Page 111 of Crossing the Line
“Stay with him.”
It took Arnie exactly forty-two seconds to lose Ganim in the early afternoon traffic. Xavier sank down on an occasional chair covered in a thick-legged chair with dizzying floral upholstery. “It’s okay, Arnie. You did good. Listen, I’m going to have an Agent Travers from the FBI call you, and unfortunately, I don’t think he’s going to want you to talk about this to anyone.”
Arnie sighed in his ear. “No good deed goes unpunished.”
“I’ll still punch Douchebag Joe for you.”
Arnie sounded more cheerful. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Xavier hung up with him and switched back to Travers on Kate’s phone. “What have you got?”
“A steaming pile of shit. That’s what I’ve got. Car’s plates are bogus. A blue 2001 Honda with a primer gray rear door was reported stolen two days ago. I’ve got some of Detective Hansen’s patrols sweeping the 405, but I can already tell you they won’t find him. Bomb disposal unit should be arriving at the Sinner estate in the next two minutes to check out whatever present this asshat left.”
“All right. Call me back when you know what it is, and I’ll send you Arnie’s number. You’re going to want to talk to him soon. He’s paparazzi.”
“Well if that just doesn’t make my day even better,” Travers grumbled.
Xavier hung up and tossed both phones onto the rolling serving tray next to the chair. “Fuck,” he muttered.
He felt the weight of two stares on him. Waverly and Kate were sitting side by side on the couch gaping at him like carnival goldfish.
“So…”
“So thanks to budget cuts, the FBI didn’t have anyone watching your house, so they weren’t there to catch Ganim dropping off a ‘present’ at the gates. Arnie, the neighborhood photog just happened to be there and gave me a call. He then proceeded to trail Ganim to his car and onto the freeway where he lost him before the FBI could even get their heads out of their asses.”
Waverly got up and walked over to the bar. She opened a decanter, dumped some scotch in a glass, and brought it over to him.
“Thank you.” But he didn’t drink yet. He put the glass on the tray next to the phones.
“When you say a ‘present,’ do you mean another explosive device?” Waverly asked, chewing on her lip. “My father might be home or some of the staff might be there.”
Xavier shook his head. “Your dad is out of town, wrapping up a shoot. He gave the staff the week off. Micah’s had some of our personnel do drive-bys and random property checks a couple times a day.”
His phone rang again.
“Saint.”
“If this is this guy’s idea of a present, I’m glad he’s not my Secret Santa.”
“What is it?”
“Let’s just say we now have conclusive evidence that Tiffani Plotts and Daisy Louchner are no longer among the living. It was a box of pictures with a note.”
Xavier shoved a hand through his hair. “What’s it say?”
“This is what happens when women disrespect their men.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
They hit five more cities in ten days. Liam and his wife peeled off on their own to double the international coverage, and at every stop, the fans and the enthusiasm about the film were even better than the last. It was exhausting with long hours and non-stop travel, but it was clear that they had a massive hit on their hands, and the studio was bending over backwards to make the trip tolerable.
Waverly’s entourage now included an additional three studio PR executives whose job it was to tweak the publicity of the film to match the local culture. Every stop had slightly different talking points and a different film trailer. Xavier managed the local security teams for the duration of each stop and kept up with the investigation at home. The FBI had found the stolen car Ganim used abandoned in a shopping center parking lot, but he was still sending messages to her Facebook page and Travers was confident they would be able to pull some information out of him soon.
Xavier was tireless, Waverly thought. Up every day before her, he remained by her side throughout the day. And at night, when Waverly’s obligations were finally finished, and Kate had conspicuously wandered off to give them privacy, he took her upstairs where they tormented and pleasured each other until late into the night. They made love in cities around the world, carving out a corner just for themselves where nothing else mattered.
They both played a part during the day, trying not to stand too close or stare too long. But at night, they were free to explore each other. Every evening, the elevator ride in whatever hotel in whatever city was charged with anticipation.
They didn’t touch inside the elevator. Instead, they stood side-by-side watching the floors tick up. And when the doors finally slid open, Xavier would guide her to the room with a hand on the small of her back. By the time the suite door was closed and locked behind them, she was trembling with need.
