Star Crossed (Starlight #3) (18 page)

Smiling at the thought of seeing Adam, I check my phone.

I’m not disappointed. There are a few missed calls and a message from him.

I click open the message.

Call me. Xxx

I smile again and dial his number.

‘
Summer?’ Says Adam.

Just hearing his voice makes me melt.

‘Hi,’ I say.

‘
How was the photo shoot?’

I wrinkl
e my face.

‘
It was ok,’ I admit. ‘The photographer wanted it to be sexier than I was comfortable with.’

‘
What!’ I can almost feel the waves of anger pouring off the phone.

Oh dear. Mr Ultra-Protective is back…

‘Relax,’ I say. ‘I didn’t do anything my mum wouldn’t want to see.’

I hear him sigh in relief.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he says. ‘What exactly did the photographer suggest you do?’

I can sense I’m walking a tightrope with regards to Adam’s response. The wrong answer could cause serious fireworks and I definitely don’t want that.

‘Um. He just suggested we strike sexier poses,’ I say. ‘I said I wasn’t happy about it. The shoot was for a teen mag after all,’ I add.

‘
What did the other acts have to say about that?’

‘
Oh, well you know them,’ I sigh, ‘anything for publicity.’

‘
That’s what I thought,’ growls Adam. ‘It sounds like you were in the minority.’

‘
It was fine,’ I assure him. ‘Not a problem.’

There’s a pause on the other end of the phone.

‘I’m going to make some calls,’ says Adam. ‘And make sure that sleazy photographer never works on TV again.’

‘
Adam!’ I protest. ‘Don’t. Please. You promised remember? You wouldn’t go all caveman on me?’

There’s another pause. I can imagine his face
as he works the dilemma over.

‘
This is part of being a singer,’ I say, working to persuade him. ‘You can’t protect me from it. I have to learn to stand on my own two feet.’

‘
Well he won’t be working on Sing-Win again, that’s for sure,’ says Adam.

I sigh, wondering if I’ll ever be truly independent with Adam around. It’s something I’ll have to work on.

‘You know it’s Tammy’s gig later?’ I say, anxious to change the subject.

‘
Yes.’ Adam sounds guarded.

‘
And you know I’m going?’ I say.

Best to tell him straight.

‘Summer, I…’

‘
No arguments,’ I interrupt, trying to sound stern.

To my relief he laughs.

‘Ok,’ he says. ‘You win. Go to your friend’s gig, I understand it’s important. But not without me, ok?’

‘
Good,’ I say, happy with the compromise. ‘But won’t you attract a lot of press attention?’

‘
I’ll make arrangements,’ says Adam. ‘We’ll have bodyguards.’

Hmmmm
. That doesn’t sound like much fun.

I guess this is part and parcel of dating a celebrity. It’s something I’ll have to get used to.

‘As long as I get to see Tammy,’ I reply.

‘
Ok, I’ll pick you up in ten minutes,’ says Adam. ‘You can come home, change, I’ll take you to dinner and we’ll go to the gig afterwards.’

I smile.
‘Sounds great.’

‘
Love you,’ says Adam.

I grin and look around to check
no-one is near enough to hear me on the phone.

‘
Love you too,’ I whisper, delighted to be saying the words.

I hang up with a bubble of joy bursting in my heart.

I am one seriously lucky girl.

I’m just making my way out of the studio with my head full of hearts and flowers, when my phone rings again.

I check the display.

Adam.

I grin as I take the call.

‘
Yes?’ I ask, not bothering to disguise the delight in my voice.

‘
Summer.’ The tone of Adam’s voice scares me. I’ve never heard him sound like this.

Has something terrible happened?

‘What is it?’ I’m on instant high alert now.

‘
I’m coming to pick you up…’

‘
I know,’ I interrupt. ‘You just told me. What’s wrong?’

‘
I’m coming now,’ he says, his voice flat. ‘Don’t go outside until you see my car.’

What?

‘What’s going on?’ I ask, my voice shaking.

‘
It’s nothing to worry about,’ says Adam. ‘I’d just rather you stay in the building until you see the car. I’ve had some news that there might be a threat. I’m sure it’s nothing, but after you were followed I’m taking no chances.’

What in the hell?

‘What threat?’ I demand.

‘
Just stay where you are,’ says Adam. ‘I’ll explain everything when I get there.’

I hang on the phone, digesting this. But Adam hangs up, leaving me with a dead line.

A threat?

My stomach is turning over, and I fight to stay calm.

Relax Summer. Adam is overreacting as usual.

I try and consider what the threat might be.
Something to do with Tammy’s gig perhaps? But there’s no obvious answer. The only thing to do is wait.

I head to the part of the studio which backs out onto the parking lot. But as per Adam’s instructions I stay inside the building.

Instead of venturing into the parking lot I watch from the window.

It doesn’t take long before a black limousine pulls into the lot, emblazoned with the Sing-Win logo.

I roll my eyes. Even on a rescue mission Adam can’t help but drive a flash car.

