Relentless (Option Zero 2)

The meeting with Aubrey Starr had started out on a positive note. He had expressed his admiration for a good script and praised her for her previous works. She was an extraordinarily gifted filmmaker, and her new project had all the earmarks of another award-winning hit. The flattery had been truthful.

Problem was, she hadn’t been as impressed with him as he had hoped. He was an Oscar-winning producer of both feature films and documentaries. He knew how to get a story told, and he had the contacts and money to achieve both successfully. Their partnership could be ideal. She would provide the basic content. He would provide the funding and use his skills to turn her words and images into a soul-grabbing, heart-stopping, searingly raw picture of the ravages of human trafficking.

People would walk out of the theaters not only moved to tears, but also moved to action. His films changed the world. This one would be no different.

He didn’t have any real investment in revealing the evils of human trafficking, but he lived to tell a good story. If his work exposed evildoers, or inspired people to do good, that was just an added benefit. He certainly wasn’t on any kind of crusade. Not the way Aubrey Starr seemed to be. She definitely had her own agenda.

Instead of accepting his suggestions, she had refused to alter the script in any way. She claimed she had her own vision, and it didn’t coincide with his. The meeting had gone downhill from there. He was known for his temper—the mark of a creative person was to be volatile and full of emotion.

She hadn’t seemed angry but had adamantly refused to continue their meeting. Lawrence breathed out an exasperated sigh. He’d known the instant she’d walked out the door that he needed to make amends. He’d waited a couple of hours and had sent a bouquet of flowers to her hotel room, along with a note requesting another meeting. She had graciously accepted.

They would meet again tomorrow afternoon. This time, things would end differently. Once they had an agreement and began to work together, he felt sure he would be able to bring her around to his way of thinking. He’d handled things badly, but that didn’t mean anything in this industry. Minds changed in an instant, given the right incentive. She needed funds. He had them. It was as simple as that.

By this time tomorrow, he would be celebrating a successful partnership.

They would be stepping on some toes with this project. Starr had been upfront that some powerful people could be exposed. He had no problem with that. Wouldn’t be the first time he’d uncovered dirt on the rich and powerful. But he was Lawrence Medford. Rich and powerful in his own right. A world-renowned producer. He had angered numerous people through the years. Sometimes, you had to rattle a few nerves to reveal the underbelly of truth. He was good at that. And so was Aubrey Starr. That’s why he needed to make this work.

Feeling much more optimistic, Lawrence dumped the scripts he’d reviewed into the trash bin. They were not worthy of a second glance. He would have his hands full with the new project, and as he didn’t like to concentrate on more than one at a time, there was no point in searching for something more.

He took two steps away from his desk and halted when he heard an odd sound. Nothing like he’d ever heard before, at least not in his home. It couldn’t be…could it?

He looked down at the hardwood floor, his breath caught in his throat, and his heart almost stopped. A mere three inches from his bare foot lay a rattlesnake, coiled and poised to strike. Lawrence froze. Cold sweat slid down his spine. If he moved even an inch, the snake would bite him.

Staring at the thing, he tried to will it to move away. He could swear the creature was staring back at him, almost taunting him to make the first move.

The longer he stood there, the more he knew he would have to move. He could survive a rattlesnake bite. He was only fifty and in good health. Lots of people survived worse. Yeah, it would hurt, but nothing he couldn’t handle.

Doing the only thing that made sense to him, he hopped back one step. A stinging pain shot through the back of his ankle. Crying out, Lawrence looked down just in time to see the snake in front of him strike. But where had—out of his peripheral vision, another snake struck. This pain was worse, like a hornet’s sting.

The question of how two rattlesnakes came to be inside his office was far from his mind. Knowing he had no choice, Lawrence stepped sideways and gripped his desk. Agony struck again, this time in his hand. There was a snake on his desk?

Nausea swelled in his stomach. Cold sweat drenched his body. He reached for the phone and watched in a blur of pain as it moved farther away from him. He stumbled forward, reaching for the cellphone that somehow continued to be out of his reach. How was that possible?

His mind was a mass of confusion as fear and panic took control. He reached for the phone again, and that’s when he heard something else. Soft, masculine laughter filled the room.

“What…who…”

“Sorry, Medford. Not going to happen.”

Lawrence tried to swing around to see who had spoken behind him. His legs refused to obey him, and he teetered forward. Catching himself on the edge of the des

k, he stood there, hoping to catch his breath. He was hallucinating. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe… Agony speared through his left leg. He glanced down to see that a snake had struck again. This was no nightmare!

Grabbing a paperweight, he dropped it onto the snake and missed. It did nothing other than slither off. As he staggered, his only thought was to get help. He needed his phone. Where had it—

“Looking for this?”

Lawrence jerked around. It hadn’t been his imagination. Someone was here. Holding his phone out to him. His vision wavering, he reached for it and then swallowed a gasp when the hand jerked away.

“Please…I need to call someone.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re not a bad guy, Medford. In fact, I really like your films. Classy but understated. Unfortunately, you pissed somebody off. Sorry about that.”

“Please…I need help.”

“Oh, you’ll get help, but it’ll come much too late for you.”

Nausea swelled, twisting and knotting. The rapid thundering of his heart roared through his head. He couldn’t think…couldn’t think… His mouth opened but no sound emerged. His legs collapsed, and he fell forward, landing face first on the hardwood floor. He shifted his head slightly and looked up to see a vaguely familiar face.