Chapter 14 Arrow
ARROW
By the time we get back to the compound, Annie is a lot calmer.
I haven’t told her what I suspect yet. I can’t bring this to her without more evidence.
All I have right now is a hunch. I’m pretty damned sure that Neveah is not who she says she is.
I’ve run into a few competitors in my line of work.
People who go after bounties or work security.
I have a nagging suspicion that Neveah is a PI and that she was the one following us.
But I’m not sure. The woman I vaguely remember is somebody I met years ago.
She sure as shit didn’t have pink buns in her hair back then either.
But there is something about her face that’s familiar.
The way she seems sincerely protective of Annie and yet anxious to keep tabs on her at the same time.
There’s just no other way. Neveah has to be involved somehow.
If not with the notes themselves, at least with whoever it is who has eyes on Annie.
I scan the dark yard around the compound, certain that no one has followed us here. Everything looks as I’d expect, so we let ourselves in. We greet Midge, who’s bustling around in the kitchen, cigarette pinched between her lips and cleaning gloves on her hands. Then we head into our room.
We sit on the end of the bed side by side, Annie’s hands fisted in her lap.
“Hey,” I tell her. “I’d like to ask you something, but it may make you a little uncomfortable.”
Annie shifts on the bed and looks at me. “I don’t think I could feel worse right now,” she says, her voice shaky. “Someone was following us. What if they find us here? What then? What the fuck is happening?”
I turn to face her and take her hands in mine.
“Listen to me, okay? I want you to really listen. I know this is scary, Annie. I know. The first time I was ever followed…” I lift my brows and chuckle softly under my breath.
“Let’s just say, once I was through the situation, I almost had to buy myself a new pair of jeans. ”
She gives me a half smile, and the sadness in her face makes my heart drop.
I meet her eyes. “I know how terrifying this is. You feel violated and vulnerable because some cocksucker has access to you, and you don’t know what the fuck they want, where they will pop up next.
” I release her hands and smooth a few loose hairs back from her worried face.
“You’re looking over your shoulder constantly…
It fucking sucks. I get that. But you’re not defenseless, Annie.
You’ve got me. I’m here for you. And I’m sure as shit not going to let anything happen to you.
Not while there’s breath in my body. Do you hear me? ”
Her sky-blue eyes fill with tears, but she blinks them back and nods.
“I’m scared, but more than that, I’m angry now,” she whispers.
“This is my life. I want it back. I want to think about my dad and have totally normal worries… Is he dealing with grumpy clients or a bad mood? I can’t deal with all the secrets and danger.
I want this to end, Josh. What do we do to make this stop? ”
Whether she’s ready or not, it’s time to share my theory. I ask Annie to pull up Neveah’s social media. She does, then shows me a well-curated feed of artsy shit.
I look at the follower count, the date of the first and most recent posts, and the noticeable lack of pictures of Neveah. Yeah, there are some recent ones of her wearing sunglasses, bright lipstick, hats, and shit to cover part or all of her face. But everything else on the profile could be fake.
“I don’t think Neveah is who she says she is.” As I admit this, I point to the feed on Annie’s phone. “I doubt she would have had to spend even five hundred bucks to buy an aged account like this. It may have even come with the name Neveah.”
Annie’s face turns from worried to shocked. Her lips part, and she squints at me. “What do you mean? What the hell is an aged account?”
I explain how people can buy social media accounts.
Accounts that give the impression you’re a certain person.
You can get almost anything for a price.
You can make yourself look like an influencer with tens of thousands of followers.
You can look like you’ve had a certain kind of lifestyle, backed up by a history of posts that support your claims. Aged accounts can be an easy way to create a past, an identity, or even sometimes, an alibi.
“But this one…” Annie swipes through each photo, closely inspecting the hashtags and comments. She clicks on the profile of one of Neveah’s followers. “It looks like real people do follow her.” She points to a post from three weeks ago. “I know this girl. She lives on my floor.”
I nod. “Look before you started school. Go back six months. I’m sure plenty of profiles are real, but a lot will also be bots. The companies that create and sell these profiles aren’t stupid. They know they have to make them look legit, and they do a damn good job of it.”
