Page 127 of The Assignment: Room 3

“Why wouldn’t he just go inside? I specifically told you whoever is on detail for Celest needs to be with her every second of the fucking day that I’m not around.”

“I’ll call him right now.”

“Fuck. Ask him if he saw a blue Camry. His job is fucking done after today. This guy waited for a split second to pounce, and now he’s got them.”

“We’ll get them back, Flex.”

“How the fuck did this guy get around us? I have her location, and I’m taking the motorcycle to go after her. Get your fucking ass in the car and follow my location.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If they come to any harm… I have to go. Call Dalton and get footage of the lobby and the front of the building. You’re looking for a guy with long blond hair in a bun. Send it to Jenna and see if we can find out who the fuck this guy is and how he’s connected to Celest. I want a name, address, what he ate for fucking breakfast on Monday. Get it done, Luther.”

“I’m on it.”

I jump on my bike and roar the engine to life. I can’t believe this is happening.

With my AirPods giving me every breath Celest takes, I jam on my helmet and pull up her location.

They’re heading out of Manhattan. Surely, he’s not dumbenough to take her back to her old house? I can only hope this person is an amateur. I can’t make out what he’s saying. He’s too far away from the phone mic.

I follow Celest’s location and head for the Washington Bridge. I’m breaking every speed limit as I weave in and out of traffic, horns blaring everywhere I go. Today, I don’t give a fuck about courtesy on the road. I need to get to my girls the fastest way possible.

Keeping watch on my phone with Celest’s location, I’m lucky I don’t crash the fucking bike, but I can see that they’ve stopped.

I know where I’m going now, so I shove my phone in my pocket and go full out. If I get chased by the cops, they can follow me to Celest’s old place. It would save me time having to call them after I beat the shit out of this asshole for touching what’s mine.

My phone starts vibrating. It’s Jenna. I put the call with Celest on hold for less than a minute.

“Talk fast. Celest managed to call my number.”

“Michael Watson. Forty-year-old male. Drug lord in Seattle, Washington. Long rap sheet. Dangerous.”

“And Celest’s connection to him?”

“Celest Monroe doesn’t exist before four years ago. Nothing. Not a single online footprint.”

“What?”

“She’s not who you think she is. I checked her employment record and her membership background check for Venom. They pass muster on a surface level. She’s got a social security number, address, driver’s license.”

“There must be a mistake.”

“No mistake, Flex. The woman you’re going toward right now isn’t Celest Monroe. I don’t know who she is, but I’ll keep digging.”

“Thanks, Jenna.”

“Anytime. Good luck.” I end it and go back to Celest’s call. I can hear murmurs, but nothing I can make out, especially not when I’m on my motorcycle. I own the most successful security firm in the country, and yet I have no idea who the woman I fell in love with is. Love is fucking blind.

Knowing this changes nothing. I don’t love her name. I’m not inlove with ‘Celest.’ I love her laugh and the way she loves her daughter. I love that she blushes every time I call her ‘pet.’ I can’t get enough of the way her body was made for mine—the perfect fit. I love that she can drive me wild on the voyeur floor, looking at me as if I’m the only person in the room. None of those things are any less true because her name is different.

I can’t lose her. There’s so much I still need to know. So many other facets of her personality for me to love. I’m devastated that she didn’t trust me enough to tell me who she really is, but it doesn’t deter me. So she has a different name—it’s going to change anyway when I ask her to be my wife.

The call with Celest is still on, but I haven’t heard anything in the last fifteen minutes, and it has me on the edge of madness. If I don’t get to her in time, I’ll never forgive myself. I should’ve been with them. Trusting anyone else with their safety was a bad decision. One I might regret for the rest of my life.

As I speed toward the house, my heart is thundering in my chest, and I can’t bear the distance between us. I have to get to them. Suddenly, there’s a loud bang on the call. It could be the phone dropping, but it sounded like a gunshot, and bile starts to rise into my throat.

Almost there.

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