STEFAN RANG THE buzzer to the flat upstairs and waited. Early morning rays warmed the crisp autumn air. He’d flown directly to Copenhagen on an overnight flight. This wasn’t his usual style—flying after a woman—but Penelope Plessen wasn’t just any woman. He’d made a few mistakes in his life, and she was one of the largest ones. The other was Monica.
The intercom crackled. “Who is it?”
It was her. He cleared his throat. “Stefan.”
The line went silent, and then popped again. “What?”
“It’s Stefan Armstrong.”
Penelope’s voice sputtered through the line. “What are you doing here?”
He leaned in. “We need to talk—”
“I asked you not to contact me.”
“It’s important.”
Silence.
“Second floor.” The intercom buzzed.
Stefan breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door. He bounded up the interior stairs two at a time. When he reached the flat, the door swung open.
“I know you’ve come a long way,” Penelope said, sounding guarded. “What’s going on?”
Penelope always got right to the point, and he liked that. She stood in the doorway, barefoot and dressed in a white t-shirt and cut-off denim shorts that showed off her lean, muscular legs. Her hair was knotted at the nape of her neck. Without the makeup and clothes, he thought she was even more beautiful than in her photographs. Not that those weren’t amazing, but as she stood before him, she nearly took his breath away, so intense was her fortitude and charisma. With her chin set like an Amazonian warrior, she stared at him with glowing tawny eyes, unblinking, waiting. He cleared his throat to speak.
“I’ve uncovered information you should know about.” He put his hands on his hips. After the event in New York, he’d taken it upon himself to investigate. He looked around. “Is there somewhere else we can talk?”
“What’s wrong with this place?”
“Outside is better.”
She arched an eyebrow but slipped on a pair of sandals, pulled on a baseball cap, and sunglasses, and then tapped on a closed door. “Elena, I’m going out for a walk. Sleep in and I’ll see you later.”
Stefan could hear a muffled reply, and then Penelope followed him out the door.
Fifteen minutes later, clutching steaming cups of coffee, they walked along a cobble-stoned road that lined the sea. The air seemed thinner and crisper here than in Los Angeles and the sun seemed slightly slanted at a different angle.
She listened intently while he explained why he’d come. “I did some investigating on the shooting,” he said. Though he didn’t want to alarm her, he did want to be straight with her. “One of my specialists in cyber-surveillance has discovered some interesting things.”
“Like what?”
“Some of the most egregious stories and photos of you are coming from sources that can’t be easily tracked or located. Someone is hard at work planting stories about you. This is more Wiki-leaks than tabloid-style.”
“I see.”
Penelope’s voice was devoid of emotion and businesslike. He couldn’t blame her after the grief he’d caused her. In doing what he thought was honorable, he’d destroyed his opportunity for the life he’d really wanted with her. He’d kicked himself many times for not deciding to take care of his child with Monica and be involved in his child’s life, but continue seeing Penelope. They might’ve even been married.
But now, he had nothing. At least he could do right by Penelope this time. He drew his attention back to the reason he’d come.
Penelope was looking worried. “Who would be so interested in me?”
“That’s what you need to find out.” He glanced behind them. “I don’t care if you use me or someone else, but in my professional opinion, you need close protective services right now. You need a bodyguard.” He waited for her to laugh at him, the first nervous reaction many of his clients had.
But she didn’t.
“Ever since I arrived, I’ve had an eerie feeling that I’m being watched, but I can’t explain it.”
“Listening to your gut is a good thing.” In his experience, people often had feelings they couldn’t explain that turned out to be valid. Maybe it was related to humankind’s ancient fight-or-flight response, but Stefan always told people to listen to and trust their instinct. “But you need to do more than listen now. You need to take precautions.”
“The detectives in New York haven’t found anything about the shooter yet.”
“They’re always slammed. If you or other people had been hurt, more resources might’ve been channeled toward the crime.”
“Next time, they might not miss.” Penelope shook her head. “I’ve seen other women in my profession targeted and their lives and families destroyed.” She heaved a labored sigh that Stefan knew was against her generally positive nature and added, “I need protection to prevent a future incident, that’s what you’re saying. For how long?”
