Thirty minutes later, the curtain in her bedroom was drawn aside a little. She reappeared by the window and scanned the street.
She didn't move for a long time. Just stood there, face pensive, hair streaming down her shoulders.
Then, without warning, she looked up. Her eyes fixed on the glass, on her own reflection, but for a moment it felt like she was staring straight at me. I knew that was impossible. She couldn't see me from her vantage point, but I lowered the binoculars anyway.
I watched the window as the curtain hid the interior of the bedroom.
I thought about the protocol—the necessary wall between an operative and a client. Lines were drawn for a reason. But the longer I watched her, the less the line mattered.
This wasn't a regular job anymore.
It was something I couldn't name. Because I'd spent my entire day here,watching her without a valid justification. Viper could always pull the footage from the nearby businesses and surrounding streets to find the person following her. Besides, if she spent her entire day inside the apartment, the chances of spotting someone tracking her movements were extremely low.
I didn't need to be here. Didn't need to make sure she was safe.
Still, I'd come.
And it frustrated and irritated the hell out of me.
20 target three
The headlines screamed from the desktop like open wounds.
Financial Prodigy Ronan Wick Indicted for Tax Evasion and Embezzlement
Jerico Thorne Forgery Scandal Implicates LA's Elite
Caius Valmont didn't read the stories. He already knew the facts, or at least the parts that mattered. The rest was noise, and he'd spent a lifetime learning how to tune that out.
After flicking through several more online articles, he got up from his office chair and paced around his desk. His long strides devoured the Aubusson rug. He had his phone cradled so hard in his palm that the casing flexed. The home office was so clean you could perform surgery on the floor. The only clutter was the controlled sprawl of newsprint on his desk—evidence that reality itself was coming apart.
Earlier, he'd received an interesting call from Jerico Thorne. They hadn't been in touch for a long while, ever since Caius decided it was time to get into politics. Being seen with someone like Thorne wouldn't be beneficial to his future. He hadn't been a part of the high society. His family was middle-class and all the wealth and status Thorne had right now was thanks to his friendship with Caius and Ronan.
But Thorne had an interesting theory, and Caius thought it was best to hear him out and get some insurance. Even though he didn't quite believe Thorne's story. The woman who'd cost Caius almost half a million to silence was possibly involved in the demise of both Jerico and Ronan? And she had help too?
After a minute of deliberation over the story, Caius had chuckled.
That woman, whoever she was, had a death wish if she thought she could get back at a Valmont.
Jerico's theory was absurd.
"You remember who I'm talking about, right?" Jerico had asked. "Kimberly Holt."
Caius's memory floated to the forefront of his mind.
"Ronan has had a PI following her for a few weeks and I'm digging for more info."
"And?"
"Nothing so far."
"Tell Ronan to stop. You too," Caius had said in a voice that brooked no argument. He hadn't explained that he'd do it his way.
The call had ended and Caius had been thinking ever since while browsing the Internet and reading the news about Jerico and Ronan.
Finally, he pulled up a certain contact on his phone and hit the call button.
"Bale Security," a woman chirped on the line.
