“He grabbed me when we tried to leave,” she says. “Wouldn’t let go. He was saying he loved me, that I’d always be his.” Her hand moves to her stomach. “He saw my bump and even that didn’t scare him off.”
“What did he say?”
“That I was his. That I’d always be his.” She looks up at me. “Ledger, the way he looked at me. It wasn’t love. It was possession. Like I was property he’d lost.”
I stand and walk to the windows. The city stretches below, oblivious. Somewhere out there, Mason Porter is walking around thinking he has any claim to my wife.
“Alexi, take Savannah to the bedroom. Make sure she rests. I need to make some calls.”
“Dad—”
“Now.”
Alexi helps Savannah up and guides her down the hall. I wait until I hear the bedroom door close before I dial Silas again.
“Talk to me.”
“Found him. Emergency room at Sunrise Hospital. Broken wrist, like you said. He’s getting it set now.”
“I want two men on him. Twenty-four-seven surveillance. Everywhere he goes, everything he does, everyone he talks to. I want to know when he pisses.”
“Understood. Anything else?”
“Get to my office. We need to talk.”
I hang up and stand at the windows for another minute, letting the rage settle into something colder. More useful.
Mason Porter put his hands on my pregnant wife. Left bruises on her skin. Scared her badly enough that she’s still shaking an hour later.
He’s a dead man. The only question is when.
Silas is waiting in my office when I arrive thirty minutes later. He’s got files spread across my desk, his expression grim.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
“Mason Porter’s movements over the past three weeks. Since the first incident at Kryla Holdings.”
I flip through the files. Photos of Mason outside Savannah’s old apartment. Outside the Kryla building. Following her carthrough traffic. Standing across the street from the penthouse, staring up at the windows.
“He’s been stalking her.”
“More than that.” Silas pulls up something on his laptop. “He’s been tracking her credit card usage. That’s how he knew where she was today.”
“How is he accessing her credit card information?”
“That’s the question.” Silas leans back. “I ran Mason’s financials. He’s broke. Behind on rent. Maxed out his credit cards. He shouldn’t have the resources to track anything.”
I study the photos again. Mason outside the penthouse. How did he even know where we live? That information isn’t public.
“Someone’s helping him,” I say.
“That’s what I’m thinking. An ordinary guy with no money and no connections shouldn’t be able to access credit card records. Shouldn’t be able to find your home address, and most definitely shouldn’t be able to keep getting her new phone number every time we change it.”
The pieces click together. “The Kozlovs.”
Silas nods. “They’ve been quiet since the restaurant attempt failed months ago. But they’re not gone. And Mason is exactly the kind of desperate idiot they’d use. Someone with a grudge and nothing to lose.”
I sit down at my desk. “They’re using him to get to her.”
