Page 35 of A Violet Obsession

My phone rings on the console.

“You want to grab a beer?” Rhodes never bothers with greetings. Of all the operatives at Elite, we’ve known each other the longest—same team in the military for a year before he got out. When I left a year after him, he hooked me up with Vincent, who at the time was running a mercenary group. A couple of years later, Vincent partnered with Brady Worthington, and now we’re some odd combination of personal protection and black ops.

“Rain check.” I keep my eyes on the building. “You around tonight in case I need backup?”

Silence. “With what?”

“Side project.”

I don’t have to explain. He’ll know by the sound of my voice and the fact that I’ve never once had a side project how important this is.

“Which side of town should I stay on?”

I text him Lily’s address. “Probably nothing, but I’ve got a bad feeling.”

After I put the phone down, my eyes drift back to her window. A light glows behind the curtain, and then I see her, haloed against the fabric, Hera in her arms, looking down at the parking lot.

At my truck.

At me.

Was that a smile before she pulled the curtains?

It’s not stalking if she knows I’m here.

I’m reaching for a protein bar in the glove box when I catch movement in the side mirror.

A man is entering the parking lot on foot.

The collar of his dark coat is pulled up, a black knit cap pulled low on his head. He keeps to the edges of the lot, close to the fence line, but his eyes are locked on Lily’s building.

Who are you, fucker?

It could be anyone. Resident. Visitor. Late-night smoker. But I don’t think so. He leans against the chain-link fence at the back of the lot and pulls out his phone. I slouch in my seat, watching him in the rearview mirror. He lifts the phone, and when I catch the flash, I realize he’s taking pictures of the building.

Then one finger lifts from the phone. His lips move slightly.

He’s counting.

When he stops with four fingers in the air, my spine goes rigid and the intuition that’s kept me alive for the last decade hums to life.

This man is a definite threat.

He lights a cigarette, eyes still glued to the side of the building. The smoke curls around his face as my blood starts to pound. I run a dozen approaches in my head.

The businesses across the street are dark, but there are security cameras on the street corner. Witnesses are unlikely at this hour in this weather, but not impossible.

He throws the butt to the ground and stalks toward the building entrance with angry strides.

I unclick my seatbelt and place my gun on my thigh. If he gets through that door, he’s dead before he hits the elevator. My hand finds the handle, the door cracked just enough⁠—

The man stops at the door and looks over the security panel. Then he turns and walks away, disappearing into the dark street.

My phone buzzes again.

Rhodes: How side is this side project? I’m bored.

Me: Nothing yet.