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Once she settled somewhere safe and permanent, she’d need to look into getting a pet. Not only would a dog like Ray help her feel safer if she lived on her own, but the companionship would do wonders for her psyche.
A pet had been the one consistent gifts she’d asked for every Christmas and birthday. Well, that and to visit her older brother. Both requests had never been denied, just ignored.
Her online classes had ended about ten days ago. She’d been taking one class at a time over the past two semesters. It’d be great to take more, but she’d wanted to fly under the radar. Thankfully, she had two months off until the next one began. Would she be somewhere she could continue her coursework? Hopefully. Two months would be long enough to have her life ironed out, right?
Glancing at Ray, she grinned. Oh, to be a dog with nothing more to worry about than when the next ball would be thrown. “Nice life you got yourself here, huh, Ray?”
The dog’s ears twitched at the sound of his name, but he didn’t lift his head.
“Though from what I hear, you deserve it, saving Brooke’s life.” She reached forward and scratched behind his massive ears, then flopped back in the chaise.
Her gaze fell to Brooke’s laptop lying on the table next to her. “Ray, I need your help. Will you check my email for me? You see, I ditched all my electronics when I left home so Lance couldn’t track or contact me. It’s been days, and I need to check my email, but I’m kinda dreading it. I’m sure Lance has sent many hate notes. So whaddaya say? Help a girl out? Read them for me?”
Ray lifted his head and let out one deep woof.
Sighing, she grabbed the laptop off the table next to her. “Yeah, yeah, I know having paws makes it difficult to type. But I’m pretty sure you’re just being lazy.”
Ray whined, then settled back down.
“Go ahead. Take a nap. I’ll just be over here staring at the computer screen.” Brooke had been nice enough to let her borrow her laptop. Not only did she need to check for messages from Lance, but she needed to email her father and let him know she was okay. She’d left him a voicemail saying she was taking a solo vacation to destress. She’d asked not to be disturbed but promised to check in periodically. Her father would find it extremely out of character, but he’d taken his latest young wife on a trip to the French Riviera for a few months and wouldn’t worry too much. His being abroad meant Lance wouldn’t get to him either, which was one less worry.
Like the house, Brooke’s computer had the best of the best when it came to security, including an encrypted VPN. According to Curly, no way could Lance—or the FBI—track her activity.
Not that she’d let on to why she wanted a secure computer. She learned within moments of meeting him that Curly was perceptive. Too much so. If she didn’t want him asking questions about her visit or her life, she’d need to be extremely careful not to tip her hand too far.
“All right. Enough stalling.” She logged into the operating system using the guest account. A few clicks and typed keys later, fifteen hundred unread emails stared her down.
Not surprisingly, the first dozen or—
She scrolled down. Holy shit. Not a dozen, but the first thirty-two emails were from an anonymous account. Lance. Who else would it be? Her stomach twisted as she skimmed some of the subject lines.
You can’t hide.
I’ll find you.
Bitch.
You’ll wish you were dead.
Fuck you.
The list went on. All thirty-two emails had different subjects, increasingly threatening. The most recent sent only eighteen minutes ago had her blood running cold.
I’m getting closer.
Closer to what? Finding her? Showing up in Florida? Bringing danger to the Handlers’ door? Or was it all bluster designed to freak her out?
Maybe coming to Florida had been a colossal mistake. Scott didn’t want her there, and she knew no one aside from him. Sure, Brooke was becoming a friend, but what kind of person brought baggage like hers to the home of someone they barely knew?
As though he sensed her distress, Ray whined and pushed his heated body against her leg. He provided a measure of comfort, but, man, she wished he could tell her what to do. Leave? Stay? Ask for help? Reply? Ignore Lance? The right decision eluded her.
Hand trembling, she clicked open the most recently received email. What was the point of reading them all? They’d only terrify her.
I just wanted to talk, but now I’m pissed. You have no money. No job. No house. I’m the son your father wishes he’d had. I’m getting closer to finding you. See you soon, my love.
