The Wrong Man by Natasha Anders
“Did you miss me?” the woman asked, wrapping her legs around his waist as she planted kisses all over his face. She had an English accent with a slight American drawl to it and sounded vaguely exotic. “I’ve missed you. I don’t know how I managed without you. Why did you sic this unfriendly, horrible monster on me?”
She gestured toward the front door, and Lia’s dazed eyes drifted over to see a huge, hulking man in jeans and a T-shirt standing in the doorway. He was an intimidating specimen, with hair cut close to his scalp and tattoos snaking from his shirt collar up over his neck and down over his very impressive biceps. His face was harsh and unsmiling.
“Sorry, boss. She stole my fucking phone—apologies, ma’am—out of my jacket pocket while I was in the john and tossed it. It was either find a phone, call you and lose her, or follow her onto the plane.” The man, the only one of the three who had thus far taken the time to acknowledge Lia’s presence, had a southern American drawl.
Sam, who had his hands on the woman’s waist to keep her steady, glared at the man.
“We’ll discuss this later, Chambers.” His voice promised dire consequences, and Lia didn’t envy the man. Her eyes went back to Sam, who was tugging at the pop star’s arms.
“Lally, get down, for fuck’s sake! Have you forgotten that I was stabbed?” The reminder proved effective, and she unwound herself from him and slid down his body until her feet hit the floor. The woman finally noticed Lia, who was still sitting at the kitchen table.
“Oh, hey, are you Brand’s nurse? Brandy Snap, introduce us.”
“No,” he denied, his voice harsh. “She’s nobody. Lia, go home.”
His words eviscerated her, and Lia felt the blood draining from her face as she stumbled to her feet. She’d always known she was just a bit of fun for him, but to be relegated to a nobody in front of this woman, who was clearly somebody to him, was absolutely gut-wrenching. Especially after she had so stupidly lain herself bare to him just moments before.
“Sam,” she whispered, not sure what she wanted to say. Not sure if she even had anything to say—she just couldn’t believe the man she was in love with would treat her so shabbily. Not the Sam Brand she’d grown to know, to love . . .
“Lia, I’m serious. Get the fuck out of here!” His voice was taut with anger and something else, something intense and frightening. He met her eyes for a split second, and she saw absolute, burning fury in them. “Now!”
She lifted her chin and kept her eyes on his.
“Goodbye, Brand,” she said, her voice strong and emerging on a satisfying note of finality. She took one last look at him before turning around and walking away.
“Christ,” Sam swore shakily beneath his breath after the door closed behind Lia. He would fix it later, he would apologize, he would fucking grovel on his hands and knees if he had to, but at least she was gone.
She was safe.
To be sure he threw Chambers a look and tilted his chin toward the back door through which Lia had exited. The man nodded, understanding, before following Lia.
After he was sure that Lia was safe and taken care of, he focused his attention on Lally, who was blatantly snooping around the cabin. He had taken one look at the pop princess and completely lost all rationality.
Lia had just told him she was in love with him. How the fuck was she in love with him? A woman like Lia. Who could have anybody. It took some processing. She told him she was in love with him and then she fucking broke up with him.
And then Lally came waltzing in and all Sam could think about was that Hurricane Lally courted disaster wherever she went. She had stalkers and dangerous, crazed fans, and innocent people got caught up in her trail of destruction, got hurt when she was around . . .
Sam didn’t want Lia in the same room with Lally.
Ever.
He kept recalling Marshall Weathers slashing at him with that knife and had the bizarre, irrational fear that someone like Weathers was lurking close by, that they would attack and Lia would get caught up in the turmoil.
No. He needed her safe.
“Lally, why the fuck are you here?” he asked irritably. And she pouted. “No, scratch that, how the fuck are you here? Who told you where to find me?”
“Craig.”
“What?” Sam asked blankly. Who?
