Hunted (Wild Mountain Scots, #2)

Jogging back upstairs, I flung myself into the prep room and made for the windows. At the end of the drive, the gates closed behind the Cadillac, and I stifled a yell built of loss and relief.

Cameron had got away. It was the right choice to make for him.

Yet my heart had broken clean in two.

I pressed my fingertips to my sternum, trying by force of will to still my trembling.

“Elise, your hair. We’ll have cameras here this afternoon.” Janelle clipped across the room.

I returned to the seat in front of a quiet Guy, letting him start work with the dye.

“What cameras?” I asked my manager, my tongue thick.

“You and Derren will do six back-to-back joint interviews. Guy, why are you just standing there? Get on with it.”

I opened my mouth in shock. Guy hastily painted on dye.

Janelle held out a placating hand. “I know you talked to your mom, she told me the two of you have reached an agreement. Don’t give me any more sass. Both of us will be playing hard ball with you from now on. No let-up. No crying. Just hard work and success, like always.”

Try as I might, I couldn’t start a sentence.

Her phone rang, and she growled in irritation and stalked away, snapping at whoever had dared interrupt her riot act.

Almost frantic, I worked through everything I’ve been told in the past hour. Mom and Janelle were in cahoots. Whether one or both were blackmailing me, I didn’t know. Mom’s threat against Cameron could be a ruthless streak I’d previously not encountered by being always agreeable to whatever she asked me.

Had I ever said no to her?

I reached for my bag hanging on the chair arm and extracted my notepad. Then I peeked at the table of suspects I’d made.

For each, I’d only used an initial to identify them. Against the line for my mother, I scribbled in the boxes.

Motive: Keep me working so her company stays afloat.

Opportunity: …

No real answer for that.

Means: Could have Dad’s storage facility key. Hated him enough to smear his name.

She could also have the police in her pocket. Just like she had a whole security team here, imprisoning me.

“What’s that?” Guy whispered.

“The record of some really bad shit going on.” I peeked up at him. “I can’t involve you, this is your livelihood.”

Even if he was friendly, that didn’t make him a friend. No matter how much I’d learned to trust.

Despite the two assistants being far enough away not overhear us, Guy leaned in and put his mouth close to my ear. “When you were out front, your mother and Janelle were talking in a bedroom. Arguing, almost. Then Janelle told me in no uncertain terms that you’d need hair and makeup for the interviews today, more tomorrow, then the full works for the premiere. Like she hadn’t heard a word you said. You don’t have to tell me anything, but if you need my help, you have it. Bitches be evil.”

A plan hatched in my mind. Hurriedly, before Janelle could return, I whispered my response. “If I need you to get me out of here, can you do it?”

“With the place crawling with security?” He chewed on his lip then slid a look at the younger of his two assistants.

From across the room, with her back to us, the brunette woman looked just like me.

“You have an expert designer at your service. Sweetie, you’re in luck.”

Derren plus a three-car entourage swung into our drive as the afternoon sun beat down. They were late, and without explanation.

Mom and Janelle waited on the steps, and I emerged from the house behind them.

“Before either of you start trying to direct us, I need to talk to him.” I put anger into my voice, not a hard act.

Because from now on, every word that came from my mouth was a performance.

Mom glanced over her shoulder, appreciation in her assessment of my new glossy brunette style. “No. I’ll mediate discussions.”

“If you expect me to smile and perform like a circus animal, then you’ll give me five minutes.”

Janelle pressed her fingers to Mom’s arm. “It might be good for them. They were in love once.”

Love? I hadn’t known the meaning of the word.

Not like… No. I couldn’t think of Cameron now.

Derren stepped from his sports car, ignoring the guard who’d opened his door. An assistant scampered up and placed a jacket over his shoulders like a cape. He glanced our way, then visibly shuddered, a haughty expression on his perfect veneer.

The world saw his beauty and smiled. If they knew the truth about him, would they even believe it? Beautiful men were forgiven anything.

I stalked across to him, all eyes on me. “Derren. We need to talk.”

In my pocket, my phone recorded every word.

His mouth crinkled, and he patted his stylish hair. “Absolutely not.”

“You owe me.”

That got his attention. He jerked off his sunglasses, dark bags under his eyes. He marched a few steps away and whirled around on me. “I owe you? All this worrying about precious Elise has stopped me sleeping. And now I have to suffer being around you again. Your little stunt injured my image. Do you even know the rumours you’ve generated?”

A surge of violence ripped through me. He was using the same tone as when we’d been in that scene. Blaming me for his poor performance. Justifying his behaviour. Laying it at my door.

“I’m afraid I have to insist,” I bit out.

