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Chapter Fourteen
Lincoln
I had rushed home just before the sun came up. I hadn’t wanted to leave Harper, but I had to get showered and dressed.
I didn’t know if I was expected to work security detail today, but after what transpired yesterday with Ariella, I didn’t want to bother her or Jaxson.
I could come in this morning for my shift, and if I wasn’t needed, I’d retire for the afternoon.
After what happened yesterday, I expected that Jaxson would want the extra set of eyes on set to make sure everything went smoothly and everyone was all right.
It would be a long day, especially since I was still Harper’s bodyguard, but that didn’t feel like work.
Spending time with her was something I wanted to do.
After showering and changing quickly at home, I grabbed a cup of coffee at the local shop, saying hello to Skylar. She scribbled her number on my coffee cup and told me that she hoped I’d call her.
I couldn’t tell her I was dating Harper Madison.
Were we even dating?
What happened when the film shoot was complete, and Harper went back to sunny California?
Breckenridge was my life. I loved it here, the quiet solitude.
Los Angeles was nothing like our small town, a little piece of heaven.
Pulling up in the lot, I drove past a dark metallic blue sports car.
I parked my truck and stepped out, walking over toward the car, having a look at it from the outside.
“Can I help you?” a gentleman with a thick Italian accent asked. He was slightly rotund, with a sharp nose and a thick head of dark hair. It had to be dyed. It was almost too black for his age.
The parking lot was still mostly empty, I was early, but Eagle Tactical was expected to arrive on set before the entire cast and crew.
I pulled out my badge. The lanyard had the giant lettersSECURITYalong with my picture on the identification card.
“I’m with security. Can I help you?” I asked, turning the question on him.
He hadn’t trespassed yet.
“No,” he said. He shook his head and stalked toward his car. “I was just leaving.”
* * *
I’d seen a photograph of Benjamin Ryan.
The mysterious man with the sports car wasn’t Ben. I wasn’t sure who it was, but I kept a close eye on Harper.
Harper had taken a pretty good fall, tripping over a rock and scraping her knee.
She’d barely been out of her trailer and certainly wasn’t dressed for production.
Is that where she was heading when she fell?
“Let me help you,” I said, ignoring her question about me being part of the security team for the film production. I didn’t offer her just my hand.
Instead, I bent down and reached for her elbow as I helped her to her feet. She could scream at me all she wanted, but I doubted she would do it and make a scene.
