by Desiree Holt
“God damn it.” He slammed his hand on the hood so hard she was afraid he’d break a bone or two. “Fucking son of a bitch.”
Sam walked around to the driver’s side and wanted to do some swearing herself. Someone had spray painted that side of the car with black paint.
I know what you did.
The distress that was obvious in his expression made her give one of his hands a quick squeeze, ignoring the jolt of electricity that raced along her arm.
“Don’t touch anything,” she told him, took out her phone and speed dialed the office.
“What’s up?” Avery asked. “How did the lunch go?”
“Would have been better without the crap that happened. Listen, we’ve got a situation here.”
“Such as?”
“It looks like Blake’s fan has followed him to Arrowhead Bay. He got a text on his phone while we were eating. Someone also slashed his tires and sprayed that message on his car.”
“Damn,” Avery swore.
“No kidding. Is Mike around? Can you send him over? We need wheels and I want to get this car towed back to the office. When we get it back there we can print it, although I don’t think this guy is stupid enough to leave any trace of himself.”
“You’re probably right. Okay, let me get Mike over there and have someone call for the tow truck.” She paused. “Watch yourself. Whoever this is might be miles away but my gut tells me he’s somewhere close enough to observe the results of his handiwork.”
“No argument there.”
“And Sam? I have information for Blake on his former PA, so come right into the office when you get back here.”
“Good or bad?” she asked.
“Neither. Just sad.”
“Oh.” She glanced at Blake, standing with his hands in his pockets, muttering to himself. “Should I prepare him?”
“No. I’ll handle it. Just get back here.”
“Fine. I’ll be watching for Mike.” She slid her phone back into her jeans pocket.
“Who’s Mike?” Blake was staring at his car as if he wanted to blow it up.
“Mike Pérez. Another of our agents, also between assignments.” She ran over the arrangements with him. “Blake, listen. Knowing for sure your stalker followed you to Arrowhead Bay changes the game plan a little.”
He frowned. “How? In what way?”
“Knowing you hired Vigilance gives him momentum to up his game and push your buttons even harder.”
He grunted. “I don’t know if that’s possible. If I get my hands on him I’d cheerfully wring his neck.”
“I know, but we don’t want him to know that he’s gotten to you.” She kept her voice calm and reasonable. She could see he was doing his best to control his frustration and she didn’t want him to blow unless they were completely alone. “That will frustrate him and that could lead to him making mistakes as he takes bigger and bigger risks.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he snapped. “Not for me, but for people around me, especially my readers. I don’t want someone else getting hurt because some maniac has a grudge against me for I don’t even know what.”
He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a stone.
Sam said nothing, amazed that he was as much under control as he was. But then she noticed the taut line of his body, the twitch of a muscle in his jaw, and realized his control was far from real. She slipped on her sunglasses and scanned the parking lot, a tiny thread of unease winding through her.
Whoever this was could have sent the texts, attacked the car and then driven off, but her instincts told her otherwise. This idiot was out there somewhere watching them, and was damn good at hiding himself. Blending in. Waiting for Blake’s reaction. That was half of his satisfaction, to watch Blake’s reaction. She’d make sure to drill him on exactly how things would go from now on whenever they set foot in public.
She pulled out her cell again and while ostensibly taking pictures of the car from all angles, she managed to catch most of the parking lot without being too obvious. She also caught what she could of the marina parking lot next door.
By the time she was finished, Mike Pérez had pulled up close to them in a black SUV. He climbed out and stood there studying the car for a moment.
“Damn. Someone is definitely unhappy with you,” he told Blake.
“Don’t I know it.” Blake kicked one of the slashed tires. “Fuck. Just fuck.”
Mike turned to Sam. “Want me to do a look-see around the lot just in case?”
“Just in case,” she repeated, “although I think whoever this is has left already. I did get pictures of all the cars, even part of the marina lot. I want to enlarge them at the office and study them to see if anything looks suspicious. I figured he’d want to stay around to check out the results of his artwork.”
“He could be just out of your line of sight,” Mike pointed out. “Or even hiding in one of the cars. I’ll take a look, then we’ll get down to business.”
“When we get the car to the office I want it printed, even though I’m sure it’s a fool’s errand. Any you find probably won’t belong to our mystery nut.”
He shrugged. “No matter. I called for the tow and the truck should be here any minute. Take the SUV and get back to the office. Avery’s waiting for you.”
“Okay.” She turned to Blake, still rigid with anger, his jaw clenched so tight she worried it would crack. “Let’s get to it.”
As she drove them back to the agency, she went over in her mind the best way to tell him of some other changes, such as her intention to move into his parents’ house with him, even if she had to sleep on the couch. She knew Avery would suggest it if she didn’t. If this stalker was escalating, leaving Blake there by himself was a bad idea. When they went back to Tampa, he’d better have a guest room for her. And on the road the door between their adjoining rooms would always be left open. Stalkers like this didn’t let closed doors stop them.
