Page 16 of The Scout

I typed out a quick message to my contact at the phone company.

Find out who called Isabel at 2:47 AM. Send me a report.

I didn’t like unknown variables. And I sure as hell didn’t like the idea of someone creeping into her life while she was unaware, slipping past her defenses when she thought she was safe.

I leaned forward again, my elbows resting on my knees, my gaze locked on the screen.

Will wouldn’t forgive me if I let anything happen to her.

That was the reason I was watching.That was the only reason.

I forced myself to believe it.

But deep down, I knew the truth.

I wasn’t just keeping her safe.

I was keeping her.

And one day, she’d know it, too.

By the timeshe stepped out of her building, I was already waiting.

The morning air was thick with the kind of Charleston humidity that clung to your skin before the sun even had a chance to rise properly. Isabel stepped onto the sidewalk, her hair still damp from the shower, her bag slung over one shoulder as she fished through it for something—keys, maybe, or a pair of earbuds to tune out the world.

She didn’t notice me at first.

That was the thing about her. She thought she was careful. Thought she paid attention. But she wasn’t looking in the right places.

Not yet.

I took a slow sip of my coffee, waiting for it to click.

Three steps. Four.

Then she saw me.

She stopped short, fingers tightening around the strap of her bag. “Are you serious?”

I smirked, holding out the second coffee. “You take it black, right?”

She stared at me like I’d just admitted to reading her diary. “How do you know that?”

I shrugged. “I know a lot of things.”

She didn’t move. I could see the argument forming behind her eyes, but there was something else too—something flickering in the space between annoyance and curiosity.

Finally, she huffed and snatched the cup from my hand. “You don’t need to babysit me, Dane.”

“Not babysitting,” I said, falling into step beside her as she started walking. “Just making sure you get to work in one piece.”

She shot me a look over the rim of her cup. “Pretty sure I managed before you showed up.”

I let out a low hum, tilting my head slightly as I studied her. “Yeah? And how many times have you walked out of this building without checking who’s outside first?”

Her steps faltered. Not by much—just a fraction of a second—but I caught it.

“Jesus,” she muttered, pressing her fingers to her temples. “You’re exhausting.”

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