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Haha! I know exactly which note that is.

He shoves it into his pocket, then keeps pulling them off and reading. I watch his mouth twitch, another slight smile blooming before he wipes it away.

I sink lower in my seat.

Beck starts pulling off the notes, reading them to Roman as he goes.

I slap my hand over my mouth before I giggle out loud.

My hitman looks so fucking adorable when he’s grumpy.

That frown. The deep line in the center of his forehead. Cute as hell.

Roman and Beck exchange a few words as they pull the notes off his truck. I immediately clock Roman’s amusement when Beck isn’t looking.

I’m giddy.

Once all but one sticky note is removed, Roman climbs into his truck. I glance at Alibi. He’s lying on the seat. Either he’s bored, or he’s mimicking me. I’d like to think it’s the latter.

Roman’s window rolls down, and he leans out, his hand stretching across the windshield.

I watch as he reads it. This time, there’s no mistaking his smile.

Four times.

He shifts, and I can tell from the movement that he’s putting it in his pocket with the other one. That makes me happier than it should.

He waits until Beck leaves, then follows him.

I wait a few minutes before pulling out behind him, keeping him in sight but far enough away that he wouldn’t notice it’s me.

Once I find out where he lives, I won’t need the damn disguise anymore.

The AirTag on his truck should keep me from losing him.

Everything is going smoothly until Roman suddenly turns into a shopping center.

What the hell?

I keep going long enough that I won’t make it obvious, then turn into another entrance and choose a spot with enough cars to hide me.

Roman gets out.

What the hell?

He doesn't look around or hesitate. He walks straight toward the back of his truck, crouches beside the rear wheel, and runs his hand beneath the fender.

No.

No, no, no.

“How the hell⁠—”

His hand disappears beneath the truck.

A second later, he straightens.

I can't see what's between his fingers from here. But I don't need to.