Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103033 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 515(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
It was true in a physical aspect; he just liked to scare me, and he was damn good at it.
“I don’t know,” Santiago answered. “But I would like to find out—with your permission.”
I scrunched my nose. “You didn’t need my permission before.”
His mouth twitched with mirth. “I guess we have limits to how much we’ll invade someone’s privacy without their knowing.”
I huffed. Yeah, okay.
“I’ve squared things with Reese, and he thinks it’s a good idea to investigate further too,” he said. “If Caleb is still in DC—”
“How do you know, though?” I had to ask. “You said you used to be a detective—but you’re not anymore?”
“I’m a private investigator.”
Oh. All right.
“Caleb bought a one-way plane ticket on the twenty-third,” he elaborated. “As far as I can see, he hasn’t returned to the Bay Area, and his last geo tag online was from New Year’s. He posted a photo on Facebook of a cup of coffee and said DC had its upsides. The coffee came from Starbucks up here on M Street.”
Fuck me, that was definitely his tactic. He’d done something similar before I’d left California.
I’d been with my grandmother in Virginia Beach till January third, but if he was still here… I shuddered for a whole new reason, and I got queasy. I couldn’t fucking go down that road again. He’d stolen five years of my life. First two years to break me down to the sad excuse for a guy I was today, and then three years of harassment.
He was the reason I’d deleted my Facebook, my old Instagram, and my Snapchat. I had Mclean and Quora left, and a private Instagram for my 3-D-printing hobby with precisely four followers. Kit, Dad, Kaley, and Mr. West, Kit’s Daddy Dom.
“What exactly is it that you want to do?” I asked. “I can’t afford a—”
“That’s not for you to worry about,” Santiago was quick to say. “Call it an apology from Reese and me. I just wanna find the fucker—keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t get near you. And if he does, we can have him arrested and taken back to California.” He paused, probably noticing I was becoming increasingly upset. “He belongs in prison, Gael. I’ve seen the reports you’ve filed on every time he harassed you online. Each one is a violation of the restraining order.”
“The reports don’t freaking matter,” I said, sucking in a breath. Goddamn, this was too much. Way too much. “They don’t do anything about it. They give him a slap on the wrist, and that’s all.”
Online harassment was so difficult to prove too, especially if you didn’t put money and manpower on a case like that. Caleb was good at denying, and the police were good at letting things go.
“All the more reason to make sure he’s not here right now,” Santiago pressed. “Has he made contact in any way?”
I shook my head. “Not since Thanksgiving. He sent a message when I tried to open up a new Facebook account. Soon as I friended my parents, he understood it was me.”
Santiago turned calculating, as if he was picking apart everything I said. “Thanksgiving wasn’t that long ago. I think it’s safe to assume he’s still keeping tabs.”
No doubt. That was what he did. Then he’d reach out every few months, just to remind me he could screw up my life even more.
“I never should’ve broken up with him.” I scrubbed my hands over my face.
“You don’t mean that, Gael.”
“Yeah, I actually do.” I let out a humorless laugh and sniffled. “I should’ve made him break up with me instead. This is all some big, bruised-ego bullshit. He told me if I ever ended things, he’d make my life a living hell.”
He took a step closer, jaw clenched, and the intensity in his eyes unnerved me. “Then let me do this, please. I have a single case I’m working on right now, and it keeps me glued to a damn laptop eight hours a day. I can do that from anywhere, whether I sit here when you work or I sit at home in my study.”
I swallowed nervously, wondering why he cared so much. I wasn’t annoyed anymore—in case he’d picked up on that earlier—about him and Reese looking into my life or whatever. Heck, it was clearly a good thing they had!
“You don’t owe me anything. I don’t understand why you want to waste all that time on this.”
He lost some of the edge, and he tilted his head at me. “Unfortunately, my old man passed down the desire to fight crime to me. I can’t stand by if someone’s getting hurt. But of course, it’s a bit more personal because you’re a Mclean member.”
Was he a member too? I’d never seen him around before. Including online.
“How come I’ve never seen you at the house before?” I asked. Not that I was there a whole lot either.