Chapter 14
CHAPTER 14
PARKER
Paisley
It’s official. Jade is at the end of her patience. Frankly, so is Ty. He says if you don’t tell her where you are, he will.
My fingers trembled as I typed out my reply.
Parker
He wouldn’t.
Paisley
Yeah, at this point he would. He’s tired of seeing me caught in the middle. And honestly? So am I. Jade is out of her mind with worry, and I’m running out of ways to reassure her you’re okay without telling her where you are so she can see for herself.
I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would do a damned thing to stop the tension headache from taking a grip on my skull. A warm weight settled on my lap. I automatically dug my fingers into Falkor’s fur, breathing through the anxiety because I knew my time was well and truly up. I had to do… something. Asking Paisley to continue wouldn’t be reasonable.
Parker
I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have involved you.
The typing bubble appeared and disappeared four times before her response finally came through.
Paisley
Look, I agreed to be your buffer gladly, because I get why you needed to do this. But you’ve done it. You’ve done exactly what you set out to do and in far less time than you expected it to take. Which is amazing. It’s time to show everyone else.
She wasn’t wrong, but I was so deathly terrified that the moment Jade had my location, she’d show up ready and willing to drag me home, away from this new life I was gradually building. I needed to find a way to prove to Jade that I was okay—thriving even—without giving away my whereabouts.
Parker
Give me 24 hours. I need to think about what to say.
I only hoped it was sufficient time for me to come up with a plan.
I started to simply do a web search on how to make an untraceable phone call, but stopped myself. Did I really want a record of that at my workplace? I had no reason to think any of the guys would dig into my search history, but they were all former military, and Alex, in particular, was an uber computer guy, given what I’d seen of his programming skills. What if he had some kind of system in place to flag suspicious search behavior?
Okay, now you’re just getting paranoid.
I paused.
He probably knew about this kind of stuff. I hadn’t asked because it was none of my business. But he could probably help me. I just needed to figure out a way to ask him about it that didn’t come off as sketchy.
Book research. Paisley’s default answer for any kind of strange query was that it was book research. People told her all kinds of things out of a desire to be helpful to a real live author. I didn’t think Alex would be particularly motivated by that, but he still might answer the question without thinking it too odd.
Shoving up from my chair, I headed down the hall to Alex’s office. He sat at his desk, fingers flying over the keyboard with the kind of focused intensity that suggested he was in the middle of something important. I started to pull back without disturbing him, but he called out, “Need something?”
“Not directly. I’d just like to pick your brain for a minute. I can come back later if I’m interrupting.”
He lifted his hands from the keyboard and shifted his gaze to me in the doorway. “Nothing I can’t take a wee break from. What’s up?”
I stepped into his office, Falkor trailing behind. My faithful shadow padded across to nose Alex for pets, and I fought the urge to fidget with the hem of my cardigan. I wasn’t doing anything wrong by asking about this. Still, my palms began to sweat.
“Remember, I told you I work for a romance author on the side?”
“Aye.” He leaned back in his chair.
“She has a research question I thought you might be able to help with.” Knowing I looked as uncomfortable as I felt, I lowered myself onto the edge of the chair across from his desk, fighting the urge to wipe my damp palms on my skirt. “In the book she’s working on, she has a heroine who needs to contact someone who’s looking for her, but without revealing her location. Like a ‘proof of life, I’m fine, but don’t come after me’ sort of thing. The heroine doesn’t want these people stopping her from completing her mission.”
Did that sound plausible? From the multitude of novels I’d read, it did to me, but I still had to consciously make myself keep breathing normally instead of holding my breath for his answer.
His dark eyes sharpened with interest. “That depends on what resources are available to the people trying to find her.”
“Well, I don’t know exactly what the plot is, but let’s assume more than the average bear.” I tried for a breezy tone, but my heart hammered against my ribs.
“Easiest way would be a burner phone. Brief conversation, not long enough to be triangulated.”
“Burner phone?” I’d already effectively done that with the cell phone I’d picked up when I made my escape.
“Sure. Either a full-out phone or a replacement SIM card for an unlocked phone. They’d be readily available at a lot of places.”
“Okay, that makes sense. Is there anything else?”
He reeled off several other options involving VPNs and IP addresses that went straight over my head, but I nodded along like I was taking mental notes. “And how long could the conversation be? Before being tracked, I mean?”
“Texts would be safer. Though that does leave its own sort of record if the information needing to be communicated is of a sensitive nature.”
I shook my head. “I think it needs to be a talking conversation. Because otherwise, how would the receiving person know it’s really the heroine and not somebody pretending to be her?”
“In that case… three minutes, tops.” He flexed his fingers over his keyboard, clearly ready to get back to work. “That help?”
“Yeah, thanks. I’ll pass that along.” I stood, smoothing my skirt. “And if she has any follow-up questions…”
“You know where to find me.”
Back at my desk, I struggled to get back to actual work. My mind was too busy spinning on logistics. My phone was unlocked already. That was how I’d switched phone numbers to begin with back in London. The corner convenience store in the village had those prepaid SIM cards on a rack behind the counter. I’d seen them on a previous trip to pick up snacks. I could get another and swap it out, make the call, say what needed to be said.
Falkor settled his head on my knee, peering up at me with big, liquid brown eyes. I scratched behind his ears.
Three minutes.
Three minutes to convince Jade I was okay, that I was safe, that none of those nebulous security concerns had come to pass, and that I was succeeding at being truly independent for the first time in my life. Three minutes to make her understand why I’d done what I’d done without making her more determined than ever to track me down. Three minutes to try to salvage our friendship.
It was a lot to cram into three minutes.
But it would have to be enough.