The Director Gets a Grip Read online

  Bianca went out to the lobby and asked Cindy if she knew where Rachel was, but the receptionist hadn’t seen her since lunch, either.

  Worried, Bianca said, “I hope she hasn’t gotten food poisoning again.”

  Blake asked, “Did you ever have the food tested?”

  She motioned him to keep his voice down and to follow her. She instructed the other men to search the building and led Blake toward a door in the back of the building. When he followed her out to the back, she said, “We haven’t received the report back yet. I’m expecting it within the next couple of days.”

  It was cold outside, but at least it was a sunny day with no snow on the ground.

  She caught her toe on a rock and stumbled a couple of steps. Blake caught her arm and helped her catch her balance. “Thanks,” she said.

  She walked toward the cluster of actor trailers. “I wonder if she’s napping or if she just lost track of time. But that doesn’t sound like Rachel. She’s not a diva.”

  “You’re worried about her.”

  “Yes.”

  She stepped up the three stairs, lightly holding the railing, and knocked loudly.

  No one answered.

  A moment later, Blake pounded on the door.

  “That ought to let her know we’re here,” she said wryly.

  But there was still no answer.

  Blake shrugged. “Where else do you suggest we look?”

  Bianca held up a hand. “Wait. Give me a minute.”

  She closed her eyes and sent her senses out around her. It only took seconds before she knew Rachel was inside the trailer. But why wasn’t she answering? “She’s inside.”

  Blake turned the doorknob. “It’s locked.”

  “I’ll call for maintenance.” She reached into her pocket, and spotted two assistants hurrying their way.

  Blake shook his head and pulled out what looked like a business card.

  “What are you doing?”

  He stuck the card into the small gap of the door above the doorknob.

  Bianca looked at him. “Do I want to know where you learned that trick?”

  He shot her a knee-weakening grin. “No, ma’am.”

  She shrugged and waited until she heard a click. Then he turned the doorknob and opened the door.

  “Apparently I need to get deadbolts on these trailers to keep out the less scrupulous.”

  “Good idea, Ms. Rossi.” He stepped inside Rachel’s trailer. “You never know what disreputable characters you might have working on the lot.”

  Bianca followed him into the trailer.

  Blake stopped suddenly and she plowed into him. “Oof.”

  Then he stepped forward quickly. “We have to get her untied.”

  “What?”

  And then she saw for herself — Rachel was tied to a chair that was lying on its back in the middle of the small kitchen area. “Rachel!”

  Behind her, others stepped inside. Bianca turned back. “Get Dr. Johnson.”

  The man nodded and left the trailer. Others behind him gasped when they saw.

  “Shut the door. Let’s at least keep her warm. Only let the doctor in.”

  The door shut and she turned back to the others.

  Blake had a pocket knife out and was cutting through the thin rope holding her to the chair.

  Bianca took a knife out of a drawer and joined him. Her hand was trembling.

  Rachel’s eyes were wide and scared and tears ran down her cheeks.

  “Be careful,” he said when he noticed Bianca trembling. “Why don’t you gently take the tape off her mouth and let me handle the cutting.”

  “All right.” She set the knife back down and turned to Rachel. Kneeling, she took hold of the edge of duct tape. With a grimace, she said, “I’m sorry if this hurts, Rachel,” and started to work it loose, as slowly as she could. By the time she had pulled it completely off, Blake had cut through the rope holding each leg and one arm and was working on the last one.

  He was turning out to be a handy man to have around in an emergency.

  The trailer door opened and Dr. Johnson hurried in.

  “You got here fast,” Bianca noted.

  “I was getting ready to get on the freeway when I was called, and it was a quick shot over here from Mane Street.” He looked at Rachel. “What happened?”

  “Someone tied her up.”

  The three of them helped Rachel up off the floor. She was dressed in her underwear and shivering. Bianca found a fluffy robe for her on the hook on the bathroom door and helped her into it, then covered her with a blanket, while the doctor examined her.

  Blake stood, his face hard, as he closed his knife. He returned the one she’d taken from the drawer to its place, then picked up pieces of rope and set them on the counter before he righted the chair.

  Gently, Bianca asked Rachel, “Who did this to you?”

  Rachel cautiously stretched her head from side to side. “I don’t know. Whoever it was came in without me hearing them, and hit me over the head, and then put something smelly to my face. When I came to, I was tied up.”

  Stunned and scared, Bianca wrapped her arms around herself. When Blake noticed, he came over and wrapped his arm around her, pulling her into the comfort of his embrace. “It’s going to be okay,” he murmured. “We’ll find out who’s doing this.”

  It was too horrible to contemplate, but it was real. “You were right. Someone is deliberately sabotaging the film.”

  “You need to call the police.”

  She shook her head. “I’ll bump up security. Place more cameras. We can’t afford the publicity of a saboteur.”

  “We can’t afford to let someone get hurt, either, because you didn’t call them.”

  “I want to wait. One day. I need to process this. Then I’ll call the sheriff.”

  He tightened his arms around her. “This is your set. Do I have permission to ask people to do things I think would make the set and the people on it safer?”

