Chapter 30
FITZ
“Someone is trying to take my stuff.” I pace around Crawford’s hotel room.
“No one is touching your stuff,” Whitman says with a sigh from where he’s on his phone on Crawford’s bed.
“Yes, they are. There is someone after Winnie. Someone is stalking her.” I slap the phone out of his hand.
“Ow!” Faulkner yells from under the covers when the phone hits him.
“A stalker,” Crawford says from where he’s typing an email on his laptop at the hotel room desk. “You don’t say.”
“It’s not me,” I snarl and whip the covers back from Faulkner’s face. “Crawford, what is he even doing here? How are you even in my hotel?”
“I hacked your system.” Faulkner is smug.
“Little shit. Stay out of the minibar.”
Faulkner doesn’t break eye contact with me as he slides across the carpet and grabs a Coke and bag of peanuts out of the minibar.
“I need you to help me find her stalker,” I tell Crawford.
He grunts and stands up. “Lucky for you,” he smirks, “I already know who he is.”
“You do? Great. I’m going to call Hudson Wynter and have him send Talbot out to snipe him.”
“I’m looking right at him.” Crawford stares.
“Whitman’s been stalking her?” I’m confused.
“No, you idiot. You’re the stalker.”
“I’m not leaving threatening notes. Someone is after her. She’s in danger.”
“Agreed. Can we Baker Act him yet? I want that football team,” Faulkner snickers.
“No. Fuck you. Crawford, I’m hiring you to catch this guy.”
“No can do. I’m booked up, going back to New York.” Crawford hitches up his pants.
“Please!” I wail. “I’m your little brother.”
“You are so mentally unstable.”
“Super Bowl tickets. I promise.” I clasp my hands on my knees.
“Done.”
I cross my heart.
“And my usual payment?”
“Double done. Let’s go catch this fucker.”
“I’ve gotta be honest—”
“I don’t show up at your job and slap the dicks out of your mouth,” Crawford says as he peers through the binoculars.
We’ve been watching Winnie’s house for hours. “I’m bored.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have hacked her camera system, then we could just see who’s in the house.”
We can’t, of course, check the cameras because I begged Whitman to write a script to override them.
“Dumbass. Should have had him save the footage somewhere else,” Crawford tells me.
“I didn’t think Winnie would have multiple stalkers. Now how do I find the man after Winnie?”
“We wait. We watch.”
“Can we order pizza?” Faulkner whines. “Do you think she’ll let me use the bathroom if I tell her I’m your brother?”
“I told you not to drink that Gatorade,” Crawford tells him. “Pee in the bottle.”
“The circle of life.” Faulkner unscrews the cap.
“Crawford, he’s disgusting. Can we kill him? Why is he even here?”
“Blackmail is surprisingly effective.” Faulkner has that demented smile on. “I know you don’t want Salinger to know about this—you stalking this girl—especially since you want to upgrade the NFL stadium. Maybe if you didn’t spend so much money on art, you would have money to self-finance it.”
“I have money, you little twerp.” I snarl at him.
“Millionaire Next Door is on sale—Oh, there’s someone! A man.”
“It’s just Knox.” I scowl and sit back on the roof, watching through the back window of Winnie’s house as he sucks all of the oxygen out of the kitchen as Winnie’s parents and his mother fawn all over him.
“‘My handsome boy,’” Faulkner mimics as he reads lips. “‘Brinley’s not taking care of you, is she? No one takes as good care of you as Mama does.’ We’re not about to watch some sort of incest porn, are we?”
“If we are, I definitely don’t need your commentary on it.” I peer into my spyglass.
We watch as Knox helps rearrange furniture that his mother insists is in the wrong spot.
“Winnie’s going to have a fit when she gets back.”
“Where is she?” Faulkner asks.
I check the tracker on her car. “Still at that bar.”
“Uh-oh. Did she find someone better than you?” Faulkner snickers.
“No, she’s at a wedding meeting,” I hiss. “Here’s the bridesmaid dress.” I show my brothers.
“Yikes. Guess the bride hates all her friends.”
It’s dark now. Winnie’s parents are in bed. Knox’s mother is watching TV in Winnie’s bedroom.
“Car incoming,” Faulkner whispers.
“It’s just Winnie.”
We follow the light of her phone as she meanders through the house to the kitchen. See her talking to Fidget. See her heading to the laundry room.
“Wait, who the hell is that?” Faulkner whispers.
There’s someone climbing over the fence in the backyard.
“Shoot him, Crawford,” I demand.
“I’m not going to shoot him.”
“Hey, it’s you,” Faulkner whispers.
“Shit, you getting this on camera?” I whisper.
“Where did he come from?” Faulkner muses.
“Some stakeout expert you are,” I snarl at Crawford.
“Super Bowl tickets don’t pay for the whole stakeout crew,” he retorts.
“Dammit, Winnie’s in danger.”
“I thought you were the masked stalker.”
“Fuck off, Faulkner.” I slide down the roof and jump, narrowly missing a Japanese maple in Winnie’s neighbor’s yard. I creep through the dark. The back door off the mudroom is unlocked.
I hear something crash in the laundry room.
I sprint, yelling, “Get the hell away from her!”
There’s a big man, all in black, very muscular, his hand on Winnie. He goes down hard when I tackle him then springs immediately back up while Winnie screams, “Call the police!”
I circle the guy. His black mask darts back and forth. He hears Winnie’s family coming too.
“What on earth is going on down there?”
Her mom and dad thunder down the stairs, Knox’s mom behind them.
“I should have gotten a hotel.”
“You are more than welcome to get a hotel and stop mooching off of my granddaughter’s hard work.”
He’s athletic. I can take him, though.
The first punch lands on his face. The second one in the ribs doesn’t seem to faze him. Is he wearing padding?
I knee him in the stomach. The assailant doubles over. I grew up fighting my older brothers, and they fight dirty.
He’s reeling. I reach for the mask, but he swipes at me, scuttling back. The assailant knocks Fidget out of the way as he sprints to the front door, out into the night.
Then all of Winnie’s family is in the way, crowding into the hallway. “What’s going on? Do you have a man in here, Winnie?”
“This is why,” Knox’s mother is hollering. “A bad influence. This is what you cannot act like, and don’t let my grandchildren—” She screeches over Fidget barking.
Her mom comes in. “Oh, Winnie! Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
I gather Winnie protectively in my arms.
“She’s not hurt, she’s getting laid. You—” Frances whaps her bonnet at Winnie’s mom. “You cockblocked your own daughter!”
“All this drama in the middle of the night.” Winnie’s dad seems a little shocked.
“I guess you actually are dating,” Shelby says sourly. “We had our doubts, right?” Knox’s mother frowns.
“I never did,” Granny Frances declares. “When’s the wedding?”
“What are you doing here?” Winnie whispers.
“Saving you.” I kiss her.
“Yeah, but saving me from who?”
“That’s what I fucking want to know.”