Page 28 of Tempest’s Torment

I ride past without turning my head. I’m just another biker looking for somewhere to grab lunch. I continue around the block before pulling into a side street. Once the bike's parked, I take my helmet off and start walking. Coffee first, observation second. I don’t want to tip off the SUV driver that I’m watching.

The SUV is still there by the time I reach the corner. I have a clear enough view without drawing attention, but the driver's side is hidden from where I'm standing.

Perfect.

I lean against the brick wall outside an empty unit and watch. One minute, then two, and then five. Nothing, nobody gets out or in. The florist door opens once as a woman leaves carrying a bouquet wrapped in brown paper.

The SUV doesn't move, clearly it isn't interested in the shopper. My eyes narrow, this isn't someone waiting for a pickup, they're watching.

I slip my phone from my pocket and zoom the camera in, no good, the angle blocks the rear plate, and the front's impossible from here. Whoever parked it knew exactly what they were doing.

I call Rogue. "You busy?"

"I usually am."

"I've got the SUV."

The tapping of keys starts almost immediately. "Same one?"

"Looks like it."

"Location?" He barks out.

"Across from Petals."

There’s a slight hesitation before he fires off more questions. "Anyone inside?"

"Can't tell. Windows are blacked out."

I hear his heavy sigh. "What about the plate?"

"Blocked," I growl, my anger coursing through me. This SUV is definitely up to no good, that’s for fucking sure.

"Accidentally?"

"I don't think so."

I hear him release a string of curse words. "You think they're watching?"

I don’t think anything. "I know they are."

He doesn't argue. "Stay where you are."

I scoff, is he crazy? "I'm not planning on moving."

"I'm pulling traffic cameras now."

I keep my eyes on the SUV while he works. The florist door opens again, an older woman steps outside with another bucket of flowers. I know she works there; Rogue got all the employee details yesterday. Her name’s Cara. She chats to an older woman passing on the footpath and the SUV stays exactly where it is.

Seven minutes later, brake lights flash, and the SUV eases away from the curb. I wait until it's gone before crossing the street, but it’s too late, the traffic swallows it.

"It's moving," I tell Rogue.

"Direction?"

"Left onto Fifth."

"I've got traffic cams on that junction. Give me a minute."