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“No,” I shoot back quicker than intended, a surge of apprehension tightening my chest. “I don't know if this has anything to do with your brother.”
Confusion etches deeper into Kent’s features, the playfulness from moments ago evaporating into the charged air between us.
“This spyware has been nesting in her laptop,” I pause, drawing in a heavy breath to steady my voice, “for years, Kent. Years.”
His confusion morphs into something darker, a shadow crossing his face. “What the fuck does that mean?” He mutters as he absently scratches at his jaw.
“Exactly my point,” I let the words hang heavy, a mix of anger and ice in my voice. “Why has someone been obsessively watching my best friend for years, Kent? It's not just emails or passwords. They have been watching her. Hacked into her camera. It films and sends videos to someone, Kent.” The facts slice through his shocked silence, leaving a trail of cold dread in its wake.
Tears threaten to spill over as they prick at my eyes. “How am I going to tell Poppy this, Kent? Someone has been filming her. Watching her every move.” I feel like I’m going to be sick. I want to be wrong, but I know what I found.
Kent leans forward, pulling me into a tight embrace that feels like a lifeline in the midst of a storm. No words pass between us, but his fingers press into me with silent intensity, a physical promise of support where words fail.
What could he say, anyway? There's nothing that could smooth the raw edges of my fear. Nothing could extinguish the roaring fire inside of me for revenge.
All I want is for Poppy to find happiness and live freely without shadows looming over her joy. It's a cruel twist of fate that just as she begins to find her peace, something comes to sour it.
It feels like we’ve just peeked under the bed to find the monsters are real, and they’ve been here, hiding in plain sight, much longer than we ever feared.
***
“What time is that guy interviewing Poppy?” I shout to Kent, who is taking his sweet-ass time getting ready.
Kent’s uncle, who heads the CIA and is equally determined and annoying as Kent, is sending a team to examine Poppy’s apartment. He will also send a guy to ask Poppy some more questions about the maintenance man. Kent and I are planning on meeting Poppy and Julian at Sterling Defense. Naturally, I want to be there for my bestie, but I also wish I had an excuse.
I’m going to tell Poppy, but I just don’t know when is the best time to say, ‘Hey, someone was not only tracking your digital footprint but spying on you through your webcam.’ Yeah, no time is right to confess that.
“At 11:00. We’ll leave as soon as I’m dressed,” he says, poking his head through the door, his gaze lingering with a hint of anticipation.
Fuck me. No, please fuck me. He’s standing there, dripping wet from his steam shower, clad in nothing but a plush white towel, the steam still wafting around him like a seductive haze.
A knock at his front door is either my savior or the person behind it should burn in hell for forcing me to peel my eyes off Kent’s sculpted body.
He combs back his wet hair with his hand, “Can you get that for me?”
I raise a brow, “It’s your house.”
“I’m in a towel.”
“I’m sure you’ve answered the door in far less.”
He chuckles, “But the person at the door is for you,” he admits with a devilish grin.
My body stills, fingers hovering over the keyboard again. Not many things could distract my attention from typing, but Kent takes the cake. He’s dangled bait that is too tempting.
A knock comes again, harder this time. “It’s rude to keep people waiting,” Kent jokes, his voice tinged with amusement.
With a roll of my eyes, I stand and open his front door. Confusion mars my brows when I see two men struggling to hold an enormous mattress wrapped in thick, tinted blue plastic.
“You, Sterling?” The man grunts.
“No,” I reply. Why does the young school girl that still lives in my mind like the sound of that? Why is she mentally doodling hearts that say, Mrs. Sterling?
Because she is a fool, my inner voice chides.
“I am,” Kent shouts, his voice echoing behind me. “You can come this way. This is the room here.”
I step aside, and the men bring the mattress inside. I look at Kent, who points to his bedroom and then looks over his shoulder at me with a playful challenge in his eyes.
