Fan Girl Read online

  FAN GIRL

  BY DANIELLE JAMES AND P.MATTERN

  Copyright 2016©

  Patricia Annette and Danielle James

  All rights reserved.

  Published by Danielle James and Patricia Annette

  Cover Design by Danielle James

  The following is a work of fiction. All names, places, and events are fictional. Any resemblance to any real person, place or event is coincidental and unintentional by the authors. Any reference to any real person or brand is not intended as an endorsement or advertisement in any way.

  This novel contains graphic violence, sex, trauma, language, and adult situations. It is not for the faint of heart and is recommended for mature audiences only.

  FAN GIRL

  Nothing is what it seems…

  From the authors...

  I would like to thank everyone who supported us and encouraged us while writing Fan Girl. My incredible team of beta readers, Jessica for being an incredible PA, Lisa Miller of Angel Editing Services, but most of all, I would like to thank Patricia for allowing me the incredible honor of writing with her. This has been a blast and maybe one day we might do it again. And as always, thank you to the fans. I know that I speak for us both when I say we love you and appreciate you beyond words. Thank you.

  Danielle

  I would like to thank Danielle James for the insanely pleasurable and exciting opportunity to write with her ...the similarity in our visions for this novel and its characters, along with our shared 'take no prisoners' style of writing, has resulted in an awesome thriller.

  Always, thank you to our readers, because you ROCK.

  P.M.

  The coppery stench of blood in the small bungalow was overwhelming.

  She clicked on the ceiling fan in an attempt to disperse the smell, took another long draw from her cigarette, and stared down at the corpse below her. The eyes were wide open and staring. Blood was pooling around the body, seeping into the cracks in the expensive teak flooring.

  Most of it was around the head and torso.

  What was it they said? "No good deed goes unpunished"? That adage had certainly turned out to be true...

  Except, sometimes, punishment didn't quite cut it...

  Sometimes, she thought as she carefully placed the heavy glass award back on the shelf, someone had to die.

  Chapter One

  “Why, oh, why does this shit always happen to me?” Katherine Wilson, AKA Lita Banks, paranormal romance author, asked herself as she struggled to make her suitcase fit in the trunk of her rental car. Stepping back, she eyeballed it one more time, angling it slightly and giving it one more hearty shove.

  And it was in.

  She slammed the trunk closed with a supreme sense of satisfaction. When she determined something was going to happen, neither man nor beast nor inanimate object dared to defy her. Determined and self-sufficient from an early age, she had always had a sense of her own destiny and had never let anything, or anyone, get in her way.

  She cursed as her cell went off, playing the theme song composed especially for the new miniseries based on her most recent New York Times Bestseller, a haunting melody titled, Desire. She was prepared to blow off whoever dared to interrupt her departure but it happened to be the one person whose calls she never ignored: Knox, her business manager.

  His full name was John Knoxville Davenport and he had come into her life at a time when her career as a breakthrough author had been struggling. She'd been working two and a half jobs then, writing at night and mailing query letters to agents and big ten publishing houses on her lunch breaks. She'd had two hundred copies of her first novel, Broken, printed and had carried them from bookstore to bookstore in order to get some exposure while she waited for her big break.

  Knox had been a keynote speaker at the first real writer's convention she’d attended. A NYT Bestselling writer himself, he’d peaked early with his first book spending eighteen months on the Bestseller lists and millions of readers waiting anxiously for the sequel.

  As he had explained to her later, his muses never showed up. Instead, he became an agent and editor for one of the larger publishing houses and never looked back.

  He was nine years Katherine's senior and quickly became her mentor and big brother type confidant. When she had shyly offered him a copy of her first book, he'd quickly realized that she was what the industry referred to as a natural—a writer that could weave words into amazingly rich tales full of poignancy, intrigue, and humor.

  "Hey, handsome," Kat said into the phone, cradling it between her ear and her shoulder as she fished out her keys. "What's up?"

