Page 14 of Protected By The Ranger
“Current location?”
“Comfort Inn off Route 9, Room 237. Paid cash under the name David Miller, but his car registration gave him away.”Blake clicks to a new screen showing surveillance footage from thehotel’s parking lot. “He’s been there since yesterday, and according to the desk clerk, he’s been asking questions about local residents.”
My hands clench into fists. “What kind of questions?”
“Specifically about the Dawson family. Where they live, whether the daughter was back in town.” Blake’sexpression darkens. “The clerk didn’t give him anything, but Waverly is likely planning something.”
Blake pulls up another screen. “And Jake? He bought a hunting knife three days ago. Cash purchase at a sporting goods store outside Nashville.”
Zane walks in carrying tactical gear, his usual playful demeanor replaced by the serious hyperfocus we all get when we’re about to go out into the field against a possible violent target.”Equipment’s ready. Surveillance, backup comm, and everything else we discussed.”
Hawk emerges from the shadows near the window, his gray eyes assessing as he takes in my demeanor. “You sure you want to handle this personally?”
The question is valid, but I wave a hand to dismiss the question. I’m not going to deny how I feel about her, but my handling this stalker isn’t up for debate, either. This stopped being professional the moment I fell in love with Izzy. I know I should let the men handle it, but I can’t. This is personal.
“He threatened her,” I say simply. “He photographed her when she thought she was safe, over in Raytown. He’s been tracking her movements.” My voice hardens. “Yeah, I’m handling this personally.”
“Just making sure you know what you’re walking into.” Hawk’s expression remains neutral, but I catch the underlying concern. “This isn’t a military operation. Different rules, different consequences.”
“The only rule that matters tonight is that Paul Waverly understands he picked the wrong woman to terrorize.”
Blakepulls up another screen showing Waverly’s vehicle, a beat-up sedan that stands out among the hotel’s other cars. “He’s been making regular trips into town, always during daylight hours, always alone. Reconnaissance runs, most likely.”
The methodical nature of Waverly’s harassment makes something cold settle in my chest. This asshole might not be a tech genius, but he was able to track Izzy here and to her old high school.And now he’s armed.
“I want surveillance on the hotel until I get there,” I tell the team. “If he moves, I need to know immediately.”
“Already in place,”Blakeconfirms, handing earpieces to Zane and me. “Eyes on his room and his vehicle. Convenience store across the street has a working camera, and it records to the cloud. That was easy to intercept.”
I stand, checking my weapon even though I know it’s clean and good to go. I grab an extra clip and shove it in my back pocket.It’s unlikely I’ll need it, but it’s better to be safe than in a jam and an empty clip.Given what Blake just told me about Waverly’s desperation and the knife, I have a feeling this won’t go smoothly.
“You coming?” I ask Zane, who’s been gearing up since I arrived.
He nods, then stands. “Let’s get this done.”
There’s only life before Izzy, and now. And I intend on spending forever with her.
The Comfort Innsits like a scar against the mountain landscape, its neon sign flickering against the gathering dusk. Room 237 is on the second floor, accessible by an external staircase that provides multiple exit routes.
I sit in my SUV in the parking lot, studying the building’s layout and planning my approach.
Blake’svoice crackles through my earpiece, providing updates on Waverly’s movements inside the room. “Target’s been stationary for the past hour. Food was delivered twenty minutes ago, so he might be settled in for the evening.”
“Copy that.”
I pick up my phone and send a quick text to Hayden.Problem will be solved shortly. Don’t let Izzy out of your sight.
“Movement,”Zane calls out, and I toss my phone on the dashboard. “He’s on the move, heading for the parking lot.”
I watch through my windshield as Paul Waverly emerges from the stairwell. He’s thinner than his photographs suggested, but he has a wiry strength that suggests he won’t go down easy.
He reaches his sedan and fumbles with the keys. Perfect.
Zane and I slip out of my SUV and cross the parking lot in silence, approaching from his blind spot.
“Paul Waverly.”
He spins around, keys dropping to the ground with a metallic clatter. Up close, his eyes dart between Zane and me like he knows his reckoning is here.
