Page 134 of The Defender
My elation screeched to a halt, and a vague sense of dread formed in my stomach. “Relocation? I apologize if I misunderstood, but I thought this was a remote position.”
“Ah, yes.” Derek winced. “I should’ve mentioned that at the start of the interview. That’s my fault. Thiswasoriginally a remote position. However, with regionals so close and the difficulties of onboarding someone in the middle of the season, we decided it would be more effective to hire an in-person nutritionist. Will that be a problem?”
“I—” I floundered, too caught off guard to come up with an immediate answer. “I’ll have to think about it. I’m definitely still interested in the position, but I have to discuss the relocation with my…my family. It’s a big decision.”
“Of course,” Derek said. “Take the weekend to think about it, but if you could give us your final answer by Monday night our time, that would be great. Like I said, regionals are coming up soon, so we need to onboard someone as soon as possible.”
“I understand.” I thanked them for their time and logged off, my mind spinning. The sense of dread in my stomach solidified into a two-ton brick.
OfcourseI’d land the perfect job only to find out it meant I’d have to leave London.
I was getting whiplash from the emotional rollercoaster that was the past two weeks. The confrontation with my mom, the interview offer, the ISNA rejection, and now this—it was like the universe was determined to send me flying as high as possible before dragging me back to earth again.
I stared at my closed laptop. The room was too quiet. I could hear the blood pulsing in my ears and feel the tension crawling up the back of my neck. The weight of my decision settled on my shoulders like a lead blanket, but before I could untangle my thoughts, the doorbell rang.
It was probably Vincent. He always came over after training, and he often stayed the night.
I took a deep breath and pushed my impending decision to the back of my mind. I’d deal with that later. I needed more time to marinate on it anyway.
I walked into the living room and opened the door, ready to greet him with a kiss, but he pushed past me and quickly locked the door behind him.
“Have you received any strange messages or seen anyone suspicious lately?” Vincent asked without preamble.
My brows knitted. It wasn’t like him to be so abrupt. “No. Why?”
“I left training and found this on my car.” He handed me a photo, his voice tight.
I took it, an ominous sense of déjà vu falling over me. It wasn’t another picture of that creepy doll, thank God, but it might be even worse. It was a photo of Vincent and me kissing at the Angry Boar last week. Our friends were blurred out, and we were the only people in focus.
“There was no note, only the picture.” A muscle twitched in his jaw. “It fits the intruder’s MO perfectly.”
“But we know who he is,” I said. A sour feeling spread through my stomach. “Ethan Brown. You have an injunction against him. Can’t the police use this to arrest him?”
“It’s not him.” Vincent’s mouth flattened into a grim line. “I already called Smith. He said Ethan Brown left the city soon after they caught him. He’s living in Newcastle now, and he has alibis for the entire week. One of Smith’s police contacts there confirmed it. So it’s true Brown texted me in Hungary, but he didn’t leave me the doll. He and the intruder…they’re two different people.”
CHAPTER 37
VINCENT
I moved us to a hotel that same night.
Perhaps it was an overreaction, but I couldn’t risk it. It was one thing when the intruder was only targeting me. Now that they’d brought Brooklyn into it, I wasn’t taking any chances.
If anything happened to her, I would never forgive myself.
“I’m getting a bodyguard.” I’d already contacted an elite private security firm on my way here. “For both of us.”
We were in the hotel suite’s sitting room. I’d drawn all the blinds and turned every lock. We’d packed our essentials, but I didn’t know how long we’d have to stay here. We might need to return home later to grab more things. If we did, I’d rather do so with physical protection.
“I don’t need a bodyguard,” Brooklyn said from her spot on the sofa. She hadn’t argued about relocating to a hotel, but she put her foot down about someone shadowing her every move. “I understand why you’re concerned, but things haven’t escalated to the point that I need twenty-four-seven surveillance.” She held up the photo. Just the sight of it made my blood freeze. “This was taken in public. It could’ve been anyone, and it doesn’t necessarily mean they have malicious intentions.”
“It’s cute if they tag me in it on social media. It’s not cute if they trespass onto private club property and leave it on my car in the exact same way the intruder left the doll photo.”
Brooklyn blew out a long, shaky breath. “You’re right. I was hoping…never mind.” She shook her head and drew her knees to her chest. She looked exhausted, and I hated that I was the one stressing her out. But we had to talk about this. Her safety was at stake.
My throat felt tight, like something thick and sharp was lodged there, refusing to go down.
“It has to be someone who was at the pub,” she said. “Did the police check their CCTV? Mac doesn’t allow photos inside, so it should be fairly easy to see who broke the rules.”
