Chapter Thirteen
O’Connor
Idon’t know what I was expecting once I got under the hood of Linden’s car. Maybe the fuel pump that I just fixed would be broken again, because I’m not actually a savant with cars.
Working on my truck all the time just gives me an excuse to be outside, keeping an eye on things so people don’t get suspicious of a man who never leaves his house.
What I don’t expect is to find a tracking device in the very spot that I would put one. Because that is exactly what I planned to do.
I was holding onto my final bit of neutrality towards my neighbor, but minutes ticked by last night when I didn’t know exactly where Linden and Avery were, and that was enough to convince me to go full intel mode.
I’ve lost all sense of detachment when it comes to these two.
I want to know where they are and what they are doing at all times. No, I need to know. If I don’t know, then I’m too distracted to do my job. And, not being able to do my job effectively means more people might get hurt.
I rip the unidentified person’s tracker from under the vehicle and examine it. Has to be the in-laws. Or her ex.
Thinking about that lights more anger inside of me. I don’t even see Linden standing beside her car until I’m mid-explitive.
“Is it that bad?” She asks worriedly about the car.
“No.”
She just looks at me in confusion.
“It’s just the battery. Wires got disconnected.”
“Oh, okay. So that’s a good thing?”
“No, it’s not good. It means someone was probably fucking with your car,” I snap angrily, and she recoils.
Fuck.
Her arms stay wrapped around herself, and it makes me sick to my stomach. She shouldn’t have to be wary of me. I just can’t stop acting like an asshole who forgets how to speak to a woman.
“So, someone messed with my car?” She asks softly. Hesitantly.
“I don’t know,” I admit softly. “They were fine when I worked on the fuel pump last week. I– I don’t know.”
“Just say it, Jack. I feel like you’re lying to me.”
I AM LYING. ABOUT EVERYTHING.
I’ve never wanted to fucking cleanse my soul like I do right now. I want to tell her every fucking bit of the truth and then be the one to assure her that it will be alright.
I want to tell her all the things she should be afraid of, and that I’m not one of them.
“Sorry. I’m just frustrated that you’re driving this piece of junk car. It’s not reliable.”
Her face falls.
Yeah, not the right direction to go.
“I know it isn’t ideal. Not like I have any options right now, but thanks for shoving that in my face.”
This is good. Push her away. Keep her at a distance so you can do your fucking job.
“I’m not shoving it in your face. It’s just the reality. You need a safer car for Avery.”
She huffs in offense. “Thanks, Captain Obvious. Send me the bill for the tow, and their number, so I don’t have to bother you next time it croaks.”
She whips around and stomps back into her house, and I let my head fall.
I hated every second of that.
I don’t ever want to see her recoil from me like that again, but it’s inevitable. I’m not meant to be around her.
I don’t have the luxury of being close to anyone like Linden.
I can still keep them safe, but it has to be from a distance.
* * *
Over twenty hours of fucking audio, and it’s all useless. I’ve spent all my time this week combing through everything that has been transmitted through the bugs that I planted in the Scotts’ offices.
They’re either talking plainly about their above-board professions, or occasionally speaking in French. I don’t fucking know French. I’ll have to wait days for a breakdown of the translation.
The best bet at this point is to go back in and retrieve the cloners on their computers. Those devices will have everything that is on their hard drives. Passwords. Emails. Internet history.
I have to get back in asap.
But that means finding a way in without being caught. As far as I know, there aren’t any large gatherings planned for at least a few more weeks.
I have been avoiding Linden like I swore that I would, so I don’t have any inside knowledge about the happenings of the Scott family.
I also can’t make myself use her in that way.
She and Avery are innocent in all of this. That I’m sure of.
I watch my monitors closely as I gear up. Watching the house next door.
Thigh holster, chest holsters, calf holster. I double-check each gun and silencer before securing them in each holster.
Mask. Knife. Zip ties. Flash bang.
A couple of bugs in case I get the opportunity to plant them somewhere useful.
When I slip through my backyard just after dark, I can’t stop myself from taking one last glance through their kitchen window.
Every night I look into that window, hoping for a show. Some semblance of joy in my cold world.
That’s why I didn’t tell her about the tracker on her car. Whoever else is trying to watch her is doing so to scare her. Not like me.
All I want to do is keep her free spirit soaring.
Linden moves in front of the window suddenly, adding dishes to the sink after sneaking her midnight snack, and I stand motionless… Watching. Pretending I’m right beside her as she does.
She’s a beautiful woman.
Dangerously beautiful.
When she kissed me on the cheek, and her palm brushed my chest, I felt more emotion inside of me than I have in two decades. I wanted her. In more ways than one.
I know the definition of obsession… The domination of one’s thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, or desire.
And on all counts, I’m obsessed.
Her head tips, smiling peacefully to herself before her eyes lift to the window. With her kitchen light on and it being dark outside, I know she can’t see me, but a part of me hopes that she can.
Her eyes search the shadows, gliding over me, and I breathe it in. When they track across the yard to my house, I watch her soft smile fall.
I did that.
