grab anything else. She hurriedly retraced her steps and passed the body in her living room.

Grabbing her running shoes on the way, with Kevin under her arm and her phone in hand, she fled her house.

She needed to call 911. Needed to report the attack and get the man arrested—if he was even alive. But common sense weighed out. She needed to get to safety first. Whoever had come for her had wanted to permanently silence her. Wanted revenge for the information she’d leaked.

There was only one person in the world she trusted to help her.

***

Taschen dropped his head back and let the suds run down his neck. His muscles were aching. Maybe it was because he’d turned thirty-four last month. Or maybe it was because he’d helped his sister drag her furniture into her new house she’d just bought with Zain, his friend, colleague, and Dana’s fiancé—which was weird as fuck but he was getting used to seeing them together. At least she was happy. His back muscles twitched.

Damn Dana anyway.

She’d offered him pizza in exchange for eight hours of physical labor. And he’d taken the bribe like a nineteen-year-old with the munchies.

Ring , ring , ring

He ignored his phone. Whoever it was could wait. He stepped out of the shower a few minutes later, steam billowing.

He scrubbed a thick gray towel over his face then swathed it around his torso. At the sink, he swiped the dew from the mirror and picked up his toothbrush.

A notification popped up on his phone. He glanced down at the screen. A missed call from Rami, one of his bosses at Backcountry Protection Services.

What the hell did he want after 10:00 p.m. on a Friday night? That couldn’t mean anything good. Taschen had started working for his old comrade when he left black ops.

He spit the foam from his mouth and called Rami back. “What’s up?” he asked, when Rami answered.

“We got a really big gig, that’s what.”

Taschen dragged his fingers through his wet hair, grazing the two-inch scar that left a smooth bald spot on his head. Working as a bodyguard wasn’t as demanding as being in the military, but he’d taken a bullet to the head doing the former.

He barely stifled his groan. “Why do I feel like this involves me?”

“You’re on call this weekend. ”

Fuck. “All right. What’s the deal?” He strode into his bedroom and sat on the bed. The rustic solid-wood bed, with its steel-colored linens and buffalo plaid pillows offered the cabin vibe he longed for when he was stuck in the city.

“Seraphina Burgess.”

“Why’s that ring a bell?”

“Dude, are you drunk?” Rami snapped.

“No, I’m fucking tired.”

“Have you watched the news? Been on social media at all tonight?”

He frowned. “No. I was helping Dana and Zain move. Just got home half an hour ago. I was in the shower when you called.”

“Shit. You’re missing the whole fucking story.”

Taschen reached for the remote on his bedside table and clicked on the TV.

“Pippa Surf was found dead,” Rami continued. “Presumably suicide.”

“Holy shit,” he mumbled, finding a news channel. He hit the mute button.

“Yeah.”

“What’s this got to do with a job?”

“Again, you’re missing the story. Seraphina Burgess? You know, the kid star? She had her own TV show and shit like a decade ago.”

Taschen scratched the back of his head. “Sounds familiar. Can’t say I watched kids’ shows ten years ago, but...”

“Left the industry when she became an adult. Anyway, she went live a couple hours ago. Blew the whistle on Astral Productions, and named the producers and cast members who were wildly inappropriate with the minors on set.”

Taschen’s blood turned cold. “Holy—”

“Shit’s blown up on social media. Her video has ten million views. I guess she’s trying to attribute whatever Pippa was going through to her experience in Hollywood.”

“Jesus.” Unease pressed against his chest. “Poor woman must be going through hell.”

“Exactly. It gets worse. Seraphina was attacked in her home tonight.”

Taschen pinched the bridge of his nose. Goddamn. This couldn’t get any worse. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know all the details, but she managed to get away.”

Relief unwound the muscles in his chest.

“Her old manager, Yvette Mars, called and wants us to get Seraphina somewhere safe until this blows over.”

Taschen nodded. “All right. I can do that. When do I need to get her?”

“They’re at a hotel in Centralia. About an hour and twenty minutes from you. I’ll send you the information. Can you leave now?”

Renewed energy chased the fatigue and ache from his muscles. He could only speculate about who was after Seraphina, but it was obvious that she needed to get as far from any city as possible. The negative press alone would be a nightmare.

Taschen went to his closet and yanked out some clothes. “Text me the info. I’ll leave in ten.”

“Oh, one thing. She’s got a dog.”

