Perfect.
I turned toward Blaze’s workstation as if eyeing it curiously—and pulled out the phone I’d snatched from Garrison’s pocket while he was distracted by the press of my lips. A satisfied smile tugged at those lips now. He’d had no idea I’d made off with it.
But now I had to search it for what I needed before he or any of the others noticed.
I tapped in the passcode I’d observed through the kettle’s reflection. A part of me expected it not to work, but when the entire phone opened to me, I couldn’t help outright grinning. Jackpot.
I went immediately to the recent text messages, scanning them for anything important, though I had little context for most of them. The only message that really caught my eye was from Julius, sent this morning, and it was basic—102 Freeton Ave, which was an address I didn’t recognize, and the words, Blaze says this is the one.
Was this the address that they’d be visiting later? For their plans that supposedly had nothing to do with the household case?
The address was easy enough to commit to memory. Then I opened the browser history and knew my mistake the moment the page loaded.
A porn site was the last opened page, a woman and her pussy exposed wide to the camera. I rolled my eyes. Typical.
I opened the other tabs, finding only unimportant questions he’d typed into the browser. Nothing substantial.
Every second I had the phone on me was a risk. I closed all the apps I’d opened and turned it off, then ambled over to the sofa. When I sat down there, I let the phone slide between the cushions.
He’d assume it’d fallen out of his pocket sometime earlier. Nothing at all to do with me.
Now I just had to figure out why Blaze said that address was “the one” and what exactly the guys meant to do there.