Chapter 29 Devon #2
My brows shot up. “Sushi, sex, and sleep?”
Her lids fluttered shut in ecstasy. “Yesssss.”
I laughed and slid a hand down to her ass. “You can’t go inside, and I can’t leave you in the car alone. But if Brooke agrees to go inside and grab it, I’ll make the detour before we drop them off.”
She pushed up on her toes and peppered kisses all over my face.
And I stood there, grinning like a fool while absorbing each and every one.
“Get a room,” Brooke called from the other end of the hall.
“Yeah, get a room,” Zoey parroted.
With one last kiss finally landing on my mouth, she turned and walked to her friend.
Enjoying the view as I watched her go, I waited until she was out of earshot before activating my earpiece.
I tipped my gaze to the mountain of man standing near Brooke and Zoey, blocking the back door.
“Sushi Fever. Once we get her in the car, you go ahead and do a sweep. I’ll buy some time and do a few laps before we head that way. ”
Alex’s chin jerked. “Copy that.”
I was not fucking around when I told her she needed someone else to protect her. I couldn’t do both anymore. I shouldn’t have been doing both to begin with.
I’d sent a text out to a few of the guys asking if anyone would be interested in helping out for a few more days.
With Brianna in LA, Alex volunteered immediately.
He and I were close, and just like all the guys at Guardian, I trusted him with my life.
Though trusting someone with hers was going to come with a significant learning curve.
For most of the day, Alex had been relegated to a glorified speed bump—planting himself between Lofton and every doorway in the building.
It wasn’t a sexy or glamorous role by any means, but it was effective.
More importantly, it gave me room to breathe.
Not a lot. But enough that I could actually watch her on set without also tracking every single movement in the room.
Enough that I could spend a few minutes helping Zoey cheat her way through a puzzle without running worst-case scenarios in the back of my mind.
Enough that when Lofton laughed, I could actually hear it instead of calculating how quickly I could get to her if something went wrong.
It wasn’t going to be a permanent position for him. With Lofton wanting to go back home and the security system already in place, I wasn’t sure what kind of permanent solution we’d need. Hell, if the LAPD did their fucking job and finally caught this guy, we wouldn’t need anyone at all.
“Devon, come on!” Brooke flashed me a wicked grin. “I know you didn’t keep Levee waiting like this.”
Lofton slapped her shoulder and immediately began scolding her.
It was pointless. I’d wronged her best friend. All I could do was endure her wrath until I could finally prove her wrong.
The drive to the restaurant was much the same.
Zoey had attempted to pass me her tablet at every red light, fiending for another hit of the stars on her puzzle game.
Brooke had critiqued my driving, complained that I’d missed turns, and then had been adamant that I was lost even after I told her I was giving Alex time to do a sweep.
Lofton had anchored her hand on my thigh and defended me as best she could—which, admittedly, wasn’t all that well, considering I was almost positive she was enjoying the ration of shit Brooke was doling out.
But I sat there in silence, eyes on the road, a smile on my face, counting down the minutes until I could get Lofton alone.
I tagged Alex’s SUV in the tight, poorly lit lot at Sushi Fever.
To say it was a dive was being generous, but that was probably exactly why Lofton loved it.
It was sandwiched between a dry cleaner and a parking structure on a side street two blocks from the main drag.
One entrance. One exit. I backed into a spot near the back wall that let me see both.
My gaze drifted through the front of the restaurant where I spotted Alex sitting at a table by the window, chopsticks heading toward his mouth.
He’d given the all clear a few minutes earlier but said he’d stick around until we headed out.
I hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
Though the giant boat of sushi in front of him made more sense now.
Brooke leaned forward, elbows on the center console, her smile so sugary it was like she hadn’t spent the last twenty minutes heckling me. “You put the order under my name, right?”
I feigned horror. “What? No. I put it under Lofton Beck. Couldn’t remember her phone number, so I gave them her address and alarm code instead.”
Lofton slapped a hand over her mouth, but it did nothing to stop the laugh that broke through.
“Hilarious,” Brooke deadpanned.
“It’s under Cindy Clark.”
Brooke rolled her eyes. “So… Devon Grant?”
“No, it’s actually under Cindy Clark,” I said, scanning the parking lot out of habit. “Generic name. Doesn’t flag. Doesn’t stick. Can’t be tied back to Lofton in any meaningful way.”
She blinked. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. I also used a company card registered to a holding account that cycles through three shell vendors. No personal identifiers. No recurring pattern.” I shrugged.
