Wanna Play (Ghost Unit, Book Three) (3 page)

The details were adding up to a whole different “animal” than Barry had told him on the phone. The incidents had been carefully scripted to appear racial. Making an action movie starring an African-American woman in North Carolina was certainly a natural setting to get hillbillies ruffled at seeing a beautiful black chick kicking white ass. But even deep in the mountains, Blaster didn’t believe the local boys would have put up this kind of fuss.

What he’d seen this afternoon under the trees had been another “set”. Things left to make it look as if the men standing there were dumbasses.

First, the men who’d been there didn’t smoke. The butts were props. Blaster had one fine nose and as a demolition expert, he could smell smoke and tell what caused it an hour later. He’d reached the place the men stood minutes after they left and the only scent on the air was gunpowder residue. No, they didn’t smoke. Nor were they hillbillies. They had left common tennis shoe impressions under the tree. But on the exit route there had been no sign at all. If the people exiting the area had been wearing the same shoes as the prints under the tree indicated, they couldn’t have helped leaving an impression.

He’d found no sign of them on the exit route, which he’d inspected again after everyone left. There was only one tiny splatter of blood where he knew he’d creased one of them. Not one footprint. No blood trail, no other sign at all. Damn professional.

Then there was the puzzle of Sheena, starring in Barry’s film. She was a professional something other than actress. The fight scene had been acting for the stunt men but she’d been fully engaged and enjoying it. Her frustration at its conclusion had been real. The stunt men were not fighting her. They’d been following scripted steps and rolls to get through the scene.

What was she doing here? This many
professionals
did not accidentally congregate in backwoods North Carolina. He could understand men gathered to watch her. He even understood that most of them would find her alarming in several basic ways. She was that rare combination of extreme beauty and lethal skill that stood a man’s dick up and made him want to protect his balls at the same time. And there it was, his main problem. There had to be something wrong with her. No one was the perfect combination. He needed to find her fatal flaw fast while he could still manage to coax blood above his belt buckle.

Chapter Two

After the ride down the mountain in the crew van, Jas cautiously opened the door to her motel room. Flicking on the light, she surveyed the relatively small space carefully. Nothing seemed out of order. The bedspread didn’t move. No horrid spray-painted messages. Two days ago, she’d opened the door a lot less cautiously to find a revolting scene.

The first thing that caught her eye had been racial slurs crudely scrawled everywhere. Then she’d noticed the bedspread moving. The words
NIGGER WHORE
spray-painted on the spread in huge black letters seemed to writhe luridly as long slithering forms moved. She’d shut the door quickly and found Barry and the hotel manager.

The poor manager had been beside himself. They’d eventually removed three large black rat snakes from the room. Not poisonous but still disgusting. The room had to be gutted and repainted.

Snakes and rude names she could deal with. The last two days had been much more serious. The motorcycle incident could have killed her. Whoever shot at them today had the opportunity to kill her. She was pretty sure the miss had been deliberate. But still, too damn close. Someone wanted her to know he could kill her any time. He was playing a game. Fear was his weapon, intimidation his goal.

Jas glanced at the time and quickly calculated the difference to Southern California. Liana would be getting ready for tonight’s event. Jas had to smile as she dialed the phone. Liana loved dressing up. She enjoyed it more than the reason for it usually. Jas hated to ruin the fun with a call, but she had to be sure everything was okay.

It took four rings before the phone was answered. “Hey, Jas.”

“Is everything all right,” Jas worriedly needed to know.

Liana laughed. “Of course it is. Except I’m having my nails done to match my dress and the phone rang.”

“Sorry. I had to check on you. I know you’re in middle of the endless dressing ritual but there’s been another incident and I wanted to make sure you’re paying attention to security.”

“What happened?” Liana demanded. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Someone took a shot across the set today. They didn’t hit anyone. So what color are you getting painted?”

“My God, Jas. Do you think he’d really hurt us now?” Liana’s voice faltered.

“No. He can’t afford to kill us, but I’m glad he’s focused on me instead of you right now. So what color is the new diva wearing for her awards gala?” Jas tried again to lighten the mood with the delights of dressing up.

“The award is as much your’s as mine, Jas. You should be the one accepting it, however since you’re on the other side of the county being a movie star, I get to.” Liana laughed softly.

“Yeah, yeah. You know how much I enjoy those things. You’re the one who does “Cinderella” well. I work myself up to it and I still hate it. Now tell what you’re wearing.”

