Behind Your Back - Cameron Chelsea M. - Страница 8

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“See you next Thursday,” he says, reminding me of our next meeting. I shake his hand and say goodnight, sending Cash a text that I’m on my way out.

I walk up and down the line of cars with drivers waiting and find mine. He hurries to open the door for me and I slide into the backseat, the leather squeaking a little as I move.

The driver gets in and I tell him to take me back to the hotel.

“So she wasn’t there, huh?” Cash asks when he picks me up at the hotel. I sigh as I loosen my tie and unbutton the top of my shirt. I’m overheated for some reason.

“No. I think I’m going to have to try something different. You think you can hack her phone and track it?” This is pretty much a rhetorical question. Cash snorts at me.

“Are you fucking kidding me? Why don’t you give me a challenge?” We’re already tracking Beaumont’s phone, but I wasn’t planning to start with the daughter until I’d made first contact.

“In fact, maybe I already started tracking it,” he says, holding up his phone and then handing it to me. There is a little green dot not that far from us.

“You want to check it out?” he asks. I should… but not tonight. All I want to do is get out of this suit and wash away the night.

“You okay there?” Cash asks, sensing there is a reason I’m silent.

“Yeah. Fine. Just tired for some reason.”

“You want to come over and crash?” I shake my head. I just want to go home to Leo and have a few beers to wash the taste of expensive champagne out of my mouth before I go to bed.

“Suit yourself,” he says.

A few blocks away from my house Cash stops so I can get in the back and change my clothes. It isn’t easy to change out of a suit in the backseat of a car, but I manage.

Once I have my regular clothes on and my hood up, I feel… myself. Like shedding a costume. I’m an actor, playing a part. Too bad I’ll never get one of those golden statues for my work.

“You good?” Cash asks as I fold up the suit on the backseat.

“Yeah.”

“Okay then. See you on Tuesday?” I nod again and get out. I still have a ways to walk, but that’s more than fine. With every step I become more Sylas Carter and less Quinn Brand.

I’ll never admit how much this job fucks with my head. I try not to let it get to me, but it does. I shove my hands in my pockets as I walk and keep my head down. Most people are inside their houses, either in bed or basking in the glow of their televisions.

“Hey, Leo,” I say when I unlock the door. He puts both his paws on my legs and meows like I haven’t fed him in days. I check his bowl and it’s still mostly full, but I put a few more bits of kibble on top to satisfy him.

“Greedy little bastard,” I say as he sticks his head in the bowl and crunches loudly.

The first thing I do is go to the fridge and grab a beer. What I really want is a cheeseburger, but that would require me to walk to get it and I don’t want to leave the house again. So I reach for something I can throw in the microwave and hope it will fill me up where the fancy dinner hadn’t.

The microwave beeps and I go to open it, but my phone buzzes and I change direction to fetch it. Probably Cash giving me an update on Saige’s whereabouts.

I look at the screen and frown. It’s a text message, but it’s not from Cash. It’s not from any of my boys. The number is blocked.

Have a good time?

I can’t help the trickle of cold unease that drips down my spine. I am conditioned to be suspicious of everyone and everything.

But then the more-rational part of my brain kicks in and I figure it’s just a wrong number. There are plenty of people with blocked numbers for whatever reason. And since the numbers of the burner phones change constantly, that’s probably the case.

The microwave beeps again to remind me that my food is still inside. I set the phone down and go to deal with it.

I’m just going to ignore the message. The person will probably figure out that they’ve got the wrong number and that will be it.

And then I get another message.

You looked bored tonight, Mr. Brand. Did the scallops not agree with you?

I’ve conditioned myself not to panic. In my line of work, panic can kill you. So I sit and think for a moment. I know I need to get rid of the phone. Someone found my number and tracked me to the event. I go to the safe under my bed, unlock it and pull out my backup phone.

The new phone rings as soon as I text Cash about the blocked number.

“What do you mean you got a message from a blocked number? How the hell did someone hack that phone?” I roll my eyes.

“Just the same way you hack phones.”

He sputters for a moment.

“Yes, well, that’s me.”

“There are a lot of people who can hack phones,” I say.

“Okay, okay. I’m coming over. I want to go through it and figure out who did it. Because I will figure it out.” Guess I’m not going to bed anytime soon.

“Sure thing,” I say and then hang up.

Cash arrives just as I get a third message.

You’re not going to get away with this, you know.

I hand him the phone and he starts working with it, pressing buttons and getting a little frown line on his forehead. I grab him a beer and hand it to him without saying anything. I know not to disturb him when he’s concentrating.

“Huh,” he says, squinting at the thing. Then he gets out his laptop and plugs the phone in. Leo comes out to investigate and Cash has to keep pushing him off the keyboard.

“Huh,” he says again and I can’t take it anymore.

“What?” I say, setting my beer down a little too hard. Cash hasn’t touched his yet.

“Nothing. I just need to try something else. Don’t worry, I’ve got this.” But he doesn’t seem so confident anymore. Cash is always optimistic, but sometimes he’s a little less optimistic, which signals doom. We’re moving toward doom.

I start running names through my head of who this could possibly be. I have a long list of enemies, most of whom I have by the balls, but every now and then one of them gets stupid and tries to threaten me. Much like Mr. Chambers. He’s a possibility. But he would have had to hire someone to do it, because he definitely isn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer. Not by a long shot.

“Mother fuck!” Cash yells, slapping his hand down on the coffee table and scaring the shit out of Leo who runs and hides under the couch.

“Nothing?” I ask.

“No. This is some serious shit I’m looking at. But I can crack it. I know I can.” He sounds like he’s positively defeated, which is bad news. Not much gets past Cash.

“Listen, it’s late. Maybe you should let it go and try again in the morning.” Cash shakes his head and slams his hand on the table again. If he does that a few more times, my table is going to be reduced to sawdust.

“No, no, I can do this. If I just…” He starts muttering all sorts of tech mumbo jumbo to himself and I know I’ve lost him.

“Well, I’m beat,” I say and head to bed. He doesn’t even say goodnight.

I don’t get much sleep. My apartment has thin walls, so I can hear the couple who live next to me having rough sex. That I could sleep through, but Cash cursing a blue streak makes me put in earplugs.

I wake up the next morning when Leo pokes me in the eye with his paw. Cash is gone. The only evidence that he was ever here is a few empty beer bottles in the sink.

The phone is gone too, and I hope he was making some progress with it. I need to know who’s gotten my number so I can pay them a little visit and remind them who has the upper hand.

I down some coffee to wake up and then take a scalding shower before I get dressed and decide to head out of the city for a while. There’s someone I need to see.

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