But as she drove them back to Vigilance, she was far too aware that her bigger worry wasn’t protecting him. It was protecting herself and her heart. Time to call on that good old military discipline she’d learned.
Chapter 4
The stalker sat in his motel room, scrolling through the pictures on his cell phone. He’d managed to take them without anyone paying attention to him. It was amazing how invisible one could make themselves, and he’d perfected that art.
He wasn’t surprised Morgan had hired security. Okay, a bodyguard. The jackass was right to be worried and afraid. If he thought hiring Vigilance would be a deterrent, he had another think coming.
He’d looked up Vigilance on the Internet but there was little about them to find, just a few words about their incredible setup and unequaled skills in all areas of security. It was such delicious frosting on the cake to do this right under their noses. He nearly laughed out loud at the thought.
The stalker had cyber skills that could counteract anything Vigilance put in play. The only thing he couldn’t control was the bodyguard, but he had plans for her, too. Later, at the appropriate time. Everything had to fit into the plan, and the plan could be easily adjusted when you were as smart as he was.
Besides, what he had in mind for Blake Morgan couldn’t be fixed by just upping security. His electronic skills were coming in handy as he moved his plan forward. He could hack into anything that was out there, no matter how well protected people thought they were. And disguise himself beneath layers of dark protection.
Leaving the messages for Morgan gave him a hot thrill. In almost every case he’d been able to conceal himself somewhere, using high magnification binoculars to see Morgan’s reaction when he got the message. A few times he’d even been able to take photos. The shots were so good he thought about sending a couple of them to the man.
Cloning telephones was so easy it was laughab
le. He’d gotten Morgan’s without the man being any the wiser or paying any attention to the person sitting near him in the coffee shop. Presto! He had the cell number. Ditto when he cloned another that he used to send texts from.
He’d have to ditch the phone and get another soon. He was sure the stupid female Vigilance had assigned to him would insist on taking Morgan’s cell back to the office and letting their techs go to work on it. Of course, the number they’d get from it would only lead back to that woman who had no idea who he was. Poor Sarah Jo Murphy or whatever the hell her name was would probably have a fit when she was accused of sending threatening texts.
He’d love to be able to watch when they went to talk to her. Maybe she’d be angry at Morgan, thinking he had something to do with this. The more people he could turn against the man, the happier he was. And this was only the beginning of his campaign.
He took apart the phone he’d used to send today’s text, removed the SIM card and flushed it down the toilet. Then he crushed the phone itself beneath the heel of his boots. He brushed the shattered remains into a plastic baggie and sealed it. Somewhere out of town he’d stop, open the bag, and scatter the remnants on the side of the road. Goodbye, phone.
No problem, though. He’d bought more than two dozen burner phones, knowing he’d need them, aware that he couldn’t use any one for too long. And he’d made sure to buy them in a bunch of different stores in different locations. No matter how often they checked Morgan’s phone to see who was texting him, he could stay one step ahead of them.
Sometimes he got so excited at what he planned for the conclusion he almost wet his pants. He could just see it now, the big scene. And he’d already written the note to share with everyone, telling them all just what a thief and a faker Blake Morgan was. At the last signing, the sight of those people fawning all over the man had made him nauseous. Didn’t they know this whole thing was a lie? That he was a fraud, a user?
God, how he’d hated seeing that smug bastard sitting in the restaurant today, sharing an intimate meal with a gorgeous woman. It didn’t matter that the woman was his new security. He didn’t deserve her. He didn’t deserve any of it. The stalker opened the leather briefcase he’d placed on the small table and took out one of the notebooks. Drinking one of the many soft drinks he’d bought at a big box store, he leafed slowly through the pages. It was all there, written out carefully in neat, very legible script.
He’d gone over it so many times he had it almost memorized.
Then he booted up his laptop and accessed one of the files on the hard drive. They both covered the same material but he wanted to have the originals in her handwriting. For one thing, they were his authentication. For another, he loved reading the way she’d expanded on and developed the written notes.
He couldn’t wait until it could all be made public, but he had to control himself. He battled so many conflicting emotions and right now he needed to put a leash on them. He was building a carefully constructed campaign that would do the most damage to Blake Morgan, and if he rushed things the conclusion would lose its effect. Wringing Morgan’s neck now would only give him momentary satisfaction.
Still, when he thought again of what brought him to this, a fit of rage seized him and he swept the empty soda can and a cheap vase off the table. They crashed to the floor, the carpet blunting the sound of the shattering vase. Now he knew what murderers meant when they said they were driven to commit their crimes.
He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Lack of control would get him no place.
Follow the plan. That way you’ll cause him the maximum amount of suffering and destroy his stolen career.
Okay, then. He needed a task to focus on. He needed to find out who the bodyguard was, what her skills were, and maybe what their relationship was.
He pulled his laptop over and uploaded the pictures he’d taken today. He’d managed to highjack some very sophisticated facial recognition software that would help him identify the mystery woman. No matter how camera shy someone was, everyone got caught at some time or other.
