Page 14 of Fraud
“YOU ARE NOT A STALKER,” I told myself for the tenth time as I trailed behind the black town car on its way to the quaint downtown area of the seaside town I’d just arrived in. “You are simply following a lead,” I said out loud to no one.
I’d been telling myself this load of crap ever since I hopped on a plane to the state of Oregon earlier that day.
No, that was a lie.
I’d been telling myself this ever since I tore apart my office a month ago, looking for the long-lost flash drive I’d stolen from my short-term fling a year ago.
At first, it had been a dirty attempt to get back at Kim, a way to patch up the blows to my ego when I’d found her in bed with that overly tan dipshit of a guy.
In my downward spiral after losing my job, I’d foolishly thought that maybe she and I could have a future beyond the casual thing we had going on.
But that was the whiskey talking. In reality, I was using her as much as she was using me. We were going nowhere fast. But it didn’t mean I couldn’t take a little parting gift with me as I left. So, I’d stolen her flash drive—the one thing she prized above guys, shoes, and practically everything else in this world.
I hadn’t been surprised when she called me the next day, frantic.
“Where is it, Killian? What did you do with my flash drive?” she’d asked.
“What flash drive?” I’d replied innocently.
“Don’t play stupid with me, asshole! I know you took it.”
I’d let the little metal piece of hardware twirl between my fingers, a satisfied grin plastered across my face. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Have you asked any of the other men who frequent your apartment? Maybe one of them will recall where it went. And, besides, don’t you always keep a backup?”
“You fucking jerk. I swear—”
I hadn’t stuck around to hear the rest of the conversation. After ending our call, I hadn’t heard from her again. I was sure she would never mention her little oopsie with her boss. No doubt a breach like that would end her career in an instant, and last I’d heard, she was still gainfully employed in the publishing world.
My revenge, however, had been short-lived, and as the world had moved on, so had I. Living on freelance work, I’d been bouncing around from one awkward job to another.
When I’d told Aaron Sanders that no one would touch me with a ten-foot pole, a part of me had been hopeful that I was wrong.
Nope.
My fall from grace had gotten around. It’d gotten around quick, and soon, I was public enemy number one. No one wanted me, not even a little.
It was definitely a low point in my life.
That was, until last month, when shit had hit the fan in a major way.
Scandal, the overnight success by Laura Stone, was all over the place—in every store, on every website. It was the most talked about book in years, partly because of its incredibly reclusive author.
Everyone wanted to know who she was, and I had the key to unlocking one of the biggest secrets of the year.
Thank you, Kim.
After combing through my apartment, I’d finally found it—the flash drive that would change my life. I had little to work with, but honestly, a name and address were all I needed.
Katelyn O’Malley.
I’d finally hit pay dirt.
So, now, here I was, in a small town on the edge of coastal Oregon, hunting down the story of my career.
Hopefully, I wouldn’t screw it up.
I watched the car I’d been trailing pull off the road, stopping directly in front of a nice restaurant. Having little time at the red light, I couldn’t see the two women as they exited, but at least I now knew where they were headed.
Now, it was all up to timing.
