“I think living with Fox is a bad influence on you.”


Laughing, Molly slid aside the door to the bedroom. The bed within was neatly made up with pretty white-on-white sheets and fluffy pillows; the high windows along two sides let in light while preserving Molly and Fox’s privacy.


“The windows are reflective,” Molly told her. “We’re kind of paranoid.”


“Don’t blame you.” Kit wrapped an arm around the other woman’s shoulders, still angry on her and Fox’s behalf after the ugly invasion of privacy that had happened during the band’s tour.


Slipping an arm around Kit’s waist, Molly hugged her back. “I’m good, promise,” she said before she broke the hug to show Kit the built-in closet. “Helps to know the pathetic creep who recorded us is behind bars.” A glance at Kit. “Speaking of which, the cops have any luck with the stalker?”


Kit shook her head and took a seat on the bed. “I’m still getting letters and cards.”


“Damn. I was hoping he’d have fallen off a cliff and disappeared by now.” Molly sat with her, folding up her legs. “How are you doing?”


“Fine—really.” Kit reassured the other woman. “The stuff he’s been sending in is relatively vitriol-free for him, but it could be that he’s stewing and waiting to make his move.” Anger had her clenching her hands on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been photographed with both Terrence and Noah lately, and the police psychologist is worried that could push him over the edge.”


The police team kept in regular touch with her, the men and women who dealt with celebrity-stalking cases having seen the sometimes-fatal results firsthand. No one was taking this lightly, especially given how far the stalker had already gone by breaking and entering. “When I say it’s less hateful stuff, I’m comparing it to the more abusive messages, but his current letters, even the present he sent a month back, it’s still creepily possessive and jealous.”


She shuddered. “He sent me a fine gold chain with a small locket, said he’d ‘noticed I wasn’t wearing my favorite necklace’ in photos and he was worried I’d lost it.” Kit touched the bare skin of her throat. “The creepy thing is that I did lose it—while shooting the superhero movie.”


Molly’s eyes widened. “You think he stole it?”


“I can’t imagine how—there’ve been no other signs that he can get on set. Nothing else stolen or missing, no psycho messages.” The hairs rose on the back of her neck at even the faint possibility that he might be one of her colleagues.


“I think he really does just notice even such tiny things about me, and the way he talks, it’s like we’re intimate.” Oddly, it wasn’t the sexual messages that creeped her out the most. Those always seemed like he was trying too hard. “He says things like how we’re meant to be together, how no one will ever understand me like he does, how he’s the only one I can trust with my secrets.”


Molly shivered. “It’s like he wants to put you in a box and keep you.”


“Yes, that’s it exactly.” Kit rubbed her hands up and down her arms.


“I don’t know if Noah had a chance to tell you,” Molly said, “but the band hired extra security. Plus the entire crew knows to be on the lookout for anyone acting suspiciously.”


Cold wiped out by the warmth of knowing she was among friends, Kit fell back on the bed. “Thank you.” Such small words to hold so much emotion. “I’m going to enjoy this weekend—I made a decision after buying my place that I wouldn’t allow the stalker to ruin my life.”


“You’re so strong, Kit. This stalker has no idea who he’s up against.” Molly’s words were fierce. “And I can’t wait to have fun with you here—I know things have been tough with the whole Noah situation.”


Breathing in and out with conscious focus, Kit stared up at the ceiling. “I have to share his bus, Molly.” The paparazzi were buzzing in every nook and cranny; there was no way she could hide out anywhere else.


“He’s been amazing with everything so far,” Molly reminded her, her voice soft and hopeful. “It might not be so bad.”


Kit had, quite frankly, been surprised at Noah’s cooperativeness. He’d accompanied her to places where photographers could snap them, been good-natured about the ravenous media interest when she knew full well he had a temper if someone pushed into his personal space. And, most importantly, he hadn’t even appeared near a club, much less picked up a girl.


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