Wicked Bad Boys (65 page)

“
W
ell
, I think you make a cute couple,” Agent Webber answered.

“Yeah. So fucking adorable,” Agent Sanchez said as he sat next to her. “Now pass the egg rolls and stop kissing ass, Webber.”

Agent Webber rolled her eyes, but handed over the plate stacked with egg rolls.

Agent Carlson sat beside Sanchez and looked around the table. “By the way, folks. It’s good we’re all getting to know each other now. I suggest we stick to first names and aliases for the duration of this investigation. There’s nothing worse than getting so used to formalities that we end up getting made when we’re in the field.”

“Good point,” Kevin replied.

“So I’m Frederick, but call me Fred. Then there’s Jenny, Lucas, and Larry. And we’ve already got Johnny, Kevin, and Amanda here.”

Kevin looked up. “Don’t get too used to your real name yet, Amanda. We’re working on something. Agent Carlson…I mean Fred, will fill you in shortly.”

“Um, okay,” I said, confused.

Even Johnny seemed thrown off guard by this development. Kevin would tell me soon enough, so I let it go. We all ate, and the conversation got sidetracked to some new movie. Larry was quick to express how ridiculous it was in its depiction of federal agents. I hadn’t seen the film, so I listened. I relaxed into my chair, enjoying their debate while I chowed down. Johnny kept up with the dialogue, and even Kevin piped up from time to time. Agent Carlson and I were the only ones who had not seen it. When the food was almost all eaten, the chatter at the table began to die down.

Agent Carlson looked my way when Kevin and Johnny stood to clear the table. “Amanda, if you’re up to it, we’d like to brief you on some final details, and do a full run-through of the plans from tomorrow morning up until the end of the tour stop in Greece.”

“Of course,” I replied.

“Here,” Johnny said, reaching for my plate.

“Are you sure you don’t need help?” I had to ask. The kitchen was a mess.

“Positive. We didn’t hire you for this,” he said. “We can get these in the dishwasher and neaten up the kitchen. You go ahead and do your meeting.”

“Thanks.”

“And, the sooner you start, the sooner you can get some rest. I know you’re probably tired from the flight and limo ride over.”

He had a playful gleam in his eye as he subtly reminded me of what we did in the limo. I bit back a smile so I wouldn’t let on to the others.

“Yes. Good point. Thanks.”

With Kevin in the room, I also left that glaring breadcrumb alone. I knew exactly where Johnny was going with that comment about resting tonight. And it was not going to happen—I hoped. I followed the group out to their guest office, which by now, had sprawled into the living room, the unofficial conference room. Everyone rang out their thanks to Johnny as we left. I glanced back at them. He and Kevin were getting to work.

“There have been some new messages posted.” Agent Carlson said to get my attention. It worked.

“What? When was this?” I asked, sitting in the sofa beside Agent Carlson—or Fred, now that we were all on a first-name basis.

“There was one yesterday, and another early this morning. The perp is ramping up the number of posts, in response to promotional messages about the tour. They must have alerts to notify them of all posts on Johnny’s social media accounts. The firm that handles Johnny’s website and social media pointed it out. Every tour-related post gets a reply from the unsub, with an unusual or threatening message.”

“What did they say in these two new posts?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat.

Fred riffled through his work and handed me a couple of pages. They were full-size pictures of the two messages, time stamped, with handwritten notes in the margins.

One said ‘
Soon, you’ll be mine
’ and the other, ‘
Apart in life, together in death. Forever, my dear’.

I had no fear or anxiety about coming face to face with this mystery person, but chills ran up my spine at the thought of the stalker getting to Johnny before we could stop them.

“This is horrifying. What can we do?” I asked, handing the papers back quickly.

“Jenny and Lucas have been working to track the IP address of the postings. Unfortunately, it looks as though they are using a series of server relays and cloaked browsers whenever they log in. We’re getting hits from all over the country. There are ways around it, but it takes time. They will remain here and continue to work on tracking down that information. When they do, they’ll meet us at the following tour stop. For now, Larry and I will travel with you throughout on the tour.”

“Will that be enough? Just the three of us? I had planned for at least a six-person security detail to cover him off.”

“No. Kevin has his regular security detail joining us for the flight out. There’s six of them. We have another small contingency of agents stationed in Europe. They will meet us in Greece to investigate and protect Johnny.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s talk about the slight itinerary changes. Because you will be Johnny’s personal bodyguard, posing as his girlfriend, Kevin has arranged for a photoshoot tomorrow morning. It’s nothing too complex. We’ll get it done before the flight leaves.”

“Sorry. Can you explain?”

“They’ll photograph you with Johnny, and someone will leak it to the media outlets before the scheduled interview.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry. They will identify you with an alias and give you a believable backstory. By five o’clock tomorrow, everyone will know who you are.”