“A coral dress that’s not too revealing but not too stuffy. It’s difficult to find something decent in this town that doesn’t involve T&A display.” They both laughed. “So now I’m getting my nails done to match and then having my hair done. Not going coral with the hair though. I had to draw the line somewhere.

“The three major networks have confirmed a TV crew. Watch the news tonight and you’ll see. I’m betting cable shows up too. Your sending your movie-star friends made a huge difference. Suddenly it’s
the
party to attend. Even politicians and government people are showing up. The seating arrangements have been a nightmare.”

“Let Sebastian handle everything. He’s the event planner. I just want you to have fun. You’ve earned it.”

They chatted for a few more minutes and Jas enjoyed Liana’s excitement. This was an amazing recognition for something both Jas and Liana had simply needed to do for their own sanity. Opening the Hope Center for Women was possible because of Jas’ connections to the money floating around Southern California, as well as a heavy investment of her own. But running it was Liana’s baby. It was the road back to being whole for Liana.

Beautiful Liana was no longer a broken shell of a woman. Her spirit had been poured into helping other women in need. The acts of healing performed for others were the medicine that healed both of them. Jas couldn’t take back that one night when she’d promised to look after her friend and failed miserably. What she could do was make up for it. Well, sort of. It was probably a little unbalanced to need to keep fixing what had been broken so long ago.

Liana had never really needed “fixing”. Her strength was not as apparent as Jas’, but it was probably much deeper.

They’d found a way to use the experience, make it a stepping stone to changing others’ lives.

* * * * *

It was after eight in the evening when Barry pulled the door shut in the big editing trailer. It was permanently parked next to the hotel since some of the equipment in it was too sensitive for the rough ride out to location. The only people in it were Blaster, Barry and Jas.

“We need to talk and I thought this might be the most private place to do it. Jas, I asked Blaster to come out here to find out what’s going on. He’s the most dangerous man I know and we need serious help.”

Jas raised an eyebrow. She could believe that, though no power on earth would make her admit it.

“You’re ex-military. You know what a Special Forces unit is, right?” Barry directed the question to Jas. “Blaster was a member of one of the most elite.”

“Hey now,” Blaster interjected.

Jas snorted, “Right.” She sat down on one of the swivel stools as she continued. “Did Huckleberry actually tell you that? He’s obviously compensating for something. Using the term “elite” is handy that way. No way to prove he was in such a unit and no way to prove he wasn’t.”

“She’s right.” Blaster consciously relaxed. Going along with her misconception was neat and simple. He tried to appear sheepish and vaguely guilty. No telling if he managed to wipe the glazed, sexual predator look off his face.

Barry glanced between them. “I see. Then what was the designation of your unit? I’m trying to impress her with your expertise to handle this situation. Help me out.”

Blaster ran a hand around the back of his neck and grimaced a bit. “I’m ex-Special Forces. The unit is now retired. Enough to say we never trained a replacement.” Again he went for a sincere open look. She already knew way too much about his urges. This wasn’t the time to let her focus on them.

Sitting on a stool, Jas leaned her elbows on the console behind her so that long body stretched out in apparent ease with ankles crossed. She gave the impression of being supremely comfortable. Wearing a formfitting tank top that ended above her navel, low hip-huggers and a black silk bomber jacket left open to show off her body, she was jarringly beautiful. The jacket was useful to cover a multitude of weapons she didn’t seem to be working that hard at concealing.

Both eyebrows rose as she looked at Blaster. “Never had a replacement? Your unit didn’t lose one man? What were you, Special Ops Kiddy Care? No functioning unit retires the original members.”

Blaster grinned as he lounged against the equipment table behind him. “Yep. We’re damn good at babysitting.” It wasn’t his habit to defend the Unit. Facts were simple and sticking to the ones that were unclassified was his only concern. That, and doing his damnedest not to physically drool while looking at her. Her casual sprawl was deceptive and dangerous. It allowed her instant access to the weapons he knew were on her body. She was such a sexy sort of deadly and he couldn’t look at her long enough.

Exotically tilted eyes regarded him for an unblinking moment. Jas’ forehead wrinkled for less than a second at his refusal to brag. It wasn’t natural for a guy as arrogant as she assumed he was. That fact whispered a little strength into the possibility he told the truth about the Special Forces service claim. Checking his facts wouldn’t be difficult, just a bit time-consuming. He should know better than to lie. Her gaze slid to Barry. “So you’ve hired security. Good job. What do you need to tell me for?”