Acting cold towards her is what is best for her, but it doesn’t make it easy.
It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
I’ve worked, eaten, and slept in front of my monitors all week just to get every glimpse of her that I can.
If I’m lucky, I’ll make it home in time to watch her sleep before dawn approaches.
At a pace that conserves my energy, it takes me 24 minutes to get to the mansion on foot.
When I scale the wall to the terrace, Edmund Scott is in his office drinking scotch. Without any other entry point lined up, all I can do is wait him out, or come back another night.
I’ve trained myself to stay still for nearly 12 hours at a time, but I don’t want to be away from home that long. Away from Linden and Avery.
Edmund’s head jerks as a tap on his inner door sounds. “Come in.”
One of the housekeepers comes into the room carrying a wooden box, but instead of handing it to him or laying it on a table, she lowers herself to her knees at his feet.
She’s young, probably barely legal to work.
He pops the box open and removes a cigar and a small metal tin before she places the wooden box on the ground to her right.
The young housekeeper fidgets in front of him as he opens the tin and situates a small mirror on his thigh, depositing two lines of white powder.
She leans forward, but he tsks at her, halting her progress. She seems to know what he wants because without another word, she’s unbuttoning the top of her maid uniform and exposing her bare breasts.
Jesus Christ. He’s probably got 40 years on this girl.
He finally lets her snort the cocaine on his lap, and he watches her with a mix of predatory hunger and haughty satisfaction.
If he’s doing this in here, that means there is a chance that Merrill isn’t home. They might violate human rights to sell organs on the black market, but I don’t think Edmund would be bold enough to cheat on his wife in front of her face.
They keep all of their indiscretions behind closed doors.
That means I might be able to slip into her office undetected after all.
Just as the girl wipes the excess powder from her nose, Edmund unzips his pants and pulls out his half-erection. He flops it towards her, and she takes it into her mouth without any objection.
I’ve seen a lot of vile things in my day, and this isn’t anything that I need to watch, but just as I move to descend back down the wall beside the terrace, Edmund’s door swings open.
A younger male strolls in without any qualms about what he’s seeing. Turner looks more strung out than the photos I’ve studied of him.
His hair is brown, not blonde like Avery’s. I’m glad she didn’t take a resemblance to her shitty father.
Turner picks up the metal tin from beside his father and snorts a few lines of his own, never taking his eyes off the housekeeper performing oral.
As soon as he’s done, his hands go to his zipper and his dick comes out too.
A dual blowjob with your father is almost as disgusting as it gets.
Except he doesn’t wait for his turn with her mouth. He saddles up behind the girl and rips her black skirt up to her waist.
She doesn’t react, or jerk away. Nothing to indicate that she isn’t okay with this as he shoves himself fully inside of her in one go.
This is about as disgusting as it gets… A cocaine filled threesome with dad and son.
As soon as I’m sure that the housekeeper isn’t being forced, and according to her moans of satisfaction, I assume she isn’t, then I dip away from the stomach-turning show.
The backdoor is unlocked, and most of the lower level is in shadows as I make my way inside. I don’t see or hear any other staff, and I’m sure that is on purpose. Edmund and Turner wouldn’t want any witness to their debauchery.
Luckily, the path to the inner office is clear, and I slip into Merrill’s office without any problems. I grab my bug from the computer and swap the microphone in the bookcase with a new one.
It’s almost too easy. I feel like I could take my time inside, explore deeper into the mansion, but it’s a risk to take chances without intel.
This house is old, and the historic records have been destroyed at one time or another, so the floor plans within the depths of the lower levels aren’t known.
A house like this has centuries’ worth of secrets inside, and if it’s up to me, it will burn when Edmund and Merrill Scott’s legacy goes down in flames.
All I chance tonight is a new route as I exit the house. I take a different hallway past the kitchen and get eyes inside the silent rooms. Most of them are being used by the staff in some capacity. Pantry, butler kitchen, wet bar, and a wine cellar.
But one room is large and empty. All there is inside is a child’s rocking horse in the center and another door on the far wall.
It’s an oddly misplaced room, and something about it draws me in. Large windows letting in the moonlight are the only visibility I have as I step slowly across the room.
The far door opens to a spiral staircase, and curiosity eats at me. What’s upstairs?
The house is still silent, and I listen to my gut, ascending the stairs with my gun drawn.
There is another small white door at the top, and I open it to another room filled with moonlight.
It’s a child’s room. Even with limited visibility, I can tell it’s pink and frilly, and definitely meant for a little girl.
The air is stale, and the room is clean of any clutter, indicating that it hasn’t been in use. Did they do this for Avery?
It’s the only thing that makes sense.
In the corner is a grand toy castle, and above it is another painting like the one I saw in the parlor.
A blonde-haired, green-eyed princess.
It looks so much like Avery, and yet it seems like it was painted by someone who had never actually met the 3.5-year-old. It’s not quite right, just like the other one.
I wonder if Linden knows they have a bedroom set up in their house for her daughter. A full-size canopy bed, and… A closet full of clothes and dresses.
These fuckers are trying to take Avery from her.
That’s not going to happen.