Intimate (27 page)

There'd be more than enough drama later. She was positive on that count.

By four, she'd decided on a totally different outfit than the ones she'd originally considered, a dark teal blue silk cropped top with matching harem pants that sat low on her hips, hung in soft, flowing folds, and gathered in at her ankles. The look was totally retro, but it showcased the monarch tat perfectly, only clipping off part of the lower wing, but the best part about it was the fact she felt sexy and confident when she put it on.

She'd never worn it out in public before. There hadn't been a reason to dress this outrageously. Usually, the last thing she wanted was to be the center of attention.

Tonight she wanted to shine. She decided on the diamonds and the finely wrought gold chains from earlobe to nostril, from nipples to navel. She loved the way the chains swung beneath her breasts and across her belly, the way the silk abraded her sensitive nipples.

“Well, crap.” She stared at herself in the mirror. She was already aroused, and Jake was nowhere around, but she couldn't blame it on the outfit. Not entirely. Yes, she loved the feel of the chains drifting over her cheek and torso, and the way the silk caressed her skin. She'd had these same feelings when she dressed for each shot, knowing full well that Jake would be focusing on her for the next few hours.

Would he focus on her tonight? Or would he decide she was just too much trouble? For that matter, did she want him to? He'd acted like a complete ass this morning. That phone call still had her wanting to strangle him, but her reaction was so over-the-top, that it had to be something else.

She had a feeling she knew exactly what it was.

Staring at herself in the mirror, Kaz made a face. “Life was so much easier and a whole lot less complicated before you came along, Jacob Lowell. Way easier and definitely not as stressful.” She tilted her head to the right, felt the chain slide across her left cheek. Thought of Jake trailing kisses beneath her ear, his lips nipping at the chains beneath her breasts, and practically moaned.

Turning away from the mirror, she whispered, “But not nearly as entertaining.”

She went back to her room and grabbed a pair of sandals the same color as her outfit. The soft teal leather and the matching platform heels added to her height and her confidence.

Tonight, Jacob Lowell wasn't going to know what hit him.

She'd lied when she'd told Jake she'd already arranged for a cab. It was almost four-thirty, so she took one last look in the mirror, grabbed a small handbag with a narrow shoulder strap that couldn't be more apropos—light teal silk with hand-painted monarch butterflies swirling over the fabric—and headed out to the kitchen where she'd left her phone. It rang as she reached for it. Lola's name popped up on the screen.

“Hey, sweetie. What's up?”

“Kaz, you have to come to the coffee shop. Right now. Mandy can't leave but we have something you need to see before you go to that launch tonight.”

She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I'm ready to go, and Jake wants me there early. Said he wants to talk, but I'll see if I can get a cab.”

“I'll just bet he wants to talk.”

Lola sounded absolutely furious. “Lola? What's going on?”

“Just get down here. Now. I'll wait.”

Lola ended the call. Kaz called for a cab, and the dispatcher said he had one dropping off a passenger just two blocks over. Kaz grabbed a black shawl that would work with her outfit and met him out in front less than five minutes later.

She asked him to wait in front of the coffee shop, got out, and went inside. The place was almost empty. Lola and Mandy were sitting together at a table near the back. Kaz waved as they raised their heads, and drew her hand down at the matching looks of fury on both faces.

She slipped into an empty chair. “What's going on?”

Lola shoved a manila envelope in front of her. Kaz glanced at the label. She didn't recognize the handwriting, but it was addressed to Kaz Kazanov in care of Lola Monroe at Top End. Frowning, she raised her head and looked at her two roommates, and then she opened the envelope and pulled out a thick folder with a note taped to the front.

After going through my pictures, I decided to use these. Wanted to let you know. RJL

“Oh. No … he wouldn't…” Kaz thought she was going to be sick. Slowly, with fingers trembling so badly she could barely open the folder, she flipped the top to one side. The first shot was a close-up of her shaved mound and the tiny gold ring and ruby sparkling from her clitoral hood.

