Page 79 of Filthy Player

“We found cameras outside the garage of your work.”

That came from Jaxon. He was now standing in my living room and all of us assembled gave a freaky deja-vu feeling to yesterday.

Unlike yesterday, Beaux was sitting next to me on the couch. Melanie was on my other side. Mike had shown up after breakfast and he’d pulled a chair up next to my dad’s recliner.

Jaxon had taken the position at the front of the room like we were in some professional debriefing. I supposed we were.

Didn’t mean I liked it. Especially once he crossed his bulging arms, biceps and ink popping all over the place, looked directly at me, and gave me that beautiful nugget of information.

“Cameras?”

“No audio and they were basic. Not top of the line and not live-streamed.”

I’d had less than a day to process the fact someone was following me. Once Melanie and I started drinking, I’d done my best to avoid thinking about this at all.

But some woman had cameras on me? At our garage?

I shook my head as if to shake it free so what I’d heard would make sense. “Where else?”

“Nowhere we’ve found yet. But you need to know we left the cameras.”

“What?” I gasped.

“Listen,” Beaux said, holding me tight against him even as I tried to wiggle away. “Just listen.”

I scanned the room, and my blood turned cold. Everyone was watching me like a wounded animal, afraid I’d jump and flee.

Yet none of them seemed surprised. “You all knew?”

“Jaxon told us last night,” Dad said. “It’s why I told Beaux to back off when he suggested you stop drinking. Figured you earned it whether you knew it or not.”

“But, cameras…?”

“And we’re going to keep them,” Jaxon said.

My dad’s jaw popped and Beaux tightened his grip on me. Still, none of them were surprised. Their faces were masks of frustration and anger, but not shock.

“Excuse me?”

“They’re not streamed cameras. Means whoever put them up has to come collect them at some point. I’ve got two men on the building after hours. Don’t know when they last collected them, but if Beaux’s been getting a letter a week and that last photo she sent to him was a week ago, figure it’ll happen any day.”

“Unless she shows up and stalks me or the garage, and somehow she’s already seen you.”

Jaxon blinked twice. I was certain that was Rambo-man speak for “don’t think I’m stupid and didn’t think of that.”

I flung my hands out. “So, what? That’s the big plan? To sit around and wait? Hunker down behind a few hydrangea bushes and wait for some psycho to come get a video camera?”

“Unless Raleigh PD comes back with evidence, it’s one of them, yeah.”

“What’s the other?” Because that first idea sucked. It meant waiting. Going to work and knowing I was being watched and followed and some psycho who’s threatened my life could sit back and laugh at the absurdity of it all, all while plotting my death and clearing her path to Beaux.

“Draw her out,” Jaxon said. “You two spend more time in public. We’ll be watching. Figure you get enough attention, that’ll set her off and she’ll make her move.”

“Which I’m still adamant about absolutely not doing,” Beaux growled. His fingers dug into my shoulder, his arm vibrating with the same intensity as the tone of his voice.

My dad shook his head.

“I think I prefer the wait and see plan,” I muttered.

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