Closer
Closer
A Stage Dive Novella
By Kylie Scott
1001 Dark Nights
Closer
A Stage Dive Novella
By Kylie Scott
Copyright 2019 Kylie Scott
ISBN: 978-1-970077-04-9
Foreword: Copyright 2014 M.J. Rose
Published by Evil Eye Concepts, Incorporated
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.
This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination and are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or establishments is solely coincidental.
BOOK DESCRIPTION
Closer: A Stage Dive Novella by Kylie Scott
From New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Kylie Scott comes a new story in her Stage Dive series…
When a stalker gets too close to plus-size model Mae Cooper, it’s time to hire some muscle.
Enter former military man turned executive protection officer Ziggy Thayer. Having spent years guarding billionaires, royalty, and rock’n’roll greats, he’s seen it all. From lavish parties through to every kind of excess.
There’s no reason some Instagram stylista should throw him off his game. Even if she does have the most dangerous curves he’s ever seen...
**Every 1001 Dark Nights novella is a standalone story. For new readers, it’s an introduction to an author’s world. And for fans, it’s a bonus book in the author’s series. We hope you'll enjoy each one as much as we do.**
ABOUT KYLIE SCOTT
Kylie is a New York Times and USA Today best-selling author. She was voted Australian Romance Writer of the year, 2013, 2014, & 2018 by the Australian Romance Writers’ Association and her books have been translated into eleven different languages.
Also From Kylie Scott
Lies
Repeat
It Seemed Like a Good Idea at the Time
Trust
Lies
THE DIVE BAR SERIES
Dirty
Twist
Chaser
THE STAGE DIVE SERIES
Lick
Play
Lead
Deep
Strong: A Stage Dive Novella
THE FLESH SERIES
Flesh
Skin
Flesh Series Novellas
Heart’s a Mess
Colonist’s Wife
Discover 1001 Dark Nights
Click here to explore
COLLECTION ONE
FOREVER WICKED by Shayla Black
CRIMSON TWILIGHT by Heather Graham
CAPTURED IN SURRENDER by Liliana Hart
SILENT BITE: A SCANGUARDS WEDDING by Tina Folsom
DUNGEON GAMES by Lexi Blake
AZAGOTH by Larissa Ione
NEED YOU NOW by Lisa Renee Jones
SHOW ME, BABY by Cherise Sinclair
ROPED IN by Lorelei James
TEMPTED BY MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian
THE FLAME by Christopher Rice
CARESS OF DARKNESS by Julie Kenner
COLLECTION TWO
WICKED WOLF by Carrie Ann Ryan
WHEN IRISH EYES ARE HAUNTING by Heather Graham
EASY WITH YOU by Kristen Proby
MASTER OF FREEDOM by Cherise Sinclair
CARESS OF PLEASURE by Julie Kenner
ADORED by Lexi Blake
HADES by Larissa Ione
RAVAGED by Elisabeth Naughton
DREAM OF YOU by Jennifer L. Armentrout
STRIPPED DOWN by Lorelei James
RAGE/KILLIAN by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright
DRAGON KING by Donna Grant
PURE WICKED by Shayla Black
HARD AS STEEL by Laura Kaye
STROKE OF MIDNIGHT by Lara Adrian
ALL HALLOWS EVE by Heather Graham
KISS THE FLAME by Christopher Rice
DARING HER LOVE by Melissa Foster
TEASED by Rebecca Zanetti
THE PROMISE OF SURRENDER by Liliana Hart
COLLECTION THREE
HIDDEN INK by Carrie Ann Ryan
BLOOD ON THE BAYOU by Heather Graham
SEARCHING FOR MINE by Jennifer Probst
DANCE OF DESIRE by Christopher Rice
ROUGH RHYTHM by Tessa Bailey
DEVOTED by Lexi Blake
Z by Larissa Ione
FALLING UNDER YOU by Laurelin Paige
EASY FOR KEEPS by Kristen Proby
UNCHAINED by Elisabeth Naughton
HARD TO SERVE by Laura Kaye
DRAGON FEVER by Donna Grant