We were still too close to the others to imagine him admitting anything.

“And I’m just glad to see you here and contained. You’d better fall in line from now on or I’ll be forced to share secrets of my own.”

Janelle darted over, her hands out in a placating gesture. Likewise, Derren’s manager stepped between us. Both jabbered, running interference.

I knew the technique. I’d seen it used between stars with too-big egos having meltdowns.

This wasn’t me. But I’d work it if I had to.

Mom cleared her throat. “Come on inside, everyone. We have a lot to do.”

Derren and his entourage sauntered away, the yard clearing. The two managers turned to me, edging closer to get me to move.

My plan had failed. I couldn’t get Derren alone. What was left me for me here?

The path laid out for me was to jump to commands, put on a dress and smile for the cameras, and then go to work on another two movies where I’d lie under my ex and try not to feel.

Cameron had wanted me to leave, but with him, I’d never have got away. There was no way the guards would’ve opened the gate. Luckily, I had an alternative in mind.

Upstairs at the window, Guy watched on. I gave him the tiniest of nods, took a deep breath, then entered diva-mode.

With a shrill shriek, I stamped on the drive. “This is not fair,” I snapped.

Both agents paused in their shepherding.

I continued on, getting into character. “Why should I be the one to smile and make nice?”

Derren’s agent threw a worried glance to Janelle. “Derren’s just tired. He’s had a really long day.”

“He’s tired? I’ll show him tired.”

I stomped over to his car, a blue Ferrari this time, and without hesitation jumped on the hood.

What I wouldn’t have given for the bar I’d used on Cameron’s Land Rover, but all I could manage was a metaphorical repeat with the right target this time. I kicked at the wipers, knocking one clean away.

“I’m tired, too. Why does no one care about me?”

“We do!” an aghast Janelle placated me. “This isn’t like you. Climb down, honey.”

I stamped a heel down, the car rocking under my weight. “Not like me? Who’s the real me? I’m sick of people thinking they know me. Thinking they can use me.”

The suspicion in the two women’s gazes reduced, and both babbled platitudes and gentle phrases meant to calm the highly strung. For Janelle, I’d always been a pliable client, but I couldn’t forget the years she’d been in this industry. I was playing to a stereotype she recognised. And it was working.

Abruptly, I leapt to the ground and stuck my nose in the air. “I need to be alone. I’m going upstairs. Don’t any of you dare follow me. If Derren suddenly decides he wants to talk after all, he knows where I’ll be.”

I knew without a shadow of a doubt that Derren would not take up the offer. Even if he hadn’t seen me with the car, he’d find out and sulk hard. Which gave me time.

Into the house and upstairs I stomped, pouting like spoiled toddler. In the prep room doorway, Guy stared at me, his mouth gaping.

I sent him a meaningful look then said loudly, “Guy, you’ve fucked up my hair colour. This isn’t good enough.”

He instantly got with the program. “Hush, baby, don’t crease that pretty face. I’ll fix it. Please give me another chance.”

I huffed for the benefit of the audience downstairs, then tramped into my room, Guy slamming the door behind us.

There, I grabbed my travel bag and pulled out my dirty clothes. From my closet, I collected the bare basics I’d need.

My passport was already packed, and the urge to get on a plane grew louder.

Guy watched me silently. When I was done, he lifted an eyebrow and, at my nod, went to the door. “Jessie, Elizabeth. Bring all my kit.”

With a squeak of shoes on the polished floor, the two women appeared, and we closed the door once more. Both stared at me like I was a wild animal.

I bought them into a huddle. “I need your help. And your promise to keep quiet for a couple of hours. I’m not sure where to start…”

Guy took over. “Let me. Ladies, think jailbreak but classy.”

They exchanged a glance but hung on Guy’s every word. My heart raced, but I was so ready to do this thing.

It was time I took control.

My drama act continued until we lost the interest of the people downstairs. Timing was crucial, and Elizabeth, Guy’s younger cousin, flitted back and forth, watching the stairs. She was the one who looked just like me, and who I’d rely on to make my escape.

She skittered back into the room. “The camera crew are setting up and bringing crates out of trucks. The guards are distracted. It’s now or never.”

My heart beat out of time. As quickly as we could, we switched clothes, down to our shoes. Then Guy entered the hallway.

“Okay, okay,” he yelled, stressed. “We’ll go there now. It’s a teeny mistake. Easy to fix.”

He gestured, and the first assistant crossed the hall. Talking into her phone, Jessie made a fake call to a supplier, bleating about the product they desperately needed.

Then it was our turn.

Walking two steps behind Guy, I descended the stairs, clutching another of Guy’s bags to my borrowed uniform, Elizabeth hiding in my room.

