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What?
I didn’t tell her, but I installed a cell phone tracking app on her phone when she thought I was simply entering my number in her contacts when we were flying back to San Diego. Using GPS technology, the app shows the target’s location and I can get live tracking through my dashboard.
Even if her GPS is turned off.
It’s a fucking brilliant app and a total invasion of her privacy.
But, if something were to happen, I need to be able to find her fast. I promised that I would keep her safe and I’ll do whatever it takes.
So it’s damn interesting that someone who just claimed they had cramps is now moving away from my place at about 40 miles per hour. She lied to me and I have no idea why or where she’s headed.
But I’m going to find out. And this time, I won’t make the same mistake I did last time—I’m bringing my Glock.
After retrieving the gun and holster from the small safe, I grab my leather jacket and keys, lock up and jog down the porch steps, heading straight to my bike. Of course, she refuses to start.Damn, c’mon, baby. Now is not the time.It takes ten times before I get her to start and I blow out a sigh of relief.
Right before Ivy came out onto the back porch, I updated Dash on the construction site and cornfield chaos. I’m not exactly sure what Ivy is up to right now, so I’ll wait and see before I call in Slater reinforcements. For all I know, she’s going to the drug store to pick up feminine products. The last thing I want to do is call the team in to track her down in the hygiene aisle at the nearest pharmacy.
Revving the engine, I pull out into the street, glance down at the app, and gun it. Ivy isn’t too far ahead and I should be able to catch up to her. I’m going to stay out of sight, though. Hang back and figure out what she’s up to and why she felt like she couldn’t tell me.
I’m not going to pretend it doesn’t hurt my feelings a little. Especially after last night. I really thought we’d formed a connection and she was beginning to trust me.
Guess not.
It doesn’t take long to catch up and I see she’s in the back of a Prius, probably an Uber ride. I keep my bike a few cars back, out of sight, and follow the Prius to a hotel near the waterfront. While Ivy exits the vehicle, I pull over and keep a close eye on her as she walks up to the front entrance and heads inside.
Hmm. So much for tampons. What the hell is she up to?
I drive my bike closer, park it near a couple of other motorcycles and slide off. After removing my helmet, I study my phone screen and see she’s on the move. Focused on the green dot that represents Ivy, I walk into the hotel and scan the large lobby. It’s a pretty fancy place with a large crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and uniformed attendants ready to help guests.
Pulling my sunglasses off, I tuck them in the neckline of my shirt and head over to the elevators. It’s hard to tell where Ivy is exactly, but I know she went up. When the elevator dings and the door slides open, I step inside. I’m alone and take a moment to check out the panel of buttons. Operating on intuition alone, I hit the button for the restaurant on the 35th floor called Sky.
It doesn’t take long before I’m stepping out and notice the restaurant is closed. I’ve never been here before and the place is swank and dramatic, three-stories tall with a glass ceiling and 500 feet above the street. The view is ridiculous and I immediately spot Ivy through the floor-to-ceiling glass. She’s inside and being escorted over to a corner booth where a man sits. He wears a suit, a mean look and screams mafia with his gold jewelry and confidently smug expression. I also notice the nearby thug who stands guard.
So, that’s two thugs and one mafia asshole,I think, laying my hand over the Glock 19 holstered beneath my jacket. As far as I can tell anyway. It has to be Anthony Vitello. He looks like such a Godfather wannabe that I would laugh if it weren’t for the armed thugs.
I’m tempted to burst in and make my presence known, but my gut tells me to hold back and that’s a feeling I rarely second guess. Staying low, tucking my phone in my jacket pocket, I move closer and try to open the door.Locked. I figured as much.
Circling around the restaurant, staying below the tall potted plants so no one glimpses me through the glass, I search for a back employee entrance. There has to be one. Right?
Wrong.
Eventually, I come to a door at the end of the hallway with a red exit sign above. I push the metal bar and step out onto the roof deck. It’s a small, open-air patio and connects to the restaurant. Just inside, I spot a bar and a large pool then the dining area where Ivy currently is with those mafia thugs. The glass partition is wide open and voices drift over, getting clearer as I make my way closer on silent feet.
I’m going to kill Ivy,I think. Right after I get her out of here.
“Where is it?” I hear the Godfather Wannabe demand.
Hidden behind a large palm, I watch Ivy reach into her pocket and pull out the SD card.No, no, no. Don’t do it,my mind yells. The moment she hands that over, she has nothing left to bargain with and they’ll eliminate her immediately.
And I certainly can’t have that. No fucking way.
Even though I haven’t played hero in a while, at least outside of flying in for a rescue, I remove my Glock, raise it and step out from my hiding place. “Don’t move,” I call out. My arm is steady and I won’t hesitate to shoot.
Ivy’s head snaps around and the Godfather’s thugs swing their weapons in my direction.
“I told you to come alone,” the Godfather growls.
“She didn’t know I followed her.” My attention remains on the gunmen as I nod at Ivy. “Keep the SD card and come over here. We’re leaving.”
