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  “Did you hear what happened yesterday?” Charles asked.

  Seth nodded soberly. “She’s had a mob of reporters and photographers hounding her ever since the news broke about her being your star witness against Sterling McClarin. A high-profile young movie star testifying in a lurid trial involving the forty-year-old charismatic leader of a modern day ‘religion’ raping the fourteen-year-old daughter of two of his followers? It’s got all the makings of a media frenzy. Gia can’t go into hiding because she began filming this week on a blockbuster Joshua Cabot movie. Yesterday, a couple of overeager members of the press drove her car off the road.”

  Charles nodded grimly.

  “Is she okay?” Seth asked quietly.

  “Yeah. Her driver was a little beat up, but Gia wasn’t hurt physically. Whether it got to her mentally is another matter. She’s been through a lot in the past few months. I’m glad you’ve been following the case. Saves me the effort of explaining the background.”

  Seth quirked his brows in sarcastic amusement. “Everybody in the country is following it. This thing is bigger than the O.J. Simpson spectacle. It’s being shoved down our throat by the media everywhere we turn. You’d have to live in a hole not to know about the New Temple and Sterling McClarin and how Hollywood’s sweetheart is taking part in his downfall.”

  Charles nodded. “Therein lies the problem. Everybody in the country is following it. What’s worse, my boss is concerned that an ‘accident’ like what occurred yesterday could potentially be more than what it seems.”

  Seth sat forward. “You suspect Gia Harris was run off the road intentionally?”

  “We don’t have any proof of that. But the New Temple has some avid followers and a long reach,” he said, referring to McClarin’s pseudoreligious organization.

  Seth scowled. Didn’t he know it?

  “Can’t you get Harris into protective custody or something?” Seth asked.

  “She has police protection, something she’s really starting to resent now that she started shooting a film. She’s not really a candidate for the U.S. Marshall’s Witness Security Program. There isn’t any kind of tangible threat to her life. Even if she were a candidate, she’d never agree to leaving her career and starting over again in Boise, Idaho, or Amarillo, Texas.”

  “And give up all her fame and fortune?” Seth asked with grim amusement. “Not likely.”

  “Exactly. And Sterling McClarin is no godfather of organized crime or a gangbanger. More like a spider. He’s not going to whack a witness, especially when it’s someone as high profile as Gia Harris, and the world has both of them under a microscope right now. He knows as well as anyone how bad that’d make him look. Sterling McClarin and the New Temple have a lot of tentacles in the show business community, though. A disturbing amount. The DA—and the FBI on a more-removed level—is more concerned about one of McClarin’s minions ‘influencing’ our witness in some way to change her testimony than actually eliminating her altogether.”

  “Either that, or engineer some scenario to make Gia look bad in the public eye,” Seth said.

  “You’ve got it. You probably know that circumstances being what they are, there were huge challenges for jury selection. Judge Halloran has already selected a jury and alternates, although the trial probably won’t begin for three to five weeks. The jury has repeatedly been instructed by Halloran about avoiding media and any queries about the case, but with a furor this loud, we’re worried a juror would have to be a hermit not to be influenced.”

  “It seems to me McClarin and his followers were hard at work trying to defame Gia before jury selection,” Seth said with a sharp look, referring to a recent rumor that had been circulated in the tabloids about Gia having a drug problem. It’d died out quickly enough.

  “You caught that, huh?”

  Seth nodded. “There’s no truth to the rumors, right?” he asked. He somehow doubted that fresh, beautiful girl could ever succumb to drug addiction, but who knew? Hollywood was a cruel, ruthless place to exist. Many couldn’t survive it.

  “No. We’ve been fortunate in that. Harris has a squeaky-clean record. Even the smallest smudge on it might have been fuel for the defense team.”

  Seth took a sip of water, considering. “McClarin is a spider. A big, nasty, dangerous one,” Seth stated unequivocally. He noticed Charles’s upraised brows at his venom. “One of McClarin’s ‘knights’ tried to recruit Joy’s husband.”