He chortled. “Not one that will maul me, I hope.”

“Nah. A Frenchie. Maybe grab some dog food on the way.”

Dog food. Right. “Fine. But if she asks me to hand-pour Evian into its mouth, I’m done. You can have Brick deal with this one.”

Rami barked out a laugh. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t ask for an autograph—it’s unprofessional.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never been starstruck in my life.” He clicked off and tossed his phone onto the bed.

After dressing in a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, he combed his hair and packed a backpack. He’d take Seraphina to one of Backcountry’s safe houses. Each was stocked with necessities, but he wanted enough personal items to last a few days.

He locked his house and bounded down the steps to his white Ford F-150. Opening his text messages, he saw Rami had sent the address of the hotel. Plugging it into GPS, he buckled his seatbelt and started the vehicle.

Another message from Rami popped up.

Seraphina’s live video has been removed from social media, but I downloaded it earlier and attached it below. Listen on your drive and download it yourself for backup .

Curiosity tugged at him. To say he was out of the loop was an understatement. He wondered if Seraphina had removed the video herself, or if there was a bigger power at play.

He tapped on the video and Seraphina’s face filled the screen. Her image stirred recognition. Straight dark-blond hair spilled over one shoulder, her eyes were puffy and red, and makeup was streaked across her delicate cheeks. Sympathy twisted his gut.

He set the phone on the dash and let the video play.

“As many of you know, I left the show when I turned eighteen. I’ve never spoken about this publicly, but here I am.”

The slight sniffling sound made his heart pound.

“What you don’t know is that my childhood was filled with predators.” Her voice shook. “Don’t get me wrong, not everyone associated with Astral Productions or Sera and Me was out to harm children, but there were a lot of people who used their position and our vulnerability to their advantage.”

Ah, hell. Goddammit.

Part of him didn’t want to know what sordid shit had gone on behind the scenes, but he also couldn’t turn a blind eye. Couldn’t ignore this young woman’s plight .

“Raymond Schaffer, the producer of Sera and Me , was one of these predators.”

Taschen’s palms grew sweaty against the leather steering wheel as anger brimmed beneath his collar hot and prickly. He drove the truck on autopilot, somehow getting onto the interstate in the correct direction while listening to Seraphina tell story after story of the well-known producer’s inappropriate behavior.

“It wasn’t just how he’d rub our backs or shoulders, or how he’d pull us onto his lap for a photo or to tell us some funny story. It was the glint in his eyes. The way his gaze lingered on my barely pubescent body. That’s what was so... So wrong. I was only fourteen when I started to become aware of his intentions.”

She cleared her throat, and Taschen tore his gaze from the dotted line of the road stretched beneath a black sky to look at the screen illuminating the inside of his vehicle. Tears still filled her greenish-gold eyes, but there was something else in them too. There was fire. Anger. A thirst for justice.

And for some reason that unsettled him.

“It took four years of avoiding parties. Four years of faking sick and making any excuse I could come up with so I wouldn’t be alone with Raymond or any of the cast and crew. When I turned eighteen and could make my own decisions, I left Sera and Me and put Hollywood behind me. ”

Seraphina’s shuddering breath rattled through the speaker.

“Pippa wasn’t that lucky. I know, for a fact, she was groomed. Several people involved in the show would try to get us minors drunk or high at their parties or gatherings. Raymond loved to give the kids sips of his liquor.”

Taschen muttered a stream of curses and wished Raymond was in front of him right now.

“Pippa got into drugs. That’s no secret. She was in and out of rehab between the ages of seventeen and twenty-four. Not only do I want you to know who started her on that path, I want you to imagine the why. Why would an adult, a grown man who should be guarding and protecting innocent children, aim to get them intoxicated? Aim to get them alone?”

Her voice grew bolder, unbridled. “Pippa was abused. I know because she told me Raymond raped her when she was eighteen, shortly after I left the show. She made me swear not to tell anyone.”

Seraphina’s voice rose several octaves. “As far as I’m concerned, Raymond Schaffer killed Pippa. He’s a predator and a murderer.”

The screen went black.

Taschen expelled one hot breath after another. Seraphina had put her life on the line. Her intentions were clear.

He couldn’t go back and help that fourteen- year-old girl. But he could damn well get Seraphina somewhere safe until this blew over.

And save a bullet for Raymond Schaffer.