The next was one of her bejeweled breasts, with the tigers eye this time. Her head was raised, and she looked directly into the lens. No disguising her identity, nothing to take away the almost pornographic look of lust in her eyes. She flipped through more of them, each one more explicit, more titillating than the last.

More heartbreaking.

How could he?

Her breath burst in and out of her lungs in heated gasps, and she grabbed the photos, stood them on end. She wouldn't—couldn't—look at the rest of them. Her gut ached, a horrible pain that could have been her lungs, her stomach, her heart. Nausea rolled through her. With shaking hands, she finally managed to get the pictures into the folder, the folder back into the manila envelope.

“What are you going to do?” Mandy grabbed her hand, held on tightly. “You never pose nude. You've always said that was something you'd never do. Those pictures are … they're just wrong, Kaz. They're awful.”

Taking a deep breath, Kaz said, “I agree. They're horrible. I did not pose for them for any commercial use. I'm going to go and have a little talk with Mr. Lowell.” She shoved her chair back and stood, holding the envelope tightly clutched in both hands against her breasts. She'd thought he was wonderful. Fun and smart, handsome and caring. She didn't know what to think.

Except that she didn't know Jacob Lowell at all.

The cabby was still waiting, the meter running. Two weeks ago she would have been in a panic over the cost. Not now. Not after the money Jake had paid her, or the even larger sum she'd gotten from Fletcher Arnold. No, money wasn't a problem right now.

Maybe that was part of the reason she felt so dirty. He'd promised her that the photos were for him alone, they were private and too personal to share with anyone. She'd been half in love with him when she posed, awash in her own sexuality.

No. Who the hell was she trying to fool? She'd been wholly in love with him. Convinced he was a man worth loving.

Maybe he figured that, since he'd paid her so much, he could do what he wanted with the pictures. Except, he'd promised, and she'd believed him.

Proof she was an absolute idiot.

It was after five, and traffic across town was horrible. She'd told Jake she'd be there early. It looked as if she'd barely make it by six. When they reached the hotel, she had the fare and tip already in her hand. The cab pulled up in front, she handed the driver the cash and got out. She'd barely entered the lobby when she saw Jake rushing across the expanse, black silk shirt, black slacks, a huge smile on his face.

She waited, holding the folder in her hands. As Jake drew closer, his smile faded. By the time he reached her, his brow was knotted, and his eyes looked wary.

“Kaz? What's wrong?”

She was so proud of herself. She didn't scream at him. She didn't cry. Instead, she held her ground and looked him in the eye. “You lying son of a bitch. How dare you?” She shoved the envelope against his chest. “You're going to have to handle your sacred launch without me, Mr. Lowell, but if you use any of these photos, my lawyer will be in touch.”

She turned away before he said a word, practically ran out of the lobby, and looked for a cab. “Damn!” She should have asked her driver to wait. Spotting a couple of cabs at the curb near the end of the block, Kaz stalked toward them. She'd gone barely a dozen paces when a man ran past and grabbed her arm. Jerking hard, he pulled her off balance and covered her mouth with a hand reeking of cigarette smoke.

They were beyond the well-lit front of the hotel, near the exit from underground parking. No one was close enough to see or to help. She fought back. She was taller than him, she should have had the advantage, but he twisted her right arm high behind her back and shoved her into the backseat of a dark car, knocking her head hard against the door frame. Stars flooded her vision as he forced her to the floor and followed her in, closing the door behind them.

Stunned, frightened, she tried to lift herself, to dislodge his weight from her back, but she was on her knees with her left arm trapped beneath her body, her right still in his iron grasp.

She twisted, still trying to rise, and forced him back. He cursed, and then he punched her, hard, against her temple. Dazed, she tried to move but he hit her again.

She barely felt the pain. Then she felt nothing at all.

*   *   *

Moving like a man trapped in a horrible nightmare, Jake pulled the folder out of the manila envelope, flipping from one disgusting picture to the next. His first thought—that paparazzi had learned his identity—gave way to blind fury when he found the note. Not his, and neither were the pictures. But Kaz didn't know that. Dear God, she thought he'd taken these? That he would ever think of using anything like this?