“Okay,” Brooke said slowly. “That’s a lot for some sushi.”
“I also ordered six extra rolls.”
Her brows shot up. “Why?”
“So if anyone’s ever paid enough attention to memorize her usual order, they won’t be able to pick it out from the noise.”
Brooke leaned back in her seat, staring at me like she was suddenly disgusted with herself for not being disgusted with me.
“Wow, you are thorough.”
“Occupational hazard.”
I chanced a side glance at Lofton.
She was just staring at me.
Soft.
Dreamy.
Like I hung the moon instead of ordered takeout.
Christ. I could get used to that.
Brooke put her hand on the door. “Okay then, I’ll be right—”
“I have to pee,” Zoey announced.
“Of course you do,” Brooke said.
Zoey flared her eyes. “I have to pee bad.”
Brooke shook her head. “And it has nothing to do with the fact that Sushi Fever keeps a bowl of lollipops next to the register.”
Zoey shook her head so slowly that there was no way she thought she was fooling anyone.
Brooke unbuckled her booster seat and helped her out.
Just before she closed the door, Zoey darted back into the car. “Wait, I need my purse.”
“Baby, you can’t pay in melted ChapStick or dirty tissues.”
“I have money!” Zoey defended.
And she did. The change in that rainbow backpack had been jingle-jangling on my nerves all afternoon.
The door shut, and I hit the lock immediately, sinking deeper into my seat as I watched them, hand in hand, cross the parking lot.
Lofton angled in her seat. “You remember how I proposed last night.”
I let out a low whistle and rolled my head against the headrest. “Boy, do I. You didn’t ask my mom’s permission first or anything.”
She playfully slapped me on the chest. “Smartass.” She jerked her chin toward Zoey and Brooke. “Where do you stand on having kids someday?”
My throat got thick again. If I answered, my voice was going to crack, I just fucking knew it. I’d rather she just announced she was pregnant because at least then I’d have an excuse to be a sniffling bag of emotions. But over this? A simple question? Fuck me. I was a goner.
I cleared my throat and did a damn fine job of keeping my voice even. “Depends. Are you standing with me?”
She smiled, seeing right through me. “Forever, remember?”
I cut my gaze back out the windshield. Brooke and Zoey were almost to the door, their hands connected, swinging with every step. “Then yeah. I absolutely—”
The horn hit like a physical blow.
One long, aggressive blast. The automotive version of fuck you, get out of the way.
I swung my gaze out toward the street.
Blue sedan. Older model. No front plate. Cutting across traffic. Cars slamming on their brakes.
It turned the wrong way into the exit, clipping the curb.
Too fast.
Too reckless.
All fucking wrong.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end as my brain shifted into battle mode, slowing everything around me, allowing me to absorb details to the point where the seconds played out like a full-length horror movie.
My hand shot across the console and locked around Lofton’s wrist before she could even process what was happening. “Devon—”
“Get down,” I ordered, using a hand at the back of her head to fold her forward.
“Devon—” she cried, cramming her body into the floorboard.
I held my breath as the sedan blew through the lot, fishtailing as the rear tires caught asphalt. For one suspended second, my entire body went stiff because Brooke and Zoey were right there, hand in hand, three steps from the restaurant door, directly in its path.
“No!” I shouted.
Thankfully, Brooke saw it first.
She yanked Zoey so hard the little girl’s feet left the ground, spinning until the two of them fell backward, Zoey crushed against her chest as the sedan came close enough that the draft blew through Brooke’s hair.
Close enough that I felt it in my teeth.
The car slammed on its brakes.
Tires shrieking. Rubber burning. Smoke curling in its wake.
It stopped crooked in front of the door.
Then the driver was out before the car had fully stopped rocking. Dark jacket. Dark jeans. Medium build. Five-eleven, maybe six feet. Ski mask.
My pulse spiked.
The exact—and only—description we had of Lofton’s stalker from the nine-one-one call.
My hand hit the door handle and the gun in my appendix holster at the same time.
“Stay in the car,” I snapped.
Just before I swung it open, I watched him head straight for Brooke and Zoey.
No hesitation. No scanning. No adjustment.
Purposeful.
He already knew where he was going.
Which meant—
Diversion.
My hand froze on the handle.
He grabbed Zoey’s arm and ripped her out of Brooke’s grasp.
Brooke dove after her, clawing at his jeans, his boots—anything she could get her hands on—until he kicked her off hard enough to send her back, her head cracking the pavement.
Zoey’s scream split the air as he carried her to the car.