KAYDEN/SIMON by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright
STRUNG UP by Lorelei James
MIDNIGHT UNTAMED by Lara Adrian
TRICKED by Rebecca Zanetti
DIRTY WICKED by Shayla Black
THE ONLY ONE by Lauren Blakely
SWEET SURRENDER by Liliana Hart
COLLECTION FOUR
ROCK CHICK REAWAKENING by Kristen Ashley
ADORING INK by Carrie Ann Ryan
SWEET RIVALRY by K. Bromberg
SHADE'S LADY by Joanna Wylde
RAZR by Larissa Ione
ARRANGED by Lexi Blake
TANGLED by Rebecca Zanetti
HOLD ME by J. Kenner
SOMEHOW, SOME WAY by Jennifer Probst
TOO CLOSE TO CALL by Tessa Bailey
HUNTED by Elisabeth Naughton
EYES ON YOU by Laura Kaye
BLADE by Alexandra Ivy/Laura Wright
DRAGON BURN by Donna Grant
TRIPPED OUT by Lorelei James
STUD FINDER by Lauren Blakely
MIDNIGHT UNLEASHED by Lara Adrian
HALLOW BE THE HAUNT by Heather Graham
PRINCE ROMAN by CD Reiss
THE BED MATE by Kendall Ryan
DIRTY FILTHY FIX by Laurelin Paige
NO RESERVATIONS by Kristen Proby
DAWN OF SURRENDER by Liliana Hart
COLLECTION FIVE
BLAZE ERUPTING by Rebecca Zanetti
ROUGH RIDE by Kristen Ashley
HAWKYN by Larissa Ione
RIDE DIRTY by Laura Kaye
ROME’S CHANCE by Joanna Wylde
THE MARRIAGE ARRANGEMENT by Jennifer Probst
SURRENDER by Elisabeth Naughton
INKED NIGHTS by Carrie Ann Ryan
ENVY by Rachel Van Dyken
PROTECTED by Lexi Blake
THE PRINCE by Jennifer L. Armentrout
PLEASE ME by J. Kenner
WOUND TIGHT by Lorelei James
STRONG by Kylie Scott
DRAGON NIGHT by Donna Grant
TEMPTING BROOKE by Kristen Proby
HAUNTED BE THE HOLIDAYS by Heather Graham
CONTROL by K. Bromberg
HUNKY HEARTBREAKER by Kendall Ryan
THE DARKEST CAPTIVE by Gena Showalter
Also from 1001 Dark Nights:
TAME ME by J. Kenner
THE SURRENDER GATE By Christopher Rice
SERVICING THE TARGET By Cherise Sinclair
TEMPT ME by J. Kenner
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
Book Description
About Kylie Scott
Also from Kylie Scott
Discover 1001 Dark Nights
Foreword
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
Discover 1001 Dark Nights Collection Six
Discover More Kylie Scott
An excerpt from Lies by Kylie Scott
Discover the World of 1001 Dark Nights
Special Thanks
ONE THOUSAND AND ONE DARK NIGHTS
Once upon a time, in the future…
I was a student fascinated with stories and learning.
I studied philosophy, poetry, history, the occult, and
the art and science of love and magic. I had a vast
library at my father’s home and collected thousands
of volumes of fantastic tales.
I learned all about ancient races and bygone
times. About myths and legends and dreams of all
people through the millennium. And the more I read
the stronger my imagination grew until I discovered
that I was able to travel into the stories... to actually
become part of them.
I wish I could say that I listened to my teacher
and respected my gift, as I ought to have. If I had, I
would not be telling you this tale now.
But I was foolhardy and confused, showing off
with bravery.
One afternoon, curious about the myth of the
Arabian Nights, I traveled back to ancient Persia to
see for myself if it was true that every day Shahryar
(Persian: شهريار, “king”) married a new virgin, and then
sent yesterday's wife to be beheaded. It was written
and I had read, that by the time he met Scheherazade,
the vizier's daughter, he’d killed one thousand
women.
Something went wrong with my efforts. I arrived
in the midst of the story and somehow exchanged
places with Scheherazade – a phenomena that had
never occurred before and that still to this day, I
cannot explain.
