Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M. (читать книги полностью без сокращений бесплатно .txt) 📗

There’s no message, but the intent and meaning is clear: I’m watching you.

I consider throwing the burner phone across the room and watching as it shatters against the wall, but that would solve absolutely nothing. The mystery stalker has escalated the situation and now it’s time to call in reinforcements.

I grab yet another phone from under my bed and call Cash.

“They sent a picture of me leaving my office, so not only are they hacking the phones, they’re tailing me now.”

“Don’t we have enough to deal with right now?” Even chipper Cash sounds a little exasperated at this latest turn of events.

“I know.”

“Okay, so we’re going to have to draw them out. I’ll call the guys and we’ll set up surveillance. I know you’re going to hate it, but that’s just the way it’s gotta be.” We’ve dealt with similar situations before. The people we target have a lot of money and resources at their disposal and aren’t very happy when they find out they’re several million dollars poorer.

“Do you think we should bail?” I say. This is the last thing I want to do, but it’s an option we need to consider.

“Let’s not pull that trigger just yet. The boys and I will see what we can do and then we’ll go from there. I’m heading over now.” In addition to our arsenal of flashy vehicles, we also have a few that we use for surveillance. Catering vans for fake companies, taxis and even a postal truck. No idea how Row got his hands on it, but he did and it’s come in handy many times.

“Let me know when you get here,” I say and end the call. Walking to the window, I pull the curtain back just a little and look out into the night. The street is quiet and still. Like it’s in hibernation. A lone car goes by and a dog barks somewhere nearby. Nothing out of the ordinary. I scan the rows of parked cars on either side of the street, but from this vantage point, I’m not going to be able to see someone even if they’re watching me.

Fuck.

Fifteen minutes later I get a text from Cash that he’s here and ready to take the night shift. I’ll be escorted to work and home and wherever I go. Unseen, of course, but I’ll still know they’re there. Watching whoever is watching me. I’ll continue with my normal activities, of course, because altering them would let whoever’s doing this know I’m scared. I’ll also have to start bringing more weapons with me. I always have at least a knife on me, a small handgun in my briefcase and another in my desk at the office, but now I’ll have to start carrying. That makes things a little difficult, but as Cash said, it’s the price I pay to do what I do.

Part of me feels a little pang of guilt that the other guys have to give up their lives to watch my ass. But I would do the same for them and they know it. I have done the same for them. Many a night my ass has gotten numb from sitting and waiting for something to happen.

I toss the now-useless burner in a plastic bag and I’ll pass it off to Cash tomorrow morning so he can see if there’s something he can get off it. I know there won’t be. Sooner or later it’s going to come down to me versus whoever this is and I’ll have to be ready.

Despite the later hour, I pull out my standing bag and throw myself into a workout. I’ve been slacking lately and I need to be as strong as possible, especially now.

Leo sits on the windowsill, tail swishing back and forth as he watches me batter the bag.

“Stop looking at me like that,” I say, wiping sweat out of my eyes.

He doesn’t listen.

I drop the phone in the trashcan outside my place—Cash will pick it up. I walk to the usual spot where I hail a cab and resist the urge to look over my shoulder. I can’t do that. I have to keep my composure.

My arrival at the office is uneventful. Not that I expect someone to jump me, but I have to be prepared for all contingencies. Which is why I have one gun strapped to my side and another to my ankle. Fortunately my suit conceals both. I actually breathed a sigh of relief when I put them on this morning. Like saying hello to old friends I hadn’t seen in a while. They give me added peace of mind. I should probably start going to the shooting range at least once a week. We all should. None of us can get lax or out of practice.

I fall into my usual routine of meeting with clients, doing paperwork and discussing sports with my colleagues at the coffee maker. We have a meeting in the afternoon to discuss the quarterly report. I keep my head down and wait for it to be over. I haven’t heard from Saige and I’m expecting her to at least send me a text today. We can’t seem to go 24 hours without talking to one another. Or at least I can’t go that long without hearing from her.

The meeting finally ends with my boss making a terrible (and sexist) joke that we all have to laugh about. There are only two female executives and they keep their mouths shut but I can feel them seething. I don’t blame them. I can’t wait to get out of this job. This is one of the worst work climates I’ve ever been stuck in. Maybe before I go I’ll tell all the pigs who work here what I really think of them. Burn every last bridge. It would be very satisfying.

When I get back to my office, I do find a text from Saige. A little ripple of pleasure rolls through me and I don’t stop to analyze it.

How are you, Quinn Brand?

I’d love to hear her voice, but I’m assuming she’s probably in class or another place where she can’t take a call.

I’m doing very well. And how are you, Saige Beaumont?

Either she types extremely slowly (which I think is unlikely), or she’s definitely in the middle of something.

Sorry, in class. Should probably be paying attention. I’m fine.

I’m in the middle of typing out another response when another message from her comes through.

So I was wondering what you’re doing this weekend. I know it’s short notice.

Very nice. I’d definitely like to have another date with her, hopefully capped off by more sex. And this time I’d like not to be interrupted.

What did you have in mind?

Well…

Now I’m definitely intrigued.

How do you feel about wearing a tux?

That depends.

I really wish I could hear her voice.

Would you wear one for me? At a friend of my father’s charity event?

I figured. There seems to be one every weekend. Funny that she was asking me to go to one now when I’d already gone to two and hadn’t seen her.

I think that can be arranged.

She doesn’t write back right away, so I set the phone back on my desk and wait. When nothing happens for five minutes, I unfreeze my computer and start working on some emails. A watched phone doesn’t ring.

Sorry again. Okay, great. I’ll text you the details later.

I message back that I’ll await her instructions. This could be good. Might be a good chance to smoke out my stalker. The boys probably won’t be pleased, but they’ll suck it up. I send a mass text giving them a heads up that I’m going to need everyone on board for this weekend.

I expect to get more than a few disgruntled texts back, but I don’t. Interesting. Usually there’s a least a little complaining. Weird.

I called a meeting for the next night so we could talk about my stalker and about how the event was going to go. I was first to arrive at Cash’s and he was sitting at his writing desk.

“I thought you weren’t going to use it. Just admire it.”

“Yes, well. I’m sitting and admiring it.” He runs his hand across the top and then looks up at me. He looks fucking ridiculous, hunched down in the flimsy seat. Like an adult sitting in a kid’s chair.

“Whatever,” I say and head to the office. I definitely need a drink.