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Clicking through to the second video, Zach let out a low whistle. Jackson’s hand was inside the girl’s top obviously grabbing her breasts while she was clutching his crotch. A moment later, the cab pulled up, and jerking his arm up, he handed her a wad of notes, then pulled her into the cab with him.
“How did you resist the temptation to sell these to the tabloids for a zillion dollars? You could retire on what these would bring.”
“I could retire right now, and you might want to remember that next time you decided to reschedule an entire day.”
“It was an afternoon, and Martha, you know how much I value your help. You’re irreplaceable.”
“I was just kidding, and I could never, ever leave. You’d be lost without me,” she said with a grin. “As far as selling that footage, it did cross my mind, but it’s not my style.”
“Can you send them to me? I promise they will only be used for good, and only once.”
“Hah! With images like that, once is all you need! If you can put the squeeze on Wardlow you’ll get no complaints from me. I’ve been thinking about Anna Lee. I know she’s difficult at times, but she’s just a kid. If those videos will make sure he treats her right, you have my blessing,” she declared, rising to her feet and taking her phone back. “Give me a couple of minutes.”
“Martha, you just earned yourself a very big Christmas Bonus. I’m not sure how I’ll justify it to Jerry, but I’ll think of something.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
ARRIVING AT THE SANTAMonica mansion whereA Killer’s Smilewas being filmed, Zach parked a short distance from the production vehicles and mobile dressing rooms. The wagons took up most of the street, and the neighbors, some pleased, some irritated, were standing behind taped off areas watching the action. Jogging down the sidewalk, he was climbing under the tape when a security guard approached.
“Sorry, sir, you can’t come through here.”
“I’m with Continental. My name’s Zach Taylor.”
“I’ll need to see some ID Mr. Taylor.”
“Sure, no problem,” Zach replied, pulling out his wallet and business card.
“Thank you, Sir.”
“Which is Jackson Wardlow’s dressing room?” he asked as he ducked beneath the tape.
“The second one with the green stripe.”
“Thanks.”
Hurrying to the line of trailers, he spied a beefy bodyguard by the door.
