Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 69310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 69310 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 347(@200wpm)___ 277(@250wpm)___ 231(@300wpm)
When he immediately started texting, I cleared my throat loudly, and he jerked, his head snapping up. Then, slowly, he slid his phone back into his pocket and sat there without much movement the rest of the flight. At least he stopped flirting with the attendant.
Typically, I was right with my hunches. However, after forty-eight hours of watching this female, Bay Fox, it looked like I might need to throw in the fucking towel.
She hadn’t gone home with Vilmer after work. She’d come here, to this decent apartment, but the security wasn’t the best. I’d never allow Opal to live here. Still, it wasn’t in a bad part of town.
Taking out another cigarette, I lit it up as I surveyed the area. The sun was just about to rise, and if I was right, Bay would get up ten minutes later, have a cup of coffee, read a book, then head to the gym, come back and take a shower, change, then walk ten blocks to a place called After the Bell in a less desirable part of the city. She would stay there for eight to ten hours, then come home, make herself dinner, and eat it in front of the television with a glass of red wine. The past two days had been exact replicas. And there had been no sign of Vilmer. Not one. The woman hadn’t even talked on the fucking phone.
Last night, after she’d gone to bed, I’d done some research and looked up this After the Bell place online. It was a nonprofit program for foster children. They could come for free to get help with homework, eat a meal, and there were crafts and games and shit. Explained the area it was located in. Seemed the sexy flight attendant, who lathered sunblock on her fair skin religiously every morning, was a volunteer. That would be the only reason for her to spend so much time there. She didn’t run it. I had looked into that too. The place had been started ten years ago by a same-sex couple, Belinda and Reggie Finkle.
I could have been sleeping at Opal’s and spending some time with my daughter, but I’d been at this cheap-ass hotel across from Bay’s apartment, watching her. For any sign that she was connected to Vilmer. The only thing that had come of it was that I knew the woman was predictable and her home base was DC. That was it.
A shadow moving slowly to the left caught my attention, and I pulled the cigarette from my mouth, stepping back from the window, and watched. The figure was dressed in a black sweatsuit with the hoodie pulled up over his head. I watched as he walked across the street toward me, but kept glancing back at the apartment building.
What was this idiot up to? A fucking drug deal? Here? Amateur.
The light in Bay’s bedroom clicked on, and I swung my gaze back to watch her. I wasn’t here for the other shit. Although it would have been amusing to watch. But Bay was awake eight minutes before she had been the past two days. I put my cigarette out and adjusted the Glock at my back as I watched her shadow move throughout her apartment. Bathroom first. I waited, picking up the cup of coffee to my right, and took a drink. Since this typically took about six to seven minutes, I dropped my eyes back to the dark figure to see if he was still hanging out.
He was beside a dumpster and appeared to be watching the same building I was. From the tilt of his head, it looked like he was focused on Bay’s window. I scanned the other windows around hers, but all their lights were still off. He took a step back, as if he knew he was being watched, but didn’t break his focus.
I glanced back to Bay’s apartment to see her walking from the room she slept in to the one with the combined living and kitchen. Time for coffee.
Turning back to the hoodie by the garbage, I studied the figure a moment longer. I was assuming it was a man due to the build. Broad shoulders, on the thin side, but tall. I was six-three, and he seemed to have me by two inches at least. His focus sure as hell looked as if it was on Bay’s apartment. There wasn’t anything else going on to have him so damn locked in.
Was this some random man who looked for women who weren’t smart enough to keep their blinds and curtains closed in all their rooms, or was it more?
I checked back with the flight attendant to see she was already back in her bedroom, where only the shadow of her body could be seen. She was earlier than normal today. Was she going back to work? No, she’d have been there at least an hour ago if she had flights today. I should have pulled her work schedule. Hell, I should have done a background check, but so far I hadn’t found any proof she was associated with Vilmer.