Escorted By The Ranger. C.J. MillerЧитать онлайн книгу.
picture is everywhere, but I feel like there’s a public me and a private me. The tabloids dig around into my life and my relationships, but few people know me, the real me.”
She didn’t need to justify anything to him. He could understand the need to keep secrets, whether it was because the safety of the country required it or knowing it could harm someone. “Are you telling me there’s something about the real you and Avery that could be bringing this on? Or something in your public life?”
Marissa stood from the bed and walked to her dresser. She fiddled with the photo frames on top of it. “I don’t know. Hard to say.”
“Tell me what the problem could be.”
She threw her hands in the air. “Who have Avery and I angered enough that they’d want to kill me? I have two ex-husbands. I have money, but if I’m dead my brother and sister inherit it all, and I know they didn’t do this. I’ve told the police I don’t know who would want to hurt Avery.”
Jack listened, making a mental note to check on the brother. He would have been investigated before Kit was given her security clearance and closing the loop on him would be straightforward. The ex-husbands could be involved.
“Beyond that, I don’t know. I’ve had a few stalkers, people who send me creepy letters and make threats. Some who are borderline unnerving, like asking me to their prom or out on a date with some aggressive wording, but hard to consider that a real threat.”
“I’ll need to see those letters,” Jack said. Leave no stone unturned.
Marissa sighed. “I’ll ask my PR manager to send them to you. I don’t read them. I quit that form of self-cruelty years ago.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Jack said.
“I’ve never been more glad to be leaving the city,” Marissa said.
Jack hadn’t been given the details of this assignment yet and her travel schedule was news to him. “Where are you going?”
“I’m flying to Seabrook tomorrow morning for a jewelry shoot. Or rather, later this morning. It’s a small coastal town in New Hampshire. I’ve been there before. It’s a charming place,” Marissa said.
“Who else knows your travel plans?” Jack asked. Worry pricked at him.
Two attacks had occurred in a short time frame. Jack knew too well how persistent and devious some people could be. More attacks could be coming.
“My agent. My bodyguards. The people who booked the gig. My stylist. My makeup artist. A few friends,” Marissa said.
“Change the location and tell only the people who need to know,” Jack said.
“Change the location? I can’t do that. Seabrook is the hometown of the jeweler and the inspiration for his designs. A team is on location for the shoot already. A hundred-million dollars in jewelry is being delivered and guarded by a private security firm. The details have been in the works for months.”
Marissa hadn’t had time to fully process what had happened to her. An attempt on her life required extra precautions. “Call your agent. Have him or her get someone else to do the shoot,” Jack said.
Marissa balled her fists and narrowed her eyes. “That’s not possible. My professional reputation is at stake. If I don’t show up to jobs, I won’t be hired for future gigs. The modeling industry is small and everyone knows everyone. Rumors will spread. The designer who wants me to model his jewelry asked for me personally. I won’t let him down.”
“You’re Marissa,” Jack said.
Her hands moved to her hips. “What does that mean?”
Her fame, beauty and success came with benefits. “People will make exceptions for you.”
“I work hard and honor my commitments. I’ve gotten where I am because I’m reliable and responsible.” Hostility dripped from her voice.
He sensed pushing her more would send her over the edge. “I didn’t mean to offend you. We’ll change your flight and hotel. Maybe that will be enough to throw anyone following you off your trail,” Jack said. Most of his previous clients were more calloused. His boss had mentioned that he could use some softening around the edges. This was his opportunity to show he could handle all types of clients.
“I’ll agree to those changes,” Marissa said. She sat again on the bed and looked at her alarm clock. “No point in going back to sleep now.”
Being in her private space, he was aware of a boundary shifting. He shouldn’t linger in her bedroom. It was making him think irrational thoughts, like of how it would feel to touch her or kiss her. “Rest while you can. I’ll make the arrangements.” He left her room, closing the door behind him before he did something he’d regret.
* * *
Marissa tilted her head back and turned it, arching her back. The sun’s rays were beating down on her and the heavy sparkling diamond necklace she was wearing. Despite the brightness, in the crisp New Hampshire air, she was cold. A burnt orange bikini provided little protection from the wind. Outdoor heaters blew to keep goose bumps off her skin. The sounds of the waves rolling onto the beach were melodic and soothing. The beige of the sand swept into snow-dusted dunes and gray-and-tan marbled rocks.
The hardest task was keeping the sadness out of her eyes. Avery was dead and Marissa wouldn’t have the opportunity to make amends with her. She’d heard people on the set whispering about the murder and her stomach twisted with grief. Clarice was working this event as well and she had much to say on the matter, eager to discuss it and vent some of her sadness. Rumors swirled despite not having any official information on the case.
Marissa’s home intruder had admitted he was hired by someone he didn’t know. He had been sent to kill her. Marissa tried not to let that sink too deeply in to her psyche. Except for the incident with Rob and Avery, Marissa didn’t start trouble with friends or colleagues. Her divorces had been over long ago and any animosity had faded with time.
The wind blew across the water, sending a chill down her spine. Marissa thought of heated things. Soup. Hot chocolate. And Jack, who was standing about four yards away. He was wearing a dark coat that didn’t hide his muscular shape. Strong shoulders and trim hips, his stride was powerful and every movement deliberate. Every few minutes, he changed his position, circling the area. She didn’t believe that trouble had followed her. Jack believed it had. He had negotiated for the shoot to take place a quarter of a mile from the previously planned location. With the additional traffic the crew brought, it wouldn’t be hard to find her.
Marissa felt safer with Jack. Serious, rarely smiling, he moved quickly and thought ahead. He didn’t look at her much, but she found herself looking at him quite a bit. Marissa tried not to be arrogant about her appearance or assume that everyone found her attractive. Her job revolved around her looks and she had lucked out in that department. Most of the men on the set were staring at her. Jack was looking at everything else.
She had traveled from New York to New Hampshire with Jack and he had kept his questions and comments about her, Avery, the incident in her apartment and the changes to her travel plans.
She sensed she rubbed him the wrong way and wasn’t his type. He would go for a rough-and-tumble woman, salt of the earth, low maintenance. Marissa was the definition of high maintenance. She liked sleep and her beauty products and her fitness regimen. When she was stressed, she liked time at a spa.
Jack wasn’t paying attention to her and it bothered her. Not able to put her finger on why since he wasn’t her type either. He hadn’t shaved this morning, he didn’t go out of his way to be charismatic or charming and he was not interested in her outside of their professional involvement. Dressed appropriately, his clothes lacked a fashion sense, but he wore them well. Dark gray pants and a black T-shirt; a black windbreaker that concealed his gun.
“Marissa, eyes,” the photographer said.
Marissa