I sat camped outside the same red brick home I’d come to know all too well. He was my primary target, but she’d become tangled up in it, no matter how dishonest it felt watching an innocent woman every day. I grit my teeth together, half wanting to warn her, throw in the assignment and tell her to run from the man she thought she loved. But she’d made her bed, gone into a life with eyes wide shut, and now she was forced to handle the consequences.
I heaved a sigh, only watching her half-heartedly as she buzzed around the empty house. I still hadn’t laid eyes on him. For such a popular guy, he sure kept to himself.
As if he was laying low because he knew he had a trail. Of course he didn’t know — I was a pro, highly trained with a very specific skillset that allowed me to fly under the radar and observe every moment of any situation that most glossed over as unremarkable.
But still I was here, knowing he could show up at any second. I was convinced that she was in the dark on every vile thing he’d done, but I always wondered, if she knew, would she stay? The question rang between my ears like the incessant chop-chopping of a Blackhawk, haunting me long after it should be out of earshot.
Erin climbed the stairs to her bedroom after dark and tucked herself in bed with her phone, golden lamplight casting the only glow. I zoomed in on her screen, which from my position I had a remarkably good view of, and caught her looking at sexy black and white photos. It was only a minute before I noticed one hand snaking between the sheets and the soft cotton rising and falling between her thighs.
I watched with attention, feeling every part the stalker I’d become, when her eyes fell closed and lips parted on shaky breaths, I snapped away, hoping I’d never need to use these photos. Hoping they’d never see the light of day, wishing I could burn them along with all the other evidence that may implicate her.
