“Holy shit, Harlyn, I would have answered sooner if I knew.”
“If you knew?” My brain is still foggy. I glance at the clock, seeing I could have only been asleep for an hour tops, but the exhaustion of the day must have knocked me out.
“Why the hell didn’t you say anything? Why are you still there?” Her tone is accusatory yet filled with worry.
“I… How?—”
“Some guy—and he better not have been fucking with me, or I will hunt him down and cut off his balls—called. He said he’s—chill out, I know. Go into the bathroom and turn on the water.”
“Me?” I ask as if she could be talking to someone else.
“Yes, you,” she snaps.
“Okay.” I shuffle toward the small bathroom nearby. “I’m here,” I say once I’m behind the door and water is running from the tap.
“This is so weird, but this guy seems legit. Please tell me you know someone named Boone. He said he’s an FBI agent?” She’s clearly skeptical.
“He called you… and you answered?” I don’t know which question I want answered more.
“So you do know who I’m talking about?”
“Yes. What did he tell you?” I use my shoulder to hold the phone against my ear and pull down my pants to pee.
“About a hundred reasons why you shouldn’t be there. There’s someone stalking you. Can you tell him to chill?”
“I’m not sure he would listen.” I make light of the absurdity.
“Not the stalker, this Boone guy. Is he really an FBI agent?”
“Wait, you’re talking to him right now?”
“He’s on my phone. I used Parker’s to call you. He’s getting impatient though, and he keeps interrupting. I’m supposed to tell you to open the rear slider.” Livy snickers. “Rear slider, I hope he’s at least as cute as he sounds.”
“Jesus, Liv.” God, I missed her. We have the same dirty sense of humor.
“Hold your horses, copper. Harlyn, I’m sorry I was being stubborn and you better not get killed or anything. I’ll be so mad at you.”
“I’ll try my best,” I promise, feeling emotional, and despite the levity of her words, I know she means them.
“You better, and I want to talk to you tomorrow when I know the crazy stalker won’t hear us plot his death.”
“Okay, Livy. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you why I needed to leave Texas. I love you.”
“I love you too, and when this is over, I’ll forgive you, especially when you buy me that new Loewe bag.” I swear I hear a groan or maybe even a growl in the background while I’m washing my hands. “Oh stop, she knows I’m only joking. Now go turn off all the lights and open your back door before he tries to force his way in.” She cackles before the line goes dead. I’m stuck staring at the phone for too many seconds while my mind catches up with everything that just happened.
Replaying her final instructions, I peek my head out of the powder room door then slide around the room, turning off the lights and TV before making it to the door that leads to a well-lit rear patio. A full minute passes with me plastered against the side wall before I see a dark silhouette approaching rather quickly.
“Oh hell.” I step back, wondering if that was the dumbest thing possible, until Boone gets close enough that I can make out his features. The urge to run over and wrap my arms and legs around him is almost too much to fight when he steps inside, closing and locking the door behind him.
“You—”
He cuts me off with a finger to his lips and a stern glare. I roll my lips in, feeling properly chastised.
He’s dressed in all black, and there’s even a dark hood covering his light hair. It makes him seem even more imposing, but the only thing I feel with his presence is relief. He shifts his shoulders and drags a slim bag off his back and across his chest. I watch as he pulls out a small device that fits in the palm of his hand.
A dim green glow emanates from a tiny light on the box, allowing me to make out the digital screen that takes up about three quarters of the rectangle, depicting what looks like a dial along with some other things I can’t make out from several feet away. Boone reaches in the bag again before slipping it completely off his arm and placing it at his feet. Whatever else he retrieved is too small for me to see before he slips it into his rear pocket.
I ease my way closer to him now that I know I’m not going to climb him like a tree and examine the tools in his hands. He’s messing with the functions of the larger of the two devices. The digital dial flares from green to yellow until it reaches red then falls back to green. Seeming satisfied with the settings, Boone finally looks at me.