“Craig. Your mom’s boyfriend. I called her to ask for your address, but Craig answered. He’s such a sweetie. We had a lovely chat. He told me he was a huge fan.”
Sam groaned. Of course it was Craig. The idiot.
“Look, you need to go home. You’re intruding in my private life, and that’s uncalled for. You’re my client, not my fucking girlfriend. Tyler is my best CPO, he had the situation under control and you made his job incredibly difficult with your childish and inappropriate behavior.”
“You can’t speak to me like this. I pay your bills.”
“But you don’t fucking own me. If you cannot comply with our rules—rules, I might add, that have been put in place to keep you safe—then I’m afraid I will have no option but to sever the agency’s relationship with you.”
“I was scared. The news said Marshall Weathers escaped.” She sniffled, looking contrite, and Sam rolled his eyes. He knew all her tricks, and the wounded-little-girl thing was something he’d indulged in the past when he gave an actual fuck about keeping her business, but right now his single major priority was to get her the hell out of Riversend and away from Lia and her family.
“You and Chambers can stay here tonight. But I want you out of here by tomorrow. Meanwhile, keep a low profile. Do not leave this cabin for any reason.”
“Where will you stay?”
“That’s none of your concern. I want you to think long and hard about whether you still want to retain our services. If not, I’ll instruct Colby to commence with contract severance procedures.”
Lia barely remembered the short drive home, and after she parked her car in her driveway, a rented sedan slid to a smooth stop in front of the house. Lia glanced at it and then froze. She felt her face settle into a glower and marched up to the car and rapped on the window. The big, muscled man in the driver’s seat opened the window and removed his sunglasses. He had really lovely violet eyes. Quite striking on a man. She was momentarily distracted by his pretty eyes before glowering again and folding her arms over her chest.
“Why did you follow me?” she demanded, and he shrugged easily.
“Boss wanted me to.”
“Well, you can tell your boss that I don’t need random strangers following me for no reason.”
“He probably felt there was reason to keep an eye on you.”
“No, there isn’t. Go keep an eye on his girlfriend—that’s your job, isn’t it?”
“Lally’s not the boss’s girlfriend.” He reached into the glove compartment and withdrew a pack of gum. He lifted it inquiringly toward her, and she shook her head. He unwrapped a stick for himself and popped it into his mouth. Chewing lazily while he squinted up at her.
“I would like you to leave.”
“Can’t do that, ma’am. I’m in deep shit as it is, I won’t make it worse by telling the boss that I left his lady unprotected.”
“I’m not his lady. You heard him, I’m nobody.” She choked on the word and felt that stupid sting again, this time accompanied by the familiar burn in her nose. She would not cry in front of this amiable thug.
“Don’t rightly know why he lied about that, but I think it’s because he was pissed off with Lally.” He popped his gum. “Ma’am, I don’t mean to be a bother, but I’m just coming off a seventeen-hour-long journey with someone who is not the easiest of travel companions, and I wonder if I could trouble you for a glass of water and an aspirin, please?”
Focusing on the man’s discomfort gave her something to think about other than her own heartache, and Lia immediately went into fussing mode.
Sam was packing an overnight bag and listening to Lally talk to her agent, then to her parents
Somebody needed to keep an eye on her after he left, and that meant taking Chambers off Lia duty until Sam could replace him. Which left him in a bit of a quandary—leave Lia alone or leave Lally alone. It was like one of those fox, hen, grain crossing-the-river-type conundrums that he’d so enjoyed when he was a kid. Except now there was no logic in his decision making.
He made the only call he could.
“Hey, Spencer, it’s Brand.”
“What’s up?” Spencer asked, sounding distracted, and Brand grimaced—it was the middle of the day and the guy was launching the new store soon. It wasn’t an ideal solution, but it was the only one available to him.
“I’m in a bit of a bind, mate. I was wondering if you could keep an eye on someone for, like, twenty minutes?”
“That sounds a bit ominous. Like a prisoner?”
