Chapter 3 Seth
SETH
Kayla Folley. Nineteen years old. Youngest daughter of Patrick Folley, who made his modest fortune with a forklift business based out of Portland.
This is a fraction of the information that I’ve been able to find out about the young woman I’m being paid to watch.
It was easy to find out about her family from local online groups and magazines due to her father’s philanthropy in the community.
From scrolling Kayla’s social feeds, I learned that she loves animals, is obsessed with an indie band called The Matching Patterns, is first-aid trained, and played hockey in school.
I also know her credit card details, her PIN number, and the password she uses for most of her online logins.
Armed with this information and using a few of my special skills, I find myself staring into Kayla’s living room, my heart racing as I watch her munch on a bag of Doritos with her feet tucked up on the couch as she watches a renovation show on the TV.
She’s even more beautiful than her photograph. Her hair is pulled casually off her face, and her t-shirt clings to her curvy figure. Her breasts move every time she leans forward to scoop salsa onto her corn chip from a jar on the coffee table.
I shouldn’t be here watching this private moment. I feel like an intruder—I am an intruder—but I’m unable to look away.
It’s easy to hack into a camera on a device once you know how. I tried to get into Kayla’s laptop, but she keeps it closed most of the time. So I’ve gone in through her smart TV.
Kayla doesn’t know I’m here. I shouldn’t be here. This is beyond what her father asked me to do. But ever since I started watching Kayla, I haven’t been able to stop.
One of the screens in my bank of monitors flickers, and I pull my gaze away from the beauty on the couch.
In front of me is a wall of screens showing the feeds from various CCTV cameras around Temptation Bay.
For the last few days, I’ve been tracing the paths that Kayla walks, making sure she’s keeping safe like her father is paying me to do.
But it’s more than that. Once I started tracking Kayla, I couldn’t stop.
She fascinates me, the young woman who left her wealthy family behind to come to a small beach town.
What made her give up that comfortable life for a small apartment and a job in a cafe?
I’ve hacked into every single security camera in Temptation Bay. There’s good coverage. A few black spots, but I can mostly see the whole town from here.
Not that I’m interested. The only person I want to watch is sitting on the couch with a hand in a bag of Doritos.
It’s making me hungry.
Something soft rubs against my leg, and I reach down absentmindedly to stroke Felix. He meows and jumps into my lap, making me sit back from the screens.
“You hungry too, buddy?”
Felix nuzzles into my hand, and I take that to mean yes. It’s a hazardous position being a pet to someone like me. I can get so engrossed in a task that hours will pass without me realizing.
Luckily, Felix is here to remind me to get up once in a while and eat.
“Come on then.”
Felix leaps off my lap as I stand up. There’s a dull ache in my leg, and I walk around the room a few times until the blood’s flowing again.
Felix mewls impatiently, so I limp through to the kitchen.
“All right, buddy. I’ll get you something.”
I open a can of tuna and dump half of it on Felix’s plate and make a sandwich out of the rest. He’s got to be the best-fed cat on the coast.
Felix purrs as he eats, the rumbling noise familiar and comforting. I give him a rub behind the ears before taking my sandwich to the other room.
Kayla’s still on the couch where I left her. She’s smiling at something on the TV, her face lighting up and radiating her natural beauty.
Even in sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt she’s beautiful. More than beautiful. She’s radiant in a way that pulls at my heart and stirs something deep in my gut.
Something makes her laugh, and her breasts bounce up and down under the t-shirt.
My dick stirs along with my gut, and now I feel like a big old pervert, getting off on someone who doesn’t know I’m watching.
But I can’t look away. There’s something captivating about this woman, something that makes me want to never let her out of my sight.
Reaching to my mixing desk, I turn the volume from her TV up so I can hear her laugh. It’s fucking beautiful, like the rest of her.
There’s a function to be able to watch a movie or game together and chat through your TV, but I make sure my sound is muted.
She can’t know that I’m here.
Because I shouldn’t be here.
Surveillance can be a gray area, which is why Bronn didn’t want to take the job. If you want to keep an eye on someone without them knowing, then doing it virtually is the safe option.
Sure, I could tail Kayla, watch her cafe and follow her everywhere, but in a small town like this, it wouldn’t be long before she noticed me.
If her father wants to ensure her safety, then this is the way to do it. Virtually. Although, even I know this is not what he had in mind.
He wants to make sure his daughter is safe when she goes out, and that if she’s meeting anyone online that they’re not going to harm her. He’s got a good reason to be protective of her.
When I was researching Kayla, I found out about her sister, Jo.
Last year, Jo was sexually assaulted by a man she met online. Her family kept it out of the papers, but I was able to hack the police records.
I knew there must be a reason her father was over concerned, wanting to give his daughter the freedom she needs but terrified something similar might happen.
That’s why I’ve hacked all of Kayla’s online accounts. If she meets anyone online, I’ll know about it.
A surge of heat courses through my veins, and I clench my fists. If she meets anyone online, I’ll shut him down.
Not because that’s what her father, my client, would want, but because Kayla’s mine. I know it in my gut.
Luckily, Kayla doesn’t seem interested in online dating.
In the two days I’ve been watching her, she’s come home from her job at the cafe, which is downstairs from her apartment, and watched TV.
Sometimes she reads. Sometimes she talks to her friends.
But on the whole, my Kayla is a homebody, just like me.
I could watch Kayla all night, but I won’t. It’s time to give her some privacy. She’s safe for the night, and that’s all I need to know.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I say, knowing she can’t hear me.
With reluctance, I turn off the feed, leaving her alone to enjoy her Doritos.
The room feels empty without Kayla’s image on the screen, and I miss her already.
My heart aches for this woman, this woman who I’ve never met, who wouldn’t look twice at a wounded older man with a limp who is more comfortable around computer screens than people. Which is why I prefer to observe.
From the safety of my room, I can dream about talking with Kayla, laughing with her and sharing her life. But what would a young, radiant woman like Kayla see in a broken man like me?