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Surveillance

It wasn’t hard to find the cameras — once you knew where to look. They were sophisticated. Expensive. He didn’t destroy them. Just boxed them up and FedEx’ed them to her.

She’d sent her own FedEx in return — his front door key.

It felt like a breakup.

But they’d never been a thing. Not really.

A reluctant friendship, maybe. On her side.

On his?

Didn’t matter anymore. He’d walked away.

Didn’t stop it from hurting. And he had no one to blame but himself.

Had he overreacted? He didn’t think so.

Illegal camera surveillance. Spying on people. On him.

Who the fuck did that?

His jaw tightened.

Because here’s the thing—

He’d seen the look on her face when he’d called her on it. Not guilt. Not fear. Something else. Something he couldn’t quite name.

And that—

That was what stuck with him.

So … he started his own board.

One subject: Felicity Graham.

He filled in what he knew. There wasn’t much.

For the rest, he called in a favor from an old acquaintance from a joint-ops mission.

It took a few days. When Wraith finally got back to him, everything shifted. “Your girl’s ID — it’s Marshal-issued,” the former covert operator said. “Over twenty years old.”

Shock hit — but it made perfect sense.

Witness protection.

And why the fuck hadn’t he thought of that?

He sat back, studying the board. Started adding the other names.

Beau. Nate. Books ’n Bakes.

He paused, looked at the last two.

Not Nate.

Bella.