Sam snorted. “Seriously? No, not like a fucking prisoner. It’s Laura Prentiss. She just showed up this morning. I’m going to stay with Lia while Lally and her CPO stay at the cabin overnight.”
“Where’s her CPO now?”
“With Lia.”
“Why? Is Lia in some kind of danger?” Spencer asked, his voice sharp.
“No, but Lally is a magnet for trouble, and I . . .” He broke off, not knowing how to explain rationally.
“Hmm. I see,” Spencer rumbled. “Yeah. I’d do the same for Daff.”
“Right. Uh . . . so . . .”
“Yeah, I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Thanks, mate. I really appreciate it. Oh, and while I’m asking for favors, would you mind if I borrowed your truck?”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
When Sam drove up to Lia’s little house half an hour later, the rental car was parked outside her house, but there was no sign of Chambers. Where the fuck was he? Like he wasn’t in enough fucking trouble already.
Sam grabbed his bag and strode through the front door without knocking. He stepped into the living room and froze.
“What in the name of fuck is going on here?” Lia was standing behind the sofa, where Chambers sat with his head tilted back and his eyes closed. She had her hands on his temples and seemed to be giving him a massage.
“Get your fucking hands off her!” he roared, and Chambers leapt to his feet, his eyes huge and his hands held palms up in the classic pose of surrender.
“Technically speaking, I didn’t have my hands on her,” Chambers pointed out calmly, and Sam heard himself growl. Lia was scowling at him. She looked seriously pissed off, actually, and it made him pause a moment before refocusing his attention on Tyler.
“Get out of here, Tyler! Keep an eye on that demon woman.”
“Seriously, Sam,” Tyler said, his deep voice losing its usual amiable tone and his eyes narrowing. They were longtime friends, but the man rarely used Sam’s first name. “If you don’t take me off Lally duty when we get back to London, I’m quitting.”
Sam sighed, shoved his hands into his jeans pockets, and nodded curtly.
“Noted.”
“Thank you kindly for the massage, ma’am,” he said, laying on the drawl for Lia, who blushed in response while Sam contemplated punching his friend. “I feel much better.”
“Piss off, Tyler,” Sam commanded through clenched teeth, and the guy grinned at him and flipped him the bird while Lia’s head was turned.
Lia wasn’t sure why Sam was here. Or why he had a bag. All she knew was that she was angry with him. Very, very angry. And so hurt by what he had said that morning.
“It was lovely meeting you, Miss Lia,” she heard Tyler say, and she smiled at him through the sheen of hot tears that was starting to obscure her vision.
“You too, Tyler. Have a safe journey home.”
“Thank you, ma’am.”
A heavy silence descended on the house after he left, and Lia wasn’t about to break it. He’d invited himself into her home, he could darned well talk first. The silence extended into minutes, and, finally, he sighed heavily and swore. It felt like a victory of sorts and bolstered Lia’s courage.
“Lia, look . . . I know how that must have looked back there. But I swear to God, I wasn’t lying about Lally and me. We aren’t involved, we never have been. That’s just the way she is.”
“Oh, I know there’s nothing between you,” she said. Her voice sounded worse because of the lurking tears. “And at this moment, I really don’t care. I don’t know why you came here or why you brought that bag, but I want you to leave.”
“I can’t stay in that cabin with Lally and Tyler. I thought I would stay with you.”
“No.”
“Are we doing this again?”
“Why should I let you stay here? You have no respect for me. You don’t think anything of me. You’re . . . you’re so despicable!”
“Come on, Lia, is this about what you told me before Lally showed up? I know my reaction wasn’t ideal, but . . . to be honest, I was going to end our fling as well. And then when you did, I felt kind of deflated.”
“Why? Couldn’t your ego handle being the dumpee instead of the dumper for a change?”
“What? No, that’s not it. I was going to end the fling. I don’t want to fling anymore—for the first time in my miserable fucking life, I want more than that.”