“Because I get to baby-sit you.” The heat in Blaster’s deep voice dripped with Mississippi sweet.

“Oh?”

“What he means is, I think you need protection,” Barry rushed on before she could interrupt. “Come on, Jas. I’m not an idiot. You come to the set armed. Every one of the incidents has happened around you. What’s going on? Do you know who’s doing this and why?”

“Are you accusing me of something?” Jas’ tone remained softly conversational.

“No. Absolutely not, but I think you’re in danger, Jas. You and I have sweat blood over this movie. It’s your big break and even more so, mine. You’ll be a star and I’ll be the director of a smash hit. We
are
that good. But none of that will happen if our crew is scared shitless and continue to quit like the three who did today. We’re around a week away from getting this one in the can. Fuck! We’ve got to finish location filming and we’ve got to do it within budget.

“I brought Blaster to ensure we make it. I know you don’t trust men much, but you trust me. Can you extend some of your trust in me to him? Tell us what’s going on and let him take care of it. I promise, it’ll go away.”

“Barry, you can’t sublet trust. I know you. I don’t know him from the next hillbilly and besides, he’s military. Where do you think this kind of trouble comes from? Don’t get your shorts in a wad. No one is trying to kill me. They’re trying to intimidate me.”

Blaster felt a little stab of satisfaction. “So you do know exactly what’s going on?”

Jas ignored Blaster’s comment. “An old idiot must have gotten nervous. Someone who assumes he can control everyone with fear. And this,” Jas jerked a thumb at Blaster, “is probably one of his lowbrow fuckups. You may think you called him but I bet he didn’t have a thing to do when he got your call. Isn’t that a little bit odd for such a talented guy? Didn’t you wonder why your buddy boy had nothing better to do?”

“No, Jas. You don’t understand. Blaster is my family. He has nothing to do with whatever you’ve got following you. And what the hell is it? My shorts are in a damn tight wad and if anyone else quits on the production, both our asses will be feeling the heat. We can’t afford this, Jas.”

“He’s family? I thought you didn’t have any family? Which statement is the lie, Barry? I have to tell you, I wanted to trust you.” Ice-cold calm entered Jas’ voice with that statement.

“Stop it, Jas. Stop it right now. I’m not one of your monsters.” At this point Barry lost all surface sophistication. “He and I spent time in hell together, better known as the Beckley household. Foster parents who not only did it for the money but were sick enough to enjoy stripping away a child’s humanity. They loved the process. I know you had a grim childhood but don’t damn well assume you’re the only one. This is the person who at twelve, knew what mental toughness was and could teach it to a ten-year-old. He is family!” Barry stopped and drew a deep breath. “Look, I’m not trying to deceive you. There’s too much at stake.”

There was silence for a moment and Jas looked at Blaster. “Nothing to add?”

“Nope. If he can’t convince you, nothing I can say will. This is your life. Your future, honey. Sometimes you just have to trust someone.”

Her gaze had the hard look of a veteran. Blaster wasn’t exactly sure what she was a veteran of, but she’d seen too much of whatever to trust anyone easily. Ugly suspicion began a slow burn low in his gut. Suddenly the reasons she was beauty with a beast within began to matter in a personal way. He didn’t like the conclusion he was coming to about why trust was the unattainable prize with her.

Her lovely face had no chance of reflecting the wealth of bitterness in her voice, “Poor lil’ white boys have a sob story. Go tell it in the Hamptons coz it don’t even rate in the District. It is my life. I don’t need a babysitter. This ain’t no thing, so rest your shiny white hiney and relax.”

“We get it! You’re a tough chick from D.C. who can kick some ugly ass,” Barry snapped. “If it were just you, I’d stand back and enjoy the show. Kicking ass is sexy as hell when you do it, but this is about ninety million already invested in a movie. It’s not just you. It’s about someone trying to shut down this production.”

Jas regarded Barry with a cool look. Abruptly she stood.

“No, no,” Barry held up his hands to stop her when Jas jolted off the stool. “No one blames you for having a life, a past. I don’t care what the problem is. The solution is all I’m interested in. Don’t let them steal your future, Jas, because if it doesn’t stop, the three of us are gonna be the only ones left. People don’t hang around and get shot at just to make a movie.”