Page 20 of The Road Less Traveled By

Four Years Ago

— THE NIGHT WE MET BY LORD HURON

“Vince Evans? You cancome on in.” A slim man pokes his head out of the conference room, and I join him inside. I thought there would be more people here, but it appears to be just us.

I already regret taking this case. My handler at the agency said it was a rush job and that they asked for the best. Now that I’m here, I wish I wasn't. I wasn't given any details or anything about who I’d be protecting, and I’m hoping to get some clarity now.

“Connie will be right in. Can I get you some water?”

I shake my head at him, and he leaves, submitting me to the silence of this room. I notice that he frosted the glass, and I like the little bit of privacy. I did some digging about this place, and it’s a public relations management firm, so I assume some rich socialite needs protection.

I hope that’snotthe case, but either way, I’ll do my job.

A hard knock on the door comes, and I stand as Connie enters the room—I assume. I don't know who else it would be. At first glance, I notice the tension in her shoulders, the bags under her eyes, and I can almost feel the stress rolling off her.Has she not slept?That immediately causes my senses to perk up, and the weird feeling in my gut is telling me this is more serious than I thought.

And my own rule is that when you have a gut feeling, it’s probably right.

She meets me where I stand and offers me her hand. “Connie. Thank you for getting here so quickly.”

“No problem, ma’am,” I say as she sits across from me.

“Please, just Connie. I’m not a ma’am, and I hate formalities.” She takes a deep breath before she slides a folder over to me. “It’s been a rough few days around here. That folder contains a bare-bones gist of information about Bree and what happened. It even has some of the notes he left inside, but I can explain it if you prefer that.”

“I’ll take anything you want to give me.” The more information I have, the better, and I never take any chances. If I don't know everything, someone could wind up getting hurt, and I’ve never lost anybody I’ve protected.

Yet.

The little voice in the back of my head nags at me like always, but I disregard it for now, returning my attention to Connie.

“You’ll be protecting Bree Hart. She’s a social media influencer with around ten million followers across all social platforms.”

I’ve never heard of this girl, but I’m nine years older than her, so it makes sense that I haven't. I doubt my older sister has either. It says in her file that Bree is twenty years old, and I wonder how long she’s been doing this to have garnered that many followers.

The pit in my stomach is nervous to ask what happened for her to need a bodyguard, but I don’t say anything as Connie continues.

“Over the past few months, Bree has received notes from an obsessed fan. We know it’s the same guy because of the signature, and the police analyzed her mail so we could have every note he’s sent on file.

“A few days ago, Bree was attacked inside her home by the man we believe has been sending her these notes. If you flip to the last one, you’ll see why we think that.”

I open the folder, and sure enough, photocopies of the notes rest right on the top. I flip through fifteen to twenty pages, and when I get to the last one, goosebumps race up my arms.

On the page, in detail, is what this guy wants to do to her when he finally gets his hands on her. He talks about how they’re meant to be, that nobody else will be able to have her because he’s going to make sure she’s his forever.

My blood is running cold at thedetailhe gives.

“Oh,” is all I can say.

“Yeah. The worst part is that it was completely preventable. Bree’s parents didn't take it seriously, and well, you can see what happened in the report from the hospital. I wish we had you sooner, but there was nothing I could do.”

Fuck her parents. They shouldn't be able tobeparents after this. How do you fail to protect your own daughter? It’s laughable—they get to be parents while mine died and will never exist again.

But this isn't about me. It’s about her, and I need to do what they failed to—protect her from this fucker.

“The guy ran off before the police got inside, but not after he kept his promise.”

Fuck. “What happened?”

“Bree was assaulted. She still has some visible bruising on her ankles and neck, and I ask that when she comes in, you remain seated.”

---