Page 72 of Roots of the Wicked

TK’s chuckle was the last sound I heard before he hung up. The crazy fucker was enjoying this shit because it connected us on the level he lived on.

All I wanted was to stop this stalker and clear my head. I didn’t want to divulge much in front of Chase because it was best he not know. Plausible deniability. My father begun teaching me information technology at twelve, and I dove headfirst into the field, soaking up every lesson, every trick, every clever bit of knowledge.

Even with all the knowledge I had gathered, TK was on another level. He was able to get into and do things I had never figured out. He claimed he didn’t want to share some of his secrets with me because he didn’t want me triggering a trap capable of getting me locked up. So, whenever I ran into tech issues of a questionable nature, I looked to TK to help me.

The computer virus I unleashed had the ability to wipe out an entire news station for receiving the photos on their network from the laptop of the drone stalker. This was a part of my plan I hadn’t shared with Chase. He didn’t need to know how desperate I was to keep myself from the public eye. I was more afraid of being exposed than of losing my business.

He knew I was making questionable maneuvers but hadn’t made a strong attempt to stop me. In his own way, I think he understood why I fought so hard to hang on to my life and career. Maybe he felt responsible for my exposure.

“Can I go home? Is there an alternate route?”

He shook his head. “No. Please, stay here tonight, and maybe the coast will be clear tomorrow.”

A deep sigh did nothing to ward off the stress of the day or keep it from siphoning the last of my energy.

“Maybe tomorrow? Are we stuck here?” My shoulders were drawn so tight with stress they ached.

“I spoke with the guys at the entry gate, if you go out there now, the media will pounce. They’ve caught the scent of blood, and they’re going to stick around and stake out every place I’ve been spotted.”

Chase’s strained expression encouraged me to go to him. He sat me across his lap. The warmth of his solid body eased some of the tension from mine.

“I apologize for being an asshole. I know none of this is your fault.” I cupped his cheek, loving the way he leaned into my hand before closing his eyes.

He turned his face so that his lips brushed my palm before he folded me into a tight embrace. “There’s no need to apologize, I understand better than you think.”

Neither of us spoke again until his house manager entered announcing that our dinner had been prepared.

“Thanks, we’ll be right in,” he answered, his breath warming the top of my hair.

My appetite was nonexistent, but I wasn’t going to be rude either, no matter how foul my mood.

After we made our way to the beautifully set table, I absently picked at my scallop piccata with sautéed spinach, while Chase spent his time staring at his plate and shouting instructions at people on his phone.

“Goddammit, you find out who it is. If you can’t, I’ll find someone who can!” He slammed his phone on the table making my dinnerware jump and clink together. I was surprised he hadn’t shattered the face of his phone.

This situation affected him as much as it was affecting me. I reached out and gripped his hand. The moment his wrapped around mine, his features softened, and his caring expression surfaced.

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