I knew I was fighting a losing battle. Because the truth was, there was never anything professional about the distance I’dkept from Aven Compton. And since she was here, in my space, under my protection, I was running out of excuses to keep pretending there was.
On my desk,the security plan for Aven sat like a contract with myself, detailed, methodical, leaving nothing to chance. I’d done this for countless clients, assessed threats, and designed custom protection plans based on risk factors and resource allocation. Yet, I’d never felt this knot in my gut while doing it, this burning certainty that if I missed anything, the consequences were unthinkable.
“You’re going overboard. This is more security than we installed for the mayor last year,” Tamika said from the doorway, eyeing the stack of equipment boxes behind my desk.
“The mayor didn’t have someone following him across continents,” I replied, not looking up from the security camera specifications I was reviewing.
She raised an eyebrow but knew better than to argue. Instead, she set a fresh coffee on my desk and left, closing the door quietly behind her.
A bit later, Aven had gone to lunch while Martinez came to compare notes on what he’d found about Morales. I eyed the blueprints spread across my desk. The layout of Raina’s house was marked with red X’s indicating the locations of each camera.
Martinez, ex-military, ex-police, now my best investigator, was the only person I trusted with Aven’s case besides myself.
“Got something. Morales has a pattern. Lima wasn’t his first rodeo,” he noted, dropping a file on my desk.
I flipped open the folder, scanning the contents. Three police reports from different countries, Spain, Japan, and Brazil, allfiled by women with similar complaints. Gifts appearing in private spaces. Tracking across cities. In one case, a break-in.
“No arrests?” I asked, though I already know the answer.
“International jurisdictions, lack of evidence, victims eventually moving on, pick your excuse. One thing is clear, though, he fixates, pursues, and escalates.” Martinez shrugged; frustration was evident in the gesture.
The knot in my gut tightened. “And now he’s here in my town. What about the current location?”
“Still working on it. If he’s local, he’s not using his real name at any hotels or rentals. Could be cash payments, friend’s place, or a short-term rental under a different identity.”
I nodded, already calculating next steps. “Keep digging. And, Martinez, priority one.”
He turned to leave, then paused. “Understood, boss. She’s safe here, you know. Between the office security and your constant...” He searched for a diplomatic word. “...vigilance.”
My jaw tightened at his tone. “Just find him.”
After Martinez left, I loaded the equipment into my SUV. I could have sent a team to do the installation, but some things needed to be handled personally. The drive to Raina’s took fifteen minutes in mid-afternoon traffic. The house was on a corner lot in a neighborhood that had seen better days but still maintained a pride, freshly painted mailboxes, trimmed lawns, and porch lights that actually worked.
Raina met me on the porch, arms crossed, expression skeptical as she eyed the boxes I carried.
“This seems excessive,” she commented by way of greeting.
“It’s necessary,” I countered. The layout was familiar from the blueprints.
“Does she know you’re turning my house into Fort Knox?” Raina asked, following me around the exterior of her home as I assessed optimal camera placement.
“She knows we’re implementing security measures.”
“Hmm.” The sound was noncommittal but loaded with something I chose not to analyze. “Coffee?”
“No thanks. This won’t take long.” I was already measuring distances, marking spots with blue tape.
Two hours later, Raina’s house had four cameras with night vision and motion detection, all feeding to a secure server I would monitor remotely. The front and back doors had new deadbolts. Window sensors were installed throughout. The security system connected directly to the police station and my phone.
“These panic buttons go in every room. One press sends an alert to both police and my team. Response time should be under four minutes,” I explained, handing Raina small devices that looked like keychains.
She took them, expression softening. “You always did look out for her, even when she didn’t realize it.”
I ignored the comment, not wanting to get caught up, focusing instead on programming the final camera. “Here’s the system’s user manual. Call if you have any questions.”
That night, I sat in my car parked half a block from Raina’s house. It was the first of what would become nightly drive-bys, though I told myself it was only to verify the new security system was functioning correctly. The camera feeds looked clear on my tablet, but technology could fail. Eyes on the ground never did.
This isn’t stalking,I reminded myself as I scanned the quiet street. This was protection. A professional assessment of security parameters. A standard procedure for high-risk clients.
