Page 39 of The Devil's Detail
I climb in next to him, and the moment I close the door, his whole body sags with relief as he drops his head in his hands. “Carter, sit up. They're trying to get shots through the windows,” I say calmly and firmly.
He jerks upright instantly, finally slumping into me when we’re on the highway. He starts to shake in anger.
“Ash will be fine. They’ve taken him to hospital. But we need to go home. Don’t go to the hospital, it might cause more headlines.”
He nods, resignedly. “I can’t believe it, what they did to Ash and then me.” His eyes bore into mine, trying to explain.
I place my hand on his. “It wasn’t your fault, okay. It was all them. They’re delusional and deranged. Let’s get home and we can debrief.”
I nod at him, trying to push positive energy his way. He looks defeated and dejected. Normally, me touching his hand would cause a huge flirting session, but not today. Right now, he’s not even capable of that. And I feel so sorry for him. He’s been taken for a ride again. People he trusted have once again let him down. How you keep getting up from that sort of betrayal, and continue being positive, I have no idea.
25
Carter
I knowI pop off like an out of control firework, but today has caused not just an employee to get hurt, but a friend. I hang my head in shame.
“It wasn’t your fault, okay. It was all them. They’re delusional and deranged. Let’s get home and we can debrief.”
The words play through my mind on the journey home. Jackson is trying to keep me calm. His big strong body is holding mine up, his aura blanketing me. I allow him to tell me it wasn’t my fault, but I know it was, and this debrief is going to be brutal.
“Is there anyone else to call?” Jackson asks me. We’ve already called Freddie, my publicists, the PR firm, all the lawyers—everyone who needs to know what happened.
I shake my head, feeling like the life is being sucked out of me.
Baz is finally off the phone with the hospital. Jackson and his big security guy are sitting in my kitchen at the beach house, both with coffees they’ve barely touched. They’re keeping Ash at the hospital for observation after having his head stitched up.
“How did they knock Ash out?” Baz asks me. His eyes are sharp, but his tone is soft. The debrief has started.
“It was one of the guys from the old security detail. Ash was shouting at him. He followed me. Was trying to get me out of the situation as Gary and John were trying to coerce me into the car.” I’m shaking my head, my eyes closed as I remember how fraught he sounded. Ash was genuinely worried about my safety.
“It’s not your fault, Carter. But why did you leave without saying where you were going? Or at least let Ash drive you?”
I knew he’d ask. Thatwasmy fault.
I shake my head. How could I have been so gullible? So stupid. “I was so annoyed. John called and asked to meet earlier than planned. He said if I didn’t show up when he wanted me there, he and Gary were going to come over to my fucking house, with another fucking camera crew, ready to spread the rumor that I was double-dealing them on a god damn contract. Shafting them both out of millions. Because I need their money, right? Well, I’d like to shaft them somewhere. I was so mad, I just left. Didn’t think. And now Ash is hurt and in the hospital.” I hang my head in shame.
“Did you hit him?” Baz asks. No accusation, just a solid question.
I shake my head in confusion.
“Then it’s not your fault. They didn’t need to do that. They obviously panicked,” he adds, cool as ice.
“They did. They said Jackson was tracking me, and that’s how Ash got there so fast. They were definitely panicking. Ash was shouting about assaulting a movie star. They seemed to come out of a trance, probably hit with the reality of what they were actually doing.”
Panic grips my chest as I realize they were one hundred percent intent on removing me against my wishes.
“Jeezus. I could have been whisked off to god knows where. I was manhandled and shoved into that car like a squealing piglet in a chocolate factory.” Jackson smiles a little at my dramatics. Baz doesn’t. “They were waving at the diners in the cafe like they were royalty. I was frantically waving and shouting, too, but everyone just thought I was being enthusiastic.”
“Did they say they just wanted to talk? Without me being there?” Jackson's sardonic voice hits me and brings me back to earth.
“They chucked my phone out the window. I thought I was toast. I was sweatin’ like a ham in a sauna.”
Both Baz and Jackson roll their eyes. You’d think they’d be used to me by now. Would understand my sense of humor is a load-bearing structure. My only real defense mechanism right now. And I am on the verge of losing my ever-loving shit.
“Those two jackasses were trying to explain themselves. It was all a crock of shit, and they knew it. And then they hit me with a picnic. Are you kidding me? A fuckin’ picnic in the park. With Hollywood's press pack!” My voice is in the rafters. “I told them, let me go and we’ll forget this ever happened. I was cool, I was calm. It was a fucking hostage situation.” I can’t tell if Jackson is smiling or grimacing. Even Baz is looking astounded.
I stand up, and point at them both. “Gary, that idiot, had the audacity to tell me that he knew my PR team wanted some natural shots of me. I could thank him later for setting them up for me.” Baz snorts, and I couldn’t agree more. “He’s a monster, a publicity whore. But I could smell the desperation—it drowned out his shitty aftershave.” Yep, I’m in full theatrical mode now. Jackson is used to me, so he carries on drinking his coffee. Baz is hanging on every word.
