Page 22 of A Protector For Phoebe (Love will OUT 2)

Chapter 10

It’s not stalking when you know the person in real life. ~ Phoebe’s rules for becoming a better person

Of all the crazy things I’ve done, this ranks as one of the craziest. Maybe the craziest. Following a former soldier who I’m pretty sure is still involved with the government is some Black Ops type of situation. Worse yet, this is not the first time I’ve followed Wally the super-soldier. No, I’ve followed him a few times now. Am I stalker? No, I know him. It’s not stalking when you know the guy, right?

I watch as Wally parks his Dodge Charger in the driveway of a ranch house. I study the gray building as he disappears into it. If I had to guess the kind of place he lived in, ranch house wouldn’t even make the list. I assumed he lived in some glass high-rise downtown. I guess I don’t know him as well as I thought. The sneaky man likes to keep things close to his chest.

And just why am I following Wally? A man who has been nothing but kind to me? Well, I’m in a tight spot – the tightest of tight stops. I’m nearly out of money and my rent is due soon. Despite living in an absolute pit, I don’t have the cash for rent.

It is no joke to call my place a pit. I rent a room above a dentist’s office downtown. And by room, I do mean a single room. I have to share a bathroom and kitchen with the other renters. The other renters are the kind of people I usually cross the street to avoid. Case in point? One of the guys on my floor has a teardrop tattoo. I have no idea if the tattoo means he killed someone or if that’s an urban myth, but I’d definitely cross the street if I saw him coming just in case.

And don’t get me started on all the food they’ve stolen from me. I sold my Prada tote to buy a small refrigerator and hot plate for my room. I’m running out of things to sell, though. My BMW was the first to go. I managed to live nearly a year on the money until I realized I needed to find a job.

But since I couldn’t tell anyone about my college degree – I’m not sure how a degree in social anthropology would help me anyway – and I had absolutely no job experience, I wasn’t exactly swamped in job offers. All the waitressing jobs wanted someone with experience and practically every other job required a background check. I took a chance when I saw the ad for help by You Cheat, We Eat. I can’t believe they offered me a job.

I’m still not a licensed PI, though, which means I don’t get a regular paycheck. I’ve had to sell most of my designer clothes to have enough money to live on. The clothes may have been worth a bundle when I bought them, but the re-sale value leaves a lot to be desired. Good thing the PI uniform of jeans, t-shirt, and sweater is much cheaper.

The door to the SUV opens and I whirl around with my hand raised. Before I get a chance to flail about, Wally grabs my raised hand and pulls me out of the vehicle. He nabs the key from the ignition before marching me into the house.

My eyes widen as I take in the interior of his ranch house. This is not the suburban house the exterior leads you to expect it is. Not at all. The floors are hardwood, the walls are painted an eggshell white, and the furniture is sleek, modern leather. The kitchen is more of the same with its marble countertops and gray, shiny cabinets.

I need to stop judging things by their appearances. I should know better. Look at me. I’m wearing Fendi boots, Michael Kors jeans, and a cashmere Louis Vuitton sweater. One glance at me and people think I have money to burn. Not anymore, I don’t. Sure, I used to have money, but I’m currently standing in a man’s house who is practically a stranger to me to beg him for cash.

Oh god, this was a bad idea. I pivot on my heel to leave. I can’t do this. Wally stops me. “Sit.”

I drop my butt on the leather couch. His voice does not broker a discussion. He marches to the kitchen, opens the refrigerator, and pulls out two water bottles. He returns to the living area and throws a water bottle at me before taking a seat on the couch opposite me.

“How did you find me?”

“I followed you.” It wasn’t hard.

“You? You followed me?”

“Yeah, me.” Now, I’m starting to feel offended. It’s not like I don’t know how to follow someone. It’s not rocket science. Besides, there are a ton of YouTube guides you can watch.

“Explain.”

I wrinkle my nose as I stare at him. I don’t know how better to explain it than I followed his car from A to B. Oh wait. I didn’t follow from A to B. I followed from A to C and then from C to B. It sounds confusing but it’s really not.

“I followed you two days ago from McGraw’s until you hit East Locust.” At which point, I looked around and realized we were the only two cars on the road. If I had continued to follow him, he’d have made me for sure. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to see me. At least not yet. “Then yesterday, I waited at East Locust until I saw your Charger drive by.”

“Damn, kid. Maybe you’ve got what it takes for this investigator business after all.”

My smile stretches from ear to ear at his compliment.

“Too bad your situational awareness is crap.” The smile falls from my face. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t have scared you when I opened the door.”

Oh yeah. I deflate. I do need to work on being aware of my surroundings. Brown got the drop on me as well. Tabitha did say situational awareness is the first step in self-defense. Maybe I should sign up for her advanced class. Yeah, right. Broke, remember?

“What are you doing here?”

I bite my lip as I pretend to find the floor fascinating. I was still mulling over my decision to bother him when he hauled me out of the SUV. Do I really want to lay myself bare to him?

“I’m not mad, Phoebe. But you obviously went to a lot of trouble to get me alone. I assume you have a good reason.”

I feel a twist in my wrist, and I realize I’m wringing my hands. I pull my hands apart and set them on my thighs. Showing nervousness is never a good idea, whether in this life or my previous one.

“I … um… could use some help.”

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