31. Chapter 31
31
Brody
I wonder if Caleb will leave another note while Sophie’s out of town. If he does, it would either indicate he wants to scare Natalie too or that he’s unaware Sophie isn’t here. The latter isn’t likely since he’s probably stalking her socials and I know she posts updates about her travels. I’m left wondering if he plans to terrorize Miss Weston or if he’ll hold off.
Sophie is unaware that he visits often–most days, in fact. Some days all he does is walk up the driveway between the two front buildings, stop and watch for a minute or two, and then walk away.
What goes through his mind when he just stands there and watches?
Having given up the new mystery client, my day-to-day at work has returned to the mundane. The latest fiasco is a fifty-year-old woman desperate to see her father’s medical records and to know if she’s still in the will–if she was ever in the will in the first place. All she cares about is the current version, of course.
It’s amazing the access I have to peoples’ whole lives. Everything is electronic nowadays–one reason for my filing cabinet in the corner. Everything is kept on paper or in one of several external hard drives, all of which are kept in a fireproof safe in my bedroom. Miles calls it paranoid. I call it being smart in this digital age.
While running an end-of-week report for myself–which will be shredded once I’ve analyzed it–I decide to try digging a little more into Caleb Davis and his life. Raised by a single mother, one older brother in law enforcement, nothing new or of note. Nothing I haven’t seen before.
As I stare at a photo of Caleb and his brother, I start to wonder if the help he has is coming from family. If Jesse Davis has access to certain resources, he might be able to get a back way into the doorbell cam system. Illegal without a warrant, but anything can be faked.
Looks like I’m spending my Friday digging up some dirt on Asshole #2. I don’t know Jesse, but I think it’s safe to assume that, with a brother like Caleb, he’s an asshole.
It’s time to reach out to an anonymous contact from Harp Solutions. I have access to a lot, but a backdoor into a government database feels a stretch too far. I hate leaving a trail, even in our secure system, but this is still the safer route. The request takes no time at all to send and now I have no path forward while I wait. I have to find something to distract myself. It could take days to get a response and even longer to get the information or it could be a matter of hours. Every request is different so the response and delivery times vary wildly.
I stomp out of the office to the kitchen and throw open the fridge. Maybe eating something will help. I scan the shelves for several minutes, only half-processing what’s in front of me. Nothing sounds good.
The door slams shut harder than I intend, causing one of the heavier magnets to fall to the ground. I gently pick up the gym calendar it was holding to the fridge and then my fingers fall on the thick, ceramic double-decker bus. Isla brought it back for me when she studied abroad in college. The magnet isn’t what I focus on.
The gym seems like a good distraction.
The gym is not a good distraction.
Starting on the treadmill, I increase my speed and incline until I’m breathing heavily, unable to focus on anything other than not falling off. That lasts for all of five minutes before my mind wanders to the problem of the Davis brothers and what they might be planning.
Weights next. I start with squats. Those are even less distracting, so I switch between various machines. Worse.
I mutter a curse under my breath and lock the plate holding the weights above my body on the leg press machine. The weight is enough to challenge me, but not enough that it causes my muscles to shake. Maybe I should add more. I’m still deciding on my next step when a woman sidles up to me, a towel over her shoulder.
She’d be distracting for any man, but I’ve got my own problems and my own sexy little distraction on the other side of the country. It’s hard to miss the way her leggings hug her hips and thighs below her tight and toned torso. A sports bra covers her breasts and her black hair is pulled back into a ponytail. Wisps of hair stick to her skin where it’s shiny with sweat. Her skin is pale and flawless and her brown eyes are full of confidence.
“Almost done with that?” she asks with a glance at the plates, taking a moment to add up the weight in her head. “Impressive, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I grab my towel from where it’s hung over the top of my water bottle and dab it on my forehead. “I’m done. Let me get the plates off.”
“I can help.” She makes sure to brush past, tits facing me, just close enough to graze my arm. “Sam, by the way.” Her touch has nothing on Sophie’s.
“Brody,” I mutter.