  “Everett Hughes?” Charles asked, looking startled by the news. Seth nodded, distractedly studying his water glass.

  Joy was his niece, but she was more like his younger sister. They were much closer in age than most uncles and nieces. For years, they’d been the only family each other had. Joy had married superstar Everett Hughes almost a year ago. Seth had never made it a secret that he thought it wise to avoid actors in the romantic arena, especially ones of Everett Hughes’s caliber. He hadn’t hesitated to warn Joy of the potential pitfalls. Movie stars were a different breed from everyday humanity, in his considerable experience. Fortunately, Everett was one in a million—a megastar with his feet planted firmly on the ground and a family-and-friends structure that had insulated him from the pitfalls of narcissism and sycophantic followers. It had been an unlikely match, and one that Seth hadn’t approved of initially. He couldn’t complain at the end result though. Joy was euphorically happy with Everett, and if Joy was happy, Seth was. Still, he’d been personally offended at even the slightest chance of the shadow of the New Temple darkening Joy’s world.

  Not that it had ever been a remote possibility, Everett had reminded him repeatedly with exacerbated, pointed irony.

  Still, neither Joy nor Everett suspected the subtly dangerous threat a cult like the New Temple represented. Not like Seth did.

  Gia Harris wasn’t family. She was a far cry from it. Seth barely knew her, aside from being inexplicably powerfully attracted to her one night years ago. He didn’t want to be concerned for Gia like he had been for Joy.

  But he was.

  “Everett didn’t realize he was dealing with a New Temple higher-up, until he was offered instant exclusive entry into the inner secrets of the Golden Realm . . . that fantasyland every initiate is brainwashed into craving like it’s crack,” Seth added derisively.

  “Hughes would be the perfect recruitment idol. Scary to consider it ever happening, actually. Good thing Hughes has a head on his shoulders and recognized what was going on.”

  “The DA is right to worry about your witness. And not just because of the overlap of the God complex and star complex. McClarin might be subtler than having her fitted for cement shoes, but he’d likely find some way to influence either her or the public. Bribes. Blackmail. A setup for bad publicity. Most celebrities aren’t as impervious as my nephew-in-law. Trust me on that.”

  “So you’ll help us?” Charles asked quietly.

  Seth hesitated. “Like before . . . on the Mianaco case?” Mianaco was easily recognized from the press surrounding his trial, but he was no Gia Harris. It would be a challenge to disguise one of the most recognizable faces in the country.

  It was a face he’d certainly never forget.

  “You’re getting the gist of it,” Charles said with a grin.

  Seth had not only helped out Charles and Madeline in the past but also consulted and assisted the FBI. Many of his friends and coworkers in Army intelligence had gone into legal, criminal investigation and intelligence-related work after leaving the Army. Surgical alteration and disguise were being used more and more in sticky proceedings, given the pervasiveness of camera phones, social media and surveillance equipment on almost every corner. It was becoming increasingly difficult for a marked man or woman to merely disappear from one location and reappear unnoticed in another.

  Seth was no longer a government employee, but given his unique skill set and background in intelligence, people h
e knew who worked in investigative and legal capacities sometimes asked for his expert help. Usually a consultation and conference with the organization’s disguise expert was all that was required, but on a few notable occasions, Seth had been more deeply involved.

  “Things are getting way too hot for Gia to stay in L.A. and go on her merry way,” Charles said. “The trial won’t begin for several weeks, at the earliest. Until then, we want her to fall off the map. In order to make Gia Harris disappear, though, we need you.”

  “What about the movie she’s doing?”

  Charles grunted softly and shifted in his chair. “Luckily, Madeline has a far reach in the show business community. She was a sorority sister with Joshua Cabot’s wife, and they still socialize on occasion. She’s been in conference with Cabot, who has opened talks with United Studio. They’ve agreed to put off production of Interlude until Gia has gotten through the bulk of her testimony.”

  Seth whistled softly under his breath. “That took some major power-brokering.”

  “They agreed to put it off, but only for a short period of time. Certainly not much longer than it takes to shoot the scenes Gia isn’t in.”