  She paused a long moment. Did she trust him to do that for her? Finally, she whispered, “Yes.”

  Worried, Blake watched the doctor examine a bruised and shaken Rachel. He still had his arms around Bianca, comforting her. She was more rattled than he’d ever seen her, which was understandable.

  What else could go wrong on this set? He didn’t know, but someone was obviously going to try something else. He no longer had any doubts as to that.

  They were dealing with a saboteur and they still had nearly three weeks of shooting left. Plenty of time for someone to cause more problems.

  How far would this guy take it? Or woman, he supposed, though this felt more like a guy thing, for some reason. Would he hurt someone?

  Of course he would. Blake feared he might have even been behind the food poisoning of the entire group — which meant it could have been something added to look like food poisoning.

  What could he do? What could the saboteur do? What would they do next? Blake didn’t have any answers, so he’d take precautions as he thought of them.

  First off, he’d ask Daniel, the cinematographer, to make extra backups of each day’s filming without telling anyone, to avoid losing any footage.

  He would also talk with the security people about increasing surveillance.

  He didn’t feel much more in control, but at least he could do these small things. Plus, he’d keep his eyes open.

  This saboteur was going to learn that you don’t mess with Texas. He smiled without humor. It was a good thing most people didn’t know that the saying came from an anti-littering campaign, because it fit his feelings perfectly today.

  He told Bianca, “You need to make a statement to the rest of the cast and crew. Reassure them that everything possible is being done, that sort of thing. Otherwise, this will be uploaded to Facebook or YouTube.”

  “You’re right. Again.” She pulled out of his embrace, and he reluctantly released her. “Thank you, Blake.”

  There it was.

/>   The silver lining to the attack.

  She’d called him by his first name without being prompted.

  Two days later, Bianca answered her office phone. “Ms. Rossi, the results of the lab tests on the Thanksgiving meal are back. Would you like them now?”

  “Yes, please, Camilla.”

  “There were traces of Ipecac in the mashed potatoes. It was not anything the caterer did. Someone added it in the food definitely. That’s what caused the vomiting, shortness of breath, low blood pressure, and fast heartbeats that everyone who ate the potatoes suffered.”

  “That’s distressing. Thank you for letting me know.”

  After she hung up, Bianca felt more resolved than ever to make this craziness stop. It was time to call Sheriff Winston. She didn’t know why she’d hesitated so long. He’d be discrete. She picked up the phone.

  “Sheriff’s Department,” said Vera Rose, the dispatcher.

  “This is Bianca Rossi from the studio. May I please speak with the sheriff?”

  “I’ll patch you through.”

  A moment later, the sheriff’s deep voice answered. “What can I do for you, Ms. Rossi?”

  “We’ve had some problems on the set, Sheriff Winston. I want to call you in on it. Quietly.”

  “Do you want me to come out to the studio?”

  “Yes. I think that would be best.”

  “I can come now. I’ll bring Deputy Knight with me.”

  “Just ask for me when you arrive. I’m in my office.”

  After she hung up, she wondered again why she’d waited so long. Blake had been right about that, too.

  Blake.

  She sighed. Blake Gladwell was never far from her thoughts. She could feel his presence in the building even now.

  She sat down at her laptop and typed in a search for “Blake Gladwell Texas Key Grip.” This time she chose images rather than articles. She wanted to know all about him.

  Pictures of him on different movie sets appeared, all different ages, but always with that intense gaze, that teasing smile. In his younger pictures, he had his arm around different young women. Apparently he’d dated quite a few women. Then she came across a picture of him and his ex-wife, Miranda. She paused to study that one.

  Moving on, she found a picture of him with a young woman whom the article labeled “wealthy.”

  And another of him dating an heiress to a dog food company.

  More pictures of him with women. Lots of young women. Many of them with money or due to inherit money.

  Next, she found him with a young woman wearing a diamond ring. That pulled her up short. Had he been engaged to someone else before his marriage?

  That made her switch back to articles and she changed the search to include “engagement.”

  A newspaper announcement of an engagement popped up. Blake Gladwell and Francine King, heiress to a large fortune. Seven years before, so it was before his marriage to Miranda. It appeared they hadn’t married, but she couldn’t find anything else.

  So he’d dated numerous women with money, and then had gotten engaged to an heiress to a large fortune.

  That made her sick to her stomach.

  Was he like Thomas? Did he want to marry a woman with money? With an inheritance?

  Her insides went cold. She couldn’t go through that again.

  She pushed the button on her intercom and asked Camilla to send Blake Gladwell to her office. She was going to have it out with him right now.

  Blake whistled as he walked toward the elevator, looking forward to seeing his beautiful girl.

  The doors closed and he pushed “3”. Next came the voice asking who was there. “Blake Gladwell.” The elevator rose, and he saw her as soon as the doors slid open.

  Bianca stood by the fireplace, a small frown marring her features.

  He smiled at her. “Good to see you again.”

  She motioned him in, but her smile didn’t warm her eyes.

  Uh-oh. He’d seen that look before, but not for a few days. What was up?

  Wary, he took the seat she offered him.

  “I feel we need to talk, Mr. Gladwell.”