I stack the plates on their racks and give Sam a nod before walking away. In the mirror on my left, I can see that she’s annoyed. I’m sure it’s my fault, but I’m not going to dwell on it.
I try to finish my leg day workout, glimpsing Sam every now and then, usually on a machine next to me or walking by just close enough to make contact. I grow more and more frustrated until I realize annoyance is at least distracting me from waiting on the information I requested. At least she’s been good for something.
Eventually, I have to leave. My workout is done, my legs are jelly, and if I don’t drive home now, I’m not sure I’ll be able to. As I head out of the locker room, toward the door, Sam darts in front of me. I nearly crash into her.
“Sorry.” I grab her arm to steady her but then drop it quickly.
“Oh no, my fault,” she chirps. “I just wanted to give you this.” She holds out a business card. Great. A realtor. Great. A realtor.
“You do this often?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, but taking the card. “Hand out business cards to random guys at the gym?”
“Only the cute ones.”
Before I can respond, she dances away and I’m left with my lips parted in mild shock. I have got to get out of here .
My car is on the outer edge of the parking lot, the nearest vehicle a dozen spaces away. I rack my brain for activities that will keep me from going home. A hike won’t work because if I try that, my legs won’t work. If Miles were here, we’d binge-watch trashy movies and eat homemade nachos or some other concoction of his.
My grip on the steering wheel is tight, the veins in my arms popping out. I lean my head back in the seat, closing my eyes. Taking deep breaths through my nose and letting them out in slow, controlled exhales doesn’t seem to help. Sophie’s face floats through my mind, laughing at something I said during our first date, nervous about telling me what she does for a living on our second date, skeptical on our third before…
I can practically taste her on my lips, feel her clench around my fingers. That familiar warmth forms in my chest, radiating outward into my arms and down to my toes. My hand drops from the steering wheel to palm a rather troublesome bulge growing in my shorts.
My phone buzzes, pulling me from my thoughts. It’s a selfie from Sophie. She’s wearing a very tight, light blue dress. I can’t quite tell from the angle, but it looks like it’s barely long enough to cover her ass. Her perfect tits are practically falling out of the top. I’m so focused on her cleavage that it takes me a moment to notice my best friend standing beside her. She and Miles are on the convention floor near a booth whose banner I can only see a small part of. They look like they’re having the time of their lives. The text along with it just says: Miss you .
I type out a quick response and then toss my phone into the cupholder before speeding home.
The shower doesn’t help despite using ice-cold water. All I’ve been able to think about since that stupid selfie–that I asked for, of course–is what Miles and Sophie are doing together off of the convention floor. Miles told me they have neighboring rooms and all I can imagine is them enjoying each other in their downtime.
I’m not jealous, which is probably the most surprising part about the whole situation. Well, maybe a little, but only because I’d rather be there with them. Joining them. Fucking them. My skin is hot and one hand snakes down my body to find my cock, growing hard thanks to my vivid imagination.
I brace my other hand on the tile beneath the stream of water and hang my head, calling forth images of Simon Brody Says. The way both Miles and Sophie were eager to do as I ordered. The moans Sophie made when Miles ate her sweet cunt, the whimpers when I fucked her. The whine when Miles came deep inside her and how beautiful they both looked with my cum all over them.
Stroking myself isn’t enough and I glance up at the detachable shower head. Keeping the pressure consistent at medium strength and the water ice cold, I pull it out of the holder. Twisting it, I bring it down until the spray hits the underside of my tip and a moan escapes my lips. The cold water does the exact opposite of what I would expect and I feel the tingle all the way down in my toes. Using one hand to cup and massage my balls, I use the water as if it’s another hand. Practically stroking with the stream, I angle it up and down the bottom of my shaft and I can feel my release tugging at me.
It doesn’t take long before I explode, the jet of water altering the trajectory of my cum as it flies at the wall. Hunching over, I drop the shower head and bring my hand up to squeeze every last drop. Nothing compares to being inside Sophie, of course, but my head is a little clearer when I step out of the shower.