  "Are you ready yet?" he asked.

  "Of course I am. Getting in the car now," she answered a little breathlessly as she folded her body into the car. She struggled to keep the phone at her ear as she forced the seatbelt over her shoulder. This was the same car she’d rented the last time but she seemed to fit better before. Had she gained weight?

  "I can't wait to see you there," Knox told her. "Still pickin' me up at the airport?"

  "Of course," Kat told him.

  "Okay, see you then," he said. "Drive carefully and don't pick up any hitchhikers."

  "You know I'm not gonna," she said, "unless he looks like Channing Tatum. Then, I am most definitely picking him up."

  "Even hot guys can be psychos," Knox warned her.

  "But it will be sooo worth it," Kat played.

  "You better not run off with some guy instead of grabbing me from the terminal," Knox laughed.

  Kat let out an exasperated sigh. "Fine. See you in a few hours."

  The smile just wouldn't go away as Kat turned the key and put the car in gear. She really was looking forward to seeing Knox again. He was so much more than a business manager. He was her friend, and without him, Kat would still be struggling to get her books noticed.

  Two chapters into Broken and he had been hooked. He knew without a doubt that the erotic tale of a bad boy werewolf and his mate would have thirty-something women all over the world wringing their panties out and looking for a sequel. He pitched her book to a few publishers and finally, one bit. Now, three novels later, Katherine's books were selling far better than she had ever dreamed, allowing her to quit her job and write full time.

  The work, however, did not get easier. Having more time meant she had to go to signings and conventions to promote herself. The publisher did a fair amount of marketing for her, but she still had to do the leg work. Hence, the suitcase in her trunk. Katherine wasn't fond of flying, so any time she could go in a car, she did. This time, she was driving from her home in Indiana to St. Louis, Missouri. It was only a three-hour drive and it saved her a ton of money. Plane tickets didn't come cheap.

  She was excited about this particular convention, though. She was going to get to meet one of her newest friends, Amy. Katherine smiled as she remembered the first communication with her biggest fan. It was shortly after Broken had been released in eBook format. A random email arrived while she just so happened to be on the computer. Normally, Kat didn't open emails from strange people. However, with the number of query letters she had sent out, she opened this one. It was from a fan who had read her book and loved it. Katherine was so thrilled that someone sought her out and found her email that she replied, thanking Amy for reading and for contacting her.

  One email turned into a Facebook friendship, where Amy followed Kat's author page and all of her blogs. Then one day, Amy got up the nerve to suggest a new editor. "I just love your books so much." And since Amy knew a lot of people in the book community, Kat took her advice.

  It had been really good advice. After an overhaul of the book, it began selling even better. Amy was an excellent book pimp and had a knack for gett
ing people involved. They spoke daily, if not by messenger then by phone. Amy had been through damn near everything with Kat since then and she was finally going to get to meet her in St. Louis.

  The miles flew by quickly as she navigated the Lincoln up the highway. The car was a perk—ever since she'd become first a local, then a nationwide celebrity writer, the car rental company had been upgrading her ride free of charge. Nice of them. The car was beautiful and the leather interior with the prerequisite tortoise shell trim luxurious.

  The seats in the back folded down conveniently. Katherine mused that with the heavily tinted windows, the space might make a dandy love nest where she could grab a quickie.

  If she ever found someone to grab it with.

  She sighed, glancing into the rearview for a glimpse of her face. She never applied makeup until just before her destination, but even in her natural, state she was stunning, possessing the luminous skin, strawberry blonde hair, and startlingly aquamarine eyes of her Irish ancestors.

  In her travels, particularly after she'd achieved a measure of success, she'd been hit on numerous times by men. Naturally wary and somewhat empathetic, she had a second sense of other people's motivations. Like the gorgeous male cover models that followed authors around from event to event like the Camp Town ladies of the Civil War.