“I told you I love you and you said I was nobody,” Lia said, not really hearing him, not wanting to hear him. Not when it would only lead to more pain.
“Lia, I didn’t say that,” he whispered.
“You did. Right in front of that woman, you said I was nobody and you told me to leave. I knew it was just a fling and I know I broke the rules, but you didn’t have to say that. You didn’t have to hurt me and humiliate me.”
Sam watched her fold in on herself and melt into tears, and it just about killed him. It had been a throwaway comment meant to dissuade Lally and to get Lia out of harm’s way as soon as possible. But what he’d essentially done was tell this beautiful woman, who mere moments earlier had confessed to being in love with him, that she meant nothing and that she didn’t merit so much as an introduction.
He had fucked things up quite royally, and while it would be easy to blame Lally’s horrendous timing, he should have picked his words more carefully.
“Lia, don’t cry,” he muttered helplessly. He wanted to hold her but knew that she would reject any overture of affection from him right now. “Please. Please let me explain.”
“I want you to leave,” she insisted through her tears.
“No.” He could play that game, too.
“Sam . . .”
“No, Lia. I’m not leaving. In fact, I think I’ll be moving in here, and I’ll be in your face every fucking day until you listen to me.”
She wiped the heels of her hands over her cheeks, tilted her chin, and folded her arms tightly over her chest. Her body language was completely closed off, and he could tell that she wasn’t ready to listen to him at all.
“Fine! I’ll listen, then you have to go.”
“You’re angry with me. You’re hurt. And it’s my fault. I told you I’d fucking hurt you, didn’t I?” he couldn’t help reminding her defensively. “I warned you.”
“Gold star to you for being a man of your word, Sam Brand.”
“It wasn’t intentional, Lia.”
“That makes it worse.”
“For God’s sake, I’m trying to apologize.”
“Don’t bother. There’s no point. There’s nothing between us anymore.”
“For such a mellow, sweet person, you’re a huge drama queen at times, you know?” He couldn’t keep the exasperation out of his voice and sighed hugely. “I’m sorry,” he said, quieting his voice. “I’m sorry for saying what I did. You’re not a nobody to me, Lia. You’re . . . pretty much the opposite of nobody to me.”
Her taut posture relaxed the very s
“I wanted to end our fling,” he repeated patiently, his voice as gentle as he could make it, “because I want more than a fling with you.”
The words finally seemed to penetrate, and her eyes widened and latched on to his face in confusion.
“What do you mean?” she asked, and he tried not to wince at how the crying had thickened her voice even more.
“This is the first time I’ve ever done this kind of thing,” he confessed awkwardly. “I don’t usually have these kinds of conversations with women.”
“What kinds of conversations?”
“The stuff about feelings and crap. It’s fucking uncomfortable. I don’t know how people—guys especially—do this shit.”
“Sam, what did you mean about wanting more than a fling?” she asked, steering him back on track, and he gave her a grateful nod for the nudge.
“Damn it, I mean I want to go out with you. To places. Where people eat and maybe dance. I want to hold your hand in front of your family. I want to sleep with you every night. I want us to make love . . . not fuck. Jesus, that sounded fucking corny out loud, didn’t it? Of course, I still want us to fuck. I mean, we’re fantastic at it. But I stopped thinking of it as just that. It’s not just scratching an itch with you, Lia. It hasn’t been for a while. You told me you were in love with me, and all I could do was stare at you and marvel at your bravery. Because I’m in love with you, too, and I don’t know if I’ll ever have the courage to tell you that.”
Lia couldn’t stop staring at him. His beautiful, earnest face, his eyes shining with sincerity and his voice shaking as the words tumbled from his lips. Uncertain at first but gaining conviction with every sentence. She didn’t even think he realized that he’d just confessed to being in love with her. Her heart soared at the revelation, even while she still listened to his every word with undivided attention. She had to absorb this while she could, because she knew he would never again be this open and effusive about his feelings.