Page 30 of King Of Order

That was it. Decision made.

Whatever price came with her, I was willing to pay it.

The following day, I found myself in my late model Range, idlinga few cars from her front door.

I observed her slip from her house dressed in her running gear.

Sliding out from behind my steering wheel, I came up behind her, strolling as she took off, not having spotted me.

I was wearing a baseball cap, sunglasses, and athletic gear. Blending in like a local, I crossed the road and hung back to keep her from becoming suspicious.

If she glanced my way, I’d slide into a side street, change out my two-toned jacket, and flip my hat inside out, changing my appearance to avoid triggering her senses.

I kept pace with her stroll, trailing her, appreciating Chiara’s morning vibe in cute active-wear shorts, a cut-off top, and headgear.

The ocean beyond was stunning, framing the woman before me and producing an even more beguiling vision.

Damn, she was alluring.

I gritted my teeth as I crossed roads and followed her to the park, where she took to jogging the circuit three times before making her way home.

I stood in the trees, leaning back, arms interlocked over my chest, assessing, thinking, working through my doubts, and tamping down my desire to abandon all caution.

Still, it was not a bad way to spend a morning.

I was getting a handle on her routine, prepping for the work I anticipated was coming.

My surveillance of her had picked up on other shady interests in her.

I had no plans to let some other shifty mob crew get to her first, so I provided Chiara with security cover sans her knowledge.

I had high wagers on keeping her safe and enacting my plan for the Tirones.

She made her way back, chatting with neighbors, patting dogs, and doing everything to mesmerize me.

Her gaze swept the street at her front door, almost tagging me as if sensing me.

I eased into a bush until she exhaled and pushed into her house.

Relieved, I slid back into my SUV and waited till she emerged dressed for the day.

In stiletto heels, a polka-dotted skirt, and a stunning orange tee that complimented her gorgeous curves.

She slipped on sunglasses, and after a glance up and down the street, she slid behind the wheel of a silver-gray vintage sports coupe, Lancia Zagato, circa 1962.

I nodded my approval for the classic sports vehicle, a collector’s choice with its comfortable, fast, lightweight, and sleek design.

She drove off blissfully unaware of my presence, and I smirked.

I shadowed her to a swanky mall as she shopped, flirted with the shopkeepers, and emerged with packages in tow.

At one point, she paused and pretended to look in a window display, but I disappeared into obscurity, ducking into a menswear shop across from her.

Chiara still had a concerned look, so I followed the slant of her gaze.

She was attempting to out a tail.

I was deep in the shadows, but someone else was not.

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