Chapter Eight
Nothing.
Three public events over the next four nights and they were no closer to catching the stalker than they had been when Maci first went undercover. It certainly wasn’t Maci’s fault. She was playing the role of Stella damn near perfectly.
And Chance hated it.
He disliked seeing her face made up to look like someone else—someone not nearly as spunky and real as Maci. He even disliked the clothing she wore. The outfits may have been much more expensive than her normal wear, but he preferred her in her jeans and blouses over these gowns and heels.
And Rich... If Chance had to watch that man touch the small of Maci’s back—the very place Chance’s fingers itched to be—much longer, he wasn’t sure he could be responsible for his actions.
“Any sign?” Chance asked his brothers.
“None.” Brax’s frustrated voice matched his own. “Is this guy playing with us?”
“I don’t know.” Chance rubbed the back of his neck.
Tonight he was in the control room and Brax was out on the floor as immediate backup for Maci should she need it. He and his brothers had taken turns, so no one would remember seeing them at other events.
The pattern had been the same. They showed up, Maci played her role remarkably well, and they studied everyone around her. Anybody who talked to Maci got checked. Hell, anybody who’d looked in her general direction got checked.
Dorian Cane and his team had provided assistance—checking identities and running unknown people through facial recognition software. Dorian himself had sat in the control room with Weston yesterday in case he might recognize anything they were missing. As an experienced security professional who kept his ego out of the situation, his presence had been appreciated by all of the Pattersons.
But still nothing.
“I think maybe the stalker is on to us and knows Maci isn’t really Stella. To continue to parade her around isn’t going to change anything,” Chance said.
They’d already had this talk with Dorian. He had upped the security on Stella in Europe, although there hadn’t been any suspicious events there either.
“I agree,” Weston said into the comm unit. He was positioned at the staff entrance near the back of the building. “There’s something we’re missing. Guy is ahead of us.”
There’d been nothing at each event, nothing as they followed Rich each night as he drove Maci back to Stella’s apartment, and nothing as she stayed there for a couple hours before sneaking out a private basement entrance to go home.
Even worse than the nothing was the strain the situation was putting on Maci. Each time, as the hours wound down, she was slower to move, her smile a little less bright. By the end, she was exhausted and nearly weaving on her feet despite being completely sober.
Chance had had enough. “Maci’s done,” he said into the private channel only his brothers could hear. “Let’s call it.”
“Roger that,” Weston responded. “I’ll go make sure the apartment is clear.”
Chance could hear the exhaustion plain in his brother’s voice too, so he made a decision for them all.
“No, you all head home and get some rest once we get Maci to the car. I’m going to let her go home rather than go to Stella’s apartment. Luring him out isn’t working, so tomorrow we need to figure out a new plan.”
None of his brothers argued. They all knew this wasn’t working the way they’d hoped.
“Call if you need anything,” Luke said. “We won’t be far.”
Chance switched over to the channel Maci could hear. “Maci, we’re calling it quits for tonight.”
On the screen, he watched her turn discreetly so she could talk to him without anyone noticing. “We’re heading back to the apartment?”
“No. For whatever reason, this method isn’t working. I’m going to take you home. Everyone needs a good night’s sleep.”
He watched her rub her eyes. “I feel like I let you down.”
“No, don’t say that. You’ve been a stellar Stella.”
He watched the corners of her mouth turn up at his horrible joke. “I wish it would’ve worked.”
“Don’t worry. We’re going to get him. You and Rich start to move toward the car.”
Brax agreed to stay and watch until the end of the event and oversee packing up all equipment. Chance met Rich and Maci in the parking garage. Maci was already inside the car.
“Giving up?” Rich asked.
Chance narrowed his eyes. “Maybe for tonight. No use beating a dead horse.”
Rich’s smile was full of charm. “I try not to get beat ever. Let me know what the next step in the plan is.”
Chance watched Rich saunter away before getting in the driver’s seat of the car. He looked over to ask Maci how she was doing.
She was fast asleep, cheek leaning heavily against the door. He stared at her for a long moment. They’d definitely made the right choice by ending early tonight. Enough was enough.
Chance didn’t drive fast. Maci needed the sleep and at least here he got to be close to her. She was still keeping secrets he wanted to get to the root of. Maybe if she wasn’t actively part of the investigation he could focus on that—something he’d been thinking about since that last day of training.
