Page 39 of Breakup Games

“Pulling in,” the partner tells me and I look just in time to see a white van enter. Mason and I wait until it’s in the center of the garage before we get in.

“Whoa,” I say when I get in through the back. “This is just like the movies.” There are computers and cameras on the walls, two chairs attached to the floor so you can sit while doing surveillance.

“But better,” Mason says and sits on a little fold-out seat in the back, offering me the other chair. A man wearing an FBI jacket sits in the other chair, clicking through CCTV footage, following the expensive car Enzo got picked up in.

“This is my partner, Diego,” Mason tells me. “And our driver is Evan.”

“Hi.” I offer a wave and sit, smoothing out my black dress and then checking that I didn’t have a nip slip while running. This is a dress meant for slow walking in and out of swanky places, not running down a sidewalk, hiding in a public parking garage, and then climbing in the back of an FBI van. “You’re taking me home now, right? I would love to get out of these heels.”

Mason gives me a little bit of a surprised look and then lets his eyes wander up and down my body. Knowing he finds me attractive does bad things to me, completely distracting me from what’s going on here.

“I can,” Evan, the guy driving the van, says.

“Thanks,” Diego tells him and clicks through to another traffic cam. I could sit here all night and watch, fascinated with what they’re able to do, but I need to get home to my dog. I asked the sitter to let her out around nine PM, and if I’m out much later, it won’t be fair to Violet.

“Being picked up that quickly.” I go back to what’s important. “Does that mean someone was coming to get him because of the, uh ‘bakery’ issues or does it mean that there are people just like out and around in case a Moretti has a problem?”

“That is something for us to worry about,” Diego says and Mason gives me a nod, letting me know he can’t discuss thisfurther. “So you didn’t see anything to indicate one or the other?”

“No, but it, uh, seemed like whoever was calling needed him. So someone coming to pick him up doesn’t seem out of the question.” And it’s much less scary than thinking there are mafia cronies just hanging out, waiting with a cement block and rope for the boss to give the word. Lake Michigan is a great place to dump a body.

“Okay, then let’s get you home.”

I take off the wire and earpiece and we drive several blocks to get to another car. I give Evan my address and we listen to music more than talk on the drive. I thank him and go inside my Lincoln Park apartment complex, texting the group chat that I’m home safe as I go up the elevator.

“Hey, sweet girl!” I coo as soon as I’m inside, dropping down to the floor to hug Violet. I kick off my shoes and she immediately picks one up, squealing with excitement as she wags her tail and presses her head against me. “I know, I know, I was late—again. But you have the best dog-nanny so don’t give me that look.”

I grab a light jacket from the hook by the door and step into my hot pink Crocs. Violet knows those are mytake the dog outshoes and starts to prance and jump up with excitement. I grab her harness and leash, struggle to get it on her since she’s wiggling so much, and then go out to the courtyard.

Making sure the gate is closed behind me, I unclip her leash and have to spend the next few minutes petting her, reassuring my Velcro dog that I’m just going to sit on the bench like I always do before she turns and trots off to go potty.

We go back inside and I undress, twisting my hair into a carefully twisted bun on the top of my head. The curls will last until tomorrow if I’m careful. I take a lingering look at my eye makeup in the mirror before I step into the shower, regrettingthat I have to wash it off when it looks this good. It always feels good to wash it off, at least.

After showering, I dress in fuzzy pink lounge pants with a matching crop top. I pull on my favorite fuzzy robe, grab a pair of thick socks, and sit in the living room with a bag of chips, watching a few episodes of a new show before getting tired enough to head to bed.

“Let’s go out one more time,” I tell Violet, slowly getting up. I love my dog but wish so much I could just open the backdoor and let her into a fenced in yard instead of having to go downstairs and then outside. At least we have a dog-friendly courtyard here.

Violet races off, coming back with a tennis ball that I throw it for her to chase after. We play fetch for a bit and then she stops, tail going up. She looks like a poster child for a golden retriever when she does that, but she only takes that stance when she sees something worthy of staring at.

I follow her gaze and see the dark silhouette of a man, lurking in the bushes right behind the fence.

Chapter

Twenty-Three

MASON

“Slow down,” I tell Mira, grabbing the remote to pause the show I’ve been watching.

“There was someone outside and they were watching me,” she rushes out again. “I mean, I think so. They were just standing there and when I stood up they moved but I smelled his cologne.”

Her voice is shaky. I’ve never heard her rattled and everything inside me wants to run to her and keep her safe.

“Where are you right now?”

“I’m inside. At home.”

“Are your doors locked?”

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