My expression mirrors my thoughts, becoming more puzzled.
He tilts his head and tries to explain again. “It’s like the Key Logger program you install to monitor someone’s computer activity.”
I remain quiet, not having a clue what the fuck he’s talking about. We didn’t have money like that, for useless shit such as computers when I was growing up. It was hard enough to eat when I was fucking hungry.
Huffing, he simplifies, “It’s an app that’s going to track where she goes.”
“She’ll blow the fuck up knowing I’m tracking her.”
“It’s a ghost program; she won’t be able to tell you’re tracking her. Even a decent phone tech wouldn’t know about it. You’d have to be a programmer or app builder to know where to begin looking.”
Cocking my eyebrow in disbelief, he rolls his eyes.
“Look, man, I give you my word. Princess won’t find this shit. Besides, your phone is an unlocked burner; she’d have no idea who it belonged to unless she knows your number. Does she?”
“No. I haven’t contacted her.”
“Yet.” He mumbles, causing me to scowl. “Okay, it’s finished.” He holds the phone so I can see everything also. “Click apps. The box with a crown as the photo is her, click it.”
Multiple options appear such as find, log, points of interest, home, listen, disable, and the last—delete program.
He hands me my phone. “The question mark next to each word will tell you what the option does, otherwise, just click on the words, follow the prompts, and it’ll take you where you want.”
Nodding, I mutter, “Appreciate it,” while my eyes stay trained on the words, curious what they’ll each do.
“I’m your brother, Vike. I’ll always have your back.”
My gaze meets Spider’s as he stands and I fist-bump him, giving him the respect he deserves. It’s easy to forget that these men are my allies, and they support me. I was surrounded by snakes for so long, that it’s been hard to let go of the shit I dealt with in the past. Never again—these men are different, respectful, and loyal.
We tap knuckles, and he heads toward the office while I pull the app up again.
I start off by clicking the question mark next to the word ‘find.’ It’s labeled in red, so I guess that one’s the most important. A small white cloud pops up with a paragraph inside explaining that you use that option to find the person that’s connected to the tracker.
Let’s see if this shit works or not.
Holding my breath, I press the red lettered option. Google Maps opens up and hones in on a street view, showing me the last recorded image of the area. Below the picture, an address appears in white.
Let’s see just how accurate this thing is.
Nodding to myself, I stride over to my bike and dig out my Bluetooth piece from my saddlebag so I can hear the directions my phone gives me. Once it’s securely in my ear and I’ve clicked ‘go’ on the phone, I toss the cell into my saddlebag.
Mounting my ride, I quickly tie a bandana around my head and place my half shell helmet on securely. With a loud rumbling engine, I steer my way through the gravel lot, hitting the highway, a man on a mission.
I dropped Bethany offand then came straight home to jump in the shower. I’m still sore from Viking, and I’m in serious need of a nap. That man has the stamina and strength of three men put together. When he got going, it was impossible to think about anything but him.
Once I’m not a zombie, I’m soaking in an Epsom salt bath and drinking water. I’m sure I need to rehydrate. Digging through my dresser, I find one of the large men’s white T-shirts that I prefer to wear to sleep in when I’m here alone.
Pulling it over my head as I shuffle toward my bed in a sleepy haze, I hit the cool sheets, sliding between them and my big fluffy white feather down. My comforter’s like a giant pillow, and it’s pure heaven to sleep under. I close my eyes and my stupid cell rings.
Are you kidding me right now? Don’t answer it.
It finishes its three-ring cycle then almost immediately picks up ringing again.
“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Complaining, I sit up, the covers falling to my waist as I reach for the irritating device.
Bethanyglows on the screen. She’ll just keep calling back, so I swipe my finger across the screen to answer.
“Hmmm,” I mumble into the phone and crawl back under the covers, making myself comfortable.