Unwritten Rules (Phoenix, Ltd. Book 1) Read online

“All here to work,” Madelyn corrected sternly. “You’d better sit down and get ready. The line is starting to form.”

  Standing behind Carter’s left shoulder handing him books while he chatted and signed, she thought back to the first signing at Undercovers in Washington. She’d had so much less to worry about then. The venue was more manageable, the crowd excited yet orderly, and no one had tried to kill him yet.

  Now, even with backup, she remained on high alert every second. An attack could come from anywhere in the huge store. Carter seemed to be feeling the tension as well because while he was cordial, he didn’t take the time to engage the individual readers the way he had in Washington.

  Zoë Hargrove’s voice squawked in Madelyn’s earpiece. “I’ve got one coming your way fast. Short, blond, late twenties, wearing blue jeans and a striped T-shirt. He’s carrying a canvas tote bag. Recommend you intercept.”

  “Thanks. Follow him. Casey, did you get that?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “Take my position.”

  Casey rounded the corner of the CD aisle carrying a cardboard box. She stopped behind Carter and pretended to be an employee distracted from the routine of her day by the long line of people clutching books. Madelyn slipped off in search of Zoë and the potential threat.

  She spotted the young man running through sporting goods with her agent in full pursuit. She stepped out in front of him and grabbed his arm. “Where are you going in such a hurry?”

  The man tried to jerk his arm free, but Madelyn held tight. “Who are you?” His voice rose with alarm.

  “Security.”

  “I haven’t stolen anything. You’ve got to let me go. I’m going to be late.” Beads of sweat dappled his forehead, and dark rings stained his shirt under his arms.

  “Do you mind showing me what’s in the bag?”

  He held it open. “It’s just books, but they’re mine. I didn’t steal them.”

  She reached in and pulled out a copy of one of Carter’s old Westerns.

  “I brought them for Mr. Devlin to sign. I never thought I’d be able to meet him. But I’ve only got ten minutes. I’m on my break from the Wiener Hut next door. If I’m not back by two o’clock, I’ll lose my job.”

  A quick check of the bag produced nothing more threatening than a ball point pen. She handed it back to him. “Come with me, and I’ll make sure you get to meet Mr. Devlin and make it back to work on time. Zoë, you can return to your post.”

  “Right, Boss.”

  Madelyn rolled her eyes and took the young man by the arm and marched him to Carter’s table. “I’d like you to meet one of your biggest fans. I promised him you would sign his books so he could get back to work at the Wiener Hut by two.”

  The middle-aged woman at the head of the line started to sputter, but Carter flashed his most devilish grin. “Let me take care of this fellow then I’ll have plenty of time to spend with you, undisturbed.”

  The woman blushed furiously and giggled like a schoolgirl.

  Three hours later, the books were gone and the people with them. Carter slumped in his chair and closed his eyes.

  Madelyn wondered if the faint greenish cast to his skin was from the fluorescent lights overhead or pain in his shoulder. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Drugs. I need drugs.”

  “The bottle is in my purse. I’ll get you some water.”

  “Don’t need it. Just hand them over.” When he extended his hand, she dropped two big white pills in his palm. He tossed them back and swallowed them dry.

  “We need to get you back to the hotel right away.”

  “I won’t argue with that.”

  “Oh, no. We can’t go yet,” Herman protested. “I’ve got a radio interview scheduled in a few minutes.”

  Madelyn turned with a frown. “I can’t allow you to drag Carter to some radio station for an interview. Can’t you see what condition he’s in? I shouldn’t have let him come to this signing.”

  “But we don’t have to go far. The radio station is doing one of their live broadcasts from the car dealership across the street this afternoon. I’ve arranged for the interview to be done there.”

  Carter glanced at Madelyn with a question in his eyes.

  “It’s up to you, but if I were you, I’d say no.”

  He heaved a sigh and massaged his forehead with his thumb and forefinger.

