You're Not Broken (19 page)
Authors: Gemma Hart
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This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any similarities to events or situations is also coincidental.
Cover Design by LJ Anderson
© 2015 Michaela Adams
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Table of Content
Chapter One
Jessa
“‘And when I can make us one, we’ll be complete,’” Agent Harrison finished reading.
The FBI agent folded up the note and gave me a frown. The man was in about his mid forties with dark hair and only a brush of gray at his temples. From the back, he would’ve looked to have been twenty years younger. But his face was the dead giveaway. With tired eyes and frown lines etched deeply into his cheeks, he looked like a man who was perpetually put upon. And he was putting those frown lines to good use as he looked at me.
Sitting back in my hotel sofa, I tried my best to swallow my frustrated sigh and to still my eyes before they rolled. I had read the note already. Several times, in fact. I knew what it said.
I could see from the corner of my eye Agent Todd, sitting across from me on one of the printed wingback chairs, smothering a smile as if he could tell the extreme restraint I was trying to exert over my natural reactions to his more serious partner.
I looked at the folded note in Agent Harrison’s hand—another threatening and, quite frankly, creepy note from my stalker. This mysterious stalker had been dropping off notes threatening kidnapping and vague torture to various locations that were somehow related to me like my agent’s office, the front desk of the hotel I happened to be staying at that week, and once, inside the windshield wiper of the black SUV that drove me between engagements.
Although the notes certainly sounded threatening enough, I had lost my fear over such things years ago.
As one of the biggest actresses in Hollywood, I was known internationally. I had snagged my first major movie role at sixteen and it had launched me into superstardom. I was now twenty seven. In the intervening eleven years, I’d had countless stalkers and crazed fans try and breach my personal space.
I’d learned quickly that once you became a hot enough commodity, everyone wanted a piece of you. And I mean,
everyone.
I’ve had make up artists try and sneak a picture of me when I was sitting in their chairs, bare faced, so they could sell it to a tabloid for a pretty penny. I’ve had personal assistants who’ve slipped me their manuscripts within the first five minutes of working together.
What was one more stalker note?
But Agent Harrison and Todd seemed to think otherwise, especially Agent Harrison.
They had contacted my manager several weeks ago after I had received the second note. The FBI and I have had a close relationship over the years because of all the threatening notes I’ve received. Normally, they just simply increased security during my more high profile events like premiers and red carpet events.
But for some reason, they found this latest series of notes to be highly suspicious.
And highly dangerous.
“Well,” I said calmly, reaching to flip my hair off my shoulder in habit only to realize they were still in rollers, “it sounds like he rather likes me.”
Agent Todd couldn’t help but grin hearing that.
But Agent Harrison’s brow only creased further, making it look like he had a permanent dent in his forehead. Did the man never smile? I used to have a secret running joke with myself to see how many times I could make him grunt in dissatisfaction in one meeting.
My record was six.
“Miss Blair,” Agent Harrison started in his paternal and slightly patronizing voice, “do I need to remind you again how seriously we at the Bureau take this threat? And we take it on your behalf, I might remind you.”
That quickly sobered me up.
It was true. The men and women of the FBI
have
been carefully keeping tabs on all the crazed fans for me over the years. But I think after over a decade in the business, I could recognize a credible threat from a nonsense one.
Agent Todd, seeming to sense my distress, interjected, “Miss Blair, I know you’re frustrated with how much this can affect your day to day life. But I promise you, we’d like to figure out who this man is as much as you. And the quicker we do it, the quicker we can slink back out to the peripherals of your life.” He smiled gently at me.
Younger, he had a classic Midwestern boy look to him. Blonde, blue eyed, and tall, he looked clean and wholesome. It was odd to see him paired with such a grumpy curmudgeon like Agent Harrison. I wondered what their conversations must be like in the car.
I smiled back, recognizing the smooth diplomacy he was trying to inject into the conversation. “I would like this man caught as well,” I agreed. “But it seems this is taking a lot longer than usual.”
Normally, most stalkers could be caught within a few weeks at most. And if they were really posing a threat, a restraining order would be requested. In the past eleven years, I’ve had to impose thirteen restraining orders. Like I said, this wasn’t new to me.
Agent Todd nodded in agreement. “You’re right,” he said. “It
is
taking longer than usual.
That’s
why we’re a little concerned. It shouldn’t take us this long to find an average Joe Schmo with a starlet crush. It’s odd that we have yet to get one lead on him.”
Although I resented being called a starlet since I viewed myself as a very old veteran of the business despite my age, I was startled by everything else he said. It was news to me.
After all, this was the sixth note I’d received from him. They should’ve at least found a few clues on him, if nothing else.
Raising a brow, I asked, “You don’t have any leads on him?”
Agent Harrison shook his head. “No. And that is why we would really
appreciate
your compliance with us.” He emphasized ‘appreciation’ in a way to show that he really didn’t so much appreciate my compliance more than irritatingly expect it.
A door opened and closed from behind the agents. They immediately turned, their bodies tensed.
I marveled at their readiness and also their wariness of a hotel penthouse suite surrounded by security. The President would have a hard time coming in without proper credentials.
In any case, it wasn’t the leader of the free world. It was Marsha, my make up girl. She gave me a look and then tapped her watch. I was due downstairs for the press conference for my latest film soon. And I needed a touch up, my hair was still in rollers, and I had no shoes. My bare feet were curled under me on the plush sofa.
Looking at the two men in black suits and me in my designer white dress with red flowers, it looked as if we were having a sophisticated cocktail party instead of discussing a crazed stalker who seemed to have every intention of kidnapping and possibly killing me.
“Agent Harrison, Agent Todd, I promise I’ll be the model of compliance,” I said, partially lying through my teeth. Although I was surprised to hear they had found no leads on the stalker, I still wasn’t that worried. With the internet and technology these days, I’m sure it was getting easier and easier to become a slippery shadow that left threatening and mildly annoying notes everywhere.
I stood up, signaling to the agents that I had a schedule that still needed to be followed. After the press conference, I was due at another location for several TV interviews.
The men took the hint and stood up as well.
As Agent Harrison buttoned up his jacket he nodded at me, adding, “We’ve found you a new personal bodyguard. He should either arrive at the end of today or beginning of tomorrow. Hopefully this one will stick.” He grimaced.
I grimaced as well.
Although I had a team of security around me at all times, with all the threats I receive, I usually also had a personal bodyguard that was always within close proximity to me.
But the last one had to be let go after it had been discovered that he had secretly purchased a whole season’s worth of courtside basketball seats in my name. I had only discovered the whole scheme after another actor had asked me why I bought seats if I was never going to show up.
Agent Todd smiled, ever the optimist. “I think you’ll like this new guard. He comes with a very experienced background in combat and military training.”
I raised a brow and said teasingly, “Unless this stalker is about to come at me with a tank, let’s hope this new guy is just as experienced in holding back press and carrying a purse or two when my hands are full.”
Agent Todd laughed good naturedly but Agent Harrison stubbornly kept his frown and only made a low grunt of dissatisfaction at my light and frivolous attitude.
Damn.
I hadn’t kept count this time. But I was sure that grunt had to be number seven.