“Hold on a minute. They’re releasing my identity to the press…as someone else? That’s not what I signed up for. I’m running a legitimate business using my name and reputation from my MMA career.”

I was seething. It didn’t matter that my legitimate business was still only a business plan on paper, and this gig was step one out of the gate. They made this plan without consulting me. Now they wanted to stick me under an alias, put me out front as some vulnerable girlfriend, yet keep me in the line of fire? I was not impressed by this change in direction.

“I understand that. We won’t reveal your real name. We have a new name and identity for you. No one will track it back.”

“How can you assure me of that? You don’t know who might recognize me.”

My mind was racing through different worst-case scenarios. I thought this gig had the potential to make my career in private security. I never considered it could also be what drove it into the ground before I even started.

“We thought of that too,” Fred continued. “I’m sorry we’re dropping all this on you now. Kevin has arranged for a makeover team to come here tomorrow morning before the photo shoot. Expect them really early, as they will do ‘the works’, according to Kevin—a new hair color and cut, an entire wardrobe, and some makeup tricks to slightly alter your appearance. According to Kevin, once she’s done, only your close friends and family may recognize you. Most people won’t know the truth.”

“What do you think?” Jenny asked.

I looked at her. I didn’t answer, because on the inside, I wanted to scream. What I wanted and what I had to do had quickly become two very different sets of things. I wanted to have a fit, refuse to do it, and remind them this wasn’t what I had signed up for. I liked my hair and appearance. I didn’t want to do anything like change my look just for some four-week gig. Most of all, I didn’t want my face plastered in gossip rag magazines all over the western world as Johnny’s eye candy of the month.

In reality, I couldn’t say any of that, so I shrugged. “If that’s what you think is best.”

“Excellent,” Fred answered.

“Have you picked out my alias?”

“That’s in the works. Not to worry. It couldn’t be any more typecast than Roxy Punisher.”

I looked up at Fred, and he nodded. “Well, that should be all, to get you up to speed. We’ll go over the logistics of the concert itself when we’re at the hotel tomorrow night. Go ahead and get some sleep. It’s going to be an early morning and a long day of travel. Kevin mentioned the stylists will be ready for you at four tomorrow morning.”

Fuck my life.

“Goodnight, everyone,” I said before rising off the couch and excusing myself from the room. I trudged up the stairs, fighting back the urge to throw down with someone. I may have had the money Johnny gave me, but with each passing day, this assignment seemed like a new installment of
Mission Impossible
.

I
knew
something was wrong when I saw Amanda climb the stairs and race to her room with a grim expression on her face.

“Hey, hold on,” I called out to her, lengthening my stride to get there before she closed her bedroom door. “Is everything okay?”

“I… I think so. Did you know about this whole makeover plan?”

“What makeover? Who’s it for?”

“So you don’t know,” she said, looking away.

“What’s this about, Amanda?”

“They want to cut my hair, and change the way I look. It’s not just about giving me an alias for the media. They didn’t even consult me on it. I’m committed to this work, and there isn’t anything they could throw my way to make me want to back out. But this is going so far for just one month of work. I like my hair. And unlike most women, I may not be that attractive, but I like the way I look.”

“What the hell are you talking about? You’re gorgeous. And no, I didn’t know anything about it. Do you want me to talk to Kevin?”

“Don’t bother. He’ll probably fight you anyway. And the FBI is already on board. I must not be pretty enough to pass as your girlfriend, but whatever,” she scoffed.

“Come on, now. Don’t go saying that,” I told her, cupping her cheeks with both my hands. “I’m with you on this. I wouldn’t change a thing about you, Amanda. You’re…perfect.”

“Thanks, but I wouldn’t go that far. Anyway, I’m supposed to be up at four in the morning for the makeover specialists to work their magic on me. I should get to bed.”

“You know, I can think of a few things to get your mind off this,” I said, reaching a hand around her waist to pull her in closer. “Let me show you how amazing I think you are.”

“I don’t think—” she started, but I didn’t let her finish. I leaned down and kissed her sweet lips. At first, she relaxed into my chest, but shortly afterward, she pulled away from me.

“I can’t tonight, Johnny. I’m sorry.”

“Why not?”

“I’m not going to be very good company tonight.”

“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

“No. Sleep well, okay?” she said.

She stepped into her room and started to close the door behind her, but I stopped her. “I won’t try anything. Come on over to my room. It looks like you need a good listener. Or a nice massage.”

“Or both,” she said, smiling softly.

She was definitely at odds about whether to stay or go, because after another moment, she said, “You know what? I just can’t. Good night, Johnny.”