  “If you cancel on these media types at the last minute, they’ll badmouth you on the air forever,” Herman warned.

  Carter dragged himself from his chair and stood. “All right, I’ll do it, but it better be short.”

  Herman rewarded him with a cheery smile. “Look on the bright side. At least you don’t have to wear makeup for radio.”

  Carter groaned.

  Madelyn pulled Zoë and Casey aside for a quick conversation then they headed for the exit. “They’ll pick us up in front in a couple of minutes and drop us and the car across the street before returning to the hotel.” She turned to Herman. “Thank you for authorizing the additional expense. It helped to have backup in a venue like this.”

  “Happy to do it. We want to keep our star safe.” The little man beamed.

  Carter closed his eyes, and a muscle flexed in his jaw. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  It was a good thing the interview was for radio, not television. No amount of makeup could have disguised his pallor or the waves of pain that washed across his features. Madelyn took his arm and glared at Herman. “We’ll make it as quick as we can, won’t we?”

  He bobbed his chin. “Absolutely.”

  The radio DJ was an overweight, middle-aged cowboy-type who introduced the station’s popular country songs in a melodic baritone. He was pleasant enough but didn’t know Carter from Edgar Allen Poe and had no idea what the book was about. The interview consisted of a list of questions someone at the station had prepared. After a few inane questions, Madelyn tuned him out and concentrated on the customers milling around the showroom. A few minutes later, something the host said caught her attention.

  “So Mr. Devlin, I understand you’re an old friend of Senator Sam Barnett and have been staying at his house.”

  Carter looked wary. “The senator and I served together in the Army several years ago.”

  “But you have been a guest at Belle Rive, haven’t you?”

  “For one night, yes.”

  “Is it true there was an attempt on your life at the senator’s ranch yesterday?”

  Madelyn sucked in a breath. How did he know about that? She would be surprised if the doctor or someone in the sheriff’s office had leaked it to the press. It was likely Sam paid Dr. Kitteridge a princely sum to keep house calls to the ranch strictly confidential, and his relationship with the sheriff seemed pretty chummy too. However, he was a politician, and politicians had enemies and rivals.

  Carter shifted in his seat but kept his cool. “Where did you hear a story like that?”

  The disc jockey shrugged and raised the page with the typed questions but didn’t miss a beat. “We have our sources, Mr. Devlin. So is it true?”

  “A minor hunting accident, nothing more. As you can see, I’m fine.”

  “Who caused the accident?”

  “I have no idea, and it’s nothing, really. Now did you have any more questions about the book?”

  The man scanned his paper. “Looks like that’ll about do it. Thank you for stopping by today to talk to us. Folks, that was Carter Devlin, author of a new thriller and hunting buddy of our own Senator Sam Barnett.” He started another song and removed his headphones.

  “Where did you get those questions?” Madelyn asked.

  “Somebody at the station sent them over.”

  Carter thrust out his hand, and the DJ shook it. “Thank you for having me as a guest.”

  “Good luck with your book,” the DJ called with a wave as they left the showroom.

  She had just clicked her seatbelt into place when Herman piped up from the b
ackseat. “I gave the interview questions to the station. Was there a problem?”

  She’d suspected as much. “Yes, there’s a problem. The senator might not appreciate the information about the accident being made public.” She didn’t mention there might be other reasons for keeping it quiet.

  “Oh, dear. I didn’t think of that. It seemed like a great opportunity to pump up the hype.”

  “Herman, I know you want to sell books, but you’ve got to think these things through. This isn’t your average tour, and Carter isn’t your average author. You promised to run every publicity event by me.”

  “But—”

  “Every single one. Do you understand? There can be implications you don’t foresee.”

  Herman slumped in his seat. “I understand.”

  She hoped he did but didn’t want to bet Carter’s life on it.

  Back at the hotel, they split up and headed for their rooms. As soon as she got Carter settled, Madelyn called Risa to check on the status of a few other jobs, then kicked off her shoes and stretched out on the bed. But she couldn’t rest. Sizzles of energy raced through her tight muscles. She couldn’t face the prospect of being cooped up in the hotel room until tomorrow. She needed to get out, to walk around and clear her head.

