Page 44 of The Stranger
Delilah: Gag! You two deserve each other.
Delilah: And, I’d expect that considering half the town has been through Abigail … unfortunately, my experience was only limited to you.
He was her first? Her only?
That knowledge only amplifies my rage.
I skim over the rest of his messages, none of which she replied to. They must’ve been the ones sent while she was talking to me. When I reach the last one, I start to type. It’s a link, nothing more, and I’m anticipating they’ll both click on it. Poor clueless idiots.
When I see both of their profile images appear underneath it, I can only gather they did as I was hoping. With the trap set, I move to her settings and block both of them, including their phone numbers. I’ve never considered myself vengeful, but I’m fiercely protective of the people I care about.
That realisation stops me in my tracks.
I care about her.
My eyes flicker briefly to Delilah—who is still standing on the opposite side of my desk, nervously nibbling on her plump bottom lip—and I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.
It’s true.I do.More than I’d like to admit.
Fuck.
I push that thought from my mind and refocus on my task at hand. I’ll unpack that shit later, over a bourbon or two.
I’m on a mission to get some kind of retribution for Delilah. I’m going to make these two pay for the way they’ve treated her.
Extending my arm, I hold out her phone.
“What did you do?” she asks, taking it from my hand.
“I blocked them. They can’t bother you now.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
I don’t bother telling her about the link because it may lead me nowhere.
I have so much work to do today, but instead, I’ve spent the entire afternoon falling down the rabbit hole that is Kayne and Abigail, and what an interesting ride it turned out to be—far more informative than I ever imagined. The link I added to the thread was an untraceable software tracking virus, which gave me unlimited access to their browsing history and private information … including images, emails, and messages.
Unfortunately, the things I’m learning have the potential to upset Delilah. That being said, she has a right to know what her scumbag ex has been up to … and her not-so-saintly sister as well. Knowledge is power and I’ll leave the intel in her capable hands, to use however she pleases.
When my phone buzzes on my desk, I pick up the receiver. “Yes.”
“Mr Prescott, it’s Shay-lee from reception. I have a Mrs St. James on the line … she’d like to speak with you if you’re free. She said it was a private matter.”
I sit up straighter in my chair. “Put her through.”
“Mr Prescott,” she says when the call is connected.
“Mrs St. James.”
“Thank you for taking the time to speak with me. I know you’re a busy man.”
“Why don’t we skip the pleasantries?” I will not waste my time making small talk with this woman. “What can I do for you?”
“I’m calling about Delilah. I’m worried about her.”
“Were you concerned when Abigail assaulted Delilah last night?”
