She turned.
"This conversation isn't over."
Her brows rose and her lips parted.
I walked out of the break room, leaving her to compose herself—and me to figure out what the hell I was doing.
∞∞∞
Later, alone in my office after everyone had left, I sat in the dark and thought about the break room.
About how close I'd come to kissing her.
About how I couldn’t stop thinking about her.
About Stone's warnings.
About Reid Bauer's threat assessment.
About how Julia Russell was either innocent or the most dangerous person I'd ever let into my life.
I couldn’t keep going like this.
My phone buzzed. Text from Stone:Still think I'm paranoid?
Photos were attached to the message.
A man sitting in a car across the street from Julia’s apartment. His face obscured by darkness. Another photo from earlier in the day. Same car, same man, but parked across the street from my office.
The last photo of the same man watching Julia in a coffee shop. Only this time, his profile was visible.
Forrest found a match.
The next attachment was a photo of Silvio Russo.
Carlo Russo’s cousin.
I stared at the photo and my heart raced. What the hell? Was Stone right? Was Julia the plant? The threat? The killer?
But a small, stubborn part whispered:There’s got to bean explanation.
Maybe she doesn't know who he is.
Maybe it's coincidental.
Maybe—
Stone messaged me:Should I pull her access?
I typed back to Stone:No. Let her come in Monday. But watch her. Everything.
You're making a mistake.
Probably. But I need to know the truth.
I stared at the photo.
Silvio Russo.
