MARKED (Hunter Awakened) Page 2

  The memory of him screaming at the little boy flashed into my mind. “No. He screwed up and wasn't the least bit remorseful about it.”

  “Good.”

  I could hear the pleased note in Harrison's voice. He loved it when he could take the gloves off. Having to deal with gossip and publicity came with the territory, and I'd always tried to play nice with everyone, no matter what they said about me. Harrison never liked being restricted. This, however, was different. It hadn't been just words, and it hadn't been just me. My fans were off limits.

  “I'm going send out a press release with an official statement about what happened last night. All of it, including how Todd wasn't doing his job when Rufus grabbed you. That asshole's a pedophile, so I don't think we're going to have too much problem with the fact that you kicked him in the nuts.”

  I smirked at the memory. I didn't like hurting people, but in that case, I was willing to make an exception. Anyone who hurt kids was fair game in my book.

  “Fortunately, the press got some great shots of the confrontation between you and Todd, including him screaming at that kid and you getting hit.” He paused. “By the way, are you okay?”

  It didn't surprise me that he hadn't asked before. Another thing that I loved about Harrison was that he didn't coddle me or try to be a parent. He would ask only if he cared, though it was often later than most people would've. I didn't care though. I knew it was genuine.

  “Fine,” I said. “It doesn't feel great, but it's nothing a bit of make-up won't cover.”

  “Don't cover it up when you go out,” he instructed. “I know you don't normally wear make-up when you do your whole morning routines and I don't want you to today either. Let the press get some good shots.”

  “Okay,” I agreed. I wasn't fond of the paparazzi, but in situations like this, they did have their uses.

  “I'll take care of answering questions, and all that. The only other thing I need you to do before you go to work tonight is hire another nighttime bodyguard.”

  I scowled, then winced as the movement pulled at my sore cheek. “I don't need another bodyguard. I'm fine with just Paul. He can switch to the night shift and I can do without one during the day.”

  “Not an option, Teal. Especially while Rufus is out on bail, I want you to have twenty-four hour protection.”

  “I can take care of myself, Harrison.” I sat up. “I'll have Paul drive me to set and make sure everything's all clear before he leaves, okay?”

  “Teal,” Harrison started.

  “I appreciate the concern, Harrison,” I said. “I'll talk to you later.” I hung up before he could protest anymore. I didn't want to hire another bodyguard. What was the point if I just had to do it myself anyway?”

  I climbed out of bed and glanced at my clock. I had an hour to run before my trainer arrived. Kevin wasn't just an exercise trainer, which is why I'd hired him. He held half a dozen titles in various forms of fighting, all of which he was teaching me. Part of it was so that I could do more and more of my own fighting sequences—our editors were geniuses at editing together me and my stunt double until it was nearly impossible to tell who was who—but I'd also wanted to learn how to defend myself. Last night had just been the justification I needed.

  When I came downstairs to go on my run, Paul was waiting by the door as usual, ready to go with me. He raised his eyebrows when he caught sight of my face, but the fact that he didn't say anything told me that he'd already heard about what had happened, whether on the news or from Harrison, I didn't know. One of the reasons I liked Paul was his ability to know when I wanted him to talk and when it was best to be quiet. Our morning run was one of those quiet times. After we'd finished, he went to shower and change while I did my ninety minute training session with Kevin. My trainer enjoyed my story about Rufus, his amusement and pride lightening some of my dark mood.

  By the time I was ready to run my usual Monday morning slash mid-afternoon errands, I was feeling much better about the day ahead. Even the paparazzi didn't faze me as Paul drove me to the grocery store. I ignored their questions and let them take all of the pictures they wanted. As Harrison had requested, I'd kept with my usual tradition of not wearing make-up and the purplish-black bruise on my cheek showed up starkly against my pale skin. It actually looked worse than it felt.