  Carter might make light of his injury, but to her the arrow represented more than his pain. It represented failure. She’d failed him. He was her responsibility, and he’d been injured on her watch.

  And then there was the kiss. She shouldn’t think about it, couldn’t think about it. But every time she looked at him, she felt his mouth on hers, as if her lips had a memory of their own. She told herself the kiss meant nothing, but her lips weren’t buying the story.

  She spotted a glossy tourist magazine on the bedside table, picked it up, and thumbed through the pages advertising trendy restaurants, jewelry stores, and attractions. She stopped at a full page ad for the ritziest department store in Dallas. The spiky-haired, raccoon-eyed model would frighten children, but the ad offered a possible antidote to her current mood.

  Zoë always claimed shopping was the perfect pick-me-up, and Madelyn could use picking up. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that she needed to go shopping. She was suddenly sick of every piece of clothing she owned.

  But she couldn’t leave Carter unprotected even if he was sleeping, so she called Zoë’s room and asked her to take over guard duty for a few hours.

  Armed with the address and directions from the doorman, Madelyn set out in search of the store. As soon as she set foot on the sidewalk, the shimmering Texas heat sucked the air from her lungs. The doorman tried to persuade her to let him whistle up a taxi, but riding in a taxi wouldn’t help her restlessness, so she thanked him and started walking. After a few blocks, she had second thoughts.

  The store wasn’t far, but by the time she arrived she had wilted into a lifeless black puddle. Whatever possessed Bedouin women to wear black in the desert? The first thing she bought was going to be white and sleeveless.

  When she stepped through the door, a blast of frigid air slapped her in the face. She sucked it in and headed straight for a drinking fountain. The water was blissfully cold. As her body temperature dropped, she began to take in the details of her surroundings. All around her glitz and glamour reigned supreme. Everything sparkled, making her feel small, dowdy, and completely alien. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

  “May I help you find something, ma’am?”

  Startled, she turned to face a smiling young woman in a chic pinstriped suit.

  “Um...yes. I need something for work, something light.”

  The woman grinned. “The heat can really get to you, can’t it? I know just the thing.”

  She conducted Madelyn to the separates department, where she put together several ensembles of linen and silk slacks and blouses in brilliant fall colors. Madelyn eyed the bright array with deep skepticism. She couldn’t begin to imagine herself in purple or orange.

  “You’ll look great,” the saleswoman assured her. “Jewel tones and bright primary colors will be perfect with your coloring.”

  Standing barefoot in the dressing room, she stared in amazement at her image in the full length mirror. The yellow silk blouse was the color of autumn chrysanthemums and contrasted dramatically with her black hair. For further contrast, the woman had pulled dark purple slacks and a wide bronze leather belt with an elaborate jeweled buckle. The overall effect was stunning. The question was—stunning good or stunning bad?

  After checking herself from every angle in the multiple mirrors, she decided the purple pants were just too much, but she adored the yellow blouse. The sunny color lifted her spirits, and in ancient China yellow was the color of royalty. She did look a bit like a princess, albeit a modern one. It wouldn’t help her blend into the background while working, but maybe that was the point. She also chose a pair of brown linen slacks and a sleeveless ivory top.

  The saleswoman ran her credit card through the reader and wrapped her purchases in tissue paper. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Madelyn ran down the list of remaining events in her mind and matched them to the items in her suitcase. She had planned to wear a simple black dress for the cocktail cruise on San Francisco Bay tomorrow evening, but now it seemed inadequate. She craved something bolder to boost her confidence.

  Why did Herman have to choose the bay, of all places? After nearly drowning in the lake last year, the prospect of facing open water again filled her with sickening dread. A pithy Chinese curse slipped from her lips. Then she closed her eyes and heard Master Wu’s voice ringing in her ears. You’re stronger than that. Find a way to make your fear your friend.