But it’s not Adam who gets out of the driver’s seat. It’s a man in a driver’s outfit who looks vaguely familiar. Since he’s in the
Sing-Win car, I can only assume he’s associated with the show.

The driver spots me behind the window, waves, and jogs over to the door connecting the studio with the parking lot.

He opens the door and calls across to where I’m standing.

‘
Did Adam call you?’ he asks in a concerned voice.

I nod, a little taken aback. I’m still trying to place where I’ve seen this man before.

‘He asked me to collect you,’ says the driver. ‘Said it was important that I personally escorted you to the car.’

The driver is looking at me quizzically now. I guess he must be wondering what the hell’s going on.

‘Adam was very insistent,’ he adds, ‘that I didn’t take my eyes off you for a moment.’

‘
That sounds about right,’ I say thinking quickly. ‘I think he’s been tipped off that some paparazzi are on the way.’

The driver seems to snap to attention at the mention of press.

‘Then we’d best get you in the car,’ he says. ‘Come with me.’

I follow the driver out into the parking lot, wondering all the while if Adam is just being overdramatic. Or if
there really is some kind of danger.

We stop outside the limo and the driver turns to me.

‘Do you have phone reception here?’ he asks.

I nod
, thinking it a strange question. ‘I just used my phone,’ I reply. ‘Why?’

‘
Do you mind if I check the maps on your phone?’ asks the driver. ‘My Sat-Nav is playing up. I want to make sure I get you to the right place. Mr Morgan was very insistent I take good care of you. My life wouldn’t be worth living if I got lost.’

The driver looks so worried that my heart goes out to him. I’ll have to have words with Adam for terrifying his staff.

‘Sure,’ I say distractedly, taking out my phone and unlocking it for him.

‘
Thanks,’ the driver says gratefully. He studies it for a moment and then stares into the middle distance as though trying to log the directions he needs.

Then he
opens the back door of the limousine for me to slip inside.

I wait on the plush leather seats for him to return my cell phone.

His face looks so familiar it’s playing on my mind now.

Where have I seen him before?

I’m trying to think of occasions where we’ve been driven courtesy of the show.

‘
We’ll get you to your rehearsal studio in no time,’ says the driver, moving to close the door behind me.

‘
Wait,’ I start to say, thinking he may have made a mistake. Adam never mentioned a rehearsal studio.

And it’s in that split second that I realise who the driver is. He’s not a staff member from
Sing-Win.

It’s the hooded man from the woods.

Chapter 23

My blood turns to ice.

How could I not recognise him?

The fear must show on my face now, because the man’s kindly expression turns to menace. He pushes the car door
shut on my open-mouthed horror.

I lunge for the
door but I’m too late. It shuts and locks, trapping me inside the car.

No. No!

All my senses are on high alert now. I yank at the lock but it’s no good. There must be some kind of system so the passenger can’t open the door from the inside.

The thought frightens me even more. Someone has planned this very carefully. They’ve even enlisted a
specially secure limo to stop me escaping.

In front of me is a thick black plate of glass dividing me from the driver. I can’t see anything in the front, but I feel the car shudder as the driver’s door opens and he gets inside.

‘Wait!’ I yell, pounding my fists against the glass. ‘Stop!’

My protests fall on deaf ears. The engine starts up and the car pulls smoothly away.

Desperately I scan the rest of the limo. I dive back at the door catches, pulling and kicking. But all I succeed in doing is tearing off the plastic catch. The doors are locked tight and solid. I lean back on my seat and kick them as hard as I can, but I don’t even make a dent.

Panicking, I raise my legs higher and try to kick the windows instead, but these are even
more sturdy than the doors. Bullet-proof glass, I’m guessing. To protect celebrities.

My eyes scan around the car interior, looking for something,
anything which could help me. But there’s nothing but soft leather seats.

Fear threatens to overwhelm me now. Like a trapped animal I launch myself at the doors and windows again, punching, kicking, pounding. But it’s no good. I’m locked tight instead.

The thought fills me with paralysing dread.

Ok
Summer. Focus. Think.

I try to quell the
panic which is taking me over, and concentrate my thoughts.

My phone
.

I reach for my cell, and then I realise. The driver. He took my phone.

I choke down a sob. I’m such an idiot. How did I not realise then? What kind of limo driver asks to borrow someone’s phone?

Summer you idiot.

I take a deep breath. Being mad at myself won’t do any good. I have to be calm. Think rationally.

How can I get out of this car?

I systematically search the inside of the vehicle. But it’s been stripped of everything but the seats. The usual luxury extras which augment a limo interior are all gone.

Someone has really taken care to make sure I’m trapped in here. I fight down another surge of panic, and
grip my Saint Cecelia necklace from Adam.

My hands
close tight around it and I squeeze my eyes tight shut.

Adam.

The thought of him worrying about me, wondering where I’ve gone is too much. But the necklace comforts me. I feel like I have protection.

Ok
Summer. Think practically.

I turn my attention to what I might have on my person.
I’m wearing a dress and ankle boots. No help there. My attention shifts to my underwear. My bra is underwired. I debate briefly whether I could remove the underwiring and use it to jimmy the window.

