Page 74 of Ugly Beautiful Scars

I run my hand over my face, feeling the stubble drag against my palm. She's running from something much worse than what she's been telling me, and I'm only trying to keep her safe.

I've been trying to implement some tactical patience, but I miss the way things were.

I miss her.

Damn, when did I become this person? Pining after a client. The old Sean would be disgusted. He also never met a woman like Londyn.

I sip my lukewarm barley tea—something I managed to find at a corner market—and force my attention back to the book. My eyes trace stanzas while my mind drifts. Two men in navy baseball caps. Coordinated surveillance. Professional, almost military.

I close the poetry book with a hard smack then run my hands through my hair. I stopped styling my hair completely and just let my bangs do what they want since Londyn likes that. Now, it's all over the place like my thoughts.

Fuck, I'm so frustrated from hitting dead ends. These past three days have been a never-ending grind of trying to findsomepath forward to identify the Navy Caps. I've barely been in theapartment during the day, hustling between businesses near where we spotted them. I've been trying to sweet-talk employees and managers into sharing security footage.

Two places finally caved: the corner bodega and the coffee shop across from the candle store Londyn visited. Their outdoor cameras might have caught something useful. Took more charm than I knew I possessed to convince them, but Mike and I scrubbed through hours of grainy footage, looking for any concrete evidence. We've made it through one pass, and so far, nothing. Just apparitions and maybes and "is that him?" moments that lead nowhere.

This morning's video call with Sienna was at least productive. She's a great artist, so I described the Navy Cap men in as much detail as I could while she sketched.

"Rounded jaw on the second one. No, less square than that. Yeah, that's getting closer."

"Like this?" she had said, holding up her sketch to the camera.

"Damn, you could work for the police department with these skills," I'd joked with her.

Her only response was a theatrical frown and a deadpan, "My art is more than that, Sean. Do you lack sensibilities for the finer things?"

We'd both cracked up. For a second, my stress lifted, but it was only a heartbeat until I was back in reality, wondering if anyone might know Londyn's stalkers.

The sketches Sienna produced were good enough to send out to other contacts like Torres—guys from my Marine days who've scattered into various law enforcement agencies. I even got in touch with an old CIA buddy. He'll try to run facial recognition through databases I shouldn't have access to.

But even with Sienna's skills, sketches don't beat actual photos. We need some kind of video confirmation.

Right now, it's a waiting game for a lucky break and to see if my contacts get back to me with something useful.

I'm not trying to interrogate her, but I really wish Londyn would give me a little more about her past. I can see her fears and all I want is to take them away.

But I understand her reluctance, too. We all have our demons. I wouldn't want someone digging into my past with Wunmi and exposing that raw failure.

Still. Knowing more will help me understand what I'm protecting her from. I need to keep her safe.

No matter what it costs me.

My eyes flick back to the monitors. Left screen: hallway clear. Center-left: living room dark. Center-right: all windows closed and secure. Right screen: bedroom door closed. Laptop: exterior has empty sidewalks.

All quiet. All—

A light clicks on in Londyn's living room. My body tenses.

Chapter 23

SEAN

A LIGHT IS ON INSIDE Londyn's living room. She appears from her bedroom. Seeing her should make me relax since there's no intruder, but it only skyrockets my pulse.

She's different, wrapped in a short silk robe that clings to curves usually hidden beneath layers of baggy clothing. Her hair is down, cascading past her shoulders in dark waves. She moves with a confidence I've only glimpsed a few times. No hunched shoulders. No darting glances. Just complete ease.

Purpose.

It's 12:17 AM. She went to bed about an hour ago, and she never emerges after she settles in for the night.

---