They were horrible. Beyond the fact they were technically bad, the photos were pornographic in the extreme, but he couldn't stop looking, had to see every damned one, each more disgusting than the last.

Then he came to the last photo.

One of him covering Kaz, taken with a big lens from the back. His butt, his balls, her legs spread wide, heels locked against his lower back. Obviously, Kaz hadn't gotten this far, or she would have known. Hell, she should have known anyway. He'd promised her.

He didn't break promises.

Grabbing his phone, Jake called her number. It went straight to voice mail. He left a message and then walked to the main door. He'd go to her house, find out what the hell was going on, where she'd gotten the pictures.

“Hey, Jake. Been looking for you. Where's the model? People are arriving.”

Jake glanced over his shoulder. Marcus Reed walked quickly across the lobby. He actually looked a bit stressed tonight, and if Jake wasn't worried sick over Kaz and what she had to be thinking right now, he'd be razzing Marc about his case of nerves.

“Marc, I hate to do this to you, but something has happened. It's Kaz. I'm scared it's tied into the texts, the attempts on her life. I need to find her. I'll make it up to you, somehow, but I have to leave.”

Marcus stared at him for a moment and then nodded. “Go. Kaz is more important. I hope she's okay.” He grabbed Jake's shoulder as he turned to leave and added, “I want to meet this girl. She's obviously managed to turn you inside out.”

Jake nodded and raced toward the parking garage. Marc was right. She'd certainly done exactly that.

 

CHAPTER 17

The coffee shop was his first stop. He had a feeling that if her roommate was working, Kaz would head here first. He ran inside. No sign of Kaz or her roommate.

There was a young kid behind the register. Jake pulled it together, forced himself not to lose it on an innocent employee. “Have you seen Mandy or Kaz?”

The boy shrugged. “Mandy's shift ended at six. She's probably gone home. I haven't seen Kaz since around five.”

“Home. Gotcha. Thanks.”

He raced back to his car, but the fear was rising, certain he was running out of time. That Kaz was running out of time. It all had to be connected. The car in Healdsburg, the Muni train, today's shooting. Hell, even the truck. Fanboy was using Kaz to get to him, but why would someone from his past go after her? Who in their right mind would ever want to harm Kaz? He had to talk to her, tell her everything.

Tell her he loved her.

The girls' house was only a couple of blocks away. He found a place to park just three doors down and raced back up the sidewalk, up the stairs, and pounded on the door.

“Who's there?”

“Lola? It's Jake. Is Kaz here?”

The door flew open. Mandy and Lola stood together in the doorway, and Lola practically snarled at him. “She's not here, you son of a bitch.”

“How could you?” Mandy's eyes were red. “She trusted you. She loved you.”

“She's not here? God damn it! I think she's in trouble.” He shook the envelope. “Where did these come from? They're not my pictures. I didn't take these.”

“Prove it.” Lola stepped aside. Jake shoved his way past Mandy and went straight through to the kitchen. As he pulled the folder out of the envelope, he said, “For one thing, I know she doesn't work at Top End anymore, and I don't know your last name, but it's sent in care of Lola Monroe. If that's you…”

He left the sentence dangling as he grabbed the last picture in the stack and threw it on the table. “There. That's me with Kaz. Someone was behind us in the vineyard taking these. As grainy as they are, he was using a cheap telephoto lens. How did she get these? Who gave them to her? Do you know anyone who might want to harm Kaz? An old boyfriend, an acquaintance from work, anyone?”

Breathing hard, he stared at the women, and he sure as hell hoped they had some suggestions, because if it wasn't someone out of her past, it had to be the bastard from his.

Mandy had her fist shoved against her mouth, but she shook her head. “No,” she said. “No one. Everyone loves Kaz.”

“She got the pictures from me.” Lola stared at Jake. “A bike messenger dropped them off at the office a little before four. I didn't look at them right away, but the minute I saw the first few pictures and read your note, I called Kaz and told her to meet us at the coffee shop. I figured they were from you.”