Page 7

CHAPTER 7

T aschen dropped Kevin on Sephie’s bed. The gentle splashing of water in the tub made desire thrum over his shaft. Only it wasn’t just the picture of Sephie in the shower that got him hot. He wasn’t a nosy perv or a Peeping Tom, but her husky little gasp of surprise had sure hinted something else was going on in there.

The fact that she was pleasuring herself right next door when he was present and capable of doing the job for her made him feel... off. Almost ungentlemanly. Maybe he should’ve offered a hand. Next time.

“Night, Kevin.” He ruffled the pup’s ears then crossed the hall to his room, passing the occupied bathroom on the way. The light still shone beneath. He needed to rinse off, too, but he’d wait in his room to give her privacy.

While he waited, he texted the guys asking if a couple of them would volunteer to escort them to the funeral. His eyes would be on Sephie the entire time, so he wanted to make sure someone was on the lookout for anyone who might show extra interest in her. Brick and Rami offered to come and he thanked them both. He then sent a message to Dana asking if she’d watch Kevin while they were in Portland. She responded instantly with confirmation.

A few minutes later, Sephie’s bedroom door clicked shut. He showered quickly then climbed into bed. Tomorrow, Sephie—no, his client—had a funeral, and he had to carry himself with the utmost professionalism. She might put on a brave face, as she had this evening, but he could only imagine that attending her best friend’s funeral would be like being dragged over a sheet of nails with the whole world watching.

With a towel around his hips, he stepped into the hall. Sephie’s bedroom light was off. He turned toward his own room, but moving away from her was like walking with cement blocks on his feet.

Fuck, he wanted her.

He put on a pair of briefs and got into bed, where he tossed and turned while the memory of Sephie’s raspy little voice rang through his ears. Sleep finally came, but his dreams carried out a fantasy of him entering the shower, getting on his knees, and wrapping her legs around his face.

The sound of dishes clanking entered Taschen’s consciousness. He groaned and rubbed his eyes, mostly to block the sun from assaulting his senses. Stretching, he swung his feet to the floor. The clock read 7:24 a.m. He’d normally consider this sleeping in, but he’d likely slept only five hours.

He quickly dressed and went to the kitchen. Sephie moved around the stove, pajama shorts and tank top accentuating her cute little frame. Her long locks were tied on top of her head, making him want to shake free the strands and bury his face in her scent.

“Morning,” she sang, swinging around to face him. That familiar pink blush colored her cheeks, and if he hadn’t been certain of the sweet arousal he’d heard in her voice last night, he sure as hell was now.

“Morning. How’d you sleep?” He strode farther into the kitchen, and her green eyes blazed as he got closer.

She cleared her throat. “Good, I guess.” A nervous laugh followed. “As good as one can sleep with the nightmare of a masked man after her.”

The aromatic scent of coffee infused his brain cells. A pang of appreciation hit him since she’d already said she was a tea drinker. “You made coffee for me?” He reached above her head for a mug.

Her wary eyes followed him, but she didn’t move. “Figured you’d need some.”

“Good guess. I always need coffee.” His arm brushed her shoulder. “Hell, I’m sorry you didn’t sleep.” Irritation bunched his muscles. If he got his hands on the bastard who’d attacked her, he’d shred him to pieces.

She lifted one shoulder. “I slept. It was just restless.” She inched out of the way while he reached for the coffee carafe. “How about you?”

He stirred in a splash of creamer then leaned back on the counter next to her. “Not great. I normally don’t sleep this late.” He lifted his face to the clock on the wall. “We’ll have to leave by nine thirty if we want to get there in time. Funeral starts at one.”

“Right. I’m sorry. I hate that you have to drive all the way back to Portland.” She tangled her hands in front of her.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do.” Standing this close, he was struck again by how small she was. She’d fit right against his chest if he held her, her head barely at his sternum.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll need to stop at my place for some proper clothes.”

“’Course. Not a problem.” He took a sip of the warm brew. “We can take Kevin to my sister’s. She’s happy to watch him while we’re in Portland.”

“Oh, great. I didn’t want to leave him.”

He jerked his head to the plates waiting on the table. “Smells good. Should we eat?”

She perked up and fluttered around him. “I made bacon, eggs, and toast and cut some fresh fruit.”

He took the chair next to her. “I’m starving. Thanks for cooking.” They fell into comfortable small talk and polished off all the food.