  For some reason they gravitated to her. Used to the public, Katherine could hold her own in an exchange of banter. Some were very young and she took their flirting lightly and knew how to let them down gently if they proposed more than having a drink in the hotel lounge. Some were older and she could sense their desperation as they struggled to maintain their godlike physiques and outrageously handsome faces against the erosion of time.

  The past few months had been a whirl. Most of the time Knox had been at her side, shielding her from the improper advances of other males. He was of the opinion that most of the men she came in contact with, especially male authors, were either after her for the purpose of coat tailing on her fame or as a sexual conquest, a trophy to brag about that would enhance their own reputations.

  Sometimes, when she was tempted by a seductive voice, a perfectly cleft chin, or a strong hand that encircled her bottom with just the right amount of pressure during an author's event Dinner-Dance, she imagined the next day, and the guy being able to brag that he had nailed Lita Banks.

  That thought alone usually sobered her up. She couldn’t help it that she was pretty and people tended to treat her like it was her fault. She had no illusions that she was a beauty queen or anything, but Kat knew she wasn’t a shlop either.

  She slid her phone in the Lincoln's USB port and, cranking up the volume, immediately started belting out lyrics to Whatdaya Want from Me. She wasn't half bad as a singer when she was concentrating, and the miles continued to fly by.

  And then, just as she passed mile marker 115, the music was eclipsed by the sound that no driver ever wants to hear. Kat immediately went into automatic mode after the first loud popping noise as her vibrating vehicle began to wobble over the asphalt, easing off the accelerator and guiding the car skillfully to rest on the shoulder of the road.

  A fucking flat tire...of course.

  She punched a button on her phone and lined up roadside assistance. The stiff at the other end of the line assured her someone would be there with a brand new tire and repair it on the spot. All she had to do was wait.

  But patience was not one of her virtues. She grabbed a scrunchie out of her jacket pocket and twisted her hair up, threw her Coach bag over her shoulder, and crossed the road. There was a convenience store perched on the opposite side of the road and she needed to stretch her legs anyway.

  The blazing sun was merciless. Before Kat even got inside the store she could feel a trickle of perspiration running down between her breasts. The cool interior of the store was a welcome relief.

  She went straight for the Vietnamese Iced Coffee Machine, a new favorite since its release into the beverage market and a new addition to Kat's guilty pleasure list. She didn't care if it was full of sugar carbs, the rich creamy coffee flavor with a twist of lime was always refreshing.

  The deeply masculine voice at her side almost made her spill the drink she was carefully dispensing.

  "Excuse me. I was watching you cross the road and noticed your Lincoln had a flat...can I be of assistance in any way?"

  Kat glanced up and found herself looking into a pair of deep grey eyes thickly fringed with lashes that should never be wasted on a guy. The face looking down into hers was finely planed and tanned, and the smile he was wearing under his cowboy hat caused little wrinkles to appear at the corners.

  Kat was momentarily taken aback, so the man continued, "I'm Jesse—Jesse James Reynolds, by the way."

  Kat had her composure back in an instant, but she found that she wasn't as irritated about that flat tire as she'd been a moment earlier.

  “Kat Wilson," she returned briskly. "Thanks for your concern, but I've already called Roadside Assistance, although I'm in a hurry to get back on the road and they are bloody damn slow."

  "Can't image what you hit," the cowboy returned. "Must have been a huge nail...your tire actually blew...there are pieces of it on the road. Worst flat I've seen in a while. You were lucky you didn't go off the road."

  "I managed just fine," Kat said, realizing that without even meaning to, she had been checking the cowboy out. She was no shorty but he was taller than her by six inches or more. Broad shoulders and a firm torso were belted into a trim waistline. His checkered shirt was open, revealing well developed pecs and a circular tribal tattoo covering one side of his chest.

  What was it Knox had teasingly cautioned her? Don't pick up any hitchhikers?

  "Where you headed?" Jesse asked her.