  Still, Seth was too familiar with the movie industry not to realize what a sacrifice even a “short period of time” was. If anything, it indicated how irreplaceable they thought Gia was for the leading role.

  That part didn’t surprise him. He clearly saw her face in his mind’s eye—her light. She’d fascinated him from the start. Apparently, millions of people agreed with him. They couldn’t get enough of her face on the big screen.

  And Gia couldn’t get enough of the high of giving it to them. She’d been working almost nonstop ever since she came to Hollywood two years ago.

  “Well? Will you help us, Seth?” Charles asked.

  Seth frowned, unwilling to commit to something so . . .

  Big.

  “I thought it was par for the course that Hollywood highfliers suddenly had a problem with their memory when it came to testifying about anything they saw in a case that could compromise their career . . . or their life. Why’s Gia doing this?”

  “She is very ambitious, so I can’t really say for sure. She personally knew McClarin’s victim, so she likely relates. The victim’s mother is her hairdresser, and Gia would go to their private residence to have her hair done. That’s when she witnessed the rape. Gia’s a relative newcomer, especially given her current status on the Hollywood A-list. She’s only twenty-four years old. Maybe she hasn’t absorbed some of the nastier habits of Hollywood yet. Truth be told, I’d be sorry to see the day that happens . . . if it does ever occur,” Charles mused.

  A flash of familiar anger went through Seth, but he quickly repressed it. He’d thought Gia was twenty-five two years ago, that night they slept together. He’d thought that because Gia had made him think that. The day after she’d flown back to New York, he’d learned the truth. Liza, his intern, had innocently revealed that Gia had misled him. Apparently, Gia was somewhat of a prodigy. She’d skipped several grades in elementary and high school. Yes, she’d graduated from college at the same time as Liza, but she was nearly three years younger. She’d been twenty-two, not twenty-five, on that night he’d let his guard down and made love to her like a man possessed.

  Did two or three years really make all that much difference?

  To Seth it did. He didn’t like being lied to. He didn’t know which of Gia’s lies of omission bothered him more—the fact that she’d misled him about her age or the fact that she belonged to the profession he routinely avoided when it came to sex, relationships and romance. Yes, she’d worked on Broadway at the time, and not in films, but she was already being sought out for the title role in Glory Girl, her film debut. He had good reason to believe she had omitted the truth about her profession on purpose.

  Seth didn’t do actresses. And most people who worked with him, including Gia’s friend Liza, knew that.

  “If she really is that ambitious, maybe she doesn’t regret all the press. It wouldn’t be the first time in history an actress thrived on publicity,” Seth said.

  “She can’t have wanted what happened to her and her driver yesterday, being run off the road like that . . . Seth?” Charles prodded, and Seth realized he’d become lost in his thoughts. “We could really use you on this.”

  “I don’t think it’s a good idea, Charles.” He nodded toward the door and the makeup room. “You saw what I’m dealing with out there.”

  “You said on the phone this is the final day for shooting this movie,” Charles said. Seth rolled his eyes, both resigned and frustrated, he’d revealed that tidbit of information before he knew exactly what Charles wanted.

  Charles chuckled, knowing he’d caught him out. “Will you just meet us for a consultation at least? Madeline really wants you,” he persisted, leaning across the desk and handing Seth a card. Seth glanced stonily at the card with the Los Angeles County district attorney’s address on it. “Tomorrow at noon?”

  “Does Gia Harris know what you’re planning?” Seth asked pointedly.

  Charles shook his head. “No, and she’s not going to like it when we tell her. Especially the part about Madeline maneuvering to have her shooting postponed. But given what happened yesterday, we’ve got to convince her that it’s not feasible—or safe—for her to continue as if everything is normal. A lot is hanging on Gia’s testimony, not only for us, but for the feds’ future case.”

  Seth didn’t want to see Gia Harris again.

  He did. Too much. Which is precisely why he shouldn’t.

  But dammit, this meeting with Charles had started alarms blaring in his head. Yes, he’d rather avoid Gia.