After they’d cleaned the kitchen, they both got ready and were out the door shortly after 9:00 a.m.

Kevin sat in the back seat. This time, Taschen didn’t touch the radio dial. But something told him Sephie’s thoughts were just as loud as any radio host.

***

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you came.” Yvette pulled Sephie into a rib-crushing hug.

Sephie winced and slowly let go. Her dark sunglasses concealed the tears brimming in her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the sniffle as they moved slowly away from the gravesite.

Pippa’s service had been beautiful, and despite how quickly the funeral had come together, many people had shown. Every pew had been full. Annie and Clayton, Pippa’s mom and brother, had saved Sephie a seat in the front row. Taschen had sat directly behind her.

Pippa’s tombstone had soared above her burial. Even from where Sephie stood, fifteen feet away, the plot looked huge. The seven-foot stone angel stood atop three tiers, and its wings spanned out beautifully .

Taschen stayed close without crowding. His black suit and navy-blue tie enhanced his bronze skin and neat five-o’clock shadow. He kept his hands clasped in front of him and stood a few paces behind Yvette and her. Only she knew about the tiny bud in his ear that allowed him to communicate with Brick and Rami, who were keeping watch at a distance, out of sight.

Taschen had assured her they were secure, but every so often creepy-crawlies tickled her skin, as though someone nefarious was close. There was no point trying to disguise herself—she’d be picked out of the crowd in a heartbeat. Better to let the assholes who’d come after her show their faces.

Yvette’s arm brushed hers, and she leaned in close to Sephie’s ear. “Are you okay? Really. Not being able to talk to you this whole time has driven me bonkers.”

Sephie smiled despite the channel of edginess dividing her heart. “I’m good. Taschen’s nice, and a complete gentleman.”

“That’s too bad.” Yvette bobbed her eyebrows and elbowed Sephie.

Sephie bit back a snort and glanced over her shoulder. Taschen’s dark aviator shades concealed his eyes, but his mouth tilted up at the corners with amusement. He’d heard, the dick.

“Are you going straight back after this?”

“No. Taschen suggested we get a hotel in Portland tonight, and I figured it’d be a good idea.” Just the thought of driving two three-plus-hour stretches in one day, with a funeral in between, was exhausting.

She’d been grateful when he suggested the hotel. With Kevin safe with Dana and Zain, she wasn’t in a desperate rush to get back.

“Have you talked to Annie and Clayton yet?” Yvette asked.

“Not much. I was just about to find them.” She craned her neck around the throngs of people. Close to the tombstone, Pippa’s immediate family was clustered in a circle. Clayton motioned for her to join them. “There they are.”

“Good. I’ll let you do that. Find me before you leave.”

“I will, thanks.” Sephie watched Yvette pivot toward a B-list actor. She cut across the grass with Taschen close by. Pausing, she faced him. “Can you give me a minute in private?”

He rocked on his feet. “’Course. I’ll wait right here. Just don’t venture off. I want you close.” His words made pleasure flutter deep in her loins.

I want you close, too.

Before she could utter the words, she made her way toward Clayton. Eighteen and lanky, he towered over Sephie. But he had the same mischievous smile and glistening brown eyes he’d had as a pesky kid throwing spitballs at Pippa and her on set.

“Clay. I’m so sorry.” She pulled him into a hug. Annie stood about six feet away, tears running down her cheeks and another woman’s arm wrapped around her shoulders.

He pulled back and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for coming. I know Pippa was grateful for your friendship.”

Tears stung her eyes. They hadn’t been dry the entire service, and now, talking about her made the pain that much sharper. “I wish I could have done more for her. I—I didn’t know she was struggling.”

Clayton’s eyes narrowed and he moved closer to her. “You don’t really believe this shit, do you? That she killed herself?”

The moisture in her eyes fell to her cheeks. “I don’t know what to believe.”

“I don’t believe my sister hung herself from her bedroom door.”

Sephie closed her eyes as fresh grief washed over her. Desperation clawed at her chest. Her lips trembled. She hadn’t known the details. Perhaps out of self-preservation, she deliberately hadn’t looked up how Pippa had harmed herself.

Sephie brought her fingers to the sensitive skin at her throat and held her hand there as if doing so would erase Pippa’s fate.