A
nearly sleepless
night and a three-thirty a.m. alarm to wake up made me a very cranky subject the next morning. The beauty team Kevin had rounded up to make me over was not going to enjoy my disposition. I forced a smile when I saw them. There was a makeup-artist-slash-diva, a hair stylist, someone from their wardrobe team, and another assistant who ended up giving me a manicure while my hair was being cut.

I paid little attention to all the chatter of the women as they worked away. My only focus was on getting as much coffee into my system as quickly as possible in order to could function. I wasn’t usually a coffee person, however this situation warranted an exception. The schedule for the rest of the day was going to be brutal. Coffee was the only thing that could get me through this.

The beauty squad refused to let me see myself as they worked. Still, I deciphered most of what was going on as they left clues. My hair fell past my shoulders and I caught a look at the tips. My blonde hair had been dyed. It was a much darker chestnut brown. The hair stylist also gave me side-swept bangs that brushed against my forehead. They had to be pinned back when the makeup artist did her thing on my face.

She chattered endlessly as she worked, telling me exactly what she was doing so I could, in theory, replicate the look on my own while doing the tour. The tips were simple. A little shadow somewhere on the side of my nostrils would make my nose look smaller. And a little extra on a certain diagonal of my cheek would give my jawline a sharper look and thin out my cheeks to give a longer appearance to the face. I nodded along and feigned interest. Wearing a lot of makeup was never my thing, so trying to memorize her instructions was pretty useless. My hands were not going to be skilled enough to do any of this on my own. And if I had to give it a shot while on tour, it would be disastrous. I just knew it.

When they finally passed me a mirror, I almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at me. I looked…well, that face looked like a Hollywood starlet. My eyes were dark, and they looked huge. That was thanks to some careful eyeliner and a set of fake lashes sprinkled in here and there among my natural lashes. I have no idea how they were able to make my grey-green eyes look aqua-blue. It was probably the eyeshadow. My hair was almost black, cut in layers around my face. And the bangs gave me a totally different look. To complete the transformation, they put on dark red lipstick.

“You look gorgeous! A perfect rock and roll princess!” the hairstylist said, fussing with my bangs some more.

I smiled. It wasn’t as horrible as I had expected. When I woke up that morning, the dread of having this done overtook me. Now, seeing the results, it was impressive. The new look made me feel sexier too...maybe a little mysterious. It could help me feel more in character once we hit the road.

“Johnny’s gonna shit himself!” the makeup lady chimed in.

Johnny. My heart thumped inside my chest at his name. I hadn’t seen him all night, in spite of my late-night moments of arousal. He had touched me one too many times, right up to that limo escape. Now, my body’s memory craved him. But my head prevailed last night, after practically barricading myself in my room. It was a small victory. And this morning, when I had emerged from my room, there was a glow of light under his door. I debated whether to go see him, to talk to him, and maybe clear the air, but the house buzzed with activity. I ended up fighting off the temptation to knock.

“You’re going to kill it at the photo shoot!”

I smiled at the three ladies, and thanked them before heading over to the wardrobe stylist who was waiting for me. All we needed to do was choose twenty outfits—seven to wear at the tour stops, and the rest for transfers to and from whatever air or ground transportation there was in between. And one for the photoshoot today. I rolled my eyes at the thought, but this woman was on point. The main floor room where she was set up had about a dozen rolling racks, with hundreds of clothing pieces they had managed to get inside sometime during the night.

She figured out my size in one thoughtful glance at me from head to toe. Ten minutes later, she had thirty or so combinations of dresses, blouses, blazers, pants, skirts, swimsuits, shoes, jewelry, and even a couple of scarves for me to try. I could barely believe it. An hour later, I was all set, and kept on one dress I would wear for the photo shoot.

Thinking back on the morning, it would have made more sense to fit me for all the clothes before applying makeup. A touch-up was in order. At least that’s what the makeup artist told me when she saw me again. Soon it was four of them all around me, fixing and adjusting.

As far as they all knew, I was Johnny’s girlfriend, and we were about to have our first couple’s photo shoot today. Kevin had handpicked this style team based on their reputation as major gossip queens around the Hollywood music and celebrity scene. His rationale was they would be more effective at spreading the word than any one media outlet, which would build credibility for our cover story. Based on the things I had learned from these four women in the last three hours, I had no doubt they could deliver in spades. I could probably kick off my private security business with twenty new A-list customers just from their unsolicited gossip-slash-intel.

As they went about packing up their mountain of supplies, I excused myself. I went to the kitchen to get a coffee refill and snag one of the donuts I had seen on an earlier trip. I was surprised—Johnny was sitting there, and was the only one in the kitchen. I had not expected him to come down this early He looked up at me when he heard my designer shoes clicking on the floor. I couldn’t help but laugh at the expression on face.