Now I am trapped in that ancient past. I have
taken on Scheherazade’s life and the only way I can
protect myself and stay alive is to do what she did to
protect herself and stay alive.
Every night the King calls for me and listens as I spin tales.
And when the evening ends and dawn breaks, I stop at a
point that leaves him breathless and yearning for more.
And so the King spares my life for one more day, so that
he might hear the rest of my dark tale.
As soon as I finish a story... I begin a new
one... like the one that you, dear reader, have before
you now.
CHAPTER ONE
I couldn’t have been more tired if I tried. It felt like a billion hours of traveling cross country for a two-day shoot. And it hadn’t helped that I was modelling winter clothes on the streets of New Orleans during the middle of their hot, wet summer. Honest to God, I was ready to lie down and die. Or at least snooze for a really long time, Sleeping Beauty style. Once I got up to my new apartment, of course. After so many years of my life being in a constant state of flux, it was beyond nice to have a home.
“Miss Cooper,” said Leonard, the concierge/security guard, with a smile. He was a big strong man in his fifties, if I had to guess. Not someone you’d want to mess with. “Welcome back.”
“Thanks.”
“How was your trip?”
“Good. How’s your week been?”
“Fine, miss,” he said. “A parcel came for you. I’ll just grab it.”
“Thanks, Leonard.”
He headed for a door behind the counter as I set my LV Keepall Bandouliére on the floor. One day I would learn not to overpack. Probably not anytime soon, however. I rolled my shoulder back a few times then forward. It didn’t help the ache.
Finding exactly the right place to put down roots hadn’t been easy. The apartment block sat in the middle of the Pearl District. Right in the heart of a heap of great shops and restaurants. I loved it. New York and Los Angeles might be more fashion world relevant, but Portland was my hometown. Art deco stonework surrounded the front door and the lobby was all shiny surfaces. The building had lots of old world charm. Lots of rock stars too, what with rising star Adam Dillon and half the members of the world famous Stage Dive band taking up the top two floors. They were the cause of occasional fans lurking outside. Thankfully I wasn’t the one drawing crowds, which was how I liked it. Live next to someone more famous than yourself and you’re bound to be left in peace—most of the time.
Leonard stepped out of the back room with a box in his hands and a frown on his face. “Something’s leaking.”
“Oh no.” A drop of red fell onto the white marble floor. The box was the wrong size for a bottle of wine and I highly doubted someone would have sent me tomatoes. “What the hell?”
He set it on the counter. Several of his fingers were smeared with the stuff. We both stared in growing horror as more of the red stuff oozed from a corner of the unopened box and the scent of copper filled the air.
“I-I think it’s blood.” I swallowed hard. “Leonard, can you please call the police?”
“I don’t want a bodyguard.”
“Around about the time someone sends you a dead cow’s heart with a knife stabbed through it, you’ve kind of lost that option.” Lena Ferris laid down the law while daintily pushing her red acrylic glasses further up her nose.
She had a point. Not that I was yet ready to admit it. My head fell back against the couch. “But I enjoy being on my own. I like my privacy.”
“Oh, please. This is just another side effect of your chosen vocation. You said goodbye to a percentage of privacy when you hit the cover of a certain sports magazine in a tiny black bikini, my dear,” she continued. “Five million Instagram followers, some of whom are sending you damn creepy messages, says you need to compromise. It’s your safety at stake.”
Another valid point from Lena. Dammit.
I’d first met Lena, photographer and wife to the lead singer of Stage Dive, about a year ago on a shoot. We’d bonded immediately. Not only were we both curvy brunettes, we shared a somewhat skewed sense of humor and general appreciation for sarcasm. And given how long and boring shoots can be, the woman was a godsend to work with. It was her recommendation that I look at the apartment that became my home.
“You’re not really going to be difficult about this, are you?” she asked, sitting opposite me with a cup of coffee in hand. “I deal enough with big famous babies thanks to my husband and twin daughters.”
“No.” I sighed. “It’s just so…man, it makes me angry that someone gets to mess with my life like this. And I’m too tired to argue with you, especially when I know you’re talking sense.”
“How much sleep have you had in the last forty-eight hours?”
