Dixon reached the building, then glanced around casually. He stepped up to the door, and from what Raiden could see, it looked like he was fiddling with the buzzer. A second later, he stepped back. He shoved his hands in his pockets, glanced across the street once more, and then took off in the opposite direction, whistling loudly.
Raiden watched him disappear into the darkness, reappear under the light, and then disappear altogether. He counted to twenty to make sure he wasn’t going to come back, then jogged across the street and straight to the doorway. He prodded the metallic box that served as the intercom, but it required a screwdriver to open.
Stepping back onto the street, Raiden immediately called Declan. “We got a problem.”
“What’s up?”
“I think I know who’s tracking me. I had a bad feeling about him from the start. His name is Dixon.”
“Wait a second, what’s going on? Who the hell is Dixon?” Declan barked, his voice like gravel.
“I’m not sure yet, except that he’s a man who has been hitting on Lawrence the last couple of weeks. He showed up at the club one night and keeps trying to buy Lawrence drinks.”
“And what makes you think he’s bugging your phone?”
Raiden frowned. “I was keeping an eye on Lawrence’s apartment just now, and Dixon walked by. He messed with the intercom—I’m not sure why. Maybe bugging it. He was only there a minute, though, and he walked away.”
Declan sighed. “Goddamn it.”
“What?”
“I can’t believe this is happening again.”
“What?”
“Raiden, are you telling me that some man has been going out with Lawrence, and you just saw him come by, ring the bell, and then walk away when no one answered? So now you’re convinced he’s bugging your phone?” Declan growled under his breath. “That doesn’t make any sense, Raiden. Do you hear yourself?”
“I just don’t trust thewayhe’s hitting on Lawrence,” Raiden tried to explain, although now that Declan mentioned it, he realized he didn’t really have any evidence.
Declan growled. “Raiden, are you falling in goddamn love with your charge?”
“What?” Raiden shot back. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“That’s not a no.”
“There’s nothing happening!” Raiden objected. “I swear, Declan. I swear to god.”
“Listen carefully,” Declan said. “The man your client is dating is not the person who is bugging your phone. Got it? And if you start developing feelings for Lawrence that cloud your thinking, I’m going to have to pull you from the job.”
“But Declan—”
“Any questions?”
Raiden kicked the pavement. “No. I got it.”
“Good. I’ll call you back if Seb figures anything out.”
Raiden turned down the street, looking one more time at Lawrence’s apartment. He hurried back to the porch and inspected the intercom box, then pulled his pocketknife from his backpack. It wasn’t ideal, but after a few minutes of scratching and poking, he was able to loosen the screws and pull the front of the intercom off. Inside, there was a mess of wires, a spider’s web, and a tiny chocolate heart, wrapped in clean silver foil and perched delicately up against the backing.
Raiden stared at the heart, then growled. “He’s fucking with me,” he muttered, then slammed the intercom box shut. It might not have made sense, but suddenly, Raiden was convinced that Dixon was messing with his head.
And there was no way in hell Raiden was going to let a guy like Dixon outsmart him.
