Intimate (26 page)

“You got it.” Mandy went back inside as the police car pulled up to the curb.

It was the same officer who'd responded when the truck almost hit her. Kaz shrugged and waved. “Uh, hi.”

Frowning, the cop looked at her. “You again? What happened?”

As she explained the two shots and pointed first to the hole in the stucco and then the deep gouge in the sidewalk, he went very still. “That's two very suspicious events.”

“Actually, it's four.”

“You want to explain?”

So she did. The dark-haired man in the black BMW in Healdsburg, the truck hitting this same wall a week ago, a stranger pushing her in front of a Muni train. Two gunshots just now, in broad daylight, possibly the same car. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered, while the officer took a couple of pictures, dug the bullet out of the wall, and carefully bagged it. He was putting it inside his vehicle when Mandy came out and handed Kaz a caffè mocha with a thick swirl of whipped cream on top.

She took it with a frustrated sigh.

Mandy stepped closer to the officer. “Why don't you come inside to talk to Kaz where it's warmer, and I'll bring you a cup of coffee.”

He raised his head. “Is there an empty table?”

“There is.” She waited while he grabbed a digital tablet and locked up his car. She led them inside to a table at the back of the small shop. A minute later, she brought him a cup of coffee, set a plate of muffins on the table, and then went back to her spot at the register.

It was almost an hour later before Officer José Macias had his complete report. At least Kaz's hands had stopped shaking, but he didn't make her feel any more confident about her safety. “I wish there was something positive I could tell you,” he said, “but at this point, I don't think this was a random shooting. Neither, in my opinion, were the other incidents. If you think of anything at all, call me. And whatever you do, be aware of your surroundings.”

She held up the card he'd given her. “I will. It's just…” Shrugging, she gazed toward the brand-new plate glass window, installed to replace the one the truck had broken last week. “I have no idea why anyone would be after me. I mean, I go to work, I go home. I haven't dated in months. I broke up with my last boyfriend because he was cheating on me. No jilted lovers in my past.” She shook her head. “I was the one getting jilted.”

“He cheated on you? The guy was an idiot, Ms. Kazanov.” His radio crackled and he took the call. “That's for me. I have to go, but be careful. If you think of anything, anything at all, call me. José Macias. The number on the card is my mobile phone.”

“Thank you.” She watched him leave and wanted to lay her head on the table and have a good, long cry. None of this made sense. No sense at all.

Her phone rang. She answered without looking to see who it was. Jake's voice had her on the edge of tears again. “Jake? Hi.”

“Kaz? You don't sound … are you okay?”

“Not really. Let me call you back.” She ended the call, gathered her bag, and went over to the register to pay her bill. Mandy waved her off.

“No way. If I'd remembered to get coffee, you wouldn't have walked down here, and that jerk wouldn't have shot at you. Should I call you a cab?”

She shook her head. She just wanted to go home. Maybe she shouldn't go tonight. He wouldn't follow her to the launch, would he? Damn. She hated this. Absolutely hated it.

Mandy grabbed her by the arms. “Kaz? Don't be foolish. Someone is obviously after you. It's too dangerous.”

Finally, it was just easier to let Mandy call the damned cab.

 

CHAPTER 16

The cab was out in front of the coffee shop in a couple of minutes. Five minutes later, Kaz was inside her house. She paused at the front door and looked up and down the street. It was empty except for an older lady walking her equally old poodle. Kaz unlocked the front door, stepped inside, and carefully locked it behind her.

Her phone rang again. This time she looked at the caller ID and answered. “Hi, Jake. I just got in the door. I was going to call you.” She dropped her handbag on the floor and plopped down on the couch with the phone to her ear.

“What happened?”

She frowned. He sounded really pissed, which, for whatever reason, ticked her off. She gave him a snarky answer. “Other than someone trying to kill me? Not a damned thing.”

At least the silence on the other end was gratifying. But only for a moment.

“Okay,” he said, drawing out the word. “I hope you're making a really bad joke, Kaz, but I want you to know I'm not laughing. What the hell happened?”