I sighed. “The detective questioned me until early in the morning. Then, when I finally got up to my apartment, I just kept staring at the bedroom ceiling trying to figure out who’d be deranged enough to do something like this.”
“It’s probably not someone you know.”
“Probably.”
“They just think they have a relationship with you because they’re crazy.”
I frowned. “I mean, an actual heart. It’s so gross.”
“Agreed,” she said. “At any rate, I already called Sam and one of his people is on their way over, so suck it up.”
I gave her a small smile. “You know, I do appreciate your help.”
“I know. And if someone had sent me a stabbed offal, I’d be upset and angry and all cranky-pants too.”
“If this doesn’t make me a vegetarian, I’ll be heartily surprised. Get it? Heartily.”
Lena just gave me a look.
“Bad joke. I know. It was good of your friend to find me someone so fast.”
“Sam gets that the situation is urgent. He’s one of the good ones. He’d have to be to put up with Martha. She’s not exactly low maintenance.” Her cell phone chimed. After reading a text message, she grinned and her fingers moved across the screen. “Jimmy wants to know what I’m wearing.”
“What are you telling him?”
“A skimpy red silk nightie and a naughty smile.”
“You two are so happy and in love.” I sighed. Jealousy was a bitch. “I’m sick of you living your best life.”
“Sorry. Not.”
“Makes me almost miss being in a relationship.”
“Ooh, I could set you up with someone! There’s this guy–”
“No, thank you.”
“Spoilsport. You ruin everything, dude.”
“Awesome. Thanks for the feedback.”
Lena snorted and I smiled. A little levity felt damn good. Then someone knocked at the door. Ever so slowly, I dragged my oily-haired, yoga pants-wearing, general mess of a self over to answer. A couple hours of shitty broken sleep and a stalker didn’t bring out the best in me. Who could have guessed?
I opened the door and…stopped.
“Miss Cooper?” he asked in a deep voice.
I blinked.
He waited.
Say something. “Ah, yes. Hi. That’s me.”
Over six foot worth of tall, dark, and devastatingly handsome stood before me. And while I was falling apart, he seemed so put together it hurt. My messy bun and spandex clad ass were not anywhere up to dealing with this today. Whoever he was, he needed to leave and come back another time. Preferably when I was rocking one of my best outfits and actually had a clue. Or had at least had a shower. Deodorant could really only go so far.
“I’m Ziggy Thayer,” he said. “Samuel Rhodes sent me over.”
“He did?”
“Yes.”
“Y-you’re going to be my bodyguard?”
“Close protection officer, yes.”
“Huh.”
He tipped his chin. “Is there a problem, miss?”
“I, um…”
Was there a problem? Hell yes. This was a fucking disaster. My brain refused to function, all synapses had stalled. I didn’t know if it was the immaculate black suit, general air of badassery, or his stone-faced expression. But whatever it was, he needed to cease and desist with the hotness immediately. It’s not like I wasn’t used to being around beautiful people. It’s part of my job, after all. And he wasn’t even beautiful exactly, but for some reason, I couldn’t stop staring.
“Mae, you’re being weird. Let him in,” ordered Lena from the couch. As friends go, Lena and her bluntness occasionally sucked. This was clearly one of those occasions.
“Sorry.” I stepped back, heat creeping up my neck. “Please, come in, Mr. Thayer.”
“Ziggy will be fine,” he said.
“Oh. Then call me Mae.”
“He’ll call you Miss Cooper,” said Lena. “Don’t fight it. We’ve all tried to train the formality out of him, but it never sticks. Does it, Ziggy?”
Not even a hint of an expression or friendly smile from the man. He took resting bitch face to the next level. “No, ma’am.”
“Marines.” Lena shrugged. “What can you do?”
I shut the door behind him, feeling all types of awkward. This potent example of the male species was going to follow me around for the bulk of my waking hours? No. Not going to happen. Maybe they had someone else they could send over. Someone who didn’t take up so much room or make me stop and stare quite so often. That would be good. Drooling in public was never cool and could play havoc with a girl’s lip gloss. Wasn’t I dealing with enough? Insert heavy sigh here.