  She opened her eyes. “I could use a new dress, something for a cocktail party.”

  The saleswoman gave her a conspiratorial smile. “I know the perfect thing.”

  She escorted Madelyn to the dress department, paused to consider her again from head to toe, then headed toward a rack of short dresses and pulled one out with a flourish. “This is it.”

  The dress was ruby red, a slim sheath with a short skirt and extra fitted section around the torso. The bateau neckline topped capped sleeves, and a large flat bow draped across one shoulder. It was demure, yet screamed the promise of sex like a siren.

  “Here, try it. I can’t wait to see it on you.” The saleswoman handed Madelyn the dress.

  She hadn’t worn red since she was a little girl. Red wasn’t subtle. Red was out there for everyone to see. Red was the color of happiness and joy.

  She slipped into the dress, and as she slid the zipper up, the soft silk clung to the curves of her body.

  “How does it look?” the saleswoman called from outside the dressing room.

  She stared at the reflection in the mirror. It couldn’t be her. This woman was glamorous, saucy, and hot. She was none of those things. Never had been. Never believed she could be. She opened the door.

  “I knew it! You’ll knock ’em dead. You have to get this dress.”

  Madelyn stepped back into the dressing room for another look in the mirror. The longer she stared at her reflection, the stronger the temptation grew. She might not be that woman yet, but some hidden part of her wanted to be. She wanted Carter to see her like this. She had to have this dress.

  “I’ll take it.”

  “Of course you will. Now, do you have the right shoes?”

  What were the right shoes for a dress like this? She wished Zoë were here. Zoë would know.

  “Don’t worry,” the woman said, taking the dress to ring it up. “We’ll find the perfect pair.”

  With the dress on a hanger and protected by a plastic bag, they headed for the shoe department. Madelyn had never seen anything like it. Shoes of every imaginable style and color from decorative little flats in fascinating fabrics to platforms that would cripple the most experienced hooker—if she could afford them. The stunning prices made her head spin.

 
“How about these? They would be perfect, and they’re on sale.”

  The woman dangled a pair of black satin pumps with narrow straps criss-crossing the instep, accented by a jaunty bow. A smooth swath of black satin cupped the heel. They were spectacular, but Madelyn had serious doubts she would be able to stand in them.

  “Just try them on.”

  She did and was surprised. Not by the comfort—they felt even worse than she’d feared—but they looked fabulous. The tall, narrow heels added several inches to her height and made her legs appear long and sleek. She might not be able to move, but she’d look devastating standing still.

  “Try walking.”

  She did, and it wasn’t pretty.

  “You just need a little practice.”

  She doubted any amount of practice would enable her to walk properly, but she had to have the shoes. It was irrational, and she knew it. Even the sale price was insane. She might never wear them out of her bedroom, but she had to have them. They made her feel sexy, feminine, and tall. Every woman needed to feel like that sometime. Besides, in those shoes she might even come up to Carter’s chin.

  Loaded with her purchases, she stood on the sidewalk outside the store in the still-blazing heat and made one more extravagant decision. She hailed a cab.

  ****

  By the next morning, Carter’s wound looked better. He stood with his back to the mirror and peered over his shoulder. The hole had started to scab over. He rotated his left arm experimentally and gritted his teeth at the resulting pain. The arrow might not have hit anything vital, but whatever it had hit was plenty unhappy.

  He’d taken the pain pills yesterday and last night to get through the worst but planned to cut back today. He hated feeling fuzzy. It was like fighting his way through a fog that kept closing in no matter how hard he pushed back.

  Today they were flying to Monterey and driving to some exclusive inn and spa in Big Sur where Herman had arranged a meeting with a well-known Hollywood producer to talk about the movie rights to The Man Behind the Curtain. The publicist insisted Carter had outgrown the TV movie-of-the-week treatment and was ready for the big time. He even talked about signing Matt Damon to play the lead.