Don't Look Down Read online

  "Like it says she has winged sandals," Pepper said over her root beer, "but I like the boots better. They're like your boots, Aunt Lucy. Sort of. You should paint a white stripe up the front."

  Lucy looked down at her snakeskin boots. "No. No white paint on snakeskin."

  "I have red rubber rain boots," Pepper said. "Can I paint a white stripe on those?"

  "Yes," Daisy said.

  "So," Lucy said to Pepper, "why don't you go back and take a nap while your mom and I-"

  "Time to go," Daisy said and stood up, sliding the sticker book back to Pepper.

  "We just got here," Pepper said, outraged, but Lucy took one look at Daisy's stubborn, drowsy face and gave up for the night.

  "It's hours past your bedtime," Daisy said to Pepper. "You can play in Aunt Lucy's camper all afternoon tomorrow if you want."

  "No," Pepper said, "I have to be on the set. To bring Aunt Lucy apples. Because Stephanie is worthless."

  "Pepper!" Daisy said.

  "Okay," Pepper said with a dramatic sigh. "Can I take the Wonder Woman stuff with me?"

  "Yes," Daisy said, not meeting Lucy's eyes. "Hurry up."

  Pepper packed all her stuff back in the Jax Comix bag, checking first to see that there wasn't anything else in there.

  "What are you looking for?" Lucy asked.

  "I thought there might be another comic book," Pepper said. "I can read those."

  Well, if she couldn't save Daisy tonight, she could at least give Pepper something to look forward to. She took the bag from her and read the stamped address. "I think this place is pretty close. Captain Wilder said he had an appointment someplace nearby, so he must have found it on his way there. How about tomorrow morning, we go look at this place and get you some comics?"

  "Just you and me?" Pepper's face lit up.

  "Just you and me, baby," Lucy said, relieved to be doing something right. "If that's all right with your mom."

  "Yep." Daisy yawned. "First call isn't until one, so I'm sleeping in."

  "Thank you, Aunt Lucy," Pepper said, her voice thrilled. "And then I can show Crafty and Estelle in wardrobe and Mary Vanity what I got."

  I have to get this kid into school so she can play with somebody under twenty, Lucy thought and then looked at Daisy's strained face. And I'm going to save you, too, you dumb-butt. "I'll pick you up at eleven," she told Pepper, who hugged her and then climbed out of the trailer, the Jax bag clutched to her chest.

  Daisy paused in the doorway. "Luce-I'm sorry I asked Connor to call you."

  Lucy went very still. "You asked Connor to call me? I thought he'd sicced you on me when I told him no."

  Daisy swallowed. "Connor wanted to just finish the shoot. Do it himself. But I told him he'd run into big-time union trouble, what with everyone bailing out after the director died; that he needed a real director. I told him he should call you."

  Lucy frowned at her. "Why would you tell him that? You don't care about this movie, nobody here does."

  Pepper's voice floated through the night air. "Come on, Mom!"

  "I just wanted to see you," Daisy said, trying to smile. "And he did, too. He's never stopped loving you, Lucy."

  "That would explain the ten thousand women he has undoubtedly slept with since I left," Lucy said.

  "Come on, Mom," Pepper said.

  Daisy shook her head and went out the door, and Lucy watched her take Pepper's hand and cross the parking lot to her car.

  You told him to call me because you wanted me to save you, she thought. Big sister to the rescue again. So why won't you tell me what's wrong? She slumped back in her chair.

  It was her fault. She should have kept a closer watch on Daisy, checked in more often with Pepper. She'd been all caught up in her own life, her career, and hadn't thought-

  Well, that was then, this is now. Tomorrow, she'd talk to Gloom, find out what he'd learned talking to the crew, find out what Daisy was taking, solve whatever mess was driving her to take it, talk her into getting Pepper into school…

  And she'd have to thank Captain Wilder for the Wonder Woman doll, too. Big day, she thought.

  Then she got another root beer and sat down to read the script.

  By the time Wilder recrossed the bridge, his hangover had turned into exhaustion despite the hair-of-the-dog beers in the diner. Or perhaps it was just Crawford and the fucking CIA suddenly showing up that had drained all his energy. Whatever the cause, he went back to the Westin to the room Bryce had gotten for him adjacent to his own, grateful to be away from both the CIA and the movie set. Those people were crazy.

  But at the door he paused, his hand halfway to the knob that still had the do not disturb tag hanging from it. Someone had been in the room. The telltale piece of clear tape he'd left on the lower-left corner of the door had been broken. Either someone had fucked up and entered by mistake or someone was waiting in there to fuck him up or someone had gone through his stuff, which would just plain be fucked up. His left hand snaked behind his back and he pulled out his Glock automatic pistol, making the decision to fight not flee.

  He twisted the knob and entered low and fast, duckwalking, back pressed against the wall, moving to the right, weapon extended, sweeping with the eyes, finger on the trigger. The room was dark, shades pulled tight, but there was someone in there, he could smell… fuck, perfume. Who? He'd caught that scent before. On the set.

  "Is that a gun?"

  Althea. Wilder slowly rose out of his crouch, as his eyes became accustomed to the dark, the weapon suddenly feeling very heavy as he dropped his hand to his side. "Uh. Yeah." That sounded lame, so he told himself, You're in control. You're the one with the gun, for Christ's sake.

  He turned on the light.

  She was in his bed, the sheet up to her neck. Had she looked under the bed and found his backpack? He hoped not. She shifted and he smelled perfume again. Perfume had not been in his plans, either.

  She smiled at him and ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip.

  Well, plans were made to be changed. They'd taught him that in Ranger School. "Improvise, Ranger," the Ranger instructors had screamed at the starving, sleep-deprived students. But they hadn't covered this kind of ambush.

  Still, Wilder thought as he returned the gun to the holster in the middle of his back, an ambush was an ambush. And the U.S. Army Ranger School-approved solution was to assault right into the enemy force with overwhelming power and take control of the situation. Anything else meant being stuck in the kill zone.

  Althea half sat up, and the sheet slid, catching on her breasts. "What kind of gun is it?"

  Wilder swallowed, frozen. He was in the fucking kill zone. The RIs would have flunked him.

  "A Glock." Had that come out wrong? He tried to replay what he'd said, but his brain wouldn't back up, it was going fast-forward.

  "A what?" Althea placed a long, thin hand over her chest as she leaned forward, exposing her side and confirming that she wasn't wearing anything.

  "A Glock Model 20."

  "Can I"-Althea's voice went an octave lower-"touch it?"

  Oh, fuck. They might as well get his body bag now. He drew the gun. Some semblance of sanity made him eject the magazine and then pull back the slide, ejecting the round in the chamber and pocketing it before he extended the weapon to her.

  She reached with the hand that had been holding the sheet, and- he was so screwed-it dropped to her waist, exposing her breasts. She took the gun from his frozen hand, cradling it with both of hers.

  "Tell me about it." She brought the gun closer to her. "I saw you and Bryce talking all night. Talk to me."

  "Uh," Wilder said, trying to think of something besides breasts.

  "What he did with the knife today. That was stupid, wasn't it?"

  "Bryce. Well." Breasts. Right here. "You know. No harm, no foul."

  "He could have cut someone."

  "But, hey, he didn't." Wilder was starting to sweat.

  "Tell me about the gun." Althea cradled it