Page 62 of Implode

Unknown: Walk to the right and I am at the back near the window

I follow the directions, and within a few steps, I see the person I thought I would never see again.

“You?” I ask softly, trying to remember his name. Our paths crossed what seems like months ago, but maybe it isn’t that long at all. “I thought you got fired.”

“Yeah, thanks to you. And it’s Kevin.”

He seems to be insulted by my lack of remembering his name. It’s not like he made a super big impact on my life, and the only real experiences I’ve had with him have all been negative.

He motions for me to take a seat, and I only do so I don’t feel any more awkward in this intimate coffee shop setting.

“What’s the point of this meeting if you aren’t even part of HH?”

“Like I said in the text messages, you are being watched.”

“By you? Should I call the cops?” I ask with a flare to my tone.

I imagine he and his security guard friend are both just butt sore from getting fired for accosting me when I first started working at HH. Neither seemed like the brightest crayons in the box, so maybe their time would have eventually come to an end on its own without the incident propelling Nic’s decision.

“You can do whatever you want with the information I’m about to present to you. Just promise me you won’t let it be known I shared it with you.”

“Just get on with it,” I huff. I feel uncomfortable as it is in front of him, even in a public setting. There is something about the way he looks at me that makes me feel dirty or that I need to take a shower. He is basically dangling some type of secret over me like it is a carrot, and I am the rabbit. I don’t want to chase the truth. Nobody has time for that.

“Here,” Kevin says, passing me a large envelope.

“Why are you even caring to share this with me?” I ask, as I peel the sticky flap off the back, half expecting it to be nothing.

His eyes darken. “This is my version of revenge.”

I empty the contents onto the table and see tiny still images of me in black and white. They look to be taken from HH, which I guess I should not be surprised about. Kevin could have gotten these from any worker still hired to run the control room, I am sure.

I sift through the stack until I see more sheets of stills, but this time they are of me outside of HH. Images of me walking at the river, ones of me running into my apartment, some of me teaching yoga, and a few leaving Blake’s loft.

I don’t need to ask who took these. I already know.

My stomach feels sick when I get to the last picture. It is of me being intimate with Nic while in the elevator. I am so stressed out that I can’t even remember which elevator or what date it was taken on. It doesn’t matter though.

“He has a tracker on you.”

“What?” I ask, glancing at my body. “Where? What are you talking about?”

He gestures toward my purse. “I imagine it is on your phone, but he probably has one on your car too.”

“Is that even legal?” I ask under my breath, trying to think about how this is possible.

“The tracking devices? Or the fact that you are being stalked in general?”

“I don’t—” I cut off my sentence and shake my head over all of this newly acquired information.

I know Graham keeps a close eye on Angie, but that is because she had a horrible run-in with danger last year. Plus, she knows that he hired guards for her. It’s no secret. Collins has been watching over her almost from the beginning. Is he watching me too? Does he even have time to do both jobs simultaneously?

“Does it even matter?” Kevin asks. “Pretty sure your love interest thinks the law doesn’t apply to him.”

“How do you—” I pause, as I try to think of the right words.

“It’s obvious to anyone paying half attention that you mean something to him.”

“Not anymore. Not after this.” I am tired of the mistrust. I am tired of handing over my heart, just to get it stomped on.

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