But maybe instead of trying to crash through her walls, he needed to try to gentle his way through them. Not his strong suit, but he would try. She was worth trying that for.
They were only a few minutes from the party when Chance noticed a car that seemed to be following them. Not wanting to wake Maci without reason, he took a roundabout way that led them back toward Stella’s apartment. If someone was following them, that’s where they’d expect the car to be going.
At a red light, Chance made a last-minute turn, hoping the car would simply drive on.
It followed.
Nerves prickling at the back of his neck, he continued to drive around in a circle. Each turn he made, the car did too.
Definitely following.
“Maci. Maci, wake up.”
“Are we there yet?” her sweet, sleepy voice asked.
As much as he hated to do it, she needed the truth. “We’re being followed.”
Her head jerked up. “What do we do?”
He dialed Weston on the car’s speakerphone. “We’re okay. Just stay low.”
“What’s wrong?” Weston answered his phone with the question.
Chance rattled off their location. “Black sedan is following us. As soon as I spotted them I headed toward Stella’s place to keep them on us.”
“On our way.” Chance could hear the squeal of tires as Weston spun his car around. “Luke is with me.”
“I need to get Maci into the apartment. I want to take this on the offensive.”
Maybe it could all end tonight. There was nothing Chance wanted more.
“I’ll just stay in the car with you,” she said. “You don’t have to drop me off.”
“No.” There was absolutely no damned way. If this turned into something ugly, he didn’t want her anywhere around it.
He slowed down just slightly to buy them more time. A few lights later he turned again and the car followed.
“We’re blocks behind you,” Weston said. “Luke sees the sedan. They’re definitely following you. We’ll block them while you drop her off.”
A few moments later, Weston smoothly cut around and in front of the sedan, blocking its view just as Stella’s building came up on the right.
He looked over at Maci as he stopped the car. “Run inside. Don’t stop for anyone. Get into the apartment and lock the door. We’ll be back as soon as we can.”
Thankfully, she didn’t argue. “Be careful.”
Chance watched until the doorman let her in the building, then pulled away fast. He got a glimpse of the black sedan as it sped past his brothers’ car, and watched them lurch after it.
“I think they’re on to us. They’re speeding up.” Weston told him. “We’re heading south on Market.”
“Stay with them. I’ll be caught up to you in less than a minute.”
“Damn it,” Luke said. “They just turned south on Fourth, heading toward the interstate. They’re trying to lose us.”
Chance was less than three blocks away. He jerked the wheel in a sharp right into an alley, hoping it would allow him to gain speed and cut off the sedan. “I’m coming in hot from the east in a parallel alley.”
“What’s your plan?” Weston asked.
“Get in front of them and make them stop.”
“That’s a terrible plan,” Luke and Weston said at the same time.
It was the only one he had.
He gunned the engine and pulled out of the alley. He’d done it—the sedan was speeding toward him.
“We see you!” Luke yelled.
They were now in the more industrial section of town, which worked to Chance’s advantage—there was little other traffic at this time of night. He positioned his car in the middle of the street so there was no way to go around it, then got out.
He spared a moment to wonder if they’d try to ram his car, but the car slammed to a halt instead. Chance’s brief flare of relief died when not one but two doors opened, the people inside the car bailing and running in opposite directions.
Luke and Weston squealed up behind them.
“I’ll get the driver,” Chance shouted, taking off in a sprint. “You get the other one.”
The driver ran back through the alley Chance had just driven through, trying to get back to the main street. Chance had to stop him before he did that. He forced speed from his legs, gaining on the smaller man. Finally he leaped, hitting the man in a flying tackle, taking them both down.
They both hit the ground hard, but for the first time since he noticed the sedan, Chance felt like he could breathe.
Finally.
He dragged the man back through the dark alley to the cars, glad when he didn’t put up much of a fight. Luke and Weston had gotten their perp too. From the light of the streetlamp Chance finally got a look at the pair.
Holy hell. They were teenagers .
He looked over at Weston and Luke and realized they were thinking the same thing.
It had been damned teenagers stalking Stella LeBlanc?
“How old are you?” Chance demanded.
“Seventeen.” The driver tipped his chin up defiantly, and Chance could see the rosy edges of his eyes.
“What’s your name?”