Probably not.
I need a better plan.

The car is slowing now, and my fear rises again.

What does the driver want with me?

Maybe I can take the driver by surprise as he opens the door. If I move onto the floor, he won’t be expecting me in that position. Perhaps it would give me a slight advantage.

The car stops and I move to the opposite side of the limo, keeping low on the floor. My heart pounds in my chest as I hear the driver’s door open. I’m not sure what my strategy is exactly, other than throw myself at the man with everything I’ve got.

It’s a bad plan, but at least it’s something.

But when the door opens my last remaining hopes are dashed. The driver doesn’t lean inside the car. Instead he stands casually outside with the door wide open. He’s holding a gun.

I freeze. I’ve never been held at gunpoint, and I am in no way ready for the effect it has. Knowing the power behind the trigger is totally debilitating.

I struggle to win back some courage. As I get out of the car, there’ll be a moment when the gun isn’t trained on me. I’ve no chance of wrestling the driver’s weapon away but perhaps there’ll be some other opportunity to escape.

I move forward slightly, poised to take advantage of this. But the driver holds up his hand to stop me. Instead he throws a small vial of liquid into the car.

Automatically I reach up and catch it.

‘
Drink it,’ says the driver. There’s no emotion in his voice now. As though this whole situation is a job he’s bored of.

With the gun directed straight at me I can hardly refuse. Slowly I pull the plastic stopper off the little vial. The contents are clear and have no smell.

‘What is it?’ I ask in a quavering voice.

‘
Something to make to you sleep,’ says the driver in the same flat voice.

My mind is racing with how I might avoid drinking the contents. Can I tip it into my mouth and hold it there?

‘Don’t try anything stupid,’ says the driver, as if reading my mind. ‘If you try and spit it out or hold it in your mouth, I’ll have to knock you unconscious. And you don’t want that.’

I shake my head slowly. Then I tip the vial into my mouth. It tastes bitter.

‘Now swallow,’ says the man, pointing the gun menacingly, and open your mouth to show me.

Feeling totally helpless I swallow down the liquid. There’s nothing else I can do. I guess I’m expecting it to have an instant effect. But I feel normal.

To my surprise, the driver checks his watch. Then he stands with the gun pointed at me.

‘
It will take a few minutes to work,’ he says conversationally. ‘I’ll need to watch you for that time. Check you don’t do anything stupid, like try to make yourself vomit.’

I’m alive with terror now. The bitter substance has hit my stomach and I can feel it burn.

What did he make me take?

‘
Why are you doing this?’ I ask. My voice comes out stronger than I feel. But the driver just looks at me, and then back at his watch.

It occurs to me the next few minutes could be crucial to my escape. If I can get something, anything
useful before I pass out, it could help me escape later.

I look beyond him to try and get a sense of where I might be. My view out of the car is narrow, but I can make out some broken-down buildings. It looks like we’re in
some outer suburb of London.

No clues there.

I play over what I know.

Someone gave my old contract to the network bosses to try and cause trouble. And I was followed in very suspicious circumstances on Hampstead Heath.

Whoever is behind these acts must be tailing me closely. How else would they have known about my contract with Dez? And I guess they would have had to follow me to Adam’s house and then alert the mysterious man in the hooded top to find me on the Heath.

It has to be someone involved in
Sing-Win. Closely involved.

‘
Please,’ I say to the driver. ‘If you’re being paid to do this, I can get you money.’

No response.

‘Is it someone who doesn’t want me on the show?’ I try, relying on what little I know.

This time there’s a flicker from the driver. But now I can feel the drugs starting to take effect. My eyes feel heavy and my tongue feels thick in my mouth.

‘Don’t do this,’ I plead, the words coming strained now. ‘It’s not too late to let me go. I won’t tell anyone.’

It’s a really struggle to speak at all now. The driver moves a little closer, and I’m guessing my drugged state is showing on my face.

‘Just sit tight,’ says the driver. ‘If you’re a good girl and do as you’re told this will all be over by Sunday.’

Sunday? What happens on Sunday?

The answer should be obvious, but it’s slipping away from me. I force my eyes wide open trying to fight for the memory.

The show. The final show is on Saturday night.

By Sunday my chance to win
Sing-Win will be over. But if the plan to stop me singing is kidnap, it’s never going to work. Adam owns the show. He’d never run it without me.

‘
They’ll never run Sing-Win with a missing contestant,’ I say groggily. ‘You’re crazy.’

My hand slips from the seat as I say the words, and my body tumbles forward. I try to catch myself but it feels like I’m made from heavy cotton wool.

I feel the driver’s hands on me, propping me back upright, and make a feeble attempt to bat his hands away. The world is fading to black and it’s all slipping away now.

‘
Wait…’ I slur. But the rest of the words won’t come. I slump back on the seat exhausted. With every cell in my body I’m fighting the slide into unconsciousness. It’s no good. The compulsion to sleep is too strong.

My eyes close and the last thing I hear is the engine start up. Then I tumble into a black abyss of unconsciousness.