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The Whispering Pines Inn sat on the edge of the Smoky Mountains, its glass and stone façade blending into the forest. After the chaos of the past week—threatening emails, sleepless nights, that horrible video playing on repeat in my mind—it looked like sanctuary.
Angelica went in while I stayed outside, breathing mountain air that tasted nothing like LA smog.
"Two suites, side by side." Angelica handed me a key card. "Doug and Gretchen run this place now. Good people. Discreet."
She drove us around back. We parked near shallow stairs. My designer luggage felt heavier with each step. Exhaustion pulled at every muscle.
Our doors were next to each other. Angelica followed me into my room.
The suite exceeded expectations—a small living area with a fireplace, and through an archway, a king bed that looked like salvation.
"Get some rest." Angelica's voice softened. "Tomorrow I'll show you around town."
"I don't know if I'm ready to meet people."
"Trust me. These aren't Hollywood people. They're real."
The door clicked shut. Silence wrapped around me like a blanket. Then I spotted the bathroom, and more important, the soaking tub.
Twenty minutes later, I sank into water hot enough to turn my skin pink. Lavender-scented steam rose from bath salts I'd found on the counter. I'd grabbed Olivia Michaels’ latest romantic suspense from my bag—been trying to finish it for weeks. Between memorizing lines and the nightmare of that video, reading had become my only escape from watching myself say those horrible things. Things I'd never said, never even thought.
I opened to my bookmark. The heroine ran through the darkened cabin. The killer chased her down the hall. My fingers pruned between page turns. He raised his gun. She had nowhere to run. My heart pounded. The hero had to save her. Had to—
The bathroom door burst open.
I shrieked. The book flew from my hands and splashed into the tub.
"Oh God, I'm so sorry!" Angelica pressed a hand to her chest. "I knocked but you didn't answer. The connecting door wasn't locked."
I fished my waterlogged book from the bubbles, pages already swelling. "Angie! What the hell?"
"I wanted to make sure you had everything." She bit her lip, fighting a laugh. "Was it good?"
"I was one page from finding out if she survived." I held up the soggy mess. "Now I'll never know."
"I'll buy you another copy." She grabbed a towel. "I worry about you. This whole situation, that video—I know how scared you must be."
My irritation slid away. She'd dropped everything to help me. She arranged this hideaway and hadn't asked for anything in return.
"When did you last get a full night's sleep?"
I tried to remember. The video had arrived six days ago. Since then, I’d gotten maybe three hours a night. I kept jolting awake, seeing my face on that video, hearing my voice saying those vile words about my co-star, my friend Marcus. The way they'd manipulated my mouth, my expressions… It was perfect.
No, it was horrifying.
"It's been a while." I sighed, looking down at the cooling water.
"Then sleep. Real sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll figure out your next steps."
She backed out of the room and this time I heard the sound of the connecting door being closed.
I drained the tub and wrapped myself in the plush robe. The bed welcomed me like an old friend. I didn't bother with pajamas, just crawled under the covers and let exhaustion win.
The pounding started at what felt like dawn.
"Kit! Katherine Lord! Open up!"
