Page 108 of Crossing the Line
“Waverly if you don’t open this door in two seconds, I’m kicking it down,” Xavier threatened from the other side.
“Uh, just a second,” Kate called out. “We’re peeing.”
“You are not peeing. Get your asses out here now!”
“I can’t believe you messaged him! What were you thinking?” Kate hissed. She snatched her phone back from Waverly and ran to the window. “Okay listen. I think the ledge is wide enough for us to crawl out on. One of us will probably fall, but I’m willing to take that chance.”
Waverly sighed. There was no use prolonging the foreplay of battle.
“We’re coming out,” she said to the door. “But on one condition.”
“What?” he snapped out.
“You can’t yell at us.”
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Xavier paced back and forth in front of the couch. Kate was slumped down looking like a kid who’d just gotten detention. Waverly on the other hand looked bored. Her chin rested on her palm
“You’re wearing the man’s dead mother’s wedding dress.” It was the third time he said it, yet each time he was more incredulous than the last.
Waverly examined her nails. “The FBI needed him to make contact, and he made contact.”
It took all of his control not to pick her up and shake her, which technically he hadn’t promised he wouldn’t. He’d only promised he wouldn’t yell.
Xavier took a deep breath, yet still felt the urge to yell. He gave up on the pacing and sat down on the hideous hammered gold foil coffee table and rubbed his temples. “Did I or did I not make myself perfectly clear when I said that I didn’t want you doing anything reckless? Was I not speaking English? Perhaps you temporarily lost your hearing?”
She had the good grace to look the teeniest bit guilty.
“You would have said no if I told you what I wanted to do.”
“And could you possibly think of a logical reason why I would say no to you wearing your stalker’s dead mother’s wedding dress to do thirty-five interviews that will be splashed all over every media outlet in the world?”
Waverly bit her lip, and he wanted to kill her. Or kiss her. It was a confusing urge.
“But it worked,” she argued.
“To what end, Waverly? So far they haven’t been able to trace his online activity. What’s going to make this time any different?”
“He responded to me, X. He wants to talk to me. Maybe he wants to tell me where he is or at least why he’s doing this. Any information we get out of him could help stop him.”
“We?” Xavier shook his head. “Angel, there’s no ‘we.’ There isn’t even an I at this point. It’s the FBI. They’re running the investigation, and except for a handful of peon IT tasks that they’re willing to delegate to us, they aren’t going to let us take the lead here.”
“So they’re just going to let it go?” she cried.
“No. They’ve just assumed control of your Facebook page. From now on Ganim will be talking to an agent posing as you.”
“Awh, man,” Kate moaned. “What about all the stuff on the public side? We can’t have some middle-aged suit posting shit on Waverly’s page. We’ll lose half our followers in a week.”
“I just had a call from Agent Travers who, after informing me what you two walking migraines did, that you will be providing content to the agent running the page.”
“Well, it’s better than nothing.”
“Isn’t Ganim going to know it’s not me? I mean, he’s delusional, but he’s not an idiot,” Waverly asked.
“We will also be feeding the feds any information they deem necessary to sell the pretense,” Xavier explained and rubbed a hand over his face.
“So, can I read his response? Kate took the phone away from me before I could get past the first line.”
