Chapter 5
Ace
I watch Shannon’s building until midnight and finally call it a night. I don’t know how long I’m going to keep this up and part of me just wants to knock on her door and announce myself. Mrs. Barrow suggested it, but I told her I wanted to stay in hiding for now.
It will be easier for me to spot someone doing something they shouldn’t be if no one can connect Shannon and me. She agreed for now, but I don’t know how long I can stand it. I’ll do whatever is necessary if it means keeping Shannon safe, but as of now, I don’t know that she isn’t.
I get back to my hotel and stretch out on the bed, hands behind my head.
I didn’t make much progress today, so maybe it’s time to talk to her.
If it’s her imagination, or if she’s dealing with a mental health situation, I still want to help.
Even if she hasn’t truly been in danger, I still care about her and don’t like the idea of her living in fear.
The fact that there’s no threat doesn’t matter if she’s having some kind of nervous breakdown, and maybe she needs to get back to the U.S. for treatment.
Deep down, I don’t believe that. Anything is possible, but I just don’t get that vibe from what I’ve seen so far. Something is going on, whether it’s one of her students playing tricks on her or her ex-husband trying to get back at her or something else I haven’t yet stumbled onto.
It’s early days, but I have to wrap this up and get back to Limaj.
Even though the idea of seeing Shannon again is exciting, I need to get to the bottom of this sooner rather than later.
Director Dickhead will be in touch any day now and I have to give him some kind of update or my ass will get called back to his office again.
The last thing I want is to fly back to D.C.
, so even though I’m not thrilled about breaking into Shannon’s apartment again, that’s the plan for tomorrow.
I need to be thorough this time and go through every drawer, cabinet, and piece of paper. If something is going on, there has to be a clue somewhere. and I’m going to find it.
* * *
Getting into her apartment the second time is ridiculously easy and I make a note to give her some pointers once this situation is under control. I don’t turn on any lights but use the flashlight feature on my phone to find my way around.
The windows are locked up tight, and I go over every possible entrance until I’m sure she’s relatively safe. I search every inch of the place, starting in the bedroom and going through her drawers, clothes, and bathroom with a fine-tooth comb. I feel equal parts professional and creepy.
At least I hesitate before opening her underwear drawer. I don’t want to be this intimate with her without her permission, but the current situation calls for my skills as a spy, not my feelings as a man.
And her underwear definitely rouses my feelings as a man.
Everything is pretty, a nice combination of thongs and bikini panties, in different colors, though she leans more toward nude and black. There are a handful of bra and panty sets that she keeps together in little cubbies she has in the drawer and for a moment, I puzzle over them.
Do women really compartmentalize their underwear drawers?
I throw mine in one drawer with my socks and don’t fold my boxers at all.
It’s a mess I dig through every time I need something.
I’m more efficient when traveling, using packing cubes because I don’t have time to dick around with that kind of thing when I’m on a mission, but Shannon’s setup is curious to me.
I reach out to touch a lacy piece of cloth and almost smack myself as I jerk back to reality.
What the fuck?
Why the hell am I thinking about how she stores her panties? I’m not a pervert and, dammit, the fact that I jerk off to memories of our kiss has nothing to do with what I’m doing now.
Liar.
I almost laugh at the subconscious thought that whips through me because I am definitely a damn liar in this situation. Rooting through her drawers gives me a ton of pleasure, added inspiration to upcoming fantasies, and makes me want to wait for her to get home and announce myself.
Dumbass.
I take a breath and finish going through all her drawers without further distraction.
There are no hidden compartments, envelopes, or wads of cash that might send up a warning.
There wasn’t anything unusual in the cannisters in her kitchen, the books on her shelves are actual books and not decoys used for storing important documents or items, and even her freezer is devoid of any red flags.
Everything in her bathroom appears to be just what it’s supposed to be. Nothing is hidden behind paintings or picture frames, and I’m running out of both time and patience.
I check under the bed, mattress, and throw rug.
Nothing. This is getting tedious now that I’ve forced my amorous thoughts away.
I’m just about to give up when I notice a slight variation in the compartments of her wooden headboard.
It has sliding doors, which she uses to hide a handful of personal items like nasal spray and tissues, but as I glance under the bed again, I see that there is something attached to the bottom of the compartment.
I feel around and finally find a latch.
Huh.
She attached a completely separate box, with a trick door, to the bottom side of her headboard. Anyone who isn’t trained to find anomalies wouldn’t catch it.
I snap it open and two thick binders fall out. I blink and stand up, holding them carefully. I open the first page and grimace.
Sweet Jesus, I’m definitely going to hell.
I just found her diary.