And I’m seeing red as the glass slices a little deeper in Brent’s neck.
“Please.” The pathetic whimper in his voice almost makes me laugh. “Don’t… Don’t hurt me. I’ll give you anything. You want money? I have?—”
“Silence.” I step out of swinging distance in case this prick remembers he’s also surrounded by sharp glass. But he continues to cower. “I want your silence. If you hint that Daphne was here today, I will destroy you. I will make you beg for me to kill you. And when you can’t take it anymore, I’ll keep going untilIthink you’re ready to die. Keep your fucking mouth shut.”
I leave without another word and head to their security office. Tapping a few buttons, I pull up my phone and trigger a fake security alert to empty the surveillance room of the two security guards. They go rushing out onto the golf course at the furthest hole.
I slip inside the closet-sized room and plug in my USB. In minutes, I’ve wiped their cameras clean of the last twenty-four hours and erased their log-ins from swipe cards, credit cards, and every record from gym and spa services. From club records, no one would have been in or out today, and there’s no camera footage to verify any of it.
I grab my USB, walk to the driveway, and leave.
I told Daphne I’d go straight back to see her. And I will. But first, I need to make a stop for something special.
Darkness is creepingin by the time I sneak through Daphne’s back door to avoid the Secret Service agent posted out front.
Seriously? She tells her dad someone’s mailed her a fucking threat, and he posts one guy by the front door? He really does hate his daughter.
“Daphne?” I call out as Hawkeye comes bounding over with a stuffed alligator in his mouth.
“Tristan?” Her voice echoes from the kitchen, and I make my way deeper inside the house. Daphne’s propped up at the kitchen island, her laptop open as her blue eyes fall on me and immediately water.
I knew she’d be here, but after witnessing her in danger, there’s a relief to seeing her in her home, in her kitchen, looking so goddamn normal and pretty and safe.
Launching herself from her chair, she dashes over to me, trying to break my ribs in a crushing embrace that I happily return. The eucalyptus oil from her massage warms my nose, and I breathe her in just a little deeper.
“Why did you take so damn long?” Her voice cracks from unshed tears as I press my lips to the top of her head.
“I had to make a few stops,” I say as she pulls away. I shrug my bag off, careful to keep her in my arms. I’m not ready to let her go yet. “I needed a new getaway car. Had to clear their cameras and wipe their computers. And I had a chat with Brent.”
Daphne’s eyes go wide in silent horror.
“He won’t bother you again. As far as his doctors know, he’s a klutz who tripped and hit his head.”
“And you couldn’t call to tell me?”
“I… could have.” She’s got a point. I knew she’d be worried, but I thought that would magically disappear when she saw me. Guess not. “I’m sorry.”
“Wow, a man who says sorry.” Daphne’s words trip on a laugh. “Careful there, Genius, or we’re going to have to put you in a zoo as an endangered species.”
“Does that mean I’ll get to be part of a breeding program?”
Daphne’s cheeks flush bright pink. Did I push a button she likes? “I told you,” she murmurs. “You’re… this.” She waves her hand up and down the length of my body like I’m a prize on a game show she’s trying to display. “I don’t even know what you really look like. No way am I?—”
“Then let’s fix that.”
“Going to… what?” Daphne’s lips pop open in surprise, and honestly, I’m surprised too.
I lower the bag onto the floor. My hands move without my telling them to as I carefully lift some of the dried wigglue along my wig cap. It peels against my skin like I’m removing a layer. Slowly, I remove the wig cap and wig. I’m sure my hair’s a fucking nightmare, sticking out at odd angles—it always does after I de-wig.
I reach up and slide my brown contact lens away, carefully removing it. I hope I don’t get pink eye from not doing this at a sink or washing my hands, but fuck it. I’ll deal with the consequences later.
Finally, I remove the nose. That takes more work as I locate the edges of the wax with my fingertips and carefully peel upward like one of those pore strips Tessa used on me back in high school. Usually, I have my makeup remover and soap to take this stuff off at home, but running off to properly scrub my face wouldn’t be nearly as satisfying as seeing Daphne’s reaction. It must be a satisfying before-and-after reveal. Her expression freezes in awe as I remove the last part of my disguise. After removing the wax as best as I can, I shove the wig, contacts, and wax into my hoodie pocket. I’ll reuse the wig, but the rest is trash. Trash I will discreetly dispose of closer to my house and not in Daphne’s trash can. Who knows if anyone is snooping through her garbage?
Daphne’s eyes shine like I’m the eighth wonder of the world.
“So, what do you think?” I wink, trying to elicit a laugh or something from her, but she is in a trance as she cups my cheek.
“Tristan?” Her voice vibrates with uncertainty, like she doesn’t believe it.