  Back to last names. Not good. What had he done wrong? “All right. What about?”

  “About our relationship.”

  He stayed silent and waited.

  It didn’t take long. “I think it would be best if we don’t pursue any further relationship.”

  He drew his brows together. “But shouldn’t it be both of us who decide that?”

  “I need to focus on directing my movie and taking it to completion. You are a distraction,” she replied coldly.

  Well, that was good news, at least. Which was good, because he was certainly distracted by her. “I’m a patient man. I can wait until after the film is in the can.”

  “You don’t understand. I don’t want to pursue a relationship with you. At all.”

  He swallowed as he felt his heart plummet. “May I ask why?”

  She paused and closed her eyes, as if pained. When she opened her eyes, she said, “I am in the unfortunate position of having a family inheritance.”

  “Some people would consider that a blessing.”

  “It is. It is. Until one is looking for another person, hoping they will love you for yourself.”

  The light dawned. “As opposed to loving you for your inheritance?”

  She nodded.

  “And that’s what you think I’m doing? You think I want your inheritance?”

  “I saw your engagement picture to Francine King, who, coincidentally, was also an heiress to a large fortune.”

  “Yes. I was young. She was young. We were both dumb. And, thank goodness, we realized we weren’t meant for each other before the wedding. Haven’t you ever made any dating mistakes?”

  “Why, yes, I did. I dated a man — got engaged to him — and learned he was only dating me for my inheritance.”

  “So you’re blaming me because of something he did. That seems unfair. I just want to spend time with you.”

  “Unfair or not, I want us to return to a business relationship.”

  Disappointed and hurt, he pulled back emotionally. He wasn’t going to show her how hurt he was, and he darn sure wasn’t going to tell her that his inheritance was probably just as substantial as hers was. If he was still in the will, that was.

  The unfairness of her accusation stung him. He’d walked away from his family’s money. Even when Miranda had begged him to make up with his parents, to go to work for them so he could inherit, he’d refused. He couldn’t pretend to be someone else just so he could have Bianca. “In that case, I don’t want to do business with you any longer. I’ll be leaving town.”

  “You can’t do that. Not now.”

  “You can’t force me to stay.”

  “I have a contract that says I can.”

  “Then release me from my contract. You wanted me gone before.”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Then you could hire the man you originally wanted for the job.”

  “I will hold you to your contract.”

  “No. I don’t think you will.” He stared at her. “I love you, Bianca.”

  “Don’t you dare play the love card.”

  “Why not? Does it scare you that I might love you for yourself? Is it easier to believe I’m a gold digger than to risk opening yourself up to love?”

  She sputtered.

  “Are all vampires this afraid of love?”

  “You will not tell anyone about that.”

  “No, of course I won’t. And you know why? Because I gave you my word. My word is my bond. And so is my love. But I don’t want to intrude where I’m not wanted. So I’ll be going now.”

  “I’m not done yet.”

  “Yes, you are.” He stood and smiled down at her, then shrugged. “So fire me.”

  And he walked out of the room, down to his truck, and pulled out of the parking lot.

  He had some thinking to do.

&n
bsp; Cowboys are Hero Material

  IT HAD BEEN THREE DAYS since Blake had walked out of her office and Bianca was miserable.

  He hadn’t left like he’d threatened, but had returned to work the next morning. He’d totally avoided her, even in crew meetings. Where before he’d been warm and personable and friendly, now he was cold.

  She hadn’t even realized he had a cold side.

  It was breaking her heart. Maybe she’d been wrong.

  On the bright side, the movie was coming along well, with no more major accidents or incidents. Knock on wood.

  If it continued to go well, she wouldn’t have to ask for more time and money from her brothers. She really wanted to make this movie on time and under budget — just like her Creature Features. But this one was definitely jinxed.

  She really hoped this film wouldn’t bomb.

  She found herself staring out the window of her office again, and sighed.

  She felt guilty for having accused Blake, but why should she? He had proposed to an heiress before, so what else was she supposed to assume?

  Her phone buzzed and she answered. Her secretary said, “There’s a call for you that I think you might want to take. It’s Miranda Finch.” A brief pause. “Blake Gladwell’s ex-wife.”

  “This should be interesting. Put her through.”

  When it rang again, she answered, “This is Bianca Rossi.”

  “Ms. Rossi, this is Miranda Finch.”

  “Yes. Congratulations on your newest movie, Ms. Finch.”

  “Oh, you’ve heard of it, have you?” The woman’s voice sounded preening. “I’m hoping for an Oscar for this one.”

  Weren’t they all? She sighed tiredly. “How may I help you today, Ms. Finch?”

  “I just wanted to warn you about Blake Gladwell.”

  “Warn me? About what?”

  “Just keep an eye on him. He tends to drink on set sometimes and I wouldn’t want there to be any accidents like there were on his last movie.”

  “I haven’t heard about any accidents.”

  “They’re always hush-hush, aren’t they? And he doesn’t make the best judgment calls.”

  “I’ve seen no evidence of that on the set.”

  “Well, I mean, he could be a millionaire, right? But he chooses not to be.”