Page 3 of Blood Stone
The writing was perfectly clear.
@ angel
“Dove,” she whispered. Her heart was thundering in her ears. Her breath whistling in and out of her.
Garrett was DoveAngel. Jesus Christ on a pony.
She looked up at him, trying to fit it together in her mind. She had been talking to Garrett all this time on Twitter and hadn’t known it.
“It was you,” she said. “Even last night.”
“Yes.”
She pulled her scattered wits together. “They’re public conversations on Twitter. Prove you’re really DoveAngel.”
“The entomology doesn’t do it for you?” Garrett replied. “I suppose I would be suspicious, too.” He wrote something else on the card and flipped it around for her to read. “That would have been how I would have ended our private chat last night, except that I had to catch a very early plane for Los Angeles.”
She dropped her gaze to the card.
@Lind’stream #Warlord. I can get you Sauvage.
The hand she was using to hold her drink jerked, spilling icy drops of fake tequila and lime over her wrist. She barely noticed. She looked up into Garrett’s eyes. “You son of a bitch,” she breathed.
Kate had been chatting with DoveAngel on and off for nearly a year. There were a huge number of people who followed her tweets on Twitter. Thousands of them. Most of them were fans and industry followers. Huge numbers of them talked back to her, returning her Tweets, and sending their own. Most of them Kate was forced to ignore because the sheer volume meant she couldn’t personally answer everyone who twitted at her.
DoveAngel had started in that category. He had been a voice among the thousands. But she had noticed one of his comments, which had been particularly astute. She had replied publicly and promptly forgotten about him. That had been it for a few weeks until she had seen another of his comments go through — another insightful zinger. She had replied again, still publicly.
Gradually, she had started to look for his comments and found she enjoyed it when he clearly approved of something she had done.
Kate couldn’t remember when the first private exchange had taken place. But it had been low key and non-threatening. And the next one hadn’t happened for weeks after that.
But soon they had begun to exchange private notes more and more frequently. DoveAngel became a convenient sounding board and sometimes a wailing wall on Kate’s bleaker days.
There had never been any hint of expectation from DoveAngel beyond those quick chats. No demands. She had never been entirely sure what sex they were — except in her mind she had decided long ago DoveAngel was male despite the moniker. There was just something in the direct, no quarters given comments that told her he was a guy.
DoveAngel had never asked to meet in person. He could have been anywhere on the planet and she liked it that way. He was the one single relationship in her life that didn’t ask a damn thing of her.
Last night he had popped up as she had been surfing the ‘net in a sleepless daze. This time he was responding to her latest public tweet about Murad, the warrior emperor and subject of her next film.
@Lind’stream #Warlord Biopics on Ottoman emp...derivative excuse for fantasy?
“Ha!” Kate breathed softly. “Fantasy, my ass.” Was this guy just trying to piss her off? But she had to admire anyone who could use the word “derivative” in a tweet and not come off sounding lame.
She fired off a public reply, working it until it was politically correct and massaged for maximum PR impact.
@DoveAngel #Warlord. Murad’s victories, prowess, lack of magic = no fantasy. Guy was real warrior emperor.
Let him chew over that one, along with the thousands of silent, lurking fans and followers who were reading their tweets.
The private, direct message tweet hit her Twitter in-box almost instantly.
You’re awake. Good. Tell me you’re not thinking of casting Greg Evershot as Murad.
Kate sucked in an unsteady breath. Wow...now there was a leading question, in all senses of the word. How the hell could she answer that one?
But DoveAngel didn’t wait for an answer. Another private message popped up straight away.
You must have considered Patrick Sauvage by now. He’s perfect.