  I knew that word was traveling fast when I arrived on set and was met by three of my four main co-stars, Simon, Amy Childs and Bryson Jackson, all of whom were worried if I was okay. It was no surprise that Summer Cooper wasn't present. Saying that she and I didn't get along was like saying vampires had a mild distaste for the sun. My three friends fussed over me as we went into make-up, and then it was Katie and Sarah’s turn to make disapproving sounds and lament over how this was going to be covered for the show.

  Despite the attention I received when I first arrived on set, I was quickly able to put aside everything that had happened the night before and focus on work. I even turned off my phone after Harrison called twice more to nag me about hiring a night bodyguard. I was tired of reminding him that Paul had double-checked with set security, and even made sure they promised to walk me to my car when I left at the end of the shoot. I didn't bother telling Paul or Harrison that I'd only do that if someone was readily available. I wasn't tracking down someone or waiting around for someone to be free. I wasn't helpless. I thought I'd proved that last night against Rufus.

  By the time I was done for the night—well, the early morning actually—I'd all but forgotten that I was supposed to have someone go with me to the parking lot. The idea was there, but I just left it buried behind all of the other stuff that had accumulated through the day. The set was perfectly safe and no one was going to be out and about at four-thirty in the morning the week of Thanksgiving.

  I kept telling myself that as I walked through the dimly lit parking lot towards my car. Since the time when Paul had parked it earlier before taking a cab home, one of the lot's lights had gone out, leaving it darker than I liked. Still, I refused to go back and ask for someone to come with me. That would be like admitting I couldn't handle it myself, and that wasn't going to happen.

  Not even if I was certain that I saw shadows move in ways that shadows had no business moving. I told myself that I just had an overactive imagination. That was the same reason I gave when I heard footsteps behind me. I was just imagining things. I walked a bit faster, fumbling for my car keys. I was just eager to get home and get some rest, that's all it was. My pounding heart said otherwise.

  I was still trying to convince myself that everything was fine when I felt a hand grab a handful of my hair. I cried out, a sound of surprise and pain rather than any real words. Before I could yell again, call for help, the person who had my hair slammed my head against the side of a nearby car.

  If I'd thought a backhand to the cheek had hurt, it was nothing compared to the pain shooting through my head. My legs gave out and I was sure that this was it. I was going to pass out and be completely defenseless. Suddenly, the hand in my hair was gone and I dropped to the ground. Just as the world started to go dark, someone began to scream.

  Chapter Three

  The first thing I noticed was that my head felt fuzzy. Not like just waking up fuzzy. More like medicine fuzzy. I'd never done drugs, but I imagined that it felt a lot like this. It made it kind of hard to think. Why was I waking up with my head being fuzzy? I didn't remember taking anything the night before. I wasn't sick and I only took sleeping aids when my schedule was screwed up. And even then, they never made me feel like this. It was like I had cotton candy in my brain. I didn't like it. The brain thing. Not the cotton candy. I actually liked cotton candy... my ramblings were proving my point.

  I forced my eyes open even though my eyelids were much heavier than they should have been. It took a moment for everything to come into focus. First came the lights. Harsh, institutional lighting. That didn't bode well. Then everything else started to fall into place. Scratchy sheets. A sharp pain in the ba
ck of my hand. That unmistakable sharp smell of antiseptic overlaying the sickly sweet scent of illness. And the steady, annoying beeping sound that confirmed what I'd already figured out. I was in the hospital. Now I needed to know why I was here.

  Before I could really process anything, movement at the far side of the room caught my eye. I forced myself to focus. It wasn't easy. Remember, cotton-candy brain. There were two men in suits, grimly watching me. They were both middle-aged and stood in nearly identical stances. Cops. Things just got a lot more interesting.

  “Miss Rhines.” Another voice drew my attention. This one was female. A tall, dark-haired woman in scrubs. A doctor. “How are you feeling?”

  If I was being honest, I would've said 'loopy,' or 'cotton candy-brained,' but I didn't think either option was a good idea. I wanted to sound lucid, not loony. Especially not with two cops there and me not knowing what in the world was going on. “Okay, I guess. I'm not too sure. What happened?”

