Page 53 of Between Regrets and Promises

“I know. Thanks, Mads. Please don’t tell anyone we talked about this.” I look at my phone and see I’m getting another call from Jerad. “Gotta let you go. I’ll keep you updated. If you think of anything, even if it’s something weird or awkward, please let me know, okay?”

“No problem.”

Part of me feels relieved to know it’s not just Liam and me who are concerned. I’m not acting out in jealousy, so to hell with anyone who claims it as so.

I flip over to the other line, hoping he’s still there. “Hey.”

“Damn. Took you long enough.” Seriousness coats his tone. “So. I did some digging, pulled some strings, and got the info much quicker than I thought I would.”

My heart is racing, and it feels as if time stands still as I wait for him to tell me what the fuck he found.

“He has a history of abuse. When he was a teenager, he stabbed another kid, who lived, but it was a close call. He got out of it by claiming self-defense. He resisted arrest and assaulted a police officer. Was put on probation, then spent some time in juvie for another assault charge. But the records were sealed because of his age at the time of the incident. There was also a domestic abuse call about four years ago, but my guess is the woman left or he beat her into silence because there hasn’t been anything since.”

“Fuck,” I say, running my fingers through my hair, knowing I need to fill Liam in as soon as possible. “Motherfucker,” I repeat over and over.

“Also…” Jerad continues. “He doesn’t work at the prison. I knew that as soon as I realized he had a criminal history because he’d never be eligible. Still, I checked, and there’s no record of him ever working for the state.”

I blow out a long breath. “Yeah, I called, and they told me they didn’t know who I was talking about. Shit, shit, shit.”

“What’re you gonna do, Mason? I can tell you’re up to something when you ask for favors like this.”

I stare at the whitewashed wall. “Not sure yet. This is bad, and she won’t believe me without proof.”

“Let me say this. I think people can change. He was young when the first shit happened, but the domestic abuse is from adulthood, which means his behavior has only escalated. So I think whatever you’re planning, you need to be careful and watch your back.”

“I will.” My mind is running a million miles per hour as I think back to the first night I met the bastard. He was a master of disguise, maintaining a façade in Sophie’s presence. After another warning from Jerad, I end the call and text Liam everything that I learned. He’s just as pissed off as I am, and we’re determined to figure out Weston’s secrets together.

For Sophie. For her safety. Because we don’t give a damn whether she likes it or not.

After I eat some questionable leftovers, I shower and try to sleep. At four in the morning, my bedroom door swings open, and a wide-awake Liam stands in my doorway.

“Get the fuck up. It’s time to go,” he tells me, flicking on the light.

“Have you slept?” I ask, running my hand over my face, my eyes trying to adjust to the brightness.

“No, I don’t have time for that. My flight ran late as usual. But if Weston’s working the early shift, we need to be in their neighborhood now,” Liam explains. Considering he’s a bounty hunter, he’s experienced in doing this sort of thing, so I couldn’t have chosen a better person to help with this. He’s literally experienced in stalking people.

I get dressed, and by the time I put on my shoes, Liam’s already brewed a pot of coffee. He hands me a to-go cup and sips out of his. His truck’s still running, and as soon I climb inside, he speeds across town. Every turn we take, I try to memorize where we are. I’ve not been invited to Weston’s, and I’m almost certain Liam hasn’t either, but I don’t ask how he knows where they live.

Once we’re in a normal-looking neighborhood, Liam turns off the truck lights, then we sit and wait.

“It’s that house right there.” He points in the distance. Sophie’s car parked next to the bastard’s. Liam pulls out a pair of binoculars and puts them to his face. “Here he comes.”

My jaw locks the moment I see Weston.

“He’s wearing some kind of uniform. Why would he go through all the trouble to lie?” Liam asks.

As the car backs out of the driveway, Liam waits a moment before turning on his lights and following. We maintain a distance, but we’re close enough to keep up with him.

“Where the fuck is he going?” I ask, confused because we’re on the other side of town. We’ve been following him for nearly thirty minutes, and I’m almost concerned he realizes we’re behind him because of the way he’s braking and randomly speeding up.

“I don’t know, but he’s driving erratically like he’s drunk or something.” Liam grabs the steering wheel with white knuckles but trails far away enough not to look suspicious.

Glancing around, I realize we’re in the industrial district. We’re on the opposite side of the city, not even close to the prison at all. The car pulls into a warehouse. Liam slows at the end of the street and turns off his lights. We wait until Weston gets out of the car and walks inside.

“This is weird as fuck,” I whisper.

Liam watches the building like it might disappear as I research the address of what the hell this place is. I ask Liam for his binoculars and barely make out a sign that says something about storage. Going back to my phone, I add the word to my search and eventually come across a listing for a security guard position that was posted a year ago.

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