“Is the tracker working?” I question, taking a seat next to him so I can see the computer, but not so close that our legs are touching. He seems to notice when he looks at the space between us.
“He’s moving,” he answers once he looks back at the screen.
There’s a moving blue dot on a map displayed on the laptop. “That doesn’t look like the city,” I point out.
“He seems to just be driving around.”
“Are your guys still following him? Do you think he knows he was tailed?”
“They are not following him. He may just be trying to make sure no one is.” Winger leans back, sinking into the couch as we both keep our eyes trained on the screen, ignoring what’s going on between us.
After fifteen minutes of watching Ian weave around the suburbs with no clear destination in mind, I grow bored and begin looking around the loft again. “Is this like an Airbnb?”
“Why?” he questions.
I shrug. “I checked the bathroom for cameras, but I wish I had my signal scrambler. It always weirds me out when I stay in hotels and stuff.”
Winger scans the room, looking all around as if the thought hadn’t occurred to him before. “How did you check the bathroom?”
“Inspected the mirror and vent fan, stuff like that.”
Winger narrows his eyes and leans to the side to pull his phone from his pocket. “Hey, how do I check for cameras?” he asks whoever is on the other line. After just a few seconds, he nods and thanks them before hanging up.
A text comes through his phone a few moments later with a link to an app. “Iron said this isn’t foolproof, but it’s pretty good.”
Once the app is downloading, he signs into the Wi-Fi using the credentials in a clear frame on the table. I scoot a little closer to him, watching as he logs in to the app right after. It shows the electronics drawing on the Wi-Fi, even labeling most of the items, including Winger’s phone. I scan the items, not seeing anything suspicious. There’s also a feature to check a room with your camera flash.
“You want to have a look around?” Winger offers me his phone. It feels like he’s presenting me with more than just the ability to check for camera lenses. He’s willing to give me his phone to give me peace of mind. I know that’s a big deal. I would never offer my unlocked phone to someone I didn’t trust.
“I’ll be quick,” I say, looking at the slick phone in my palm.
“There’s rooftop access with a hot tub,” he tells me as I rise.
“Holy shit, really?” I glance toward the black stairs, eager to get up there and take a look.
“I’m going to keep an eye on him.” Winger points to the laptop.
“Okay, I’ll make it quick so you can have a look around too.”
“Take your time, Max,” he says as I bound up the stairs.
The door to the roof is easy to spot. It’s the only one that’s closed, and there’s a deadbolt on it. I twist the lock and feel a hot gust of air slam into my face. The stairs are metal, the walls are dark, and a single, utilitarian bulb hangs from the sloped ceiling.
The upper door is just as heavy as the last one, but there’s no lock. It’s cooler on the roof than it is in the tiny hallway, but still hot from the sun. I scan the seating area, seeing a clear separation between the two penthouses. The side we’re staying on is sleek and modern, using lots of blacks and whites, while the other side has a warm wood gazebo and lots of bright colors.
There’s a wall in the middle, allowing me to see only a small section on the other side and keeping the hot tub and lounge area private from the neighbors. I tuck my head over just to make sure I’m alone and then explore our side of the roof. There’s a grill, several seating areas, and a massive hot tub, which looks more like a mini pool with its large, rectangular shape. I have a second to regret not having a suit or even a bra, because it seems like such a waste to let it go unused.
Forgetting all about what I should be doing, I tuck the phone in my back pocket and lift the corner of the lid. The water is clear as could be and smells of chlorine. I can make out a blue glow coming from under the lid, making it seem tropical. I dip my fingers in, finding the water surprisingly cool and inviting.
After several more minutes of searching, I remember Winger’s phone, but it’s really no use now anyway, since it locked while I was distracted. I didn’t notice too many places to stash a camera anyway, so I’m probably just being paranoid.
“Hey, Winger,” I call as I lock the door to the roof.
“Yeah?” He’s standing near the bottom of the stairs, as if he was waiting for me.
“The phone shut off.” I extend the phone, and he meets me halfway up the stairs. The exchange is quick, and he hands the phone right back.
“How was it?” he asks.