  The doctor glanced at the cops, then looked back at me. “You were brought in a few hours ago, unconscious from a blow to the head. The detectives need to speak to you if you feel up to it.”

  Up? Definitely. Whatever painkillers they were giving me definitely had me up and floating. For the first time in my life, I wanted to giggle. I swallowed hard and tried not to think cotton candy thoughts. “I'll do my best.” I figured it was best not to start, to let the cops ask the questions and go from there. I didn't know what this was about, so I didn't want to be responsible for starting some sort of wild goose chase.

  Hm. That's a funny saying. Why would anyone want to chase wild geese? Seemed kind of silly to me, but then again, my brain was a little silly at the moment.

  “Miss Rhines.”

  Right. Cops. Hospital. I needed to stop with the bunny trails. Bunnies and geese... I shook my head, then immediately regretted it. That didn't feel so good. Although, the pain did clear my head a bit, so it wasn't all bad.

  “Miss Rhines, I'm Detective Linden. This is my partner, Detective Thomas.” The taller of the two men spoke first. His expression was blank, but I could see a hint of something in his blue eyes. I got the impression Detective Linden didn't approve of me. “Can you tell us what happened last night?”

  Well that was disappointingly vague. I'd hoped for something a little more specific. Something to give me some idea of what I was trying to remember. Oh well, it seemed we'd be starting at the beginning. That was a very good place to start, or so I remembered from my childhood.

  “I was on set, working. We've been doing night shoots for a couple weeks now. After I finished all of my scenes, I headed from my trailer to the parking lot. I heard some noises.” I paused, frowning. Things were starting to get hazy. I concentrated, trying to recall as much detail as I could. “There was a shadow that kept moving weird. And I could feel someone following me.” I fell silent, everything after that going blank.

  “And then...” Detective Thomas prompted.

  “Nothing.” I shook my head. Something was gnawing at the back of my mind. What was it? It felt like something else I should be remembering.

  “Did you see anyone suspicious when you left the set, Miss Rhines? Anyone who didn't belong?” Detective Linden asked. His eyes were shrewd and I didn't really like having them on me, judging me either because I was a woman or because I was an actress.

  I tried to concentrate, to think back and find what I'd missed before. The sound of footsteps, crunching on the gravel as I crossed in front of the food truck. A swish of fabric. Then, the panic as I kept walking. There was someone following me. I could feel it.

  I gasped as a new memory hit me. A hand in my hair, tightening and pulling.

  “Miss Rhines?” Detective Thomas had kinder eyes, but I could still see all of the miles in them. “What is it?”

  “Someone grabbed my hair,” I said. My heart started pounding again. “I hit something hard.” I reached up towards my head, stopping short when it tugged at my IV. “Ow.” I put my hand back down.

  “Someone grabbed your hair,” Detective Thomas repeated what I said. “Do you know who it was?”

  “No, I don't think so.” I used my untethered hand to gingerly touch the back of my head. It was sore, but not as bad as I'd feared. “I never saw the person's face. I think it was a guy because it felt like he was taller than me.”

  “How do you figure that?” Detective Linden asked.

  “I do a lot of my own stunts.” I closed my eyes, remembering. “It feels different if you're grabbed by someone taller than you than it does if they're shorter than you.”

  “Anything else you can tell us about your attacker?” Detective Thomas asked the question this time.

  I thought for a minute, trying to find every possible detail in the blurry memory. “I think he threw me against a car and then he was gone.” I opened my eyes.

  “Gone?” Detective Linden's eyes narrowed.

  That caught my attention. The detective's reaction didn't seem like the interest that someone would have when trying to gather information to capture a suspect. Something else was going on here.

  “What do you mean gone?” Detective Thomas asked.

  “Gone, as in, not there anymore.” I wasn't sure how else to say it. “One minute, he was holding me up by my hair and the next he wasn't. I ended up on the ground and that was it.”

  “You didn't see anyone else?” Linden took a step towards me. “Maybe a boyfriend or bodyguard who could've seen what happened?”

  In the words of one of my favorite literary characters, this was getting 'curiouser and curiouser.'

