Page 92 of The Watcher

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“We need to do this quickly.”

Julian met my eyes. “We will. But we have to do it right. We’re only going to get one chance. If he’s spooked…” He didn’t finish the sentence.

I swallowed down my fear. “I know. He’ll disappear, and so will she.”

My phone buzzed, and I glanced down. “That’s Deb. I wonder if he is with her.”

“If so, keep your cool and arrange a meeting for later today. Play the broken, worried man. If you can keep him busy, we can get in and out and then make our plan to get her back. But we have to be sure she is there. If we tip him off, he could move her and vanish.”

I shut my eyes and swallowed. Julian was right, but it was going to take everything in me not to beat the shit out of him the instant I saw him. But I had to do it—for Raven.

I answered the phone, making my voice strained and rough. “Hello.”

* * *

I steeled myself in the car, inhaling deeply. Julian’s voice sounded in my ear. “Keep him as long as you can, Damien. Egan’s at the house, Marcus is at the off-site building, and I’m at the apartment. If he gets any alerts, clear your throat twice. We’ll all be listening.”

“Yep.”

“Stay calm. This is for Raven. Think of it as an undercover sting. Remove your personal feelings. I know it’s hard. I had to do it for Tally. But Raven needs you to do this.”

I straightened my shoulders. “Right.”

“Go get him.”

I got out of the car and headed to the coffee shop where Deb and Stewart waited. Deb had been upset on the phone, telling me how horrified “Stew” was about the situation and wanting to help. It was typical narcissistic perp behavior. Insinuating themselves into the situation. I told her I wanted to talk to her and Stew if that was possible, and we agreed to meet at the coffee shop. I schooled my features, tamping down my revulsion and hate.

In the coffee shop, Deb was beside Stew, her eyes red and swollen. She offered me a sad smile and a hug before I sat down. I met Stew’s eyes, forcing down my real emotions and trying to project worry and confusion.

“Stewart,” I murmured.

“Damien,” he said, his voice dripping with fake concern. “I don’t know what to say. How can I help?”

I spouted my practiced lines. “I’m at my wit’s end. I know I’m grasping at straws, but can you think of any time you were discussing the field trip where someone, this man we’re looking for, might have overheard you?”

He was a great actor. He paused, seemingly searching his thoughts. He picked up his coffee cup, taking a sip, pursing his lips, furrowing his brow. “Obviously, the donors, the sponsors, people at the firm. I don’t recall mentioning it otherwise. I wasn’t looking for attention or praise.”

It was all I could do not to lean over the table, grab his collar, shake him, and scream in his face, calling him a liar. Instead, I simply nodded.

“Can you tell me about this man? What he looks like?”

“Late twenties, wears a hoodie, shaggy hair. I only saw him once,” I said gruffly. “Kinda homely if I recall right,” I added, wanting to goad him.

A flash of annoyance crossed his face, and I picked up my coffee to hide my smirk. He wasn’t that good.

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Do you have any clues where she is?” Deb asked, her voice rough from crying. “I’m so frightened for her.”

I paused, fiddling with my cup.

“In the off-site,” Marcus hissed in my ear.

I took another sip, shifting my shoulders, trying to look uncomfortable. Stew had no reaction. No alarms went off.

“Drone over house. Getting info on security,” Egan whispered. “Gonna try to send in a heat source detector.”

“Mother lode in apartment,” Julian murmured. “Taking video.”


Tags: Melanie Moreland Romance