I couldn’t breathe. Someone would notice.

But people came and went from the front door, carrying equipment and talking over each other. We slipped outside, past the guard, to the waiting car. Guy tossed his hefty bag inside the back, my travel bag concealed within.

“I’ll be as fast as I can,” he yelled at no one. “Jessie, take Elise a water.”

I headed for the passenger side.

“Elizabeth,” Guy hissed to me. “Wrong side, sweetie.”

“What?” I mouthed.

“Can’t drive,” he squeaked.

Oh shit. On wooden legs, I faked a laugh and rounded the car, getting behind the wheel. Guy climbed in beside me, the picture of ease, though his white knuckles told another story.

“I’ve never done this,” I whispered.

“Me neither! I have anxiety. Can’t do it.” To a curious guard, he gave a breezy wave, then spoke out of the side of his mouth to me. “Can you get it to start?”

I stared at the controls, trying to remember Cameron’s lesson. Automatics were easy, he’d claimed. Keys in the ignition. Right, I could do that.

I twisted them, and the engine roared.

“Fuck,” I uttered, keeping my lips still, though my heart hammered. “Fuck it, fuck this, oh fuck.”

The parking brake was already down, so I pushed the button to set it to Drive. The car inched forward. With an iron grip, I clasped the steering wheel, scared out of my ever-loving mind.

“Why is it so slow?” I mumbled.

Then I remembered the pedals. Gas right, brake left. I gingerly touched the gas, and the car jumped.

“Keep doing that, but smoother.” Guy checked his hair in the little mirror.

“No shit.”

People had to be staring, though I couldn’t check for fear of messing this up even more. I glanced at the paved road then aimed for that, easing the car away at a snail’s pace.

“This is the slowest getaway ever,” Guy sang the second we’d cleared the house.

“Never even sat in this seat before,” I grumbled back.

We closed in on the gate, and I hit the brake, shaking the car to an abrupt stop.

Guy leaned across me and waved at the guard. “She’s brand-new at this, but we all have to start somewhere, right? Can you let us out, please?”

This was it. We were going to be caught.

I held my breath.

The guard put up a hand. “Back up,” he ordered.

Back?

“How…?” I spluttered under my breath, but it was no good asking Guy.

Clamping the brake to the floor, I hit the R. Then I released the brake for a hot second, and we rolled in reverse.

Ahead, the gates swung open.

A van drove in, enough space now we’d moved out of the way, and the guard pointed for us to go.

Holy shit. At least I knew how to make it go forward. I yanked the lever back to D and gripped the wheel, a rigid smile on my face as if I hadn’t a care in the world.

Then we cruised out the gate.

Free!

“Holy mother of God. Keep going,” Guy spluttered.

I wound the car slowly down the isolated Beverly Hills street, a stunning view of the hills and the distant city to our left, not that I unglued my focus from directly ahead. When I finally dared, I peeked behind, expecting a chase like the fugitive I’d become. But not a single other car occupied the road.

At the entrance to the gated community, the barrier raised without hesitation. My escape was complete.

“We did it!” I yelped. “That was the most exciting thing I’ve ever done. My hands are shaking. I’m sweating.”

Guy grabbed his phone and tapped his screen. “Take the corner then pull over.”

I followed his instruction and angled the car to the side of the quiet road. “What are we doing?”

“Mulholland Drive is right there, and I’m pretty sure neither of us want you driving in traffic. There’s a cab due in a few minutes that’ll whisk you away, then I’ll figure out how to get back without raising suspicion.”

I yanked on the parking brake then turned the key to stop the engine. My first real driving experience and I’d done it. Yet it was a hollow victory. Guilt swept through me over how this would affect Guy.

“Call another cab and say you had a breakdown? Mom knows I can’t drive so she won’t suspect I have the car. Don’t let them connect my disappearance to you leaving.”

“Don’t worry your head about that. I’m just glad I could help. This industry is scary and full of fakers, so if you’re running from it, run far.”

He climbed out and I followed.

“Where will you go?” Guy asked. “I put the city into the taxi app, but you should fly.”

In my haste, I hadn’t set a destination. My heart already knew, though. My whole body pined for Cameron, though he’d no doubt be long gone.

Could I call him? Was I placing yet another burden on him?

Or could I trust in him and what we’d found? Finally, and for good?

Giving Guy a fast hug, I told him exactly where I was going. For better or worse, I’d made my decision.

The cab came. I slumped in the back and placed the call. No answer came.

Half a day later, I tried again later on foreign soil, travel-weary and my adrenaline gone. Still no answer.

Then finally, I reached my destination. Knocked on the door. And prepared myself for everything I had to say.