Clayton’s gaze sharpened. Slowly, he withdrew his hand from his pocket, keeping his fingers low. His skin brushed her knuckles, and she instinctively opened her hand. He pressed a wadded-up envelope into her palm. “Keep that hidden and don’t look at it until you’re somewhere safe.”

She tucked the envelope into her blazer pocket. “What is it?”

“Pippa was going to blow the whistle on Astral Productions. She had proof. Somehow, they got wind of it and silenced her.”

Her mouth went dry. “She told you this?” she whispered.

The grief in his eyes and deep frown in his forehead screamed his need for revenge. “Three months ago, she told me that if anything happened to her, I should retrieve the contents of her safety-deposit box.” He chortled, shaking his head. “I thought she was nuts. But she insisted I keep the key. As soon as I found out what happened, I went and got it.” He pinned her with his serious, pained eyes. “She said no police.”

Sephie concentrated on inhaling steadily. “Okay.” Whoever killed Pippa could be here right now. If they knew Clayton had an inkling of what Pippa was up to, they could come after him next. She gripped the material of his jacket. “I don’t want you to go home. It’s not safe.”

“I’ve got a flight to Barcelona in a few hours. Mom’s not happy, but she’s coming, too.”

Sephie nodded. “Okay. How can I reach you?”

“I put my information on a slip of paper inside. Don’t call unless you have to.” He moved his attention back to people leaving the cemetery. He pulled her into a hug again. “Be careful,” he said, near her ear. “They’re watching.”

Before she could question him, he stepped back and Annie approached. Her long, thin arms circled Sephie’s neck. “Oh, honey. I just can’t believe my Pippa’s gone. Did she say anything to you, sweetheart? Anything at all?”

Sephie closed her eyes and patted Annie’s back before withdrawing. “No. I’m so sorry, Annie. This was a complete shock.”

“I can’t believe my baby is gone. It—”

Crack , crack , crack!

The blast of bullets exploded in the air. Terrified cries pelted Sephie’s eardrums. Fear injected itself into her veins and she covered her head. A scream tore from her throat. Her body shuddered. She closed her eyes as the chaos amplified.

***

“Shooter less than a hundred yards east!” Rami’s voice boomed in Taschen’s ear.

Sephie’s scream hammered Taschen’s senses, muddling Rami’s words. Sweat dampened his brow as he cut across the grass. He yanked his gun from the waistband of his pants. “Everybody, get down!” he ordered.

Each cell in his body was hyperattuned to Sephie’s every move. She crouched, or—Jesus, was she hit? “Sephie!” he boomed.

Another shot rang out .

Whack!

A man running across the gravesite went down right in front of Taschen, nearly tripping him. He couldn’t stop for the fallen innocent bystander. Not when Sephie was in the line of fire.

He grabbed her beneath her arms and hauled her to her feet. Belting one arm around her waist, he lifted her off the ground. The hair on the back of his neck was pinned to attention, anticipating a bullet through his head. He leapt behind the massive tombstone, shielding them up against the stone wall.

With her back pressed between the angel’s wings, he covered the front of her body with his, cradling her cheek with his free hand. The bullets would have to go through him to get to her. Her sunglasses had fallen off, and her wet eyes looked up at him, dazed. Makeup made tracks down her cheeks. Her honey-colored hair was wild around her face.

“Are you hurt?” Speaking took great effort.

Her chin trembled, and she choked on a breath. “I—I don’t think so.” Her hands roamed over his suit jacket as if looking for something to hang on to. She found his lapels and gripped them.

He smoothed his thumb over her temple. Goddammit, he should’ve stayed next to her. Shouldn’t have allowed more than two feet between them. His heart twisted. If things had gone differently, she’d be dead right now. “Take stock. Does anything hurt?”

He moved his hand over her neck, down her arm, and around to touch her hip. No blood found his fingers, but there might be an injury he couldn’t spot. The rapid rise and fall of her chest assured him she was stable, at least.

“Taschen?” The breathy whisper turned his sweat to ice.

He brought his head back an inch so he could study her. As he searched every delicate, feminine line and slope of her face, his heart kicked up a beat. Her dark eyelashes moved down and then up, and he was hit once again with her dazzling greens. “Yeah?” he ground out.

She pushed on his chest. “You’re crushing me.”

He smirked. “Sorry.” He moved his hips back slightly. “I’m gonna get you out of here any second. Just waiting for the guys to gimme the all-clear.”