  But he didn’t want to see her hurt or blackmailed either.

  Or dead.

  How responsible and guilty would he feel if he learned something had happened to her and he could have helped prevent it?

  He frowned and stood. “I have a really bad feeling I’m going to regret this,” he informed Charles pointedly as he shoved the card into his jeans.

  * * *

  Gia gave a little sigh of relief when the deputy du jour stopped following her ten feet away from the conference room door. She was starting to feel like she’d acquired a permanent shadow. It was damn disconcerting.

  God curse narcissistic wack jobs for interfering with my life.

  The bitter thought and a dozen similar ones flew through Gia’s head as she walked across the threshold of the conference room attached to Madeline’s office. She thought she’d become accustomed to facing off with lawyers and judges and the formidable Los Angeles County district attorney. But there were two men sitting at the oval conference table tonight that sent a shock through her.

  Shit.

  “Joshua.” She said the director’s name numbly, pausing at the entry to the room. “Dan . . . uh, Mr. Arden,” she amended, blushing. She’d met the superpowerful movie producer and United Studio executive twice, but his silver-gray full head of hair and the aura of prestige, power and money that surrounded him seemed to discourage first-name usage.

  What were the director and executive producer of her next movie doing here, in Madeline’s offices? Was she in trouble for causing an increase in security, on and around the film set all this week?

  Joshua Cabot stood at her entrance, along with Arden, the assistant DA Charles Trew, and an FBI agent she’d met briefly, called Alex Demonico. Gia knew the FBI wasn’t officially involved in the state’s case against Sterling McClarin, but it had been made clear to her that a lot was riding on the success of the state’s prosecution for a potential future federal indictment.

  Madeline Harrington, the Los Angeles County DA, remained seated, although she gave Gia a warm smile. Gia had come to learn that Madeline stood up for no one but her presiding judge.

  “We thought it would be helpful to have Joshua and Dan
here to discuss your future plans,” Charles Trew said enigmatically.

  “I don’t understand,” Gia said, putting her purse down in an empty chair and sitting at the same time everyone else did. She looked at Madeline Harrington bemusedly. She’d learned in the past months that Madeline was sharp as a honed knife and just as dangerous, should the occasion arise, but also surprisingly motherly and compassionate at times.

  “After what happened yesterday,” Madeline said gently, “you must realize things can’t go on like this. The media shitstorm is only going to get worse the closer we get to the trial.”

  “What do you mean things can’t go on?” Gia asked warily, glancing at a compassionate-looking Joshua Cabot and a stony-faced Dan Arden. “My life can’t go on? My job? I don’t understand. Why are you here, Joshua?”

  Joshua Cabot had a nice face. She’d thought so from the first time she’d met him. Yes, she’d been influenced by his brilliance and reputation as a director, but his warm, fond expression when he’d spoken about his four daughters had utterly convinced Gia that she would be working with a decent man. Dan Arden, in comparison to Joshua, looked far less compassionate. His expression had settled into one of resigned annoyance.

  “Maddie has a point, Gia,” Joshua said. Gia raised her eyebrows at the familiar usage of the district attorney’s name. She gave Madeline a pointed, disbelieving glance.

  “Joshua and I go way back,” Madeline admitted to Gia with a smile at the director.

  “So that gives you the right to plot with him about my life behind my back?” Gia asked incredulously.

  “Retract the claws, dear,” Madeline said without any heat. “I’m thinking about your health and well-being.”

  “You’re thinking about getting my testimony without any major hitches,” Gia corrected.

  Madeline smiled. “You’re right. Your health and well-being relate directly to the health and well-being of my case, though. And Alex’s too, indirectly,” she said, glancing at the FBI agent, who nodded. “But believe it or not, I’d rather you remained in one piece for personal reasons as well. I’m busy enough as it is without having to deal with unwanted guilt if something happens to you because of this media circus,” she said wearily. She noticed Gia’s stubborn expression. “I know I told you at the start of all this that I’d try to make this as painless as possible for you. But circumstances alter all the time, Gia. We have to be flexible, given the changing atmosphere.”