Page 34 of Ex-SEAL Bad Boy

My curtains are open.

I’m almost certain they were closed when we left.

Maybe Ethan opened them when he came up here? I don’t remember since I was still a little out of it, but I don’t think so.

I examine the window itself, but it’s locked just like always.

After a quick examination of the room, I notice everything seems to be in place.

All thoughts about taking a shower vanish and I’m filled with concern. Has someone been in the house?

But how, and why? I know the doors and windows were all locked when I left. I can’t see how anyone could get in.

I feel better knowing that Ethan seems to have a plan worked out if things are not as we were told they would be.

His suspicion that things might be worse than I suspect worries me. What could he possibly be hinting at?

I’m sure he was straight with me when he said that he knew the inner workings of the most influential people and families that would “blow my mind.”

He would be in a position to know.

Like everyone, I had heard the wild conspiracy theories about how the ultra-rich rule the world and the secret societies and all that nonsense, but now I’m beginning to wonder if there’s any truth to all that.

As I pass by my desk, I notice something. My Apple watch has been moved. When I left the house this morning, it had been sitting on top of the dresser where I always leave it. Now it was sitting on my desk, and I hadn’t moved it.

Someone has been in this house. I’m sure of it.

There isn’t much to be gained by searching the data on my Apple watch, even if they—whoever they were—could get into it. Some text messages and my call logs were about it—nothing incriminating, to be sure.

Mom and Dad are out of town at some convention, leaving me alone for the night.

Great.

I search the entire house from top to bottom, with a fireplace poker in hand; I don’t know what I would do with it if I did find an intruder—poke them? Who am I kidding?

When nighttime makes its presence known, the rain the forecasters have been promising finally appears.

The rain pitter-pattering on the window sounds like tiny fingers rapping on the window. But that can’t be; I live on the second floor.

I’m just being paranoid, but I grab the fireplace poker and keep it near me … just in case.

15

ETHAN

Lena looks young—very young.

I only recognized her because I was told what she was going to be wearing.

“Lena?”

Her wavy light blonde hair hangs limply just above her breasts. She is dressed in jeans and a billowy floral top that effectively conceals her expanding belly. She’s outwardly pretty despite the sour expression on her face.

She looks as if she could have stepped off the high school campus down the street.

It only serves to further my suspicions that I hadn’t been told the whole story—in fact, I’m being lied to.

She looks up from the cell phone she’s been staring at since we arrived and studies us expressionlessly.

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