Page 22 of Blood Ties

I explained to him about the emails and what Facet had uncovered without naming my friend.

“You’re sure?” he asked, brow furrowed with concern.

“Positive.”

Without another word, he silently began checking the condo. I followed suit. It wasn’t hard since, other than the bedroom and bathroom, the place was wide open with the occasional support poles. I’d watched her condo from across the road, but I’d never been inside.

When we were satisfied everything was clear, Matthew used a kitchen trash bag to scoop up the computer. Then he went into Nivea’s bedroom and packed a bag. He shoved the bagged laptop inside and zipped it shut.

“I want you to take her out of town when we get back,” he quietly told me as we descended the stairs once again.

“What?” I shot him a confused glance.

“If someone was able to get into her condo, utilize her computer, and she never knew? I don’t know what else they might have access to here.” We left the building and walked several blocks to where we’d parked the car. We hadn’t wanted to use public transportation and get caught on any surveillance cameras, either.

“You just said my place was like Fort Knox,” I countered.

“Nothing is infallible,” he grunted. “And they may already know she’s there.” Then he told me to stop at a hardware store. I dropped him off and had to go around the block because, of course, there wasn’t a single place to park.

He was coming out when I pulled up again. When he got in, he took a few things out of the bag, but I couldn’t tell what he was doing as I drove in the crazy traffic. “Can I ask what you’re doing?”

“Making sure if there’s a tracker on her laptop that it’s unable to send a signal,” he mumbled as he worked.

“You’re building a jammer?” I asked incredulously.

“Call me MacGyver,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Who?”

“Jesus, never mind. You’re obviously too young.”

“Are you talking about that show that Lucas Till was in?” I asked.

He gave me a deadpan stare as he froze his hands. “No. I was referring to the original one with Richard Dean Anderson.”

“Oh.”

I heard him mutter “kids.”

He must’ve finished because he carefully opened the plastic around the computer, placed something on it and wrapped it back up.

We made the rest of the trip back to my condo in silence. When I parked, he looked at me. “Do you have a car somewhere else?”

I cocked a brow, but didn’t reply.

“Good, kid. This is the plan,” he told me his idea, and I agreed, as it had merit. I didn’t like him referring to me as a “kid.”

“She’s not going to be happy about it,” I muttered as we went up my private elevator.

“I’m aware. I’m also trusting you with the safety of my daughter. Don’t make me regret it. Also, remember what I said—one week.” His narrowed-eyed gaze held on me until I nodded.

“Roger that,” I said.

“Please tell me you used a condom with my daughter,” he nonchalantly murmured as the elevator rose.

Without looking at him, I pressed my lips flat.

“I swear to Christ, if you gave her anything, I will cut off your balls and feed them to you,” he whispered as the doors slid open on my floor.

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