  "St. Louis," Kat replied, shocked that she had answered him. The words had just slipped out somehow. Knox would have her ass if he knew. This guy could be a stalker or worse. What the hell was she thinking?

  "Headed that way myself," Jesse replied, tilting his hat back, still smiling a smile that put her qualms at ease. "I work at the Timeron Oriental there...it's a pretty famous hotel. Have you heard of it?"

  "I think I have," Kat answered evenly, though her heart had skipped a beat. That was the very hotel Knox had booked for them, a hotel whose rooms were themed after the luxurious suites on the Titanic. The author events were to take place in several of the downstairs conference areas. In St. Louis, it was the event of the year, and only the most prominent authors were invited.

  "Well, that's where I work all right," Jesse repeated. "Do you have business in St. Louis?"

  That time Knox's voice was strong in her head. He was telling her not to give out any more information.

  "Actually, I am meeting someone," she said, smiling and congratulating herself for being so cryptic. It was the truth, anyway. Not only was she picking up Knox at the Memorial Airport, she was also looking forward to meeting Amy in person.

  A shadow of disappointment fell over the cowboy's face. He wasn't slow on the uptake. He knew that he had failed to charm her somehow. He looked regretful as he allowed his eyes to travel from her face to her still perky breasts peeking over the top of her wife beater tank, down to her designer jean encased voluptuous hips, and back up again.

  "Well, nice to meet you, Kat," he said, tipping his hat. "If you change your mind and need anything, let me know."

  Just as Kat was paying for her iced coffee, she saw a large truck pulling in behind the Lincoln on the opposite side of the road. Relieved, she bolted out the door and made her way across the highway. Even though Jesse didn’t make her uncomfortable, he made her nervous. But that was silly. He was just a nice guy trying to help a lady out. Kat was nervous because she knew almost immediately that she didn’t trust herself.

  The techs were experts, replacing the tattered tire quickly. She signed multiple papers and was back on the road.

  US Route 24 was scenic this time of year. There was a panoramic view of
the flat farmlands in the distance as far as the eye could see. After a few more miles, she found herself periodically hitting picturesque towns. As she cruised through one in southern Illinois, she saw a sign for a drugstore that hearkened to the 1950s. It boasted a soda fountain.

  All at once she wanted a cherry soda...with two damn scoops of vanilla.

  She eased into a parking spot on the block, slipped a quarter in the meter, and entered. The smell and ambiance of an older, less hectic time was all around her. In the air was the smell of toothpaste, men's cologne, and Ivory soap.

  It was perfect.

  She decided wasting ten more minutes was worth it. She plopped down on the old fashioned stool covered with cheerful red pleather material and asked the older gentleman behind the counter for a cherry soda with two scoops. Above her head, two ceiling fans swooshed through the air and Kat felt herself relaxing just for a minute.

  The soda was delicious. The familiar flavors of old fashioned vanilla and cherry lingered on her tongue. Kat decided it was worth every calorie and drained it slowly down to the bottom through a thick paper straw, using her spoon to scoop up any whipped cream and saving the cherry until last.

  Soon, she was back on the road, ignoring the speed limit. Knox was a patient mentor and Business Manager, but one of his dislikes was having to hang out waiting at airports. Kat wanted him to be in a good mood, and to make sure she was right there when his plane landed, she would have to do the next two-hundred miles in ninety minutes flat.

  Which she did. After that she relaxed just a little, keeping the speedometer under ninety and was jogging up the concourse ten minutes before Knox's plane was due to land. She felt excited. Not only would she get to see Knox again, but she would be meeting Amy in less than an hour.

  It had been a long time since she'd had a really close female friend, she mused. Her only childhood friend, Jackie Lee, had been killed in an automobile accident five years previously. When Jackie had died, Katherine had closed the door on the intimate details of her past and her personal history. She no longer had a confidant to share both the good times and the tragedies with.