The kid rolled his eyes. “I’m Bert.” He hooked his thumb toward his friend. “This is Ernie.”
Chance’s jaw tightened, but he let it go. They would get IDs later. He looked closer at the boys’ red-rimmed eyes.
“Are you high?”
That didn’t make sense. How had a stoned kid managed to slip past so many layers of security over the past few weeks?
“Who wants to know?” Ernie asked with a smirk.
Chance crouched down beside them, ignoring the question. “Why were you following us?”
Bert scoffed. “We’re not telling you anything.”
“Fine.” Luke took a step closer. “We’ll call some friends of ours with the San Antonio PD and get you transferred to lockup. Harassment, speeding, DWI. You broke enough laws that they could take your license permanently. And seventeen is old enough to go to real jail for a couple of nights. Maybe you can make a few friends. I hear they like fresh meat.”
Both boys paled. “Look, we didn’t want to hurt anyone.”
“So why were you following Stella LeBlanc?” Weston asked.
“Who?” Bert asked. “We don’t know who we were following.”
Ernie shook his head, looking like he was about to pee his pants. “Yeah, someone paid us to follow your car and make sure you knew we were doing it. We didn’t think you’d get all psycho!”
Chance met eyes with Weston. This didn’t make sense. “Start over. What exactly did they pay you for?”
“Just to follow the car. They said you’d probably find us, so we should keep the chase going as long as we could.”
“Who?” Luke took a step forward, scaring the kids even more.
“I don’t know!” they both shouted.
Chance grabbed Bert by the collar. “Who hired you? A man? Woman? What did they look like?”
Bert started shaking. “A man. We were hanging out outside the convenience store, and he offered us five hundred dollars to mess with you guys when your car pulled out of the garage. He stayed in the dark. I didn’t see him.”
“Why would someone do that?” Weston asked. “He didn’t pay you to hurt or chase a woman who would be in the car?”
The boys shook their heads. “No, not hurt anyone. Just follow and be sneaky.”
Chance looked over at Weston, his stomach sinking. “They were a distraction. I sent Maci inside alone.”
Alone in an apartment that the stalker had already proven he could get into.
Chance was moving before he’d even finished his sentence, sprinting to his car. He could hear his brothers talking to each other about who would stay with the kids, but didn’t care.
He drove as fast as he could back toward Stella’s apartment building, dialing Maci’s number as he went.
No answer.
Not the first time he called. Not the second. Not the third.
A couple of miles had never seemed longer as he drove at reckless speeds. Finally, he pulled up to the building and left the car illegally parked at the front.
The doorman stared at him as he sprinted to the elevator and pressed the button for the penthouse. Anxious energy prickled across his body, his fingers twitching as the floors passed in no time.
Maci was okay. She had to be okay. She’d been so tired. She’d probably fallen back to sleep.
Why didn’t he believe that?
The second the elevator doors opened, he knew he was too late. The door to Stella’s apartment was cracked open. Lock the door, he’d said. He didn’t know if Maci had even had a chance to try.
Please let her be alive. He pulled his gun from under his jacket and pushed through the door.
Please let her be alive.
The stillness of the apartment made the hair on Chance’s neck stand up. He wanted to call out for Maci, but he didn’t want to risk alerting anyone that he’d arrived before he was in place to take them out. He quickly and silently glanced around the living room, then headed down the hallway toward the bedrooms.
He heard a slight noise behind him and spun back with his weapon raised. He lowered it when he saw it was Weston.
Weston gave him a brief nod, his own gun in hand. Without a word they both moved silently down the hall. Chance cleared the guest bedroom; Weston cleared the office.
Where was Maci?
She wasn’t in the master bedroom or any of the bathrooms. Had she been taken?
They made their way back out to the living area. When he caught sight of her foot lying limply on the floor of the kitchen in the doorway, he dropped all pretense of silence and ran to her.
If it wasn’t for the cut on her forehead, he could’ve believed she was just sleeping right there in front of the dishwasher. Ignoring the blood, since head wounds always bled a lot, Chance dropped to his knees beside her. His fingers shook as he searched for a pulse.
Please. Please. Please.
“Is she—” Weston didn’t finish.
A pulse. Thank God. “She’s alive.”
Chance pulled out his phone, and his voice cracked when the operator asked about his emergency. “We need an ambulance.”