As if she’d conjured him, her phone rang, and his number appeared on screen.“Hey, Warwick.”
“Morning.Is this a good time?”he asked in his northern English accent.He always made a point of toning it down for her and most others.She’d heard him speak full Geordie a few times and had been utterly lost.
“Yes.Did you find anything?”
“I did.”He waited a beat.“The woman who entered Schumacher’s room was an escort.A very high-class, expensive one.She was booked through an exclusive agency, and the appointment was paid for in cash by a third party.”
The appointment.“Was it Schumacher?”
“Every bit of evidence points to him.Ryder’s scheduled a call with him this morning to confront him personally with it.If he tries to deny it, we’ll show him what we have.I reckon he’ll be motivated to come clean after that.”
Good.“Okay.I guess it’s a relief to know it wasn’t connected to the other incidents.”Not that it made her feel any better.This whole situation was just bizarre.
“Aye.I’ll update you if I find out more.”
“Thanks.Say hi to Marley.”She ended the call, feeling vindicated even though Ryder had said he believed the woman on video wasn’t her.But the slight, temporary boost to her mood didn’t last long.
Schumacher was a petty, narcissistic asshole who’d tried to deliver a personal blow because she’d rejected him.And speaking of narcissistic assholes with rejection sensitivity and an overall inability to manage emotions...
There was someone in particular from her past who would love to destroy her to get even.But he was all about himself and couldn’t handle his self-aggrandized reputation being tarnished.Given the blow he’d already sustained, she seriously doubted he would risk more prison time by attempting to target her.
With a hard exhalation, she pushed to her feet and rolled her head from side to side.Sitting here stressing and pining for Tristan wasn’t going to make anything better.She needed to get the hell out of the house and do something.
Exercise might give her a badly needed boost of serotonin.She loathed running, even if it was good for her.Far preferred hitting the elliptical or rowing machine at the office gym, but neither appealed to her right now.
Maybe she should beat the shit out of the heavy bag instead.God knew she wanted to hit something.
Or shoot something.
“Yeah,” she said to herself, then went to her closet and changed into her hoodie and yoga pants before snagging her keys on the way out the door.And no, she had not changed her alarm code.Tristan wasn’t the boss of her.
But you’d love him to be the boss of you in bed.
“Shut up,” she told her overzealous libido.Not helping.Imagining Tristan taking charge during sex made her go weak all over.
She made a mental note to thank whoever had brought her car back, and drove straight to the shooting range.After signing in, she took her sidearm inside the firing lane area.The place was empty.Even better.
Eye and ear protection on, she loaded her pistol, moved the target into position, and started shooting.One precise shot after the other until the magazine was empty.Focusing on accuracy rather than speed.Losing herself in her training, all her worries fading away into the background.
She paused to eject the magazine, then pulled back the slide to clear the chamber.She paused in the act of reaching for the loaded magazine she’d placed on the shelf when she spotted someone standing off to the side and slightly behind her.
She pulled off her earmuffs, startled.“Ivy.Hi.”
The brunette pushed away from the wall and sauntered toward her.“Hey.Saw your car and thought you might be down here.”
“Just practicing.”Shooting was a perishable skill.And knowing someone was after her meant she needed to keep sharp.
“And blowing off steam.”
“That too.”
“Is it working?”
“A little, yeah.”
Ivy nodded, giving her a thoughtful look.“You’ve got a lot going on.And, not to sound patronizing, but I know how it feels.I’ve been there.Many times.”
Many times?“I’m sorry to hear that.”