  I watched Linden's face when I answered. “I don't have a boyfriend and my bodyguard had gone home for the day. He'd left me the car and took a taxi once I was on set.”

  “We'll need his name and contact information,” Thomas said.

  “It's Paul Stevens.” I looked around the room as I suddenly realized that I was in a hospital gown. My clothes were nowhere to be found. “If someone can find my phone, his number's in there.”

  “Miss Rhines, did you fight back at all?” Linden's voice was completely flat.

  I stared at him for a moment. “I'm not really sure why that's relevant,” I said. “But, no. I didn't really get much of a chance. He grabbed me, I screamed and struggled, but then he threw me against the car and I couldn't even stand on my own.”

  “So you'd consent to us examining your clothes?” Thomas asked.

  “My clothes?” I was really confused now. “Do you think some trace evidence was transferred to me during the struggle?” When they both gave me strange looks, I added, “I've picked up a thing or two playing in crime shows over the years.”

  “We'll also want a doctor to examine your hands and take scrapings under your nails,” Linden said.

  A thought struck me. I had done a lot of crime shows and I just realized that there was one question that they hadn't asked me, a question that was always asked if the attacker hadn't been caught. “Why haven't you asked me if I have any idea of who could've attacked me? Or if there's anyone I can think of who'd want to hurt me? All you asked was if I knew the person.”

  The detectives exchanged looks.

  “You have the guy in custody, don't you?” I asked. The pain medication was starting to wear off. It was good because it was giving me more clarity, but I was starting to feel a deep ache in my head and neither of my cheeks were feeling too great either. “If you have him in custody, why are you asking me all of these questions about having to test my clothes when you could just test his?”

  “Miss Rhines,” Thomas began.

  “No,” I cut him off. “What the hell is going on here?”

  “What's going on?” Linden echoed, his eyes flashing. “What's going on is that someone on your set called the cops because they heard screaming coming from the parking lot, but when we got there, it wasn't you who'd been screaming. You were out cold. The man who you claim attacked you, however, didn't pass out until they got him in
the ambulance.”

  Screaming. The detective's words triggered something. “I remember screaming,” I said slowly. “The hand in my hair was gone and then someone was screaming. It was the last thing I heard before I passed out.” I looked at Thomas. He seemed more likely to answer my question. “What happened?”

  Thomas shifted his weight from one foot to the other, as if uncomfortable, but he gave me a reply. “He's in critical condition. Someone beat him nearly to death. Broken bones, internal bleeding. It's a miracle he's alive.”

  “No.” Linden shook his head. “It's like someone knew exactly how much damage he could do without killing him.” He scowled down at me. “Who do you know that could do something like that?”

  “Seriously?” I couldn't believe he was asking me that.

  Before I could answer—not that I had much of one—the door to my room opened again and the doctor came back in. She was followed by a familiar and welcome face.

  “Harrison.”

  “I'm Miss Rhines's manager,” he said, giving the cops his best tough-guy face. Thirty plus years working in Hollywood had given him a pretty good one. “And that's enough questions for now. Teal needs to get her rest. If you have any more questions, give me a call and I'll set up a time for you to meet.” He handed his card to Detective Thomas.

  Detective Linden looked like he was going to protest, but a sharp look from the doctor stopped him. “We'll be in touch, Miss Rhines.”

  I didn't respond as the detectives left my room.

  The doctor spoke to Harrison. “You have five minutes before you have to go. Miss Rhines does need to get her rest.”

  Harrison nodded as the doctor left the two of us alone. He looked down at me with a serious expression on his face. “No more arguments, Teal. Either you chose a new bodyguard, or I do.”

  I sighed, but I knew he was right. Besides, I didn't really have the strength to argue. I was very tired. “Make a short list. I'll pick someone.” If it'd appease Harrison, I'd hire someone new. If I didn't like him, I could always fire him. Who knew, maybe this bodyguard wouldn't be too bad. If nothing else it would give me something to think about that wasn't the screaming I now had echoing in my head.