Page 95 of Eyes in the Shadows

“And discreet.” I adjust my ice pack to take a sip of my coffee while I think. “Rossi hires cleaners, which means he doesn’t want to get the police involved. For a guy like him, that probably means he doesn’t want his name or any of his associates on the record. But if he could just get the mayor to look the other way, why wouldn’t he?”

“So, there’s no record of it,” Dimitri says. “Or, the mayor would not want to help with this for some reason, perhaps.”

“Maybe the mayor answers to someone and it looks suspicious if he’s too involved in police matters,” Wes suggests.

I shake my head. “Locally, the mayor only answers to taxpayers. No one above him is even around to notice any excessive involvement with local law enforcement.”

“So, Rossi does not want to involve the mayor in these affairs. We still do not know why,” Dimitri declares.

“I just… have a hunch. What if we were wrong and it’s not just Rossi? Let’s look into the mayor—follow the money. How much does a public servant like him make?”

Wes blows out a breath. “Before bribes? $100K at most.”

“Does he live a $100K a year life? Or, does he make large deposits in offshore accounts?”

Wes grins. “I’ll find out.”

“It does not change that we still know Rossi is involved. And now we know where he is hiding and it can finally be a simple matter of your rifle from 500 yards,” Dimitri goes on.

“Not if the mayor will keep up this operation after Rossi is dead,” I argue. I’ll never be able to leave Eleanor here if I know the mayor of her town was in bed with a weapons smuggler. Especially not now that her picture has been in this forum, even for a minute. She’ll either have to move or come with me—anotheroption that’s being taken from her. “Give Wes some time, see what he can dig up.”

“I can’t take too long. Now that he thinks Eleanor is involved, the clock is ticking on her family being put at risk.”

Dimitri grinds his jaw. “Fine. But I will be taking the day watch again.”

“Fine.” I should have known that would be his stipulation. “How’s that new cell phone coming?”

Wes grabs it off the edge of the desk. “Got it here. I’ll give it to her when she gets up.”

I stand, draining the last of my coffee. “You mean when she gets down here. She’s about to be up, but she won’t be coming down for a while yet, if you know what I mean—”

Wes groans and Dimitri disconnects the call with a resentful, “Of course we know what you mean.”

“Lucky sod,” Wes mutters as I leave the room.

She’s still asleep when I return to the room, and looking so peaceful, my erection prompts a heated internal debate. The softer side of me wins, and I grab my sneakers on the way back out of the bedroom to work off some of this energy the solitary way.

35

Eleanor

I can’t believe I said the quiet part out loud.

“You’ve got your standard on-the-lam package–no social media and email is blocked for now. Use this app for chats, Mac’s already loaded as your top contact but Dimitri and I are in there as well. The Internet is okay, but a smart girl like you knows not to leave a footprint, yeah? Don’t sign in to anything, no contacting friends or family, no comments, no interactions.”

I nod furiously, hand outstretched. I haven’t touched a phone in what feels like ages. But as Wesley lays the top-of-the-line model in my palm, I’m hit with nothing but anxiety about breaking it, and disappointment because all I want to do is show it off to Harrison.

Oh, well. At least it will help me stay connected to Mac while he’s gone at night. I’m already dreading going to sleep in that big bed alone tonight. And since he’s resting for the day in preparation for having to be awake all night, it’s another day spent occupying myself. With him on night-surveillance, we won’t get days together and we won’t get to lay together in our post-coital exhaustion. The pillow talk was always my second favorite part of the night.

I look down appraisingly at the phone. At least my workouts won’t be in silence anymore. That was getting a bit boring.

The day slips away from me as I putter around the kitchen, preparing and then refilling the empty containers of pelmeni with what’s in the freezer. I get a workout in, mindlessly browse for recipe inspiration and do a search on everyone I care about that I haven’t talked to. Mac said no signing into anything and socials are out, so I’m left scanning titles from articles about college achievements for any sign that something might have happened to them more recently.

Mac comes down into the kitchen at 6:30, with just enough time to eat dinner before heading out. He’s ruffled and scrubs his eyes like he didn’t sleep well. I’m not hungry yet, but I sit next to him as I slide the plate in front of him. Steak, baked potato, broccoli—filling and satisfying.

He smiles in appreciation. “Thank you, darlin’.”

“Are you going to kill him?” I ask. He chokes on his first bite of steak, probably at the abruptness, and I wince. “Sorry—”

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