Halfway through my self-indulgent sigh, I managed to convert it into a steadying breath. Because I could pull my shit together and be professional. It would be done. In all likelihood, I just needed to get laid. It’d been months since me and the ex had called it quits, an entirely necessary and mutual decision. I needed to be free, to find some balance when my career and focus changed gears as I hit my thirties. And he apparently needed to be free to have sex with every barely legal football player fangirl who crossed his path. Especially the ones who liked to film themselves having sex with him and post it on the internet. Those were his favorite. Such is life.
Lena raised a hand. “Hey, Ziggy.”
“Mrs. Ferris.”
“Mae’s just tired and a little freaked out. Get her to sleep for a few hours and clean herself up, and she’ll be fine.”
He said nothing. Just stood there with a flinty gaze.
Meanwhile, I looked around for something to seal Lena’s lips shut. For at least the duration of her visit would be nice. Electrical tape maybe. Needle and thread seemed extreme, but not entirely out of the question.
Ziggy cleared his throat. “Miss Cooper, I notice you didn’t engage the deadlock or the security system. We’ll need to discuss that.”
“Ruh roh,” said Lena. “You’re getting spanked already. That was fast.”
My face flamed.
“I better leave you guys to it.”
“You’re going?” Hard to gauge what I was most afraid of, being left alone with the close protection officer, or waiting to hear what Lena said next. Both, perhaps.
“Jimmy has a big charity thing on tonight. I need to go get myself sorted out.” She wandered over and smacked a kiss on my cheek. “Try not to worry, Mae. Everything’s going to be fine. Call me if you need anything, okay?”
I managed a smile. “I will. Thank you again.”
“Anytime. See you tomorrow.”
And she was gone.
Leaving me alone with him.
“So,” I said with a hesitant smile. In these situations, normal people with a functioning brain were often polite. Maybe I should try it out. “Shall we sit? Can I get you a drink?”
“No, thank you, miss.”
That was really going to take some getting used to. Being called “miss” all the time.
He took the freshly vacated seat opposite me, sitting on the edge of the couch. Ready to launch into action at any moment, no doubt. Everything about him screamed big, scary, and capable. Though I’m sure he was a nice guy at heart. Probably an absolute delight at parties. Loved puppies and made origami cranes in his spare time. Or maybe not. I sat and curled my feet up beneath me, making myself as small a target as possible. Guess I was just feeling vulnerable for some reason. Not that I was afraid of him or anything. Hell no. Just because.
I squared my shoulders and sat up straighter. “So…where do we start?”
CHAPTER TWO
I’d had bodyguards before. But only for events like fashion week or a big shoot. Just for a limited amount of time. My contract with Ziggy, however, was open ended, dependent on the heart in the box situation. Once he’d grilled me about what the police were doing (investigating my entire life), my routine (I don’t really have one. It’s consumed by work), and my calendar for the next few days (I’d freed up time to finish unpacking and then back to work on my lingerie line), he drove me to the gym. There was one I used a couple of times in the apartment building, but I generally do better with some active encouragement and guidance.
Guess Ziggy approved of my Land Rover because he gave it another one of those almost-smiles. I, however, continued to receive the full professional cold front face. This was definitely going to take some getting used to.
“Who’s your shadow?” asked Kwana, my awesome trainer.
I paused mid-lunge, my breath coming hard and fast. “My bodyguard, Ziggy. You like him?”
“He’s pretty. Don’t stop, keep moving.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“You don’t usually have one of them around. Have you been getting hassled or something?”
Kwana stood with her arms crossed, all lean muscles beneath brown skin. Since we were in an open area at the end of the main part of the gym, Ziggy waited over by the wall, just out of earshot. He stood with his arms loose at his side, his gaze constantly wandering a circuit from me—around the room, over to the exits, and back again. Always on alert.
“More a precaution than anything,” I said.
No matter how much I liked Kwana, no one outside my inner circle needed to know about the incident. The fewer people who found out about the gross cow heart and knife the better.
There’d been no further news from the police. Though it was never likely they’d track down a suspect and charge that person the next day.
Case closed, hooray!
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