“Annie. Clayton. Are they okay?” Panic strung her words together.

Her question calmed the raging storm inside him. The more she spoke, the less he worried she’d been shot. The cries in the background grew louder, but the terrified shrieks had ceased.

Still, he didn’t move from Sephie. His chest was still against hers, concealing nearly every inch of her body. He didn’t dare move a muscle in case the shooter found them. Rami and Brick would secure the area, but they needed to hurry the hell up so he could get her out of danger.

“I don’t know.” His index finger itched on the trigger of his gun, ready to blow to pieces anyone who took another shot at her.

Her small fists shoved against his chest. “Taschen, please. I need to find them!”

Her desperate plea shook him. Keeping her body boxed in against the stone with his arms, he leaned to look around the corner.

Most people were huddled on the ground covering their heads. Only a few stood and glanced around, discombobulated. He spotted Clayton crouched behind another headstone. Annie moved to his side, weeping. “They’re okay. Sit tight until we’re given the word.” He brought his face back to hover scant inches from hers. Her pouty lips parted. The need to pull her mouth into his, to comfort her, was almost overwhelming.

That’s when he realized she seemed shorter than she had earlier that day. He glanced down to see she’d lost her four-inch heels. “Your feet are bare. Are your ankles okay?”

“They’re okay. I’m fine.” The sheen on her skin made pressure rise in his chest. “I just want to get out of here.” Her eyes glittered in her pale, oval face. At least they hadn’t lost their luster. Some of the pressure in his chest eased.

Gently, he brought his fingers to her cheek and stroked back the strands of hair that’d come loose. He shouldn’t touch her more than was necessary. Needed to keep his career and position firmly in mind. But Christ, the only thing more lethal than taking a bullet to the head was not touching her. “It’s going to be okay. Just breathe.”

Her bottom lip trembled. Around them, people were crying. Fear and outrage palpable. It was a soundtrack he wasn’t unfamiliar with, but goddammit he hated that Sephie was being exposed to it.

“You’re safe,” he murmured. Hell, he was likely saying this more for his benefit. “I’ll get you to our vehicle in a sec.”

“Annie and Clayton. You have to get them out first.”

He clenched his jaw. He wasn’t here to protect Pippa’s family. Someone just about shot Sephie, and until he found out who, she was his main priority.

She must have sensed his resistance. “Taschen, please.”

Rami’s voice came through his earpiece. “I think the shooter fled. Brick’s bringing the vehicle to the east side of the lot. He’ll cover you as you bring her in.”

Taschen brought his fingertips to his ear and kept his eyes locked on Sephie. She blinked slowly, silently pleading. She sucked the edge of her lip into her mouth, and fresh tears swam in her eyes. A breath rattled her chest, which was pressed against his, and he just about came undone. Goddamn him, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—make her cry.

“All right,” he said to Rami. “We’re getting there now. I need you to come escort Pippa’s mother and brother to your car. Get them outta here.”

“Man. That’s too risky right now. We need to get Seraphina—”

“I’ve got her. She’s good with me. Just get the family out.”

Sephie’s body relaxed beneath him. “Thank you,” she mouthed.

He didn’t respond. Wasn’t going to waste another damn second on anything else until he had her snug behind the bulletproof body of a Backcountry SUV. “I’m going to move now. I want you to stay at my side.”

She gave one nod.

He inched to the side of the tombstone and scanned every person and tree in sight. When no threat jumped out, he caught Sephie’s elbow and hauled her close. He held his arm over her shoulders and tucked her into his side. He kept his gun drawn and ready as he moved her quickly across the grass.

Rami came from the west side of the cemetery and Taschen motioned toward Pippa’s family. In the parking lot, Brick waved them to the SUV, his gun drawn.

Taschen ran, keeping a tight hold on Sephie so she didn’t fall. They reached the asphalt and Brick opened the back door. Sephie hopped in. Taschen got in beside her and Brick jumped in the driver’s seat.

Regret filled Taschen. This shouldn’t have happened. He shouldn’t have fucking brought her here. She’d been shot at and it was his goddamn fault. Her shoulder rested against his side and her head on his pec.

The flow of blood moving violently through his veins slowed, and he gently kneaded her thigh. She’d barely escaped with her life intact—and he’d make damn sure whoever was after her never got that close again.

Because almost losing her had just about killed him.