I looked down, her words sitting warm in my chest.
To be loved is to be known.
My mum was right about that.
chapter thirty seven
ring ring
My hands clasped together on the desk as I looked at Jamie.
“If you’re lying about this…”
He lifted both palms. “I’m not, Romano. I’ve done a lot of shit I’ll own up to. But stalking that girl? That’s not one of them.”
I stared at him, unsure why I was even entertaining the possibility that he was telling the truth.
“Bug my place.” His cheeks were red, and his breaths weren’t really breaths at all.
He was panicking. But it wasn’t for the reasons I’d hoped.
“Search the house. Take everything. Hell, lock me in here for a week. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
I’d considered it. Genuinely. But then I thought of his wife, his daughter. And for a moment, I hated that I had the conscience to let him go.
“We’ve got the monitoring devices. That’ll be enough.”
A flicker of relief passed over his face. “Thank you. I mean it.”
I exhaled slowly. “This is for her. Not you.”
“As it should be.” He nodded once. “Am I good to go?”
I said nothing, just waved him off. Moments later, the door closed behind him, and the room went quiet.
I stood, stretching my spine, and wandered to the window. The New York sky was unusually clear. The storm that came after London had somewhat passed; we were getting closer and closer to finding out who was merging into our systems, and Cora was happy. I was happy.
Until things happened.
Every lead we had on Jamie had turned on its head.
Cora was unravelling again.
I still didn’t know who the fuck was stalking her.
And we’d had four more breaches in the space of twenty-four hours.
Maybe the rapture was coming. My rapture, to be specific.
The office door opened behind me, and I didn’t have to look to know who it was.
“So?” Oscar called as he stomped over. “What the fuck did he say?”
I turned to see him step in with Nathaniel close behind. My closed fists rested back on my desk, nails slicing my palms as my eyes locked on the pair. “He says he’s innocent. And I think I believe him.”
“You believe him?” Oscar frowned. “You.” He pointed at me. “Youbelievehim?”
I stood up and shrugged, that ache in my back solidifying. “If he was guilty, why would he walk straight into the lion’s den? Again?”