When I return to my computer, not only has the contact responded, but they’ve sent over an enormous file. I quickly click through so I can gain access to the information. My fingers run through my hair for what feels like the fiftieth time today just as it all finishes downloading. The file on Jesse Davis is larger than I anticipated, but only because he’s been involved in so much . He’s been written up by his superiors for aggression–I didn’t know that happened for cops–and has been investigated for his treatment of suspects during their arrests.
For some ungodly reason, though, he’s been allowed to train new officers. To mold them to his twisted sense of justice. The system is so fucking flawed, but it’s no surprise. Bad apples beget bad apples and the cycle continues.
I lose time clicking through file after file, muttering to myself and shaking my head every now and then. It’s vile, baffling that this man still has a job. When I come to the most recent information, my jaw tenses.
Jesse is on administrative leave following his mother’s sudden death. It looks like she passed at the end of July after a nasty car accident and I have to wonder when Caleb started showing up at Sophie’s front door. Either the loss sent Caleb off the deep end or he realized he has nothing to lose by going all-in, trying to get Sophie back.
Either way, he’s more dangerous than ever. I have to tell Mel. I need her help and poor Natalie is innocent in all of this.
I unlock my phone and click Mel’s contact. I can’t wait for a video call and I don’t want to send an email about this. She picks up on the third ring .
“You never call.”
“Hello, Mel. Hope you’re having a pleasant Friday.”
“You too. You never call. What’s wrong?”
“I’ve been seeing someone,” I start.
“I know.”
Of course, she does.
“Her ex is stalking her.”
Mel hums and I wait for her to speak.
“I assume adult actors face a higher number of potential stalkers than the rest of us,” she muses, speaking casually as if Sophie isn’t in danger. I frown.
“I don’t have the statistics. You don’t have an opinion on me dating a porn star?”
“She’s hardly a star.” Mel’s tone isn’t unkind. “She’s getting there though.”
Oh god . I don’t want to know the amount of research she’s done.
I stammer, trying to find words to change the subject and steer the conversation away from Sophie’s job. No fully formed words come out.
“You could have come to me the moment something happened, you know.” She sounds… hurt. Why does she sound hurt? “I would have helped.”
“You would?”
“Of course. I believe we’ve cultivated a friendship over the years, don’t you?”
“You’re still my boss,” I remind her. I suppose I do think of her more like another sister. A somewhat cold, distant sister.
“We already work in a gray area. This would at least be on the lighter side.”
I take a deep breath.
“I need your help.”
“Take the CIO job.”
“Are you really going to blackmail me when the woman I love is in danger?” My breath hitches, my heart racing. Love . I said that. Out loud. I swear I can hear Mel raising an eyebrow. I can definitely see it in my mind.
“Are you really going to gamble with her safety when all it will take is a simple yes?”
“Mel, please,” I choke.
“Take the job.”
“Fuck, fine. I’ll take the damn job.”
“Delightful. Now,” I hear her typing frantically in the background, “I’m reaching out to my security team. Does Sophie know you’re talking to me about this? ”
I didn’t give Sophie’s name, but it’s not a shock that Mel knows.
“No. She thinks all I’m doing is digging into a glitch on her doorbell cam. What do you mean, ‘security team’?” I haven’t heard her talk about that before.
“No need to bother yourself with that. I can have a team install extra cameras at her place.”
“Her roommate-”
“They’ll do it when Natalie is gone.”
Mel obviously checked out everyone Sophie is connected to. Hell, she probably knew about Caleb and Jesse before I did.
Fuck.
“The ex-”
“No record of him staying in the city,” she says, cutting me off again. “Or the brother.”
“No, they’re being smart,” I confirm. “If they’re planning something, Mel, I-” My voice catches.
“We won’t let anything happen.” Mel’s determination is enough to make me feel more at ease. “Your promotion has already taken effect. Please make sure to transfer any notes regarding current clients back to me by the end of the day so that I can redistribute your clients to other specialists.”
“Mel, come on.” I guess I should have negotiated for a grace period.
“Brody, this is for your own good.”
She hangs up and I’m left to stare at the file on Jesse Davis that scared me so much I accepted a job I don’t want–an early retirement I certainly don’t need.
Sophie is worth it.