Annie groans and tosses her phone on the bed. “So then, why…? Why would there be a private investigator posing as an RA in an art school? Is the school in on it? What about the art show that our adviser recommended for Neveah? Is nothing about my life real?”
I’d thought about that as well. It would be really tough to get into the position of RA on Annie’s floor without major connections or money.
“Well, there’s always a chance she got out of the investigations business and that she really is an aspiring artist now. Very few of us make it long-term, and I imagine a good-looking young woman like her might have had a hard time getting decent-paying clients. I know I have…”
The words slip out before I can stop them, and Annie shifts slightly away from me on the bed.
“Not you,” I grit out. “Fuck, Annie. Listen. I’m sorry.
Business has been down lately. That’s why I was able to close my office and take your job for a steep discount.
It may be a few weeks before I have another solid gig.
It’s not uncommon. And this is not about you.
This is about why and how Neveah may be moonlighting as an RA. ”
She rubs her forehead like she’s in pain. Her eyes are squeezed closed. She opens her eyes, and it’s like a wave from the ocean bursts from the blue of her eyes and slams me in the heart. “You need work. You can’t take me on as a charity case.”
“You’re not charity.” I slide a hand beneath her hair and cup her neck. “Annie, it’s not like that with us.”
She draws her lower lip between her teeth as she sucks in a breath. “How is it with us, then?”
I lower my face to hers and crush her lips in a kiss.
She laces her hands behind my neck and presses her chest against me.
I taste her tongue against mine, our mouths open, no time for air or light or sound.
All I feel is her beneath my hands. My eyes are closed, and I’m swimming—no, drowning—in her sweet flavor.
I release the kiss reluctantly, pulling my mouth away so I can breathe.
I rest my forehead against hers. “No matter how this started, I’m in it,” I tell her.
“I’m in this with you. And I’m going to want you long after all of this is over.
After I end it. Because I will, Annie. I’m going to end this so I can spend every morning and every night without you looking over your shoulder, wondering what’s after you.
The only one chasing you from now on is going to be me. ”
Her breathing is ragged, her cheeks flushed. “I’ll never outrun the ass king,” she murmurs. “Wouldn’t even try.”
I chuckle, but then we both grow serious again.
“So, what now?” she asks. “If Nevaeh isn’t who she says she is, who the hell is she? And does she have anything to do with the notes?” Annie shakes her head. “I can’t believe that she does. She seemed so genuinely surprised when I told her about them, Josh. I don’t know what to think anymore.”
“She may not know anything about the notes,” I say. “But that doesn’t mean she isn’t working for the person who does. Someone hired her. Somebody who wants eyes on you. We just need to figure out who that is and what the hell they want.”
Annie crinkles her brows. “Why would someone hire her to watch me but then not tell her about the notes?”
I sigh. “I can think of a lot of reasons. Plausible deniability, for one. She can’t talk about what she doesn’t know, Annie.
And even if she’s trained, experienced security, she’s been posing as your friend.
That’s a hard thing to sustain long-term.
She wasn’t a cop, as far as I remember, and this is essentially an undercover operation. ”
“Who the hell has that kind of money?” she asks. “What could that cost? I mean, who is paying for that?”
I nod. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit that I’d thought about that too.
Big bucks. Which makes the question of what the person who hired Neveah thinks Annie owes them that much more confusing.
The perp—the note-writer—hires someone to stay close to Annie so they can deliver extortion letters.
Spending money to make money? That would mean whatever they’ve spent on Neveah…
Fuck. They expect to get a lot more out of Annie.
I turn to her and hold her shoulders firmly. “Babe,” I say. “Are you sure, one hundred percent sure, there’s nothing I don’t know about? No drug cartels in your past? No seven-figure embezzlement deals you and your dad were in on?”
I’m trying to make light of it, but I’m actually serious.
Annie’s mouth drops open, and for a minute, she looks hurt.
She looks down at her flip-flops and curls her bare toes. “No, there’s nothing,” she finally says, shaking her head slowly. “Honest to God, Josh. I’ve racked my brain. I don’t know. I just don’t know. Do you not believe me?” She looks at me when say asks that.