“Because that’s his name?”
“It’s also very informal for a client, Chelsea.”
Rolling my eyes and shaking my head, I can’t help but feel annoyed at this whole thing. Thank fuck no one can actually read my thoughts; then I would really have some explaining to do.
‘Sorry’ Logan mouths from across the table to me.
I shrug in return. This grilling was bound to happen.
What a fucking mess … and this is just the start.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Eleven hours and twenty-three minutes since I saw my honeybee. Fuck this tracker and fuck her rich parents. Scott better get this sorted or I am going to lose my shit. I slide open the screen on an iPhone that is used for one purpose and one purpose only. Finding the only number that’s in the phone¸ I press Scott’s number.
Smart phones are a crook’s worst enemy and a useful tool for the cops. But smart phones won’t outsmart someone like Scott.
The call picks up but the line is empty.
“Is it done?”
“Twenty minutes.” The voice answers robotically.
“What about the location?”
“Twenty minutes.”
“You said that fourteen hours ago.”
The call drops out and I throw my phone into the wall. Pieces of it fly in different directions. My connection to Scott is shattered.
I grab my everyday phone and send a message to my cousin.
PACER: I need a new phone immediately. I’m at home.
Scrolling through the messages, I read my conversation with Chelsea. Studying every word she wrote makes me crave her more, and despite all my attempts for the past eleven hours, I can’t even get close to her. Eleven hours, feels more like eleven days. I need to see her. That’s why I’ve had to call in Scott. He’s the government’s most wanted hacker. He’s more pedantic than I am about his personal security, that’s why I like the guy. I wouldn’t even know what he looks like. I don’t think anyone does. My life is fucked as it is from having to outwit the cops. I can’t imagine what his must be like. Fuck that.
My phone sounds its message tone.
FRANCO: Did you smash your phone again?
PACER: Just get here. Urgent.
Taking the smashed phone, I swap the sim card over in case Scott calls. He won’t leave a message so I need to take that call. I walk back up the jetty to my house. I’m surprised there isn’t a track worn in the hardwood—I’ve paced it that many times. Especially in the last eleven hours.
The phone rings. No number displayed. I answer it on mute so they can’t hear me, or my surroundings.
“It’s done.” Scott’s pixelated voice comes through the speaker.
The call ends.
It’s about fucking time! Now I just need Franco to hurry the fuck up and I am out of here. I have the freedom to move once again with the signal from my tracker now intercepted by Scott and access to one of America’s telescopes, in space.
By the time I’ve made it to the garage at the front of my property, Franco pulls up at the front door.
“Where’s the phone? I need to go.”
“Everything alright?” He throws me the box as I make my way to the garage.
“It will be now.”
There’s not a moment to waste. With my iPad in hand, I jump in my Audi and finally venture past my front gates for the first time since I had this fucking tracker fitted. There’s one place I need to be.
Sliding my sunglasses back on, I stretch out on the sunlounge and close my eyes for a moment. The winter sun feels lovely against my bare arms. I still have to keep a big knitted rug over my legs to protect them from the ice-cold breeze on the hilltop.
“So there seriously isn’t anything going on between you and this Pacer guy then?” Logan takes the opportunity to talk the moment my novel drops to my chest.
I groan. “Not you too.”
“Well I had to ask. He is pretty hot. I wouldn’t blame you if you did have a thing with him.”
Raising my sunglasses, I smile. “He is ridiculous looking, isn’t he? But no, I don’t have a thing with him. A thing for him maybe, but at this stage the thing is singular.”
Logan laughs. “Just be careful. There are plenty of eyes on you at the moment.”
“Don’t I know it?”
The phone vibrates on the table next to me.
PACER: Since you don’t work on the weekend, why don’t we have dinner instead?
My smile is unstoppable, but I toss the phone back onto the table, frustrated even more about the shitty situation I’m in. Why can’t this just be easy? As in, why can’t Pacer just be a law-abiding citizen who I met out on the town one night? Or we were introduced through friends, like every other normal couple I know?
From the corner of my eye, I catch Logan smiling. “That was him, wasn’t it?”
I sigh and flop back against the sunlounge.
“Is it that obvious?” I lean my arm across my face, blocking the sun and my thoughts.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I shake my head.
“Okay. Well I’m here if you do. You know that, right?”
“I love you for that … you know that, right?”
With my phone back in my hand, I know I have to respond to Pacer, regardless of my feelings.
CHELSEA: Don’t think that’s a good idea. Have you seen the news?
PACER: I don’t read newspapers or watch the news on TV.
CHELSEA: Maybe you should. They followed us the other night when we had late lunch, and took pictures of us. They’ve decided to run with the story that you and I are romantically involved.
He doesn’t reply. Shit!
CHELSEA: I’m just as angry about it. It’s been sorted though. The media won’t be printing anything like that again without having a defamation case against them.
PACER: So you would be defamed if you were in a relationship with me?
I stare at the text for a moment longer. That’s not what I meant. But what does he mean? All of his actions, his little passes at me—I know he likes me. Girls never want to admit it to themselves but we always know. There’s a change in our body when a man takes an interest in us. Our heads make stupid decisions all because the rampant pheromones overrule everything. They shouldn’t be called ‘fair-o-moans’ they should be ‘wrong-don’t-go-there-o-moans’.
CHELSEA: No, being with you wouldn’t defame me, but it won’t help your case at all if this story develops.
PACER: If that’s a real no, then we’ll have dinner when my case is over.
He’s tenacious. Maybe that’s the solution to all of this? If I get him off his murder charge, I can convince the country that he’s not the man the police are making him out to be. Then maybe I could start something with him, or at least we would be able to try out the stock. All of his body language tells me he wants it too, and I’m pretty sure his advances are making my uncontrollable feelings even worse.
The only people that will have a problem with this will be my family. I shouldn’t get my father involved in the case … or maybe I should, and not tell Dad the parts about Pacer actually admitting to me that he did murder that guy?
“That’s it!” I jump off the sunlounge and run across the lawn towards the house.
“What’s it?” Logan calls out.
I don’t stop; I can’t. I need Dad to help me with this case. If I’ve done my job right, I’ve got the right amount of culpable and non-culpable evidence that makes me still look impartial when Dad goes over my notes. I’m pretty sure I can convince him that Pacer is being targeted in all of this. I know my Dad better than anyone; I know exactly how he works. If I get this right, he will find the best way to get Pacer off this charge.