“Yeah, could be. We did have a lot of new people on that movie.” Becca smiled. “So how’s the whole stalker deal? Still creepy?”
“It sounds so old-fashioned, but having Noah here really helps.” Kit felt her heart just grow big and hot inside her chest at the touch of his name on her lips. “He makes me feel safe. I know the stalker won’t try anything while Noah’s around.”
“Wow, lot of faith in a guitar player.”
“He’s far more than that,” Kit said, walking over to check on the coffee. “Just give him a chance.”
A shrug. “Sorry. I’m always going to think you deserve better.”
Kit didn’t want to have this conversation again, and this time she decided to be honest with her friend. “Don’t do that, Becca. Don’t put him down.” She knew Noah would never allow anyone to bad-mouth her in front of him, and she hated hearing Becca do that to him. “I love him, and he’s going to be a part of my life.”
“So I should get with the program or get out?” The other woman put down the cookie and got off the breakfast stool. “I expected better from you than that you’d be one of those women who ditches her friends once she has a new cock.”
“Becca.” Shocked by the vitriol, Kit came around the counter. “Why would you even say that? We’ve been hanging out just as much as always. You know I cherish my friends.”
The other woman folded her arms. “I know you used to talk to me about the stalker and your contracts and how much this house was sucking your income and all that real stuff. I was the one who helped you when the stalker first appeared. I was the one who held your hand when you made the first police report.” Becca’s cheeks were red, her breath quick and harsh. “Now you tell Noah everything and treat me like nothing.”
“That’s not fair.” Kit waved her hand in a wide gesture, accidentally hitting the small glass bowl in which she kept her keys. It went to the floor, shattered, her keys falling out. She didn’t stop to pick them up. “We spoke so much because we were together on set every day.” First on Primrose Avenue, then later on Last Flight and the superhero movie. “Of course we see less of each other now that we’re working on different projects. That doesn’t mean we’re not friends.”
Becca shrugged off her hand when Kit would’ve put it on her shoulder. “He’s a whore, Kit and you’re a whore for sleeping with him.”
Flinching, Kit stepped back. “That’s enough.” It was far beyond anything a friend should ever say. “I don’t know what’s wrong with you, but I think you should go before you destroy our friendship.”
“Don’t call me the next time the stalker leaves a gift in your car. Personally, I think he’s wasting elegant Florentina Chastain chocolates on a woman who thinks Noah St. John is a good catch.”
Furious, Kit was about to physically throw Becca out when her blood ran cold. No one but Kit, Noah, Butch, and the police detective handling her stalking case knew about the chocolates.
Even if she was misremembering, she knew she wouldn’t have said the name of the chocolatier to anyone—she hadn’t even opened the package at the time. It was only forty-eight hours ago that the detective had mentioned the name in a call to her. He’d been checking if maybe she’d had any contact with that particular store, or if any of the employees were familiar to her.
“How do you know about the chocolates?” she asked Becca, a sick, heavy feeling in her gut.
When Becca’s expression went white, her lips not moving, Kit lifted a hand to her mouth. “Why would you do that?” It came out a shaken whisper. “Why would you help some creep terrorize me?” The two of them had been friends forever, had trusted one another with so many of their secrets and dreams. “Why, Becca?”
Becca didn’t answer, just reached into her purse and pulled out a small, sleek gun. Kit stared at it. Of course the security guards wouldn’t have thought to search her. She was Kit’s good friend, had often come to the house… when she could’ve left a door ajar or a window open for later access. Not here, not with the alarms, but back at the town house, where the stalking had first begun.
“I don’t want to kill you,” Becca said in a voice that held anger and panic both. “I never wanted to hurt you.”
“Then why did you bring the gun?” Kit felt as if she were looking at the world through a freeze-frame, everything hanging in time. “Why are you pointing it at me?”