Page 25 of Triggered By Love
Nope. He would make sure she was safely home and keep driving. She wasn’t the one under investigation. She was a private citizen, and he had no evidence she was being targeted.
Other than the fact he felt it in every bone in his body and every chill creeping over his scalp.
Someone wanted Avery Cockburn out of the way, and knowing the criminal mind, they would use the upcoming fashion show to make their statement. The problem was he’d been doing a piss-poor job assuming the danger was limited to stalkers and not looking for other more nefarious reasons, like organized crime, witness tampering, or hostage taking. Or it could be simply business, the way they did it in New York City. Rough and tumble, take no prisoners. Competition.
The fact the perps had held off for an entire year meant they had control of their emotions—that this wasn’t a crime of passion or jealousy or rage. It was designed to terrify and to haunt, to make Avery look over her shoulder, ever vigilant, never able to relax, always wondering when the next shoe would drop.
Nope. He’d been going about it all wrong. He should be looking into her competitors or anyone who was jealous of her. Maybe even someone who had been in love with Brando and accidentally took him out when Avery was the intended target. To do that, he needed to find out more about Avery—her past, her associations, her family, her goals, and her motivations.
He wasn’t being paranoid or giving himself an excuse to chat her up. Nope. Someone didn’t like him protecting her. He didn’t believe in coincidences. The mountain biker who knocked him down could have hurt Avery. Someone wanted him out of the way just like they wanted Brando gone.
He had to calm down and apply his brain, not his heart. Stay completely rational. Focused.
He fought traffic, passing and cutting off slow drivers, and raced to the block of the Melbourne Building. It was dark, but pedestrians were still out and about. He slowed down, scanning the parked cars, looking for the barista’s car.
It wasn’t in the vicinity.
He closed in on the building and idled across the street, double-parked. Avery’s window was still dark. She hadn’t arrived home yet.
He waited. The minutes ticked by, and after half an hour, there was still no sign of Avery.
Jason blew out a frustrated huff. He was self-aware enough to know he’d crossed the line. There was no way he could track her down if she’d gone to a party or stopped off at a nightclub.
He wasn’t going to wait all night, was he?
He switched on his headlights and pulled away. As he turned the corner, a black stretch limo rolled in front of the Melbourne’s entrance.
A man wearing a suit emerged from the Melbourne Building. He put on a pair of wraparound sunglasses and wiped his hand back over his hair, exposing his widow’s peak. The chauffeur opened the door for the man, and he got into the limo.
Jason made a U-turn in the middle of the block and tailed the limo. What was the guy who beat up Tatiana doing in Avery’s building?
The limo drove by Avery’s brother’s company, Slipstream Entertainment, and into a narrow street of restaurants, nightclubs, and bars where it dropped off the man. He went into a bar called Lushpuppies.
Jason looked around for a parking spot, but there were cars packed on both sides of the street. He circled the side streets until he was able to squeeze his car in between two panel vans.
* * *
“Buy you a drink?”Saul asked Avery as he pulled up to the curb in front of Lushpuppies, the neighborhood bar where she used to meet up with Brando and his buddies after they got off a shift.
He used to text her and let her know he was safe, and then he and the crew would decompress over a few beers before heading home.
“You don’t have to,” she replied. “I’ll pay the fare, and you can get going.”
She put in a nice tip for him and tapped the rideshare app to pay. The destination wasn’t where she’d originally planned, and she wasn’t sure why she decided to drop by the bar that held too many memories—especially alone, but Joan was right. She was too young to let life pass her by. She hadn’t seen Brando’s buddies in ages, and she wondered in passing whether they still gathered here.
“The good thing about driving rideshare is I can shut off the app.” Saul flicked his finger over his phone screen, tapping and swiping. “There. I’m finished driving for the night.”
“I wasn’t trying to derail you from your work,” she said, knowing he was always hard up for cash. It wasn’t easy being alone in a big city, and from what she knew about Saul, he had no family to give him a helping hand if he was behind on the rent.
“Your tip made up for the rest of the night.” He got out the driver’s side door and came around the car, opening the door for her. “Go on in and find a seat. I have to find parking.”
She walked in alone. It was a hot night, but the air conditioner was on full blast, and Avery’s skin prickled. She kept her gaze loosely focused in front of her without seeing anything, the way she’d been taught to walk as a model down a catwalk.
She was used to being stared at, as long as she was hiding inside the eye-catching clothing and stage makeup that made her almost anonymous. Walking into Lushpuppies alone was risky, though. Her brothers hung out here—that wasn’t the problem—and she felt safe when Brando’s buddies were around.
Her debut as a fashion designer was forever marred by tragedy, and she heard whispers wherever she went. There was one particular set of eyes she never wanted to meet again. One pair of the coldest, darkest, stoniest eyes—feral and cruel which made her feel naked and exposed no matter how many layers she wore and how many bodies surrounded her. Fortunately for her, she was beneath his notice now that he’d climbed the ranks of power. As long as she left his name off her tongue, she’d be fine—hopefully. He certainly wasn’t slumming in a midtown bar.
Avery shook off the creepy feeling when she spotted Brando’s buddy, Trent Gallagher, sitting with a tall, slim brunette who looked familiar.
