Page 32 of Risky Match
That’s true even if it’s not the whole truth. It’s so hard keeping Erin in the dark when we’ve been friends since childhood and now she also keeps me safe. It’s unsettling to think I’m betraying her too, just in a different way.
Erin nods. “I see your point. Your schedule looks fairly open this afternoon. Is there anything you need my help with?”
“No. I’ll be staying at the house for the rest of the day. You should take some time for yourself. I plan to work out in the home gym, rest, and then meet with Blake and our coaches for a strategy session later tonight.”
“Excellent. I’ll see if Fausto needs anything.”
Once we reach the house, I hustle up the stairs.
Fortunately, Blake stayed behind for singles practice with his coach. That gives me a chance to search his room.
I grab my cosmetics bag that’s loaded with miniature electronics and slip into Blake’s room. Soon we’ll be monitoring more than just his phone.
In his bathroom, I pull on a pair of latex gloves and start setting up my cover story in case someone walks in. Blake gave me the perfect excuse when he offered me the use of his bathtub. I turn the faucets on full blast and pour in enough bath gel to build mountains of bubbles. While the tub fills, I carefully lay out the surveillance devices on a towel on the bathroom counter.
A quick glance confirms I have a USB drive device to download information from Blake’s laptop, plus two listening devices, three cameras, and five trackers. I double-check that my phone app connects to the devices. Fortunately, it works perfectly.
With that done, I turn to see the tub is nearly full. Perfect. I shut off the water and get to work.
Moving quickly, I attach a listening device behind the toilet. A camera in here will be even more invasive, so I search for a spot that will still afford him a little privacy. Noticing some decorative items on top of the cabinet, I hide the camera there and aim it at the sink. That should cover the bathroom.
Back in the bedroom, I tuck the second listening device into a crevice behind the bedside lamp.
I look around the room for the best spots to hide the two remaining cameras. One needs to face the door, the other the bed. Yes, the bed. So much for protecting that part of his privacy.
My heart races, remembering that Blake didn’t bother with clothes when we were together. I wonder if he wears anything when he sleeps alone. That thought sends a wave of warmth between my legs.
There’s no time for that. I have a mission to complete.
I place a camera in the artwork hanging over the bed. It’s the perfect angle to capture the rest of the room, including the door. The other camera fits snugly in a visible black bracket holding the TV that faces the bed. He’ll never notice the tiny device.
I’m glad someone else will be monitoring the video feeds. Watching Blake in bed—especially if he brings someone back—would be way too awkward.
Now for the search. I start with the antique two-drawer desk. It doesn’t match the rest of the modern furniture. I’d guess it belonged to the homeowner’s grandmother, and they can’t bear to part with it. Every nick and scratch probably holds a memory.
I rifle through the short stack of papers on top. It’s a jumble of receipts, schedules, and a few random notes with dates and times. I snap photos just in case they turn out to be useful. I’ll take a closer look at them later. The drawers hold blanknotepads, crossword puzzle books, and old greeting cards. It looks like Blake hasn’t touched them.
Dropping to the floor, my gaze catches an envelope taped to the underside of the desk. A muffled gasp escapes me. In training, they always told us to check under desks and drawers, inside refrigerators, and under mattresses. But I never expected to actually find something in such a cliché hiding place.
Running my gloved hand over the envelope, I feel the outline of a key. Why would Blake hide a key?
Luckily, the flap is loose. I slide the key out, snap a photo, and grab paper from the desktop to trace its shape. That should be enough information for our team to figure out what type of lock it fits.
Crawling back under the desk, I tuck the key back into the envelope. As I push the flap inside, heavy footsteps pound up the stairs. My body freezes as adrenaline courses through my veins. I listen intently while holding my breath, not daring to make a sound.
It can’t be Blake. He’s still practicing.
A deep, slightly muffled voice says, “I need to answer some emails. It’ll be easier on my laptop than my mobile. When I’m finished, I’ll meet you in the study.”
It’s Blake. What’s he doing back so soon?
As silently as possible, I roll out from under the desk, narrowly avoiding bumping my head. I dash into the Blake’s bathroom, push the door nearly closed, and drop the key tracing and remaining devices into the wastebasket to retrieve later. I slip into the tub fully clothed just as Blake’s bedroom door clicks open.
Unfortunately, the tub isn’t deep enough. My wet shirt shows above the bubbles. Ripping it off along with my bra, I tuck them into my tennis skirt and close my eyes, pretending to be relaxed.Let’s hope I’m a good actor because my pulse threatens to set a record.
The adrenaline rush is both exciting and overwhelming. This mission is finally putting my training to the test—but nothing could have prepared me for the reality. It’s intense. It’s exhilarating. And it’s terrifying because if Blake figures out why I’m really here ...well, I’ll be totally screwed.
He’s just checking his email, I remind myself. That should be quick. I’ll sneak out as soon as he leaves.