She went through the entire scenario again, beginning with the pickup slamming into the coffee shop wall. When she ended the recitation, there was absolute silence.

Then he exploded.

“Good God, Kaz! Why the hell haven't you called me? Why haven't you gotten the police involved before now?”

She held the phone away from her ear and stared at it. Okay. So she hadn't heard from him in two weeks and all he does is yell at her? Not what she needed. Not now. She took a deep breath. Then she took another.

“For your information, Jacob, there was no reason to connect the pickup truck to the man in Healdsburg. It was a teenaged kid in a stolen truck, so the policeman who responded said he was probably just joyriding, but he took a report. I reported the incident at the station to Muni security, but I didn't see the man who pushed me. The only reason I knew it was a man is because the gentleman who saved my life caught a quick glimpse of him. But when a man in a black car took two shots at me today, there was no mistaking the fact he was aiming at me. For that I have made a report, we have a partial license number, and the police are now involved. I didn't connect the incidents until today. It all just felt like a very scary set of coincidences, and there was no reason to call you.”

“No reason, Kaz?”

His soft answer infuriated her. The fact she was upset enough to be pacing back and forth pissed her off even more. “Well, Jake … did you call me at any time this past couple of weeks? No. You didn't. Not once.” She was definitely pissed, so angry she knew if she didn't get off the phone she was going to end up crying. Anger and frustration usually had that effect on her, and she really didn't need it right now. “I'll see you tonight,” she said, and then she quickly ended the call. Her hands were shaking so badly she dropped the phone.

It was ringing again when she picked it up. She didn't have to look to know who it was when she answered. “What?”

“I'll pick you up. Be ready by five-thirty. We need to talk before people start arriving.”

“No. I've already arranged for a cab. I'll meet you there.”

“Look, Kaz, there's stuff you don't know. I—”

“No. You look. I've had a really crappy morning, and you are not helping me one f'ing bit. If you want me to look good for tonight's event—which, as far as I know, is the only reason you want me there—you'll just leave me alone and let me do my job. I'll see you tonight.”

She waited for his answer.

And waited. Finally, very softly, he said, “Okay. If that's how you want it. Try and be there before six. I really do need to talk to you. It's important.”

There was another long pause before he added, “Understand this, Kaz. Looking good for the launch isn't the reason I want you there.” Before she had time to think that through, he gave her the address and ended the call.

She stared at the phone in her hand for a long time before the tears finally won.

*   *   *

Jake stared at the phone in his hand. Then he set it aside and went into his office to get the photos Marc had called and asked for this morning, but even working with the pictures couldn't get him out of the crap he'd pulled with Kaz. How the hell had he managed to screw things up so badly? Was it because he'd fantasized about talking to her again? Was it because he was worried sick when she first answered the phone, her voice breaking and sounding like she was ready to cry?

He knew one thing. He was telling her the whole sordid story tonight. No hiding behind half-truths. He was still shaking, chilled inside and out after listening to her as she'd calmly explained all the crap she'd been through the past couple of weeks. Dangerous crap she'd been dealing with on her own. The truck could have killed her. She was beyond lucky the train didn't kill her, but today. Damn it, today someone tried to shoot her. Someone in a black car. It had to be the same guy. He'd bet it was a black BMW. Why didn't he think to ask her?

Was Fanboy the guy driving the BMW? Except that guy looked older—Fanboy just didn't fit. Why Kaz? That didn't make any sense, either—he was stalking RJ, and the fact that Fanboy was using that name meant he was someone out of Jake's past. Why would he be interested in Kaz? As far as anyone knew, the only relationship he and Kaz had was professional, not personal.

His gut knotted as more ideas, more scenarios flashed through his mind. What if Fanboy had figured it out? If he'd been there … Had he been watching them at the vineyard? A montage of images flashed through his mind—Kaz, stripping her crop top up and off, sliding that skirt down her long legs. Holding her arms out to him. Taking him deep inside.