“Can’t say, until the perpetrator is found, or the threat ceases.” He stopped and turned to her, brushing a wisp of hair from her face. “I can provide any bodyguard you need, man or woman.” He ached to hear her ask for his help, but he didn’t want to be presumptuous. She’d nearly sent him away at her front door.
Penelope seemed to consider her options.
“They can follow me wherever I have to go for jobs?”
“Anywhere you want.”
She stared out to sea, her eyes hidden behind oversized sunglasses. “I’ve been taking care of myself for years. But if anything happened to me—if I were shot and killed—it’s my mom and dad who’d suffer. I’ll do this for them, to spare them the agony.”
“Where are they, by the way?”
“They’re spending two weeks at a spa in Thailand. I sent them there for their anniversary.” She raked her teeth over her lower lip in thought. “A female bodyguard might be less obtrusive.”
Stefan’s heart sank. “No problem. I have a woman who’s one of my very best bodyguards. I’ll send her right over.”
“This will change the way I live,” she said, glancing at him. “Think it could blow over by itself?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But that guy needs to be off the street. Do you remember Gianni Versace?”
She winced. “Everyone in fashion remembers his murder.”
“John Lennon, Selena, Sharon Tate.” He watched her reaction. “Shall I go on?”
A pained expression shadowed her face. “Okay, okay, I get it.”
She pursed her perfect lips and Stefan could feel the ache in his gut. “I’ll draw up an agreement that you and your attorney can review.”
Stefan thought he understood what was going through her mind. When first signed, his clients often went through a range of emotions. The CEOs he worked for were generally accomplished, powerful people who had strong traits of self-reliance. His company provided protective services to spouses and children, particularly in countries where kidnapping for ransom was frequent.
His celebrity clientele was different. Though accomplished, they were often young and inexperienced. Sudden fame and overnight success were hard to handle. They went from being an anonymous face to being recognized wherever they went.
Celebrities attracted stalkers like sticker burrs, and these dangerous super fans were as hard to get rid of, too. Even restraining orders didn’t deter the most ardent, emotionally unbalanced fanatics. And that’s where Penelope was now, grappling with someone who might want to claim notoriety through her murder and possibly others.
Stefan watched Penelope adjust her sunglasses against the morning rays. “Can we start when I return to L.A. next week?”
“Penelope, I have to recommend that we start now. The guy could follow you anywhere.”
“But probably not outside of the U.S., right? Who would use a passport to follow someone they wanted to kill? That would leave a clear trail.”
“These are psychopaths, they don’t think like you do. They lack empathy and think they can’t be touched. They want to possess the object of their desire. Or they don’t care if they’re caught. They might commit suicide afterward, or maybe they want the exposure. The point is, they’re emotionally sick, Penelope. You can’t apply normal reason to them.”
“Okay, but I need to get used to this idea.” Her phone buzzed and she pulled it out of her shorts pocket. Frowning, she scrolled through a text message.
“Everything okay?”
“Aside from a dozen messages from Kristo, my print job here was just canceled. Guess the editor hadn’t been keeping up with the latest news. My agent said the editor didn’t want to be accused of jumping on the bandwagon of sensationalism.” She tore off her sunglasses, angrily swiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and shoved them back on. “All my fashion shows have been canceled, too.”
“I’m not surprised.” He paused. “Who’s Kristo?”
She shrugged. “Just a friend I’ve known a while.” She slipped the phone back into her pocket. “I’m effectively out of work, Stefan, so I have to create a new career. I have some ideas, but that’s all. Security is going to be expensive, so unless I start getting paid again soon, my savings will be depleted fast.”
It took all of his willpower not to wrap his arms around her. Instead, he said, “Don’t worry about the money. I owe you this one, Penelope. That’s the least I can do.”
She turned back toward the flat, hesitating. “Will you stay and go back to L.A. with me?”
Relief flooded him. “Sure. Whenever you want.”
She turned and gave him a smile, one that had graced many magazine covers, but more than that, one that lit the fire in his heart.