Page 52 of Watching Ames

I appreciated that his first assumption wasn’t that she wised up and left me, but I was too focused to thank him for it. I logged onto the camera system I had set up in the studio as a thank-you to June for helping me plan Ames’s home studio. It also allowed me the opportunity to watch Ames at work whenever I got the urge to see her face. Sure, I was a possessive asshole, but I was her possessive asshole, and I thanked every god there was that Ames understood my insanity.

As long as you don’t charge June for it, she had said with a shrug of her shoulders when I brought up the idea, as if my surveillance of her wasn’t a surprise.

“I’ll give you one guess,” I told him as I skipped quickly through the past hour of footage, knowing who I would find before his face appeared on the screen.

“Told you we should’ve killed him after what he did to Ames,” Dev growled through the phone. I heard the distinct sounds of a gun magazine clicking into place as Dev barked, “Send me the address.”

The phone clicked off, and I quickly dialed another number, waiting a few moments until they picked up. I didn’t wait for a greeting, talking as soon as I heard the line open up. I ran through the background information, the beginning of the conversation going eerily similarly to the one I had with Dev moments before, until I finally got to the point of the phone call.

“You know that information I’ve had you compiling? I want it all leaked, now. Get it on every news station in the city, including the original video. I’m sending you another one now.”

Surprisingly, no argument came from the other line, just a few words uttered in a harsh, no-nonsense voice before the line clicked off, “Give me an hour.”

Chapter27

Her

It didn’t take longto get to Peter’s house, the very same townhome I had viewed and hated weeks ago. The drive over had been like a fever dream, as if the past few weeks hadn’t happened, and I was stuck back in the life Peter had boxed me into. I didn’t bother to fight him or try to escape, knowing a single misstep could cause Peter’s mood to flip in an instant. I had seen enough television shows and read enough books to know how to deal with narcissists, not to mention the two years I had put into a relationship with one. Peter had been amiable so far, so I didn’t want to push it.

He chatted about work and his clients while I sat silently in the passenger seat, counting down the minutes until I knew Alex would walk into the studio and find me gone. I tensed as we pulled into the driveway, worried that Peter would pick up where he left off the last time we interacted. But he just ushered me inside, directing me opposite him on the couches in the living room, and turned on the television as if it were just another night at home.

After a while, I offered to make dinner, getting antsy as I watched the minutes tick by. I chose risotto, hoping the drawn-out process would settle my nerves and waste time as I waited to be rescued. But my shoulders finally slumped as the sun started to set, the clock reaching two hours past when Alex would have found the studio empty. Peter sent another email on his phone, the familiar whooshing sound making me flinch.

I regretted not trying to grab my phone as I left. My phone location would have been easy to track. Considering Alex had bought it for me after the phone call from Peter, I was sure it was outfitted with every sort of tracking application he could think of. But my phone was still sitting on the back counter of the studio, where I usually rested it to avoid getting splattered with too much clay. I never even attempted to grab it, too worried about Peter’s unstable behavior to risk incurring more than the simple slap he gave me.

I had assumed Alex could track my location easily enough; it’s not like Peter had taken us to a safe house or a cheap motel. I honestly figured Alex had known about this townhouse the moment I met the realtor here, but maybe I overestimated his abilities, or underestimated Peter’s resourcefulness. Or worse, maybe Alex assumed I left of my own free will, seeing as I had a history of disappearing when it came to him. It was possible that no one was coming to save me and I would be stuck here, with Peter, until someone noticed and cared about my absence.

Stop it, I thought to myself, shaking off the doubt that had begun to creep up on me. I looked to my right, my reflection clear in the small window above the sink now that night had fallen outside. I stared at myself, hardening my features from where they had started to crumble in despair and doubt. “He’s coming for you,” I whispered to myself, firming my voice as much as I could while keeping my tone low. “And if he doesn’t, you can save yourself. You’ve done it before.”

The words invigorated me a bit, shoring up my confidence with every memory I dredged up from the past few months. If needed, I’d find a way out myself. But there was no way, after stalking me for half a year, courting me for weeks, sending me gifts and coming to my rescue every time I called, that Alex wouldn’t come for me now.

He bought me a fucking house. Before he had even kissed me, before we ever became friends. There’s no way he’s not coming now that he’s got me.I argued with that last sliver of doubt in my head, taking a deep breath of relief that I would only have to hold out a little longer. I knew they were coming, I just didn’t know when.

Just as I had that thought, a small motion outside the window caught my eye, a streak of movement too big to be an animal. I leaned closer to the window, smiling when I saw the flash of movement again. I stepped back over to the stove, turning off the eye and taking the risotto off the heat. It was a shitty electric stove, nothing like the dream gas range Alex had bought for us at home, so the risotto likely wouldn’t have turned out anyway.

“Dinner ready?” Peter called from his seat on the couch, treating me like I was barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen rather than an ex-girlfriend he had taken hostage.

“You’re so fucked,” I spit at him, finally letting out some of the anger that had been simmering in my gut for the past couple of hours. I gave Peter credit; he didn’t act surprised at my outburst, just raised an eyebrow at my words.

“Oh, really?” Peter laughed, taking a sip of his beer while he lounged on the couch. He looked just like any other rich man who thought they were owed everything they asked for and lost their minds when they were refused anything. He rested one loafered foot on his knee, looking casually comfortable despite my threats. “And who is going to fuck me, babe? Hopefully you, later.” He sent a wink in my direction, the innuendo causing bile to rise in my throat at the thought of our last interaction.

“Alex.” I watched as Peter’s face remained blank at the name, and I almost laughed at his ignorance. He truly had no idea what was coming for him.

“That prick on the phone? Sorry babe, but I don’t think the loser you hooked up with is going to be able to do much to me. Or save your sister from being ruined, for that matter.”

“Funny you think he’s a loser. In fact, you know him.” Peter’s eyes narrowed at that tidbit and I smiled at his confusion. “I know him as Alex, but you might know him as Xander. The man you hired to invade my privacy and test my loyalty?”

“And why would he care about you?”

I flicked my eyes over his shoulder, smiling as I told him, “Because he’s my boyfriend.”

I almost laughed at Peter’s reaction, wanting to savor the look on his face as he realized that his downfall began and ended with his own choices. I watched as he stood up from the couch, loping toward me in long steps that ended when he froze a good ten feet away. Having a gun pressed to your head would do that to you.

“Boyfriend, huh?” Alex drawled, eyes soaking me in as I stood in front of him. His gaze was everywhere, running over the tips of my toes to the top of my head, making sure every bit of me was still intact. “Don’t know if I like that.”

I shrugged, understanding how the word didn’t seem to fit, how what we were to each other felt more serious than dating. But I didn't have a better term. “That’s what you are, isn’t it?”

“We’ll have to remedy that,” Alex grumbled under his breath, just loud enough for me to hear. Just as I opened my mouth to get some clarification on what he meant, Dev walked casually through the side door, gun held loosely in his grip as he strolled up behind Alex.

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