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Zade shoots her a look, one that says, yeah, okay, and I’m Jackie Chan. “Regardless, she can fight. She could help you with training.”
My heart softens, hearing what he’s not saying.
You can’t stand my touch, so here’s someone who can give you what I can’t.
“Thank you,” I whisper. Now more than ever, I’m frustrated with myself. I will take him up on that offer because I recognize it won’t change overnight. But I vow to try harder, so I can give Zade what he deserves, too.
All of me.
Zade plops an ice pack on my shoulders, and I groan both from the freezing temperature and how good it feels. Training has been taking a toll on my body, but also in the best of ways. I’m stronger than I’ve ever been, and that feeling is addictive.
Since Sibby arrived a couple of weeks ago, I’ve only gotten better. She’s smaller and moves with a quickness even Zade doesn’t quite possess, and she’s far more unpredictable.
We’ve been sitting around my kitchen island for the past several hours, working out the kinks of drawing Claire out of hiding. Not only did everyone in Francesca’s house disappear, but she did, too. And now that Zade has me, there’s not a damn thing in this world that’s stopping him from finding her.
Zade believes the best way to locate her is through her lawyer, Jimmy Lynch. He’s been working for Claire and her late husband for twenty-seven years, making him a trusted friend.
He also has a taste for children.
Last week, Zade was able to hack into his phone, noting the copious amounts of child pornography he has downloaded. So, he started pushing ads on the child porn sites Jimmy uses, waiting for him to take the bait. Unsurprisingly, he did, both on his phone and laptop over a period of three days.
Of course, Zade designed the virus, so unbeknownst to Jimmy, it was released on his devices as soon as he clicked on the ad. Within seconds, Zade was able to infiltrate his system and implement spyware on them.
From there, he watched the email interactions between him and Claire. While he could try to implement a virus onto Claire’s computer through a phishing email, she’s too intelligent for that, so Zade’s only other option is to manipulate her into putting a drive into her computer, which will contain the virus. And our best way to do that is to create a massive lawsuit against her. It’s common practice for lawyers to transmit information through drives, especially if there’s a mass amount of evidence stacked against them.
Unfortunately for Claire, since she’s gone into hiding, she’s fired a lot of staff who’ve worked at her estate. Cleaning crew, a couple of chefs, and a groundskeeper. Evidently, she has no plans to return to her mansion—or to keep it.
Zade has spent the last week contacting these staff workers, asking them about their experiences, and ultimately encouraging them to sue Claire for workplace harassment as well as assault.
In return, Zade will offer his protection and money. Thankfully, they all agreed. Because honestly, their lack of safety and resources was the only thing keeping any of them silent. Mark sexually assaulted many of his employees and threatened to harm them and their families if they spoke out. And Claire was physically abusive and prone to getting violent when something didn’t meet her standards.
They've already filed their lawsuits, so tomorrow, we’ll be putting the second step of the plan into action by replacing Jimmy’s drives with Zade’s.
Once Zade has access to Claire’s laptop, he’s going to take his time watching her. In the meantime, we’ll be focusing on our other goal.
“Francesca and Rocco are slimy little snakes,” Daya informs us, ire in her glare as her fingers fly over the keyboard. “And Xavier is a pussy.”
Daya is assisting us with tracking down my former captors—and rapists—while Jay continues to focus on Claire.
“Satellite image showed a red pickup truck parked in their driveway under Rocco’s name. That hasn’t been seen anywhere?” Zade asks, adding extra shredded cheddar on the mac ‘n’ cheese before sticking the casserole dish back in the oven to crisp. Seeing him doing something so domestic is… odd.
I never thought I’d see oven mitts on a stalker and professional killer, but here we are… All he needs is an apron, and I’d be convinced I’ve fallen down the rabbit hole and hit my head on a tree root.
Shit, I think I already have because now all I can imagine is Zade in nothing but an apron. That… shouldn't be enticing, yet it is.
“We found the truck abandoned in Northern California. From there, we lost track,” Daya answers, unknowingly saving me from traveling down that dangerous road. I have a feeling that fantasy would've only gotten weirder.
“No street cams nearby?” I ask.
“Nope,” she replies, popping the P. “They haven’t made it this long by dumb luck. They know how to avoid cameras. I imagine the car they switched to has also been abandoned by now.”
Zade nods, keeping silent as he processes the information. From here, I can see his inner gears turning.
“Since we can assume they’re driving, look at cameras in gas stations in the surrounding area to start with. It’ll take time but check in on anyone you deem suspicious. It’s possible that they will stay hidden in the car and use a decoy to pump and pay. I’ll get a few more of my men on it to help you. And while they’re probably paying in cash only, it doesn’t hurt to check if they used credit cards as well.”
“Francesca is eventually going to have to use the bathroom,” I chip in. “I mean, I honestly can’t see her squatting on the side of the road or using a porta-potty. So facial recognition would be valuable.”
“It would,” Zade agrees, shooting me a small smile. I wrestle down the pride that wants to bloom throughout my body. My inner feminist doesn’t need no man’s approval.
