Page 73 of Stalked

And the transmitter in his collar would allow them to track him.

“We’ve got him,” Jon said. “He’s not showing up in any of our facial software.”

“I don’t think that’s him. Build isn’t right for the guy who came at me on the motorcycle.”

But Steve knew they would follow him anyway.

Business began to pick up as a number of people entered, some couples but a few single guys. Steve had to trust his team to do their jobs, because right at 7:55 a.m. Rosalyn walked in the door.

She waved to him and he stood and hugged her as if he hadn’t seen her in two days rather than just the hour it had been.

“Are you hungry?” he asked her as they sat down at the booth.

“I’m always hungry.”

This, again, was part of the script they had worked out last night. The Watcher had to be listening.

“What do you feel like?”

“Something soft. I have a bad toothache.”

Lillian came over and took their order. Steve asked Rosalyn how she was feeling and if the baby had moved again.

He wanted Rosalyn out of there. The more crowded it got in the café, the more tense Steve became.

There were three men in the café right now who could possibly be the Watcher. One in particular looked nervous. But then again, Steve didn’t think the Watcher would look nervous.

Something wasn’t right.

Steve brought his hand up to his mouth and turned his head to the side. “I’m sending Rosalyn out now.”

“Are you sure it’s not too soon?” Jon asked.

“I don’t care. There are too many unknown variables.”

“Roger that. The car is waiting.”

Rosalyn didn’t have an earpiece in case the transmitter also picked up on what was being said to her.

Steve nodded at her. She nodded back, knowing it was time to go. She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it. He winked at her.

“I’ve got to go to the restroom.”

“Okay.”

She stood and walked to the back. The agent in the car reported a few minutes later that he safely had Rosalyn and they were headed back to HQ.

Whatever happened now, at least Rosalyn was safe. He breathed a sigh of relief.

It was short-lived, as a man—the nervous one he saw earlier—sat down in the booth across from him.

He pulled at a gun and pointed it straight at Steve.

“I don’t think we’ve met. I’m the Watcher.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

A cascade of emotions flooded Steve.

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