Page 64 of Dear John

“Babe, did you eat?”

I snatched the phone and read the text from Fox, unable to believe what I was reading.

Were you aware your girlfriend left the building?

Is this an Elvis situation?

Following now.

I think she’s onto me. It could be the Funyuns.

Did you ever consider a Funyuns tracker? Tasty and discreet.

Stick with her.

I tossedmy phone on the bed and hurried over to the closet, pulling out my suit. In no time, I was dressed and rushing out the door. I pulled up the tracking information on her phone and caught a cab. It was the only way I’d catch up to her at this point. Meanwhile, Fox was keeping me up to date.

Like I would lose her.

Stalking was my job for the first thirty years of my life.

I rolledmy eyes as I stared out the window. My leg bounced like crazy as I waited impatiently for the driver to get me to the address. “Can you go any faster?”

“Sure. I’ll just hit the car in front of us and shove him off the road.”

I didn’t have time for his smartass comments. I needed to get to Isla before something happened. My phone buzzed again.

Um…say I lost her…

Fox!

Oh! There she is! That was a close one.

Do I need to remind you that this woman means everything to me?

Say no more, kemosabe.

Frustrated, I almost hopped out of the cab, certain I could outrun the traffic, but I knew that wasn’t true.

“How much farther?”

“Two blocks,” the driver grumbled.

She’s heading inside. Do I follow?

I’m almost there.

I grabbed some cash and tossed it at the driver as I bolted from the cab. I nearly got hit by another car that was pulling away from the curb. By the time I was rushing through the doors, I saw her across the lobby, getting onto an elevator with an older man.

“Hold the elevator!” I shouted, sliding in just as they started to close. The doors reopened and I turned to the man, grinning as I checked him out. There was something familiar about him.Maybe his face or just his stance. I couldn’t pinpoint it, but I didn’t like it.

“Kavanaugh, what are you doing here?” Isla said, chuckling lightly.

“I came for the interview.” It was always best to make everyone else think you were supposed to be there, so that’s what I did. “Brad Kavanaugh,” I said, holding out my hand to the man.

“Jerry Fowler. I wasn’t aware you were working on the project.”

I shrugged. “I’m really just her assistant. Anything she needs, I take care of.” I straightened and faced forward, my eyes tracking the movement as the man slid his finger over the lit-up number 23 and pressed the button for the 24thfloor.

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