Page 11 of Down the Aisle
Dragging out a long sigh, Max downed his drink. "Well, whatever she's up to or hiding, you'll find out sooner or later after we rig her place." Clapping his hands together, a habit of his to reset himself, he pointed a finger to the open door of my office. "Well, we haven't got all day, so let's go."
We had about an hour before Eliza would leave her place, and her apartment complex was right across the creek from me—literally fifteen minutes tops. So, I took my sweet time going over the plan to break into Eliza’s place one last time with Max, before taking stock of all the equipment we’d need. One can never be too careful is something I'd always believed, and better to be over prepared than under.
"I still think you're a little crazy for this," Max commented as we started the drive in his truck.
Shooting him a flat glare, I scoffed. "Says the man chasing after a nurse he bumped into. One who couldn’t give less of a shit about you." He really had no footing against me because we were both in the same shit hole together.
"Hey, hey, hey," he chuckled in protest. "Amira is just playing hard to get, that's all."
Unable to help it, I snorted out a laugh. "Dude, how many times has she rejected you just this week alone?" He was persistent, and this latest venture of his was too patient for her own good.
Beaming with a victorious grin, he chuckled happily. "Only three times out of the four I've asked, so I'm making progress."
Rolling my eyes, I scoffed playfully. "Whatever makes your boat float, man." If he wanted to be a little delusional, then who was I to pop his bubble.
Also, given that I was now pining after a random woman I met at the grocery store, I was the last person who should be giving him shit about the situation. A seeming down-on-her-luck kind of gal, but again, there was this gut feeling about her I couldn't shake. It wasn't a bad feeling or anything, but one cautioning me to dig deeper.
Sure, some people were fine and happy living a simple life, and usually they radiated genuine joy. Yet, I got none of that with Eliza, especially when I looked into her eyes. The only time her eyes even remotely lit up was when she looked at Asher, but other than that, they were muddled with dullness and, occasionally, fear.
No way a 'boring girl' would have such broken eyes.
Something was up with Eliza; I had no doubt about it, and I had every intention of figuring out the reason behind her troubles.
It didn't take us long to reach her place, and we had no trouble gaining access after slipping the shady landlord a few Benjamins. I was thankful for the easy entrance to her private abode, but it also pissed me off.
"Remind me to have him replaced," I grumbled to Max as we stood in Eliza's small studio apartment.
Scoffing in disdain, Max scowled at the door. "Imagine if we had been bad people."
If I wasn't so pissed, then I would have cracked a laugh at his comment because, well,mafia.
In all honesty, if all it took were a few hundred-dollar bills to gain access to her place, then what was to stop someone from walking in and stealing her things while she was out? What was to stop them from bugging the place with cameras to spy on her? What about in the middle of the night? What if they just waltzed in and assaulted her one day on a whim? Or hell, what was to stop the creepy landlord from abusing the master key himself?
I didn't like the way his face lit up at the mention of Eliza's name, nor did I like how he lingered at the open door for a minute too long with his beady eyes scanning the place.
The thought of anyone violating and invading Eliza's personal space with bad intentions, or just in general, caused a surge of hot anger throughout my body. Tension tightened my jaw and made my teeth grit and grind against each other as I stood there with my hands balled into fists inside my pockets.
My glaring eyes glanced over at the nonfunctioning secondary lock currently on her door. "Remind me to replace the locks at her place, too, especially that secondary lock." The thing wasn't even screwed in properly, so like hell would it keep the door from being thrown open without much force. "Hell, remind me to replace the entire door with something sturdier."
"Want to replace him with one of our men? Or do you want me to filter through some people and hire someone?" Max inquired as he started to unpack his tools and equipment from the box he had been carrying.
Calming myself with a deep breath, I ran a slow hand through my hair, holding it there for a moment as I carefully scanned the apartment. "For the sake of keeping it simple, and our sanity, just see which of our men will work," I replied before slowly stalking around the place.
Max was so much more than my best friend; he was also my lieutenant who kept things afloat so I could be in the background. My tech whizz of a friend was a godsend, and I honestly wouldn't be here if it weren't for him. From hacking college exam answers to my enemy's network, I would have flunked out and been on the street by now if I didn't have him. Any and all information which found its way into my hands was courtesy of Max and his crew. Even Eliza's profile was all because of him.
"Consider it done." Max's casual reply filtered through the air before things went silent as the two of us got to work.
Contrary to what many believed, hiding cameras around a place and fully rigging it was more complicated than what movies made it out to be. You couldn't just stick a tiny little camera in a teddy bear or in a dark corner and call it a day.
Finding the ideal place for a camera was tricky, and then the wiring or transmitter for it was the next issue. Honestly, if it was as easy as slapping a mini camera into a vent or placing a teddy bear camera, then everyone would be spying on each other.
I let Max handle all the finding and rigging, for the most part, because it was his forte. While he was occupied, I busied myself with snooping through every inch of Eliza's place.
Naturally, I started with her dresser, if it could even be called such. It was one of those plastic drawer things someone would get from Walmart or Target that barely reached my mid-thigh. She had, like, the bare minimum. Only about enough for a week's worth of clothes, it seemed. About seven to ten sets of clothes lined the three drawers, and there was a small cubby box filled with cheap underwear and bras right next to it.
The tiny closet housed an even smaller dresser, this one filled with children's clothing. Hanging on the rack were some work uniforms, or some kind of ratty clothes that had bleach stains all over them along with other smudges and discolorations. The floor was lined with three pairs of very worn sneakers.
Sliding the closet door shut, I made my way over to her kitchen to see what she had stashed away. And surprise, surprise, there was nothing. Okay, by nothing, I meant it was barely stocked. There were plenty of jars containing baby food and other child-friendly food items plenty, but there was barely anything for Eliza. The only things I found that were suitable for an adult were packages of ramen, cans of soup, bulk frozenfood packages, and some stuff for simple ham and cheese sandwiches.
