Page 27 of Unleashed

When I get back to my office, Ruth is there with my lunch waiting on my desk, and I scarf it down, making a note that I’ll have to feed myself when she’s gone helping Walker investigate. Actually, she’ll probably pre-order my food, so I’ll just have to figure out how to obtain it myself, and remember to eat it rather than letting it sit on my desk indefinitely.

I spend the rest of the afternoon in meetings and returning phone calls. By the time everyone else has gone home, I’m exhausted. But there’s still one more thing for me to do.

I attempt to casually wander my way back to the warehouse. Thankfully, this time my brothers aren’t guarding the entrance, and I’m able to get in and out quickly, logging everything I take out of the system so no one is the wiser that I’ve swiped it.

It’s a little early for me to leave, but everything seems to be relatively under control, so after packing up my newly acquired equipment, I make my way to the parking lot with a quick pitstop at the security desk to check in before leaving. When I finally reach my car, I pile everything in the passenger seat, then make my way to Maren’s home.

The trailer park isn’t super far from McKinley Security Systems, and it doesn’t pass any easy places to grab something to eat, so by the time I’m parked in her vicinity, my stomach is growling.

I wonder if I could get Ruth to pack me a dinner too…

That might be asking a bit much. But I bet she would if I offered to pay her more. Or maybe if I offered to babysit Birdie so she and Tucker could have some time to themselves.

The twins are still a little small for me to feel confident taking care of on my own, but Birdie can talk a little. And what she can’t say, she makes up for in adorable motions and grunts. But I might have to change a diaper, and I’m not confident I wanna tackle one of those. Especially one of Birdie’s. That kid’s shit stinks worse than anything I’ve ever encountered in my life.

Digging through the console, I manage to find a protein bar and wolf it down as I pull out my binoculars, peering across the distance to the trailer where Maren and her daughter live. I wish I knew how old her little girl was. But while I’m okay setting up surveillance at her home, digging through HR’s files to find who’s covered on her insurance feels like going a step too far.

I’m sure the court system would feel the same way.

Maren’s van isn’t parked outside, which has me frowning. She seems to be gone quite a bit in the evenings, and it feels like a lot to me. She works so hard during the day, shouldn’t she want to come home and relax in the evenings?

I watch for a few minutes, then start scouting out a location to mount my new camera equipment. I currently have one side of her trailer and the road directly in front of it covered, but that leaves three full sides of her home unobserved, limiting my ability to see what’s happening around her. If someone wanted to break in, they still have plenty of opportunities to do it unseen, and I don’t fucking like that. I don’t like knowing Maren and her daughter could be there sleeping while some asshole comes through the window and I would never know it.

Which is why, once Maren and her daughter are home and the sun has long set, I creep out of my hiding spot. After silently making sure all her doors are locked tight, I go to work. Mounting cameras and their required solar power sources in areas they won’t be easily noticed isn’t a simple process. I’m climbing around trees and hanging off rooflines, but—after borrowing a ladder from one of her neighbor’s sheds—I finally manage to get everything into place.

Back in my car where it’s hidden in the shadows of an overgrown tree at the edge of the property, I check my handy work. But not a single one of the fucking cameras comes online. Which is bullshit. They each have their own designated cellular service, so the problem isn’t their access to the internet. No, it appears the problem is power. The last set of cameras I poached were sitting out in the daylight for a few hours before they went into place, and apparently that made all the difference. So I’ll have to wait until the sun comes up before I can see what’s happening around Maren’s home from the comfort of mine.

Unless I want to attempt to hardwire them in…

No. That would be crazy. Someone would certainly notice if I cut their power so I didn’t electrocute myself in the process.

I grab my binoculars, frowning across the distance as I try to come up with a solution. It’s what I do all day long, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

And it isn’t. I know exactly how I can keep an eye on everything until the sun comes up.

I also know it’s going to be a long fucking night.

10

Maren

What the actual fuck?

I pause at the bottom of the ramp leading to the front door of my trailer so I can try to get a better look across the stretch of space between me and a very familiar looking car. Zara and I are up early this morning to go to a therapy appointment, so the sun still isn’t all the way up, but I’ve walked past the glossy sedan tucked under the draping branches of a willow tree enough times to be able to identify it in just about any situation. I don’t have time to deal with this right now, but curiosity makes it impossible for me to ignore the sight of Trevor’s car.

I put the brakes on her chair, hooking the bag carrying her lunch over the back handle. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

My steps are quick as I cross the distance between us, marching directly up to the driver’s side window. The tint on the glass is dark, but not opaque enough I can’t easily identify the man behind the wheel. A man who looks very… Not right.

Trevor’s hair is messy, and his suit is rumpled enough I can make out the sagging lines and wrinkles through the shadowy darkness. But that’s not what has me concerned. What has my heart beating a little faster is the weird way his head is positioned and his strangely gaping mouth. He appears a little…

Dead.

And while Trevor Bradshaw might annoy the ever-loving shit out of me, I don’t necessarily want him to die.

Before I really think through the ramifications of my actions, I start banging on the window and grabbing at the handle of the door as I yell his name. “Trevor.”

I freak out a little more when I discover the door is locked. My movements become jerky and my voice takes on a higher pitch. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” I give his window a slap with an open palm. It stings like a son of a bitch, but the sound is louder than my knocking. Loud enough, it jolts Trevor awake, sending him sitting up straight in his seat, eyes wild as he tries to orient himself.