Page 24 of One Love

“Yeah, well, you’re a shit liar. Needed you to be all in on the deal for as long as he tried to drag it out.” One of my monitorsbeeps and I twist my head to see she’s almost home before turning back to Zavier.

He’s chuckling. “Iama shit liar. But you know I can handle what needs to be done. You should’ve told me your suspicions.” He’s right, he can handle himself real well. Where I excelled in all things technology, his special skill has always been adapting to any situation.

“Okay. Next time. Promise.” I wink and he laughs again, shaking his head.

“I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t. Anyway, I’ve been off the main floor for long enough. Time to get back to work.” He pointedly glares at me, as if to tell me to get back to work too, but that’s what I have a security team for.

The door clicks closed behind him as he leaves and I immediately turn back toward my monitors. My alert that she’s nearly home was on point and I can now see her pulling up outside her apartment building. I have the view from the street camera as well as her building cameras. Whoever set it up was a fucking amateur, and I’ve fixed that shit so I’m the only one who can watch her now.

If anyone has noticed they’re locked out of their systems, nothing’s been said. I bet they’re shitting themselves and trying to keep it quiet so they don’t get sued.

I flick the main screen over to the one just outside her apartment door, watching her pull out those braids and run her fingers through that thick, dark-blonde hair as she unlocks her door. Once she steps inside, I relax, knowing she’s getting some much-needed rest.

My little demon’s busy, always on the move, working a job or looking out for someone, and I’ve made it my responsibility to do that for her.

Picking up my walkie talkie, I push the button to speak. “Rena, I’m headed home. Hold down the fort.”

The crackle precedes her words. “You got it, Boss.”

I pull up my security app on my phone, selecting the camera I managed to get into her apartment a few weeks ago, and watch her start the coffee machine. Then she pulls off her black tank top and slides off those black pants, leaving her in just her underwear as she grabs a mug. Picking up her phone from the table, she appears to be reading a message before a small smile graces her beautiful, pouty lips and she begins tapping something in response.

Only one person makes her smile like that. Her daughter, Hallie.

She needs to accept me too, but I’ll work on Jordyn first. Hallie is a part of the Jordyn O’Neil package, and while I didn’t know that when my obsession first began, it doesn’t change how I feel.

I’m all in with this woman, just waiting on the day she calls me on it because I know, without a doubt, we’ll both win.

Chapter Nine

J

“Ugh, I have a math test in ten minutes.” Like clockwork, I’ve got Hallie on the phone just before her classes start for the day. It’s always short but at least I can hear her voice every morning and soothe the ever-present ache in my chest. Little by little, I’m putting my ducks in a row, and when the time comes, I’ll be on the first plane to Florida and bringing my daughter back to New York where she belongs.

“Did you study?” I know she did, she’s got her eye on the prize and it’s called Columbia University.

“Duh, but my teacher’s math tests are juvenile. I’ve been doing fractions my entire life and I feel like I’m just getting dumber here. I’ll never get into Columbia at this rate and I’ll disappoint dad because it was our dream. Dang it, I have to go, the bell just rang. Love you, bye.”

The line goes dead as I mutter an, “I love you, goodbye,” to exactly nobody on the other end.

I looked into the stats at Columbia and holy shit. It’s over sixty-five thousand a year with a four percent acceptance rate.Hallie may only be thirteen but if she wants to make her dreams come true, she’ll have to be motivated for the next five years.

That being said, I’ll gladly do whatever needs to be done to make sure she gets in. I’m not above threatening a dean’s career to make sure my daughter is happy.

It’s barely eight o’clock when I slip out of my bed and pad my way to the kitchen for my second coffee of the day. Spring is in the air as the sun’s rays land on the tiles of my kitchen floor, making them nice and warm for my bare feet. The advantage to this apartment complex is that no matter where I stand, no other building can see inside my unit, which means I can walk around in my panties and tank top without having to gouge out some creeper’s eyes for checking me out with his binoculars.

Been there, done that. Do not recommend.

Leaning against the counter in my tiny one bedroom, I fiddle with my phone, getting updates from the crew and reading their quick responses as they come in.

We’re cleaning up dead bodies as fast as they’re coming in, and with each young soldier we bury our anger grows into a living, palpable mountain of untapped rage. I have so much hatred festering inside me. Between losing Murphy days before Hallie was ripped from my arms and the barely-adult members of the Mancini organization getting popped off one by one like sitting ducks, I’m surprised I’m not out there slashing throats like it’s an Olympic sport.

I’m smarter than that, though, and self-control is my superpower. Although, I’m kind of enjoying the chink in my armor when Dmitry comes around. Those minutes in the warehouse reduced the pressure of my cooker enough to allow me a soothing breath.

Of course, as I read Crank’s message that yet another body was found this morning, I’m suddenly stabby all over again.

As I’m reaching for my coffee, another text message comes in. This is from Shoo. I ignore it for a second while grabbing a banana from the fridge but the phone dings again. I roll my eyes because Shoo doesn’t know how to write an entire message in one text. No, this guy has mastered the art of text cliffies. Each line is a cliffhanger, making you hold your breath until he gives you another crumb on the next line. Fuck that…I wait for the entire message to be there, the pings coming in every five seconds until silence alerts me that he’s done.

Crossing my legs at the ankle, I take a bite of my banana, my eyes scanning the increasingly excited messages on my screen.

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