Page 33 of Taken Off Camera
Ice forms in my veins. “I shouldn’t have blocked him so fast. He figured out I identified him and got scared.”
Saint shakes his head. “Creeps like that don’t get scared, they escalate.” He pulls out his phone, swiping to show me a photo of an apartment. “This is his place. Landlord says he hasn’t been seen in days. His mail is piling up.”
The news hits me harder than I expected. The stalker who sent me his bodily fluids knows I identified him, and now he’s gone off the radar. He could be anywhere.
“You understand what I’m saying?” Saint’s expression softens with genuine concern. “This guy is planning something, and meanwhile, you’redistracted by some Alpha who won’t even show you his face.”
“Sebastian isn’t?—”
“Sebastian?” Saint’s eyebrows shoot up. “So the mystery man has a name now?”
I bite my lip, cursing my slip. “Yes, he has a name. Normal people do.”
“And what else do you know about him? His last name? Where he lives? His actual job beyond vague ‘security work’?” Saint steps closer. “Have you run a background check? Traced his IP? Done anything besides fall for his attention?”
My lips flatten into a mutinous line.
“Why aren’t you listening to me?” Frustration hardens Saint’s features. “With Travis gone, you need to be on high alert, not mooning over text messages from a man who broke into your apartment.”
“He didn’t break in!” I shout, despite my efforts to stay calm. “And I am taking this seriously. I’ve changed my PO Box, updated my security protocols?—”
“While texting a stranger you met online who stalked you enough to figure out where you live!” Saint throws his hands up. “This isn’t you, Micah. You’re smarter than this.”
The accusation slices deep, and I stiffen. “Get out.”
“What?”
“I said get out.” My hands shake as I set down my mug. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t need a lecture on internet safety from someone who can’t even set up two-factor authentication without my help.”
Saint’s expression falls. hurt flashing across his features before his walls slam back into place. “Fine. When this Sebastian guy turns out to be another predator, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He stalks to the door, pausing with his hand on the knob. “Call me when you remember who’s always had your back.”
The door slams behind him, rattling in its frame.
I stand frozen in my kitchen, the silence closing in around me. I dig the heels of my palms into my eyes until colors burst behind my eyelids, while Saint’s words loop in my mind in an unwelcome chorus of warnings.
I want to tell Saint that I already looked into Sebastian. But if I do, he’ll want the details, which will only lead to my overprotective bestie rolling up to Rockford Manor on his motorcycle to threaten Sebastian into staying away.
And I really,reallydon’t want Sebastian to stay away. I want him to comecloser.
My hands drag through my hair, pulling it into messy spikes.
I pace to the window, resting my forehead on the cool glass. Six floors below, pedestrians navigate the morning rush, unaware of my turmoil. A woman in a red coat waits for the crosswalk signal, checking her watch while a man juggles coffee cups as he hurries toward the financial district. Normal people with normal concerns.
Not people who have stalkers disappearing off digital grids.
At least, as far as Saint can find. But Saint isn’t me, and men obsessed with cam boys can’t resist staying off the internet forever.
I check the time. I have hours before my date with Sebastian.
Spinning on my heel, I retreat to my bedroom to dress. Then I grab my burner bag and head out to spend some time at CyberLink Cafe.
We’ll see how good Travis was at covering his tracks. If I can give Saint a new target, maybe he’ll leave Sebastian alone long enough for me to lock in my Alpha.
9
The scent of garlic and rosemary fills my apartment as I pull the chicken from the oven, nearly burning my fingers on the hot pan.