While the program was running he planned his afternoon. Morgan and that female would be busy at Vigilance for a while, so he’d check to see where the man was staying. There were really only two choices—the B and B or the home of his parents. He’d scope out both of them, just to see how that would fit into his plans.
He was mulling over possibilities when the bell rang on his laptop, signaling success with the program. Yes! There she was, the bodyguard. Samantha Quenel. And she was also from Arrowhead Bay. Had Morgan dated her when they were younger? Were they rekindling an attraction from long ago? Oh, yeah, he’d bet she’d be guarding the man’s body alright. Probably in bed.
Anger rose in him again, as he thought of the two of them, naked and rolling around on the sheets. That man didn’t deserve to have anyone, not after what he’d done. If Samantha Quenel fell for the man’s line of bullshit, the stalker would take great pleasure in showing her exactly what a shithead the man was.
But not yet. He had a plan and he was determined to stick to it. Of course, he also wanted to take advantage of unexpected opportunities. He swallowed a smile as he thought how nice it would be, if Morgan was staying at the house, to ruin something personal and cause him a little more grief. He deserved all he could get and more. He suddenly remembered when he’d researched the man, he’d learned his mother collected antiques. Excellent.
Oh, yes, he’d destroy something important to them just as Morgan had done to him.
I’m smarter than they are. I’ll always be two steps ahead of them…until we get to the big finale.
He checked his watch. If he hustled his ass, he could get there before they were through with whatever they were doing at Vigilance. He had already scoped out the house. Getting in wouldn’t be a problem. Not for him.
Mentally he rubbed his hands in glee as images ran through his mind. His rage slowly abated as he threw himself into this new project.
I know what you did, and I’m going to make you pay for it.
* * * *
“I’m tired of this guy fucking with my life,” Blake growled as he handed over his cell phone to Avery.
“It won’t be as bad now that you’ll have Sam with you,” Avery soothed. “She’ll keep watch on everything around you.”
“I might be better off just hiding in a hotel room,” he grumbled.
“That’s not very realistic,” Sam pointed out, “and won’t be necessary now.”
“It’s apparent he’s got a lot of tech savvy.” Avery gave him a sly grin. “But not as much as we do. If there’s anything to be found, our guys can find it. I promise you.”
“I’m not complaining,” he told her. “Just mad. Damn it. I’ll do anything to catch whoever this is. But what’s the deal here? Sam says every time my phone is compromised we’re going to ditch it and fire up a new one with a new number? Is she right?”
Avery nodded. “We’re hoping to drive this person nuts while tracking whoever it is.”
Blake snorted. “I hope it doesn’t drive me nuts while we’re doing it. What a load of crap.” He rubbed his jaw.
“Luckily, based on what you told me earlier, you don’t have too many people to notify each time. Most of the world contacts you through your public number so this only affects what, five or six people?”
Blake swallowed a sigh. This was getting to be more and more complicated. “Maybe a couple more but I guess not all that many.”
“Besides, if your stalker has to keep chasing down your new number electronically, he might get tired of it, try something else and make a mistake. I’ve seen it happen too many times.”
He knew that. He was just irritated at the way his mysterious stalker was screwing up his life. He should be concentrating on the remainder of his tour and working on his next book.
“Henry asked me why I thought
whoever this is doesn’t use the phone with my so-called public number on it. He’d know I can’t keep changing that one.”
“What did you tell him?”
“Exactly what you told me earlier today. That he likes showing me he can get past whatever security steps I put into place. That no matter how many times I change phones, he can still reach me. It’s like a game to him. The other would be too easy. Besides, I get so many dozens and dozens of calls and texts, he could get lost in the shuffle and not taken seriously.”
“It still makes sense to me,” she agreed.
“So what do I do for phones?” He raked his fingers through his hair. This guy was jacking the hell out of his life. “Run out and buy one every time mine gets hacked?”
Avery grinned. “That’s where we come in.” She opened what looked like a shoebox on her desk. Inside, each nestled in its own little cradle, were ten phones. “If you buy these in a store, you just pay for the minutes, and the phone comes with a number. When you finish with the phone, you throw it away and the number is history.”
“But not with these,” he guessed.
“No.” Sam grinned. “We use these a lot. Our guys here program the numbers into them but they also install a little gizmo that hopefully allows us to ping back whoever is hacking you. Give us their location.”
Blake just shook his head. “Man, I read about this stuff when I’m doing research for a book, but it’s another thing to actually have it part of your life.”
“Hopefully not for long.” Avery closed the box. “Here. These are all set to go. Now.” The smile disappeared. “Sit down, both of you. I was planning to call you and get you back here, anyway, because I have an update.”
Blake dropped into a chair in front of the desk. “The way you say it doesn’t sound good.”
Avery shook her head. “No, I’m sorry, it isn’t. We finally located Annemarie.”
“Where is she?” He leaned forward. “Did you ask her about this? Did she have an idea who this might be?”
