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“Watch this guy carefully. Don’t let him photograph or scan anything.”
Him.
Sad, how I already knew it was a man.
“When do I meet him?”
“Tomorrow. He’s expecting you.” Daniel scribbles something on a piece of paper. “Here’s his address.”
“A villa at the Charter Hotel?”
Daniel shrugs. “That’s the address he gave me.”
I slog away, and then turn back to ask the guy’s name, but Daniel is already on the phone signaling for me to close the door.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Eoghan
Inside Jillian’s silent apartment on Monday afternoon, I breathe in her scent. A scent that awakens the beast inside me. A scent I want all for myself.
All weekend with Linc, the thrill of L.A., dropping fifty G’s on killer threads, and being surrounded by hot girls in the clubs he dragged me to, I never stopped thinking of Jillian.
No one got me remotely excited. This has never happened to me before. I spent all weekend obsessing over this woman. And checking the City Sinners app to make sure the BLOCK was still in place.
The drive back last night, alone in the desert with my thoughts, hammered at my conscience over what is right and what is wrong.
Cormac is at Dunbar Valley, a training and torture camp. Ireland isn’t handing him over to Daniel fucking Vance for these so-called new drug charges.
I should have packed everything up and gotten on a plane to go home.
But noooooooooo…
Here the fuck I am, planting cameras in Jillian’s apartment.
It’s in the event something goes haywire on the app and she chats up some creep who wants to hurt her. Someone she might invite into her apartment. I need to watch this woman.
I’d taken a ring of her spare keys the other night. Had a set made for me, and put the others back. When I’m not despising myself for what I’m doing, excitement hums under my skin because I don’t get to do shit like this anymore.
Before Da retired, we worked the streets for him, Kier, Rior, Lach, and I. Balor was always tucked up in a command center honing his hacking skills. Even spent time in Russia and Hong Kong.
A picture on Jillian’s fireplace mantle draws a smile from me. Based on the cap and gown, it’s her graduation picture. From the background, I’m guessing she went to UNLV. I’m proud of my Harvard degree, but I didn’t want to go there, or be a lawyer. My da sent me. None of us had a choice. Our roles in the family were dictated by the order of our birth.
At one time, I thought I’d be Enforcer. Lachlan didn’t want the job and Ma had nearly convinced Da to let him follow his own path.
Then tragedy struck. And it made him into the fierce warrior he is today. I couldn’t compete with that. No matter how I tried.
Our da loves us, but we never said no to him. When the letter came from Harvard to attend, they packed my stuff and moved me off to Boston.
I turn slowly, taking in every inch of Jillian’s place. It’s nice. The thrill of peeling back these layers of her life satisfy me to no end.
From a knapsack, I take out the set of miniature cameras and install one in each room, hiding them in lamps, the lip of a dresser, all out of plain sight. Then I check my phone to make sure they’re positioned right, that I can see every angle in each room. The motion sensor will snap the cameras on so I’ll be alerted when she’s moving around.
Stepping onto the balcony, I notice she shares a railing with the condo next door. Ideally, concrete walls separate apartment balconies. There’s one to the right because she has a corner unit.
“Fuck,” I mutter, getting on my phone and looking up who owns the apartment on the left.
Whoever the hell lives there can just climb over the damn thing.
