Page 39 of Broken Love

“That was…”

“Creepy,” she finishes for me. “He always like that?” I nod in answer as my gaze roves around the space. Something feels…off. But I’m not sure what.

Nothing appears out of place, but there’s this feeling deep in the pit of my gut that screams something is different. Leisurely wandering around my living space, Lux talks about my weird neighbor, but I barely hear a thing as I try to figure out what’s wrong.

“Windy, are you listening to me?” Brushing the living room curtains aside, I notice the window is open an inch or so above the sill.

“I didn’t leave this open,” I mumble.

“Don’t touch it!” she shouts when I move to slam it down and lock it again. “We need to call Beau. He could get prints or something.”

Backing up a step, I let her make the call as I check the remainder of the windows and the bedroom. Nothing else is amiss, just that window, but I can’t shake the feeling someone has been in here since I’ve been gone. It couldn’t have been Tanner or Tucker because every time I told them I needed something from home, they’d order it instead, and it would show up the same day.

“Beau is on his way; he’s called your men, as well. I bet they’re here before Beau.” Lux has been deeply amused by how possessive the twins are over me, and as much as I hate to admit it because I should be a strong, independent woman, I kind of love it, too. I especially love that they don’t control me while still being so dominant.

“I think you’re probably right.” I’m distracted when I notice a dog figurine on my dresser that I don’t recognize. It’s nothing remarkable, hardly even noticeable, but because it’s a little tan pug, a dog breed I’m not fond of, it stands out more.

Picking up the porcelain figure, I study it all the way around, and when I reach the bottom, I notice a tiny wire sticking out. Popping the bottom off, I’m stunned to find a pin-size camera release from one of the eyes as I tug it out.

“Lux!” I shout, and she comes running after investigating the bathroom.

“What is it?” she responds. I hold the item up, and her jaw drops. “Shut the front door!” Her shout is subdued, but I don’t see a speaker in the object, so I don’t think they can hear us. “Who the hell would do that?” That’s rhetorical because, of course, I don’t know, or this whole mess would be behind me already.

Solemnly walking back out to the living room with the pug in hand, I drop down onto my sofa and lean back. Closing my eyes, I attempt to relax and breathe evenly to avoid the panic attack I feel rising in my chest.

There have been several leads in my case, but none have panned out. Nobody has been able to identify the man we know has been stalking me. It almost feels as if they never will, and I can’t live like this. I can’t keep on going, worrying about what this guy might do to me.

Tears silently slide down my cheeks as I sit and wait for all these men to tell me they can’t find who’s behind the threats.

Tucker

“I don’t like this,” I mutter for what must be the twentieth time as I scroll endlessly through emails that need answering but don’t hold my attention.

“You’ve mentioned that.” I barely resist the urge to growl at Tanner. “I’m not a fan, either, but she doesn’t need to be stifled by us, and she’s got security tailing her.” She doesn’t know about that minor detail because, in the end, she’d just argue with us, and we’d wind up doing what we’d done anyway.

Grunting, I read through an email from one of our clients requesting four shipping containers of non-perishable food be sent to Indonesia after an earthquake followed by a typhoon nearly demolished one of the tiny islands. Often, we get these requests from our altruistic high-profile clients, and we always offer a discounted rate or match their donations. After responding back with a requested list of items they’re sending, I research what else the country needs and decide to send medical supplies along with the food.

Before I can tell Tanner what I’m doing, the phone rings. “This is Tucker Graham.”

“It’s Beau. Get to Windsor's apartment now.” He hangs up before I can question why. Calling down to the front desk, I request a car be brought up from the garage ASAP.

“What’s going on?” Tanner’s up and out from behind his desk before I’ve hung up.

“That was Beau. He wants us at Windsor's apartment now.”

We’re both quiet as we head out. Our front desk manager hands me the keys to one of our Land Rovers. I drive while Tan jumps in the passenger seat, texting furiously as I navigate through the city.

The security we had tailing her meets us at the front doors. One takes the keys from me while the other gives a rundown of what’s going on around the building and street. Nothing feels out of place, but as we arrive on her floor, I see a man standing in the doorway of what I assume is his place across the hall from our woman’s.

Ignoring him, I open Windsor's door and step in. I hear the guy mutter something, but as soon as I spot Windsor sobbing silently on the sofa, I go to her instead.

“Sweetheart.” She shakes her head and holds out something in her hand. Taking it from her, I see a tan pug figurine with a wire hanging from the bottom, and I immediately recognize it.

“Is that what I think it is?” Tanner asks as he takes a seat next to her, pulling her body into his lap.

“Camera.” Standing up, I begin searching for more because I’d bet everything I’m worth that there are others. A guy does something like this, and there always is.

“She hasn’t said a word since she found it,” Lux whispers from where she’s making tea in the small kitchen. Squeezing her shoulder, I continue my search.

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