Page 51 of Tempest’s Torment

I stare at her blankly. "Doing what?"

"Watching."

I take another drink of my coffee. "Occupational hazard."

She rolls her eyes. "You're impossible."

"Been told."

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out and see Rogue's name on the screen. I glance at Lilah; her attention is nowhere near me, she’s busy talking with Louise and Cara while working so I step outside and answer. "Rogue. Everything good?"

"The building log came back clean," he says. "No unusual codes, no odd access. He didn't get into the building through the keypad."

Fucker. "He followed someone in."

"Looks that way." I hear keys tapping in the background. "I've gone through every entry over the last couple of weeks. Nothing stands out."

I run my hand along the back of my neck. Shit. "Alright."

"But I found something else." His tone changes enough that I straighten. "The florist cameras."

My gut clenches. "What about them?"

"Ghost mentioned the SUV from the other night. Turns out that wasn't the only time,” he says and I wait, needing to know what he’s uncovered. "I've got four sightings over fourteen days, the same vehicle description, different times, and different streets around the shop."

Two fucking weeks.

I look through the florist window. Lilah's helping an elderly woman choose flowers, smiling in that easy way she only seems to manage in here. "She had no idea."

"No,” he agrees.

"Don't tell her," I say.

"Wasn't planning to."

"What else?" I ask, needing to know it all.

"The Matthew Cole identity," he says, his voice tight. I lean against the wall, my fingers tightening around my cell as he continues to speak. "The bank account wasn't opened six weeks ago."

"It wasn't? Then when?"

"Four months ago."

I close my eyes for a second. Fuck. "So he's been here that long."

"Looks that way."

Christ, he’s had four months to rent an apartment, learn the streets, find Petals, and work out exactly when Lilah comes and goes, he didn't stumble across her, he came looking.

"We'll keep digging," Rogue says. "Something changed, we just haven't found what."

"You will," I assure him.

"We will," he reiterates. He’s right; we’re all in this. We’ll figure it out.

The call ends and I stay where I am for another few seconds, staring out at the traffic. Four months. The bastard hadn't just found her, he's been hunting her.

I take a deep breath and wonder what the fuck happens now? Do I tell her? If I do, will she retreat back into herself? She’s started to live these past two days; will telling her that he’s been watching her for four months send her spiraling?