If the bastard had been watching them …

Fuck. Kaz was no fool—definitely not as big an idiot as he was. She had to know all the so-called accidents were connected, that she was the target of some kind of psychopath. She had to be terrified.

But she didn't know about Fanboy. Had no idea Jake had been getting texts. There had to be a connection.

Crap. If anyone was a fool, it was him. One of the texts he'd gotten referred to the incident in Healdsburg, another mentioned the dinner he'd had in Geyserville.

Fanboy was after Kaz.

“You are such a fucking jerk, Lowell.” He'd lost time, working and worrying and getting nothing accomplished. He stood up, shoved his hands through his hair, and tugged hard. He tried calling her back. No answer. He wanted to go see her, but Marc needed him to come by to go over some last-minute details for the event tonight. It was a huge deal—the media would be all over the place, and so much depended on Kaz.

The pictures were exquisite. She was exquisite.

And right now, she wasn't even speaking to him. Should he go to her? Force his way in, whether she wanted to see him or not? Except, what if he made her mad enough to quit? To decide not to show up? Crap. He'd see her tonight. Somehow he'd get her off by herself. He had to tell her everything. Holding back was killing him, but even worse, not knowing the truth could kill her.

That thought forced his hand.

He grabbed his laptop, locked his apartment, and ran out to his car.

Instead of going straight to Marc's office, he headed west. He'd go to Kaz, tell her about the texts, tell her about RJ, make sure she was safe. If she left him, if she decided she couldn't live with the jerk he'd proved he was, that would kill him. But at least he'd know that he'd told her the truth. No excuses, no lies of omission.

Barely ten minutes later, he pulled up in front of Kaz's house in the Sunset, raced up the front steps, and knocked on the door. He waited and knocked again, harder this time.

A door opened across the street, and an older woman stepped out on the porch and glared at him. Either Kaz wasn't home, or she just wasn't answering. He noticed the doorbell and tried that, heard the chimes inside, waited a little bit longer.

He checked his phone and then turned and went back down the steps. He'd meet with Marc. He hated to put more pressure on his friend, but he had to let Marc know about the connection, the risk to Kaz. Then he'd focus on the launch, on showcasing Kaz Kazanov as the star he knew she was going to be, but he had to at least warn her. He got back into his car and dialed her number, let it ring until it went to voice mail. “Kaz? It's Jake. This is really important. There's crap going on you don't know about, but it could be connected to the attempts on your life. Call me.”

She'd been honest with him, and he'd lied to her, treating her like she didn't have any sense. She had plenty of sense, and if she was thinking straight she was probably running as fast and as far away from him as she could possibly get.

*   *   *

Kaz had a glass of wine with an early lunch. She never drank during the day, but it was the only thing she could think of to make her hands stop shaking. The shooting had terrified her, but Jake had flat-out pissed her off. He'd been angry, she'd been upset, and she figured both of them had totally overreacted.

Tonight, with any luck, and if she could get there early enough, she hoped they could talk things out, get all the crap between them fixed. She was almost sure that Jake loved her. She'd been trying to convince herself that's why he'd gotten mad. He was afraid for her, right?

She was positive she loved him, though right now she felt more like strangling him.

Officer Macias had called. They'd gotten a couple of possible matches to the partial license plate that might or might not be the shooter. He'd asked her if she recognized the names, a woman named Sondra Franklin from Malibu and a guy named Russell Norwich from Oakland.

She'd never heard of either one, and neither of them had reported a stolen car. She'd written their names down and planned to ask Jake.

Jake. She really had to get her head on straight before she met up with him tonight. Finishing her wine, Kaz stuck her glass and dishes in the dishwasher and headed to her bedroom. She had to figure out what she'd be wearing, and really needed to get ready.

A long soak in a hot tub sounded like a good place to start. She filled the tub, turned the music up, stuck her headset on, and put everything out of her mind.

An hour later she got out, with wrinkled fingertips and toes and a better feel for the evening ahead. She checked her phone, noted a message from Jake, and decided not to listen to it. There was no way she was going to give up her relaxed state of mind.