Page 126 of Watching Her

“Oh!” The anguished cry didn’t make me feel any better. Should I finally call the police? And say what exactly? That he’d killed a couple of people? Yeah, right. My guess was the handsome killer knew how to hide all evidence if he’d even been anywhere close to where the murders had occurred.

Plus, there didn’t seem to be any love lost regarding Thomas Atwood. He had been a horrible man.

“Girl. You’re losing it.” My words echoed in the room. Should I tell him how I felt again?

Wait. Hold on.

He’d all but admitted the surveillance. Okay. How? Where?

I glanced around my kitchen, taking a deep breath while I realized I couldn’t tolerate the thought of anyone watching me.

So I decided to tear apart the house.

I flew through the kitchen, opening every cabinet and drawer, searching under the table and on top of the refrigerator. Nothing.

Next was the bedroom, even more furious. I even dumped clothes everywhere searching for cameras or plain old listening devices.

Finding nothing. But the creepy-crawlies were all over me.

The living room had several places where a camera could be hidden. It took me a few seconds to realize the most logical place was in my office.

I tore through every nook and cranny, finding nothing at first. Frustrated as hell, I moved to my desk, leaning against it. The ache inside was worse than before. Was I truly wishing Christian would call? Maybe I was wrong.

After rubbing my eyes, I shifted and the sun was able to pop over my shoulder. Wait a minute. What was that? Very slowly I walked toward a large bookshelf that was on the opposite wall. I had a little dolphin statue on the top shelf and there was something odd about its placement.

As soon as I lifted the metal piece, a small wireless camera slipped to the floor. I’d be damned. I pulled it into my hand, glaring at it for a few seconds while I allowed the rage to increase.

I held it out, plastering a smile on my face. “You think you’re so clever, huh? To hell with you.” Thankfully, I was wearing shoes. I threw it to the floor, enjoying stomping on it several times until the tiny instrument of surveillance was in several pieces.

After that, the painting caught my eye.

Another shiver was unwanted, but so was most of my life at that moment. I slowly walked toward it, glaring at the beautiful piece.

That Christian had wanted me to own.

Why?

Part of the damn game?

I’d had enough, racing into the kitchen and grabbing a knife. As soon as I was back in my office, I raised it high over my head and stormed toward the offensive… incredibly beautiful, heartfelt… work of art.

All my good intentions of destroying it were tossed aside. What was wrong with me? What? The answer was just as simple as before. I loved him. I loved a man capable of vicious crimes.

Wow.

A maniacal laugh erupted and I moved toward my desk, managing to place the knife on the edge without inflicting bodily harm.

With a deep exhale, I opened my laptop lid and shifted my finger across the trackpad. As soon as the screen pulled up, I started to flick on Instagram when a thought entered my mind. The information I’d basically stolen from Carrington before I’d been locked out of my office was on a jump drive.

I’d had full intention of using it against him but had chickened out. In my rush to collect something incriminating, I’d forgotten what I’d snatched off his computer.

It took me a few seconds to find what I was looking for buried in my drawer.

When I pulled up the files, now that I knew what I was looking for, it didn’t take long for me to find it.

“Wow. Carrington. What the fuck?” I sat back, tapping my fingers on my desk. Why should I want to help Christian?

Are you crazy? Do you really need to keep asking yourself the same question over and over again?