It felt ridiculously immature to take pictures of her crush and share them with her mom like they were best friends in high school, but... “Okay. I will.” There was no one on earth she trusted as much as her mom. Though something told her she might be able to trust Chase too.
“I’m looking forward to seeing him.”
So am I. She didn’t say it, because her mom knew her better than anyone else on earth, and was way too perceptive. Her mom would know instantly that Becca was into him, and that was something Becca wanted to keep to herself.
“Well, I won’t keep you. I’ve got humpback whales and little sea otters waiting to be created.”
“Send me some when you’re done,” she said excitedly. Her mom made the coolest things and was always ready to help raise money for a good cause. It was incredible, how far she’d turned her life around when by all rights she should have been dead a long time ago. “I’ll donate.”
“I knew we could count on you. Go break a leg tonight, honey, and let me know how it goes. Love you.”
“Love you too. Bye.”
The lightness in her chest from talking to her mom began to fade with each passing mile on the way back to set, thoughts of Rick and his threats creeping in. Her mom had no clue what was happening, and that was the way it stayed. Becca also couldn’t risk ignoring future messages from him. There was too much at stake, and the bastard knew it.
She regularly changed her phone number to stop the crazies and stalkers from calling her, so Becca had instructed Rick to contact her agent for her latest number. Linda had no idea who he was, or why he was contacting Becca, just that she was to give him the updated number whenever he called. Becca trusted her, but not with this. She didn’t trust anyone with this.
She glanced away from the endless traffic in front and around her, up to the sun-scorched mountains and the brilliant blue sky overhead. This was the city of angels, the place where dreams could come true for a lucky few. Her dream was to escape the chains of her past. To find the security she’d craved all her life.
Maybe today will be the last time, the stupidly hopeful voice in her head said.
But it wouldn’t be. And she would sell her soul to ensure the dark secrets of her past stayed hidden.
Chapter Two
Chase adjusted his grip on the throttle and leaned forward on the motorcycle seat, his gaze locked on the closed-off course ahead of him. His best friend Ryder was waiting up ahead, hidden from view until Chase reached the designated mark.
This was the final action sequence of this high-speed and obscenely expensive chase scene for the movie. It was also Ryder’s first big stunt on camera.
They were both pumped about the chance to do this together. They’d already filmed the rest of the chase scene with the flipping vehicles and other crashes happening around them over the past couple of days. The special effects would be added to it later in post-production.
Today’s scene was the culmination of everything Chase had worked for thus far, his years of training and combat experience in the Marine Corps allowing him this chance to be a stunt performer in a Hollywood blockbuster. He, Ryder and the rest of the crew had gone over and planned every detail with the stunt coordinator until Grant was satisfied everything looked perfect. Then they’d rehearsed it a couple of times, right up to the crash point.
Given the danger level in this sequence, Chase had to nail his stunts, or someone could be severely injured.
Namely him.
It was scorching out, over a hundred degrees, and it felt even hotter with the sun beating down on his back and helmet and reflecting up from the black asphalt. He was already sweating like hell inside his costume, the weight of the fireproof layers of clothing and fire-retardant gel damn near suffocating, making it hard to breathe.
Not good. The sweatier he was, the higher the risk of him getting burned. His safety depended on him staying calm through what was about to happen.
Let’s go, let’s go, he thought impatiently, waiting for the signal.
The camera crews were in place along the course. The director and assistant director were stationed with the safety crew at the end point.
Finally, just when he was fighting to slow his heart rate, came the words he’d been waiting for.
“Rolling. And...action!”
He put his right foot on the peg and shot the bike forward, a rush of adrenaline flooding his system. The high-pitched whine of the performance bike’s powerful engine reverberated in his body as he leaned forward, racing headlong down the course.
Right on cue, a delivery truck pulled out ahead of him. Chase veered left as the truck fishtailed, tires screaming and kicking up smoke. He could feel the hot air rushing past him, his gloved hand holding the throttle steady.
More traffic was dead ahead. He followed the exact maneuver they’d rehearsed, weaving in and out amidst horn blares and screeching tires. Left, right, left, he zipped between the other vehicles.
“And, cut!”
He slowed to a stop, waiting for instructions.
“Looks good, Chase. Crew’s gonna change that angle slightly, and we’ll take it from the top. Stand by,” the director said through his earpiece.
He drove the bike back to the start line, parked in a shaded spot at the edge of the track and pulled off his helmet. This job was awesome—except for all the sitting around and waiting it involved.
When the crew was ready, he repeated the opening sequence. This time the director had what he wanted. Then it was more waiting while the crew set up for the next shot, until finally everything was ready.
“Action!”
Chase shot forward, getting up to speed as fast as possible. As soon as he cleared the obstacles set in front of him, the straightaway lay dead ahead.
Wait for it. Wait for it...
The instant he reached the first intersection, Grant’s voice came through his earpiece.
“Punch it.”
Chase opened the bike up, the engine screaming as the buildings whipped past him in a blur. His gaze shot to the second intersection ahead, counting backward in his head.
Three. Two. One...
Ryder’s bike shot out of the alleyway in front of him. Chase cut left, easing off the throttle slightly to let his buddy seem to catch up a bit.
Hidden from view by his tinted visor, he grinned. There was nobody he trusted to have his back more than Ryder, and part of him still couldn’t believe they got to do this and get paid for it.
The two of them played a game of motorcycle cat and mouse for a couple hundred yards, until Chase reached the parking garage already set up for them. He clamped down on the brake, expertly controlling the bike as the back end skidded around, then shot into the entrance where the second film crew was waiting.
“Cut!”
They stopped for the crew to reset and get a different angle, then reshot it again. And so it went for the next several hours. Go, stop, wait. Go, stop, wait.
In the next sequence Ryder was right behind him, the “good guy” hunting down the villain Chase was playing. Ryder chased him up the first ramp and around the turn up to the second level, the sound of the rubber tires squealing against the concrete.
Chase picked up speed again, coming up to the first ramp. He hit his mark, let off the throttle when he caught air, and soared across to the downward ramp.
The bike wobbled under him when he landed, nearly pitching him off. He fought to regain control and turned hard right, heading up to the third level. Partway up he glanced back for Ryder.